AN: So this was going to be a oneshot, but as time went on I was able to get more ideas for the other three. From there, I just decided to do everyone's POV. So this is now chapter 2 of 4. Up next is Raph! Also- thank you all for reading, reviewing, and favorite-ing! It means the world! So here's chapter two and don't forget to R&R! :)

DONATELLO

Ever since Donatello was old enough he'd held the title of the family paramedic. It began with peeling the sticker off the back of a Band-Aid and over the years it has grown into a role that hangs over his head like a persistent curse.

He's never liked having to be the doctor or the surgeon. He's always preferred being the mechanic, the scientist, "the Brainiac" as Raphael would so often call him. He loved picking something apart and putting it back together. There was something fascinating about taking something broken and repairing it, simply by looking at the wire and metal that held it all together.

Donatello has always loved fixing things, but his brothers were never on that list.

In their clan they all knew they had their roles to play, and just like any other team he knew the part he played was a vital one. Even when his brothers would tease that he wasn't as skilled as them, that he was a member of the "B-team," he knew without him the scale would be tipped. The balance would be off.

The fully functioning machine they had going would break down.

Leonardo is their leader. The one who knows how to keep calm under immense pressure. He's their oldest brother, the one they could talk to in times of uncertainty- or just when they couldn't go to Splinter. They can depend on him to lead them no matter what the situation may be.

Raphael is Leo's polar opposite; the wildcard in the deck. He's their brute strength. The one nobody knows how to predict or control. But underneath the tough exterior, Raph loves his brothers deeply. He'd charge into battle if anyone so much as laid a hand on them.

Michelangelo is of course the comic relief, the baby of the family. He's their sunshine, their ray of light, the one who can always make them smile, no matter how much they don't feel like it.

Mentally they were a perfect balance- just the right combination. But physically Donatello knew that if he wasn't there, there would be no one to fix the cuts and scrapes on his brother's bodies.

If it weren't for Donnie, who would fix their wounds and treat them when they were sick?

Leo would probably be the best candidate. Then again, Leo could lead his brothers, command them, give them advice. But he wouldn't know how to react when the same bodies he's trying to keep safe are battered and broken right before his eyes.

Raph wouldn't have the patience. Not for a single second. And Mikey? Mikey's the one who Donnie constantly has to slap a Band-Aid or a sling on.

From a very young age it became apparent to Donnie that they would need someone to learn how to sew stitches or pop an arm back into place. When they were younger their injuries were minor. There wasn't much that could happen to them that Splinter couldn't handle. But as they grew and their training intensified, he knew there were some things that even their father couldn't make better with a kiss or a cup of tea.

There was no one that to help them if they became fatally wounded. They weren't human. If they went to a hospital for an injury they would be shot, captured, or experimented on- most likely all three.

So it was up to him.

It was up to Donnie to press ice to their bruises. It was up to him to swab their cuts with hydrogen peroxide. It was up to him to listen for that sickening 'pop' when he'd push a dislocated shoulder back into place. It was up to him to ignore his brother's screams as he'd reset a broken bone and fashion a cast from what few supplies they had.

And he hated it. He absolutely hated every single second of it.

In the dark of the night and the heat of the battle, when something went wrong they would scream his name. Every time, he felt his heart stop. His heated body would turn cold. Time would slow down. Every time he never knew what he would turn around to see. Would it be something simple? Maybe Raphael had been clumsy with bloodlust and hadn't seen the blade that sliced his shoulder. Or would it be something that Donnie wouldn't be able to fix? Would he turn around to see one of his brothers impaled- a sword through the heart or a jugular cut wide open?

Every time the same fear went through Donnie's head: would this finally be the time when he wouldn't be able to save them?

Thankfully his brothers have been cautious over the years. Well… as cautious as teenage ninjas could be.

But this wasn't cautious. This was something so childish. It was the perfect mix of idiocrasy and recklessness. Cracking a mirror is something Raphael would do, not Leo.

The needle goes through his brother's skin and each time green flesh tenses as he stitches the ugly wound.

He wants to scold him; tell him that had he not done something so stupid, so unlike him in the first place that he wouldn't have to be here. But other than his brother's body language, the eldest doesn't voice any complaints on the pain. Because of this, Donatello remains silent.

It's not the size of it that irks Donatello. The cut on his brother's knuckles isn't a big one. It took Donnie a few seconds to actually decide whether or not it would even require stitches. He had debated in his mind, back and forth for a brief moment. In the end, he couldn't chance it and decided he would need to tend to the wound before he could even attempt to fall back asleep.

It's the emotional toll that is really starting to drive Donnie mad. They've already been through so much. Couldn't they go one night without having to ride another emotional roller coaster? They had already lost their world, their friends, their…

And now he had to deal with this?

He understood his brother's frustrations. He truly did. If Donnie had a quarter for every time he wanted to punch a mirror, punch his own reflection staring back at him, he would have enough money to buy pizza every night until they died- and it's not like turtles lived short lives.

The simple fact was that even though Donnie was constantly on the verge of a breakdown from stress, he never took a swing at anything. It's no small accomplishment, considering all the times Mikey could simply not keep his hands to himself. It was even award-worthy when he begins to remember all the nights he spent desperately trying to find a cure to the mutagen, trying to find a cure for Karaii's horrible condition.

Donnie's life has always been full of stress. But for the first time, when the world got sucked into a black hole his mind was silent.

Everything was suddenly gone. All the scientific expressions, all the elements, all the information he had constantly buzzing around in his head went quiet. Every fact that he had ever learned about his planet, what it was made of, who was on it, and all the great accomplishments they had made were suddenly gone. Every painting, every theory, every invention ever made suddenly didn't matter anymore.

It was all gone and would never exist again.

And in that moment Donatello had never felt so… useless.

In a world where he had been a genius, all the information in his head was now utterly inapplicable to anything. The only thing left worthwhile was mathematics, but even then there were formulas that no longer applied. Physics didn't exist in space where a hammer could weigh the same as a feather. There was no gravity, no air, none of the elements he had grown up memorizing.

Now he was in a spaceship made of a metal that didn't exist on his planet, heading to a world he knew nothing about.

Now all he was, was the doctor, the medic. The only thing he knew now was his brother's bodies. He knew how to fix cut flesh, dislocated joints, broken bones- how to fix pain.

It was sickening. After so many years of teaching himself and struggling to absorb every piece of information he was given he was destined to become the thing he hated most. He didn't want to live in a world where he had to wait for his brothers to be in agony before he was good for something.

It was frustrating! It was infuriating! He wanted to punch a thousand mirrors. Raphael was still strong. Leo was still quick- still had his team to lead. Michelangelo was still optimistic. But what was he?

The doctor. The one they would learn to associate with pain.

To be honest, he could live with it. He would hate it every day but he could find a way. But above everything that had happened, the most frustrating part of his horrible situation is that even though he's the healer of the family- he couldn't save his own father.

The stitches he's making begin to blur as tears well up in his eyes.

Out of all his brothers, he had always felt the most distant when it came to Splinter. Leonardo and Raphael were constantly seeking their father's approval through their training- both using different methods. Raphael was all strength and force whereas Leo had used mentality and technique. Mikey was the baby. Of course he had been drawn to their only parent. When they were little, Mikey's world practically revolved around Splinter: showing him his drawings, wanting to play a game with him, wanting to hear a story. Mikey used to thrive off of that kind of interaction.

Donnie had always been different. He didn't desire the same attention Mikey did. He never had an interest in being Splinter's number one student either. The only time he came to Splinter was for information on the human world- and even there Splinter sometimes fell short.

Hamato Yoshi had never been a scientific man. He relied on the art of ninjitsu, tradition, and the teachings of his own sensei. Yoshi was a genius- just not in anything Donatello was passionate about.

Though it's not like they never tried to meet between the strange distances they had in their conflicting personalities.

It would always make Donnie smile- those moments when his father would suddenly be standing beside him in the lab, peering over his shoulder. Donnie would never hear him coming- whether it was because he was too immersed in his work or because of his father's skill, he wasn't too sure.

His father would ask about what he was working on, and although Donatello would explain it to him, he'd quickly have to translate it into words his Sensei could understand. Even if he didn't comprehend, even if Splinter left the lab completely baffled, he was trying. He was making an effort to be in his son's life.

If he could say one last thing to his father, there was no doubt in his mind that it would be 'thank you.'

Thank you for trying. Thank you for being the father we needed. Thank you for listening, even if you didn't understand. Thank you for loving us all equally.

Thank you for loving me.

He pulls the thread a little too hard and beside him he can hear Leonardo hiss in pain.

Donnie takes a second, tries to calm himself, but he can't. He couldn't save him.

He couldn't save him.
He couldn't save him.

He was right there! His father was bleeding out right in front of him. But by that time it was already too late. By that time Splinter needed more than what Donnie's hands were capable of. He needed a hospital, a real doctor, and a miracle.

This just wasn't fair! Hadn't he been through enough? Hadn't they been through enough?

It's all so frustrating in Donatello's eyes. He didn't ask for this, not for a single damn thing and yet here he is. Even in space, in a protected spaceship, with all of their enemies dead, his brother has still managed to hurt himself. And he was still stuck with the dirty work he hated- repairing his brother when he knew the wound he was struggling with was so much bigger than the one on his hand.

With a huff he finishes Leo's stitches and begins bandaging his hand as quickly as he possibly can.

There's so much he wants to say to him. Everything that Raphael won't say, even though he's been stalking around their oldest brother, glaring at the wound like it was Shredder himself. He wants to yell at Leo for being stupid, for hurting himself, for making him have to do this, for giving him this unnecessary stress. He wants to scream at him until he can't think anymore.

As he finishes wrapping the bandages he looks up with so much malice in his throat and he's so ready, so eager to unleash it on their so-called Fearless Leader...

…But the second he looks up and their eyes meet all of his anger dies away into nothing.

All this time they've been calling him Fearless, yet he's never seen his brother so afraid.

It hasn't been since they were young that he's ever seen him so lost or helpless. Out of all the times Donatello has been able to read his brothers with a look, he finds himself staring at Leo and still can't figure out what's going on inside of him.

Then it hits him that Leo is just as lost as he is. There's that same look of despondent melancholy; that look of absolute failure. They both see their situation exactly for what it is. There's no hope here, no dream that they'll wake up one day and their planet will still exist- that their father will still be alive.

Together, they're just two teenagers that have lost their dad and can't find it in themselves to deal with the gaping hole he left.

"Thanks Donnie." Leonardo tells him, but the words sound more like an apology.

His voice shakes him from his thoughts and he nods his head. He fumbles to put away the supplies but his hands won't stop shaking. The bandages slip from his grasp and fall to the floor and roll away without a sound.

He curses under his breath and moves to retrieve the fallen supply, but the same hand he's just bandaged is grabbing his arm; stopping him.

"Are you alright?" Leo asks, his voice laced with a heavy concern.

Donnie shrugs him off and tries to ignore the hurt look on his oldest brother's face. "Shouldn't we be asking you that?"

He tries to ignore it… but fails. The regret and shame in Leo's expression is too much for Donnie to handle.

After a deep sigh, he tries again. "I'm sorry. It's just…" A million different sentences flash through his head and he chooses none of them. For now, he decides on the easier route. "Just please don't do this again?"

Leo nods his head, understanding more than his younger brother could ever imagine.

"I am sorry, Donnie. I mean that." He conveys so much sincerity in his words that Donnie can only stand to hold his gaze for a few moments before looking away.

"It's not your fault. These reactions are common when losing…" He can't stand to say it. A father, a dad, a friend. "A loved one." He finishes.

Again, Leonardo nods his head, understanding with his form of silent acceptance.

Then Leonardo says it. It's something he's always known but always doubted. Something he never needed but always wanted to hear. And now after everything that's happened, it's the last thing Donnie wants to hear.

"He loved you, Donnie. I'm sorry he never got a chance to tell you how much he admired what you did for our family."

He's so shocked that for a moment all he can do is stand still, emotionally trapped like a deer in the headlights. But the feeling wears off all too soon. Then once the wall has crumbled the words hit him so hard that the tears he was able to hold off earlier break through the barrier and he knows he can't hold them off any longer.

The genius turtle can simply nod before scrambling to leave, ignoring the pair of sea blue eyes that follow him as he retreats out the infirmary door.