Casey stares at the paper as Donnie presses down at it. Donnoe can't see it, but his finger is right over the word "die". Its absence from the sentence makes the rest appear all the heavier. He might as well have declared it aloud.
What would removing him entail, exactly? Trapping him? Knocking him out? Killing him to remove even the chance that he might come back to try again?
Even as he thinks of each option a small voice in the back of his mind is telling him: it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. From Donnie's perspective, it's the sensible option. The logical choice. Sacrificing family shouldn't be acceptable.
(What would he say, he wonders, knowing what sensei asked of Master Michelangelo. Knowing what he'd allowed of Raph. Knowing what his future self had chosen, in the end. He doesn't say any of that, though.)
What he says instead is,] Okay.
[What he says instead is,] Good.
[Because he doesn't know. He wants to believe that if the situation rolled back around, and he was handed a choice between family and the world, he'd remember this feeling, this guilt, this pain, and he'd make a different call. But he doesn't know. So he shouldn't be allowed.
Donnie is all about contingencies. This is a contingency. Remove the risk. Remove… him. Because he can't be trusted to make the right call.
What he says instead is,] I trust you with this.
[Donnie doesn't hate him.
Donnie doesn't trust him.
But he can trust Donnie to take this from him, if it comes to that.
He feels numb, one fresh wound in his heart carving itself away. It's fine. It's fine. He did this to himself.]
no subject
Casey stares at the paper as Donnie presses down at it. Donnoe can't see it, but his finger is right over the word "die". Its absence from the sentence makes the rest appear all the heavier. He might as well have declared it aloud.
What would removing him entail, exactly? Trapping him? Knocking him out? Killing him to remove even the chance that he might come back to try again?
Even as he thinks of each option a small voice in the back of his mind is telling him: it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. From Donnie's perspective, it's the sensible option. The logical choice. Sacrificing family shouldn't be acceptable.
(What would he say, he wonders, knowing what sensei asked of Master Michelangelo. Knowing what he'd allowed of Raph. Knowing what his future self had chosen, in the end. He doesn't say any of that, though.)
What he says instead is,] Okay.
[What he says instead is,] Good.
[Because he doesn't know. He wants to believe that if the situation rolled back around, and he was handed a choice between family and the world, he'd remember this feeling, this guilt, this pain, and he'd make a different call. But he doesn't know. So he shouldn't be allowed.
Donnie is all about contingencies. This is a contingency. Remove the risk. Remove… him. Because he can't be trusted to make the right call.
What he says instead is,] I trust you with this.
[Donnie doesn't hate him.
Donnie doesn't trust him.
But he can trust Donnie to take this from him, if it comes to that.
He feels numb, one fresh wound in his heart carving itself away. It's fine. It's fine. He did this to himself.]