It feels so wrong leaving Leo, especially when he's wounded, when he needs to be protected. It's so hard not to look back, but Donnie knows if he does, he won't be able to do what he needs to do. He doesn't really need to look back when his brother's panicked face is so fresh in his mind.

Fighting instinct to fly higher is another thing, but at least knowing that it would risk going past the shields again makes it easier to resist. Donnie glides alongside the rest of the Convoy train, cutting between vehicles until he reaches the Turtle Tank.

"I hope these still work..." he murmurs to himself as he gathers a few of the vials of red water he'd collected. Maybe he should have just brought Leo back here. Maybe they could just drive back to that oasis, but he's not even sure how far they'd gone since, and the threats that had come up in between had been difficult enough to handle when they weren't injured.

Shaking his head, Donnie gets back out of the vehicle, taking off again. It's like he's always had wings, always been able to fly without something manufactured. A gust of air pushes him farther, things he wonders about but somehow manages not to think too hard on, not when his brother's hurting, not when he needs him.

He sees Leo, not liking how miserable he looks, nor how small he's made himself. Leo's always been a presence that could fill rooms, stadiums. This isn't like his brother at all.

When he finally alights back on the roof of the truck, Donnie drops down beside him, eyes widening at the broken shell pieces there. Oh no, nonono please don't do this... He's not sure who or what he's pleading to, but he moves to pull Leo close again.

"Leo, Leo I'm here, you're okay, please say you're okay...!"