Ironhearted

BattleShell? More Like Battle-Trauma

I'd like to say that I forgot to say this, but I am not an expert on things such as panic attacks, overstimulation, etc. I am doing research as I go, so I can get them as accurate as I can. Things that include medical stuff I am also not an expert at, and simply look up to see if yes, I am diagnosing this right.

Now proceed with the angst.

CW: Blood, Panic Attack

***

Donnie must've fallen asleep, because he found himself being startled at the sudden loud sounds his brothers were making. He sits up, the room spinning a bit as he did so. His glasses must've gotten taken off (probably by April) and now were lying on the nightstand next to the bed. He groans, getting them on right and taking a good look of his surroundings, noting Raph's absence in his bed, along with Mikey.

Then he noticed.

Leo, he was sitting up and- and smiling. Like nothing just happened in the past twenty four hours, like he was fine, and not on the brink of death. Donnie felt this pit in his stomach. Boiling, red hot, something akin to anger. He doesn't know why. He slowly gets up, going over to Leo's bed, ears ringing as he gets closer and closer.

Leos' mouth moves as he says something, but Donnie doesn't hear it. He hears the continuous ringing, and now he feels his brothers eyes on him, expecting him to say something, but he- he can't-

He can. He's got this. He just- he needs to calm down. He shuts his eyes, starting to flap his hands, trying to relieve some of the tension building up inside of him. The ringing faded away, and deafening silence met him instead. He opened an eye to see the three looking at him, patiently. He takes a deep breath, finally making eye contact with Leo.

Leo cocks a smile, "Heyyyy there he is. So, what's popping?"

Still putting up that fake facade, isn't he? So be it.

"Leo, you dumb fuck," whispered Donnie, feelings his eyes water up, for many reasons he doesn't even know. He practically lounges himself on top of Leo's body, mindful of any injury done to Leo. He wraps his arms around Leo, trying to hold back tears, "Dum dum."

Leo quietly laughed, a forced one, wrapping his arms around Donnie, gently and loose enough that it wouldn't cause Donnie to spiral, "I'm alright now, thanks to you. Guys, we might have a new medic on our hands!"

That brought a small smile onto Donnie's face.

***

The small joy he felt earlier in the day was gone by noon. He tried putting one of his battleshells on. Then he just- couldn't. It was almost touching his back, but something in Donnie's gut told him to get away, flinch away, get any means away from the thing trying to creep on his softshell.

He trips over his feet a bit as he tries to steady himself, his arm bumping into one of his many gadgets. The bad arm, of course, caused Donnie to freeze up and let out a hiss of pain. He needs to figure out how to cure that. He figures by now he should be dead, and he's hoping that the only reason he's alive is because of his unique mutant blood. Or he is in a coma, and all of this is a dream.

The pain would say otherwise. He wobbles his way over to his work desk, placing the battle shell on top of it. It was his trusty spider shell, and nothing seemed wrong with it, it seems like it's fine. He even wipes it down clean, to make sure that no excess cheese from pizza or something akin to it was stuck to the inside of it, and it was still fine. So that means that whatever is going on, it's him that makes himself incapable of wearing it.

Donnie decides to drop the project for now, until new ideas keep popping up in his head, with ways to make the shells lighter and add even more features to it. He goes back over and grabs his tools, flipping his goggles down and examines the shell, tools in hand.