Lost in the Fight

Chapter 38 - Darkest Before Don

*Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles franchise.

*Author's Notes: I'm back with chapter 38 of 'Lost in the Fight' and I'm not even sure how to describe this one. Let's just say it's one of my very favorites in the story and leave it at that. I don't want to give anything else away.

Thank you all so much for reading 'Lost in the Fight' and for sticking with me and my story for so long. It means the world to me to. I hope you enjoy the chapter. ;) CJ

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Chapter 38 - Darkest Before Don

Leaning his carapace heavily against the only open corner of his room, Donatello let his weary body slowly slide down the wall supporting him until he felt the cold, concrete floor underneath him. Drawing his knees towards his chest as best he could with the rather ungainly splint still secured to his fractured leg, he tightly wrapped his arms around his shins. He then pulled all of his limbs close to his body, tucking himself into somewhat of a ball.

Feeling as though everything was starting to close in on him, the wounded turtle buried his face into the crook of his right elbow in an effort to hide himself away from the world around him. As he did so, he unconsciously started to rock himself back and forth with his heels.

When he realized that the effects of whatever medication his brothers had administered to him to alleviate his pain were rapidly starting to wear off, the wounded turtle let out a long, ragged breath.

He wasn't sure just how much time had passed since he had returned to the lair, or even since he had entered his room, for that matter. The rather traumatic events of the evening had caused him to lose any sense of accurate time. His eyes drooped with fatigue, but didn't know if that was due to the late – possibly early – hour, the overexertion from his trip outside of the lair, or a side effect of the pain killer his brothers had given him.

Another knock came at his door, but yet again, he didn't respond.

There was no questioning his brothers were persistent. They hadn't wasted any time following him to his room once he had left the laboratory. Just a few moments after he had closed his bedroom door, a series of knocks had sounded out, accompanied by voices gently saying his name and making requests.

"Donnie, open the door, bro."

"Come on, Donnie. Let us in."

"Donatello, please. We just want to talk to you."

Luckily for the genius turtle, even in his distraught state, he had been of sound enough mind to lock his door upon entrance to his bedroom, or else his brothers would have barged in by now.

The commotion outside the door started to all but fade away, but Donnie knew his brothers were still out there plotting. Every so often, he could hear the faint sound of what he assumed to be whispering, reminding him that they hadn't given up yet.

He wished they would . . .

Just like he had given up . . .

The injured turtle hugged himself even tighter and pressed his face deeper into his bent arm, stubbornly trying to fend off the tears that were threatening to come. He refused to let himself fall to pieces. Especially not with his brothers standing right outside the door. It was bad enough that they had already witnessed him just about lose it back in the lab. After that disaster, there was no way in shell he could face them. Not now. Maybe not ever. Hence the reason why he hadn't bothered to respond to any of his brothers' knocks or pleas, using his silence as yet another means of locking them out.