"However, you say I am human in a sense, that my body is simply fused with the robot that I have been raised to believe I am. Could you teach me...emotion?"
The Kraang tried to take over the city of New York twice, and only once did they succeed. Th...
Donatello can only describe how he feels as numb. His brain is all fuzzed up like a badly wired television set, a familiar ache clawing its way back into his chest. As the five boys reenter the lair, they're greeted by April and Splinter. Destiny lays on the couch, fast asleep. She's still far too pale.
"Thank goodness, you're okay," April says, giving Casey a quick hug before looking to the others. "But...where's Sarina?"
Solemn expressions pass between the brothers. Donatello steps forward and places the medicine in April's hand, then goes to his lab without a word. Splinter's ears flatten as he watches his son leave, then he returns his attention to the remaining four.
"What happened?" he asks, gentle yet still forceful enough to be taken as a command.
A few more uncertain glances, then Leonardo takes a deep breath. As he steps forward, preparing to speak, there's a soft whine from the couch as Destiny stirs. She sits up after a second and turns her head, eyes widening.
"You're back!" she says, her tail thumping against the bench. "Did it go okay? Where's Donnie? Where's Sarina?"
Leonardo's expression crumbles.
In Donatello's lab, he peeks out at the scene. He watches his eldest brother walk to Destiny and say something that makes her hopeful, wondering expression fade into disbelief. She shakes her head, her face scrunching and her shoulders starting to quake.
The purple-masked turtle looks away, plodding like a zombie to his desk. The trickles of conversation shoot through the air, whizzing past him, and he stays blank. Destiny's weakened, stammering voice gets sharper and more high-pitched as the explanation goes on. Leonardo's voice gets softer. Michelangelo inputs only a single apology before he's silent again. Raphael is, surprisingly, quiet.
Donatello hopes that there aren't any tears.
He slumps forward, cradling his head in his hands as he hovers above the three folders sitting there on the tabletop. It's like they're watching him, begging him to open them and discover the secrets they hold. He shoves them into a hasty pile and opens his computer, reopening his flow chart.
It still has all the same information that it did the last time he looked at, but now he's ready to fill in some blanks.
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He adds a few new boxes and connects a few more dots, entirely focused. As long as he's working on this, it'll keep his mind off everything else. The last thing he wants is to think about Sarina.
He shakes his head. "No, stop," he mumbles. "Not right now."
He finishes a few more clicks and sits back.
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