Resuki: The Art of Andre Rex

TMNT 2012 - No Rest

A clank, or something breaking, a lowly muttered cuss. The sound of the broom on the floor, or something sliding into the trash, or a door shutting just a little too hard for a decent ninja.

Every night this week.

Leonardo glanced at the dim glow of his clock. Three in the morning. Again. Always around the same time. Tonight it was softly breathed cursing and the bathroom sink running that woke him up.

Somebody had to put a stop to this.

He peeled the covers away, not at all liking how cold it felt outside of them. There had better be a really good explanation for all this. He took up a sheathed sword from habit, but didn’t bother with any of the rest of his gear or his mask. Quiet as could be, Leo cracked open the door. Light spilled into the main chamber of the lair from the workshop. Just as he’d thought. Letting out a sigh, he let his feet lead the way, still reluctant to be leaving behind the warmth of his bed.

The barely audible whisper of music came as he drew closer – something classical. He wasn’t sure if it was Beethoven, but that sounded right. Donatello always liked to keep music going to break the silence when he was working late. Headphones compromised his own stealth, so he’d avoid those when he needed to work quietly. The music carried to just past the partially opened door, sure to not disturb the rest of the house.

Leo slipped into the workshop, squinting against the glare of the work lamps. “Donnie?” he said softly.

The room was empty. It hadn’t been for long, though – the screensaver on the computer hadn’t kicked on. There were a number of programs grinding away at their tasks, with status bars slowly climbing to completion, as if each were racing the other. A mutagen canister was sitting on the work table, one of the many Donnie had been experimenting with in the last few days. Or nights, more accurately. For weeks it was the same thing, the same obsession driving him.

But there was something new tonight.

The framed photo of April on the park swing had taken up a permanent home on the work table, but now it had a companion; a sheet of tattered paper, the edges ripped and showing signs of having been pinned to something. Leo did a double-take when he saw it, his half-asleep mind waking up a good deal more.

MISSING was printed in bold letters across the top. Under it was a photo of Timothy – not in the wannabee superhero Pulverizer costume they had always seen him in, but dressed in normal clothes, set on a speckled backdrop. The same smile as ever. A school photo, replicated in black and white. It was followed by all the information on his last known whereabouts and who to contact if one had any information.

“They’re looking for him.”

Leonardo jumped and turned at the sudden sound of Donatello’s voice. His brother stood in the doorway, meeting his gaze. There was worry in those eyes, and a hurt so deep that he couldn’t even fathom it. “His parents,” Donnie breathed. “They’re trying to find him. And… and they’re not going to.”

Leo had to turn away from that heartbreaking look. He let his eyes fall to the missing poster again, then to the frozen mutant in the corner. Donnie had crafted a new containment unit around Pulverizer after his escape, intent on preserving the cryogenics until he could find a cure. None of them could understand why he’d decided to make it so he could still see the grotesque creature inside.

Until now.

This was his motivation. They kept him going, long into the night, the people he had to help.

Leo was shaken from his thoughts as Donnie stepped over, stooping to look at the computer screen. He swayed slightly, tapping away in slow motion at the keyboard, the exhaustion clear. Leonardo leaned on the table next to him, laying his sheathed sword across it as he watched his brother’s sluggish movements. Before he could say anything, however, Donnie spoke again, a tiny whisper that held the entire weight of the world in it.

“It’s all my fault.”

“Donnie, no,” Leo told him. He wanted to be firmer about it. He had a hard time sounding anything but kind after just waking up, though. Words tended to come out in a sleepy sort of understanding tone that didn’t always fit what he wanted to say. “It’s not your fault, and we all know you’re doing your best to fix everything.”

Donnie’s fist clinched on the tabletop, speaking with the same sort of devastation, “Then why does it feel like it’s my fault?”

“Look,” Leo put a hand on his shoulder, “I know it’s been hard for you – April and Timmy and everything – but you can’t keep pushing yourself like this. You’re gonna burn out if—”

Whatever else he was going to say fell away. He noticed Donatello’s hand pressed to the tabletop, the way the wrist was wrapped. It wasn’t the usual sports bindings he wore. They were instead replaced by fresh, white bandages, wrapped all across the left wrist. Leo’s mind started to race, trying to remember if Donnie had been hurt in training, on patrol, anything. Anything but what his first instinct said.

“Donnie,” he asked carefully, “What happened? Your wrist…”

His brother glanced down, “It’s nothing.”

“Donnie,” the name came out just short of a snap. There was a sharp blink of shock as Donatello finally looked to him, the surprising harshness in the warning tone rather uncharacteristic of a half-asleep Leo. “What happened?” he insisted.

“It was an accident.”

“Really? God, Donnie, really?”

“What—What do you think happened, Leo?”

Leonardo opened his mouth to answer and then closed it, the words refusing to come, but the disbelief and accusation loud and clear in his expression.

Donnie’s shoulders slumped slowly. He half asked and half stated, “You think I did this to myself on purpose.”

“Well? Did you?”

“No!” the word sprang from him a touch louder than was appropriate for three in the morning, and he compensated for it by hissing out the rest through his teeth, “I—Jeez, why would—Are you insane?”

“What else am I supposed to think? You’ve been hating on yourself for weeks, you’ve hardly slept in days—”

“I’m working,” Donnie stressed the importance of this. “Would I be working if… if I was going to…” He shook his head and suddenly stood straight, pulling Leo into a hug. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” Leo asked in surprise.

“Like you think I’m about to die.”

“Well,” there was a pause as he tried to think of a retort and couldn’t find one. He loosely hugged his brother in return instead.

“It was an accident,” Donnie reassured him, taking a step back, holding his shoulders. “Bunsen burner. It caught my wrist wraps—which, by the way, would be a horrible tool for an attempted suicide, I really don’t recommend it to anyone. I’m fine, I promise. Dying isn’t going to fix anything about this situation, believe me, I’ve got no delusions about that. I’m needed here.”

Leo let his breath out, shoulders relaxing as Donnie released them. “Good. I’m glad you know that.”

A joyless little scoff of a laugh escaped him. “Know that? I live that. I’m just glad you know it, being that I get no thanks around here.” There was a smirk and a sidelong glance before he prodded at the computer again. “You would all be dead without me.”

“Whoa, now,” Leo couldn’t hold the chuckle back. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Oh, I would,” Donnie stated simply with a nod.

“That’s a little extreme—”

“Not really,” he continued stating the facts in a tone that could not be argued with, “Who wired half the electricity in here and siphons it off the grid in ways no one will pick up? Me. Who hooked up all new water purification systems to the place when he was only eight? Also me. Who makes sure the heating, cooling and ventilation systems are always functioning at top capacity? Me again.”

Leo shook his head, but was smiling at Donnie’s improved mood. “Okay.”

He didn’t stop. “Hot water heater maintenance, tapping into the satellite TV, hooking this place up to function with satellite in the first place, pirating phone service, making sure that works underground and can’t be traced as well…”

“You’ve made your point.”

“…installing an IP scrambler on the internet connection so no one can track that, fixing everything that can possibly be broken between Mikey and Raph’s rampaging around – including property damage and physical damage to themselves – keeping a part-time tech support job so we have money for food and incidentals, maintaining an alias out in the world and obtaining false citizenship under that alias so I can keep a bank account—” Finally his words cut off, this time with a curse and then a prompt apology for it. He held his forehead, slumping dramatically over the laptop.

“What is it?” Leo was almost hesitant to ask.

“With everything going on,” he groaned out, “I forgot about that stupid healthcare bill! My fake identity needs to sign up and pay for that or else I’ll be penalized, which is completely unfair, it is literally something I will never be able to use, which is what other people are saying about it, but they don’t even know the half of it, because they’re actually human, and if I ever actually tried to use the healthcare I’m gonna be paying for, I’d be carted off to a lab and—”

Leo cleared his throat, “Breathe, Donnie.”

A very deep breath. A pause that continued to be filled with the soft sound of classical music. “Oh, and I keep track of taxes on all that,” he decided to end his list of very important things he did for the family.

Leo patted him on the shoulder. “Yes. You do a lot for us. Now I need for you to do something for yourself and get some sleep.”

Donnie waved him off, spouting off a cliché before he could think, “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

“And that is exactly what I’m afraid of.”

Again the classical music took over the conversation. Donnie gave the keyboard a few final taps before he carefully shut the laptop, silencing it for the evening. “You know, suddenly, sleep doesn’t sound like a half bad idea.”

Taking up his sword again, he motioned for Donnie to walk in front of him, not about to leave him alone where he could get distracted. Leo paused in the doorway, a hand on the light switch, looking back over his shoulder at the work table – the photo, the missing poster, the laptop, the Bunsen burner, the mutagen. Donnie looked back as well, following the train of thought in the way he tended to do. “It’s a lot to take in,” he said softly, “Isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Leo frowned. “If there’s anything I can do to help…”

“Just make sure I actually sleep now and then.”

“Only if you don’t try to bite my head off,” he flipped the switch, “when I say it’s time for lights out.”