Forehead in hands, elbows on desk, Donatello tried to escape the words that kept humming around in his mind.

Failure. Worthless. Freak.

It happened to him every time an experiment went awry. Every time that he was disappointed in himself.

It had always been that way.

He wanted perfection so badly – wanted things to be just right, every time, on the first try. Even though he knew that experimentation literally meant failing until one stumbled upon success.

That word – failure – sang in his mind like a dirge.

Every. Single. Time.

Then, its companion, worthless, would make its ugly appearance. The experiment had failed, it was now worthless. Even though he could use the results to help him on his next experiment, even though it was never literally worthless, it always seemed that way to him.

And any time his experiments were a failure, or were worthless, what did that say about their creator?

He was a failure. He was worthless.

Inevitably, he'd look down at his hands. The hands that had failed the experiment. The hands of a freak.

Freak.

It was the final piece of his self-image puzzle. And it was the only one that couldn't be solved by starting a new experiment.

He dropped his head from his hands and banged his head softly on the desk. He shouldn't be sitting here feeling sorry for himself. He had another experiment to try.

Another experiment to fail.

It would have to wait. For now, all he wanted to do was bang his head on the desk to the rhythm of Failue. Worthless. Freak.

"Yo, Donatello!"

Casey's voice was absolutely the last voice he wanted to hear right now. Casey never worried about being a failure. He was so cocksure all the time. No doubts for him.

And he wasn't a freak.

Something April had surely noticed by now.

"Whoa, dude. You okay?"

Donnie stopped banging his head on the desk and just rested his forehead on the edge. "Yeah. Fine."

"Why were you – "

"It helps me think."

"Whatever floats your boat, dude. Dinner is ready."

"I'm not hungry."

"Dude, you're sure you're okay?"

"Yes. Leave me alone."

Donnie heard the sound of Casey's footsteps retreating, along with a hushed scoff and a mutter of "Drama queen."

Donnie clenched his fists. He was gonna kill Casey one of these days. Maybe he could pass it off as another failed experiment, performed by Northampton's resident worthless freak.

A bead of water dropped onto the desk. Saline water, to be precise.

Stupid lacrimal glands. Stupid adrenal response.

Stupid Casey.

Stupid everything.

Stupid me.

"Donnie?"

Donnie's stomach somersaulted violently. He sat up stock straight and wheeled around. "A-April. Hi."

"Are you…?"

"Huh? No. No, it was just some sawdust in my eye. It sifts down from the rafters of the barn sometimes. I wasn't crying or anything like that."

"I was going to ask if you were okay," April said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Fine." He attempted a chuckle. "Right as rain!"

April's expression was soft. "It didn't work again, did it?"

Donnie couldn't even answer. He just closed his eyes and hung his head.

"I'm sure that you'll get the medicine right at some point, Donnie."

'Some point' doesn't help Leonardo now.

Two soft hands caressed Donnie's shoulders. He jumped and opened his eyes, jumping again even more when he saw April was standing in front of him.

"It's okay, Donnie." She hugged him tightly. "I believe in you." She let him go and gave him an evaluating look. "I think you should believe in you, too."

"But I'm a failure," Donnie protested.

Failureworthlessfreak!

"You're only a failure if you stop trying. The Donatello I know? He wouldn't stop trying. That means you're not a failure."

Donnie willed himself not to let more moisture out of his eyes. He begged the water in his eyes to exit through the lower lacrimal duct. It'd go into his nasal passages and cause him to sniff, but anything would be better than crying in front of April.

Success.

At least I'm good at something.

"Come eat, Donnie," April said, a tone of pleading in her voice.

Donnie sniffed, a little more noisily than he liked. "That sawdust gets in my nose, too."

"I bet it does. Why don't you come into the house and eat with us? Please? For me?"

Donnie was up from the chair in a heartbeat. For April? Anything. "Okay."

As he followed her back to the farmhouse, he thought about what she'd said.

You're only a failure if you stop trying.

Logically, it made perfect sense. He loved logic. So he hated even more that he still couldn't shake the notion that he was a failureworthlessfreak when it clearly wasn't true.

Well, the freak part was…

As he walked in the door and saw Casey, Mikey, and Raph sitting at the table, his eyes fell on the extra chair that had no occupant.

I'll never stop trying, Leo.

Special thanks to Firebird Scratches, whose stories inspired one or two elements in here. :)