Well, this is the beginning of the end, my friends. This is the last part of this story, at least as of now. Will I ever come back and add an Act 9? Honestly, I've no idea. But for now, this will wrap up the series.

Don't worry, though – we have a lot of wrap-up to do before the end!

I do want to say that the original themesong for this Act was "Days Go By" by The Offspring, but I ended up changing it when I was writing the final chapter. Now, the theme for this Act can actually apply to Acts 5-8, the same as the song from Act 1 works for 1-4. The song for this Act also has turned into one of my anthems for the year.

Oh, and the element associated with Act 8 is Time.

Here we go! Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Crumble

Home.

Its meaning varies from culture to culture, world to world, person to person. Home may be a place – but it may also be a scent or a memory or a smile.

The Heart had been Homeworld and parent and guiding light for its people for millennia. It had comforted them in times of sorrow and had rejoiced with them in times of gladness. It had birthed them from its spirit and had cradled them when they died.

The Song sung by the Heart had been heard by many throughout the universe, even if there were those who never knew its source. The Song was not limited by distance or time, and it had sung to fill the hearts of beings of every species on every world. The Song was the Heart's gentle touch, the secure embrace of boundless love and acceptance.

But the Song could only be heard by those who listened for it, just as the Heart could only welcome those who sought it in its dwelling-place at the center of the Homeworld.

And though the Heart was but a sleepy intelligence, only partially aware as compared to its much greater consciousness in another place that was still itself, it knew its children, those born and those made. It knew its children's voices and it knew their spirits.

It knew its children and it sang to them when they needed the Song to fill their own hearts.

So when sorrow came, when the Heart's children cried out in pain, it sang to them of their home within its spirit. It sang of belonging, of a safe place to rest. It sang of its love for those spirits who were its children and for whom the Heart would forever be home. It would have embraced them and comforted them and filled them with love if they came to it in need.

But it knew, inasmuch as it knew anything at all, that many of its currently frightened children were not listening. They were caught up in panic and grief.

If the Heart had been more aware, it might have understood that two of its children's pain was that one particular soul might follow the Heart's Song to retreat into that darkness and never return.

It might have understood that what it offered was precisely what they feared the most.

But it did not understand. So the Heart sang on.

-==OOO==-

"The medics are almost here!"

"Tell them to hurry! We need a full stasis pod and transport to the nearest facility. He needs immediate reconstructive surgery!"

"I'm relaying it now."

"He's gonna be okay? Right?"

"He's gotta be!"

"Please, hang in there! You can't give up now!"

"Please don't go where we can't follow…"

-==OOO==-

The Song of the Heart held Donatello, wrapping him in a melody of life and safety that poured into his very soul.

How long he floated he didn't know – it could have been moments or an eternity. But eventually the Song became punctuated with a rhythm that was outside itself, like a light pulsing against the music. It took another eternity, or moment, for Donatello to realize it was a deliberate force prodding at his awareness, waking him from the Song.

Donatello opened his eyes to see his own reflection.

Except – not quite.

"Close enough, though," the other Donatello said. He looked as he had before, weathered in ways Don wasn't now, or didn't think he was now, with a weight to rival a small moon in his eyes. But he smiled and that smile was the same as the one Don had seen in pictures and vids of himself when his students had surpassed all expectations.

Don blinked at him. "Um. Hi?"

The older Donatello held out a hand laced with fine scars. "Come on. Time to take a walk with me."

Don found he could touch his other self and let himself be tugged forward.

He seemed to pass through some change in the space around himself that was difficult to identify. Like walking through a single fall of rain or a curtain hung of clouds. Something delicate and momentary. He could still hear the Song, though its warmth was muted. But instead of the dark of slumber, he found himself looking over many people he loved so much all flocking around his very still body.

"Wait!" His head shot up in alarm. "Am I dead?"

The older Donatello did not let go of his grip and chuckled. "Not yet, anyway."

"Oh, that's very reassuring. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Don knew he needed to keep moving, to follow where he was being led, but he couldn't seem to tear his gaze from the commotion below. He watched, fascinated, as an Utrom medical team appeared and pulled his unresponsive and badly-bleeding body into an oblong bubble filled with the same fluid he had first encountered with his father's own healing pod back on Earth and had learned quite a bit about since; it was only utilized for the most severe cases. The medical team were working with brisk efficiency but they were hampered by the sheer number of people who wouldn't quite get out of their way.

The older Donatello tugged on his hand.

"I know it's interesting, but trust me – you don't want to see what they're going to do next. Unless you want to watch yourself undergo some pretty intense surgery."

Don shivered. "Bad?"

The older Donatello gave him a mild glare. "You put yourself in the center of disintegration bomb with a collapsing radius and an imperfect parameter limiter. Be glad you only managed to disintegrate part of your anatomy. Unfortunately, you lost several chunks of flesh you really need, so it's going to be touch-and-go on you for a while."

Don returned the glare with a shrug. "I didn't exactly have a lot of time to perfect or test the thing. I'm just glad it worked at all."

"Yes. Now quit stalling. Someone wants to talk to you."

Don filled up his eyes with everyone – Leo and Raph and Mikey clinging to Splinter, Mortu barking orders without ever taking his eyes off where Leatherhead and Zayton were holding onto the stasis pod and running with the medical team from the crater – before he resolutely turned his head and followed his older self.

"How'd you get here, anyway?" Don asked.

"You could say I've been here before." Then, after a wink, "And, more to the point, it's not so much a 'here' anyway. Time and space are pretty malleable once you get the hang of it."

Don considered. "You're suggesting I could bend time the way I can open a fold between dimensions?"

"Yes, but only inside yourself where time is meaningless."

Don couldn't decide if he was intrigued to know that much or annoyed that it didn't exactly make sense.

"This is that 'things aren't always what they seem, especially reality' trick again, isn't it?"

"More like 'existence works on more levels than one and you're only really familiar with the basics, grasshopper,'" the older Donatello returned. "Give it time. You'll figure it out eventually."

"Obviously you did."

"Yeah. But just keep in mind – I've had a lot more time to get used to it." The older Donatello quirked a smile. "Don't try to master it all at once. You'll drive yourself – and everybody else – crazy."

"You sound like you're speaking from experience."

"You could say that." The older Donatello gave another tug. "Now, quit dragging your metaphorical feet. It makes it harder to keep you here. And if I lose track of you, you might get stuck somewhere inside the Heart, not just floating alongside it."

"Oh. Sorry?" Now that his attention had been called to it, though, he could feel the weight of his interest in what was happening with his body holding him back from moving freely away from it. And every question he launched at his older counterpart grounded him farther in the self he was back there, not the self present here.

And still the Song of the Heart beckoned him, warm and safe.

Don brought his thoughts into order and focused forward.

"Thank you. That's much better."

"Out of curiosity, though, what would happen if I did get stuck in the Heart? However that works?"

The older Don made a sad smile. "You'd never be lonely again, and you'd never be sad, but you would never wake up again, either, and eventually you'd lose all spiritual cohesion. If the Heart decided to make you a part of itself, that's what you'd be – forever. And no one would be able to bring you back. So come with me if you want to keep on being yourself."

A light bloomed in the nothingness before them.

Don trusted his older self, he did, but he still had to ask, "I'm not going to go into the light and wind up in the big laboratory in the sky, am I?"

The older Donatello snorted. "Now you sound like Mikey. No. It's just another plane of awareness where it's easier for us all to meet."

"Who's this 'all' that's meeting us here?"

"Walk through and find out."

Don wanted to understand. He wanted to find out what was here, what it meant, why he had been summoned. Who was waiting. What it was all about.

But he couldn't shake the feeling that passing through that doorway would change something, maybe forever. And he still had a promise to keep.

"Hey."

Don looked up into the eyes of his older self.

"I can't tell you much, but I can tell you this. Come with me now and you've got the same odds to get back as if we wait it out here. And, if you give it a chance, you'll get to see somebody you really want to see."

Don felt the steadiness, the truth, the certainty in his older self. But what really convinced him was the light that bloomed in the older Donatello's eyes. As if his older self were going home.

Hey, maybe we are. "Okay." And Don let the older Donatello lead him into the light.

-==OOO==-

Over the course of the next two hours, the small waiting room became very crowded.

It had been empty when Leo and Raph and Mikey and Splinter arrived at the healing center where the healers had brought Don on an emergency transport some minutes before – they had had to wait for Mortu to coordinate with Owens and the arriving Guardians and Secrete Obscura to commandeer another vehicle. Leatherhead and Zayton had both gone with Don and the healers by virtue of having some understanding of the device Don had used and what it might have done to him.

But shortly after the Hamato Clan arrived, Professor Honn'i'kedt joined them.

"I have done all I can. Leatherhead has a great deal more knowledge of Donatello's biology, so he will be advising them."

Mortu arrived somewhat later; he had obviously been anguished when he had agreed to stay behind to help Guardian Owens secure the Heart and continue the cleanup of the disaster, but that was his duty and he knew as much. It was while Mortu and Guardian Owens were negotiating for the vehicle that the Hamato Clan had learned the 'attack' by the Architect's ship on the planet had actually harmed no one – in spite of the fact that it looked to all appearances like countless buildings and beings had been vaporized. Instead, the crowds of Utrom who had been digitally transported to safety were disseminating strict instructions on how to handle the situation.

Instructions given to them by Donatello himself in those few minutes they spent as digital beings in his care.

Even fighting for his life, Don was also still trying to help.

But eventually Mortu arrived with tired eyes and a robotic shrug, now wearing one of the robo-organic suits of the Utrom.

He only said, "They don't need me as much as Donatello does right now."

In Mortu's wake came a group of four Utrom who spoke to Zayton and whom the turtles learned were Leatherhead's own parents. The Utrom greeted the Hamato Clan kindly, having spent time getting to know Donatello and hearing about the rest of them from Leatherhead himself, but there was a universal worry in their eyes that was not bound by species or life experience.

The worry of family, of parent to child, for all they had endured and for all that might yet be have to be endured.

When the ten beings anxiously waiting for news fell silent, it was an oppressive, worrying silence. Even Michelangelo didn't have the heart to try to make jokes. Not when he didn't know if his brother would live or die.

But before even he could gather the courage to find some way of shifting the tension, Mortu did it for him.

"Zayton."

Every eye in the room fell upon the Fugitoid and Mortu as Mortu stirred from a corner into which he had drifted. With a gesture, Honn'i'kedt made space for Mortu's suit beside his own along a mushy bench to one side.

Mortu fought with words for a long moment before he spoke.

"I need to understand it. Everything."

Zayton nodded. "Where shall I start? And..." He trailed off, glancing at the turtles.

Master Splinter looked up. "Already I know much of my son's plan, but perhaps you can make better sense of it than I."

"Tell us." Mikey didn't quite mean to whimper, but that's how it came out. "Please?"

Mortu made a gesture with his forelegs, which seemed to be permission to begin.

"You all realize now that Donatello was never truly working with the Architect, correct?" Honn'i'ket asked.

"Yeah." Raph's voice was low. "He was foolin' him the whole time."

"It was the only way for him to survive." Zayton spoke to the entire room. "Donatello initially left the Homeworld to seek out that which was threatening people in the galaxy. I think we all underestimated the impact of Donatello's experience with the Architect's last attack; it drove him to breach some of the most secure files of the Secrete without telling any of us. Through his own research, he discovered that the culprit was the Architect. So he went to find it and stop it."

Leo shook his head. "Stupid, stupid Donnie."

Several of the others looked at him, but Zayton did not.

"Upon being captured by the Architect, Donatello was subjected to the same mental invasion as all the other victims. But he had certain abilities the Architect could not have anticipated and was not grievously harmed. And, more importantly, he was able to keep secrets from the Architect. This led to Donatello discovering the true nature of the Architect, its goal, and the extent of the protections layered around its programming."

"So he figured he couldn't take it down until it let its guard down," Michelangelo said. "He went all Trojan Horse and snuck in so he could open the gate from the inside."

"How the shell do you know about the Trojan Horse?" Raph asked, blinking.

"Dude. It's in every cartoon and comic book ever."

"Figures."

"And the bad guys always fall for it. Like, always."

"As did the Architect," Zayton said. "From that moment of initial resistance, Donatello arranged matters to suit his final goal of forcing the Architect to initiate a synchronization with an external force so that he could attempt to disable it. With the minds of so many victims hanging in the balance locked within the Architect's matrix, it would have amounted to their deaths if he had simply destroyed the ship from within or attempted to damage the Architect's systems directly."

One of the other Utrom spoke up for the first time. "I am aware of the Architect, being among the advisors to those who attempted to care for its victims. If I may ask – how were their minds preserved? Such a thing should not be possible."

"Except," Zayton said, "that the Architect was housed in a ship which was originally of the Utrom. And while it was very old, it was still equipped with extensive telexistence technology and fully-functioning Oracle Pods. The Architect itself utilized that technology to enhance its interrogation of its victims, but also to replicate the entire mental capacity of each one for further investigation later."

He paused, and his voice warmed slightly.

"Almost any other being might have overlooked the possibility of saving so many lives trapped in something of a digital purgatory. But because one of Donatello's primary fields of study was related to digitalization of consciousness and telexistence, he had a unique advantage in retrieving this information, ensuring its integrity, and protecting it."

"But why threaten the Heart?" Mortu asked.

"Donatello reasoned that the Heart was both a tempting enough target for the Architect to accept and strong enough to resist it even if he failed in every one of his plans. Additionally, to absorb the Heart would bring the Architect to the Homeworld where Donatello could more easily transfer the cognitive information of its victims to those intimately familiar with telexistence studies. And…"

Zayton made a noise with his voice processor a bit like a cough.

"And Donatello knew he could count upon all of you to protect the Homeworld and do what needed to be done if he was unable to finish the task himself."

"What does all this have to do with the attack on the Stem?" Raph asked.

Zayton glanced at Leatherhead's family but Mortu waved a foreleg. "Go on. I'll make sure they get the proper clearance. They deserve to know all of it."

Zayton nodded. "The areas around the Heart are generally densely populated by the Secrete Obscura. While the Guardians and some members of the Secrete were pursuing the Architect in space, it was necessary to thin out their ranks farther to avoid additional casualties. The digitization process Donatello used to remove all living beings from the area around the Heart is not unlimited – the fewer people he had to transport, the safer they would be. So he arranged for a distraction."

"You mean he fed info to those Enlightened Ones," Mikey corrected.

"Yes. He identified a mole close to the High Council and used that individual's access to acquire information for the Enlightened Ones that would concentrate their attack somewhere he could control. He has already forwarded all the details of that part of the operation to the High Council so they can take appropriate actions."

"What do you mean, control?" Leo asked, looking up. "Wasn't he risking the entire Council's safety?"

"Donatello was monitoring the situation from the Architect's ship, as were Leatherhead and I," Zayton said. "If anything had gone truly awry, we would have intervened directly. As it is, we were only required to use the chaos of the situation to make the switch of Donatello's mask in your possession."

Leo shook his head again. "And I never noticed."

"You were falling through the air at the time."

Raph managed a half-hearted punch at Leo's shoulder. "You're slipping, bro."

"So Donatello ensured that there would be fewer people on duty around the Heart," Mortu said. "And then used that lull to remove the rest before initiating his plan."

"Yes. It was our hope to be able to stop the Architect peacefully. In fact, it and I are not so different as consciousnesses bound to artificial bodies. The knowledge the Architect possessed about countless lost cultures, to say nothing of what it has gained roaming the universe, was invaluable. And the lives of its victims…"

Zayton looked away.

"But, in the end, neither Donatello nor myself were able to overcome the Architect's ancient protections and we were forced to adopt more drastic measures. It is possible that our failure will result in a loss of integrity to the data we did retrieve, which means some of the victims of the Architect might not be saved, or may suffer incomplete restoration. But the Heart...its safety outweighed everything else."

"Including Donatello's own life."

Everyone shifted to look at where Splinter's head was down. His words were heavy with sorrow and grief.

"I saw as much in a joint meditation when Donatello shared with me his plans to defeat the Architect and his reasoning for his actions. I begged him to pursue another option, to find a way of defeating this enemy without sacrificing himself. But...my son felt strongly that if he could not disable it, that he must not take any chances on destroying it."

"But," Mortu's voice went sharp, "he could have called upon the Heart! Between its power and the mystical weapons he procured for just that eventuality, there was no reason for him to risk his life!"

A new voice spoke up. "But to call upon the Heart's full strength would be to invite it to unshield itself. Not only would it be more vulnerable than ever, but it might also prove a fatal distraction to Donatello and to ourselves."

The door slid shut behind Leatherhead. Leatherhead glanced around the room and closed his eyes, his snout hanging down.

"I believe, in the end, he was not willing to risk it. Even at the cost of his own life or all our lives. And so he chose a method to destroy the Architect that endangered only himself."

"Leatherhead. You knew?" Splinter asked.

Leatherhead shook his head. "Not then. I knew Donatello had several contingencies planned, but not the contents of them all. However…" He sighed.

"However?" Zayton asked, exuding gentleness.

Two of Leatherhead's parents shifted through the air on their discs to touch him with their forelegs.

"However. Aunt Kria was working tirelessly within the system to create a repository for the minds and memories of the victims – we could access them, but we couldn't relocate and transfer them until Donatello feigned an outage in one of the sectors during our final descent. And Zayton, you were dealing with the firewalls and also with managing a number of the equations for digitization. I helped wherever I could but...being less well versed in the specific fields of study required, I had more time to spare than the others."

"Donatello's mind showed me that he spoke to you often," Splinter said.

"Yes." Leatherhead's eyes were watery. "Donatello did not want to distract Aunt Kria when her work was so critical to the preservation of so many lives, so I became his most regular confidant. I...I could see the guilt weighing upon him, the risks he was taking with the lives of the victims and our own and the Heart itself. I could see it biting into his soul."

Leatherhead looked up. "And then every time had to confront you turtles, or even when he visited you in your mind, Master Splinter, it tore into him anew. He said he felt like he was sowing pain everywhere he went, that he'd done egregious things while trying his best to do the right thing. His guilt...the shame of the pain he was causing…"

"You think it made Don suicidal." Leo's words were cold and sharp in the sudden, leaden silence.

"No." Leatherhead dragged in a breath. "I know that, in spite of it all, Donatello wanted to live. But I think he could not have endured the burden of the Heart's safety were it to be exposed. I think that he panicked. That he acted recklessly not because he had given up, but because he had drawn one final line he could not cross even at the cost of everything."

"I think you may be right," Mortu said, sighing. "The strain of having so many lives dependent upon his ability to outwit the Architect, and the presence of the family he thought lost, and the risk to the Homeworld...I think it would be very like Donatell to find himself so afraid to fail that he could not stand to employ any method that wasn't certain to succeed. Even if it took his life to do so."

"He fell on his sword to ensure the dragon would die," Splinter said. "My poor son."

Suddenly Leo exploded out of his chair. "He shouldn't have...he couldn't...none of this should ever have happened!"

Raph was beside him in an instant. "Leo! Stop it!"

"No!" Leo bunched his hands at his sides as though barely keeping himself from lashing out. "Don should never have been in that position!"

"He chose to go, Leo." Michelangelo rose to stand with Raph. "You know, any one of us might have done the same...if we'd known how. And been a little crazy. Which we are sometimes."

"He should have stayed with the Utrom!" Leo shouted. "He should have been safe! Why'd he have to go and do something so stupid?"

And then Zayton was there, moving with ninja-like silence for all his Fugitoid body had never been particularly stealthy.

"You are angry at yourself, Leonardo. Not Donatello. I will not let you blame him for your own mistakes and choices."

The words echoed with the force of a slap and Leo rocked back on his heels as if struck by them.

"I…"

"He's right."

Leo's head swiveled to stare at Raph as though he had never seen him before. "What?"

Raph shrugged. "He's right," he said again. "Look, it ain't easy on any of us right now. But don't you dare go laying this on Donnie's shell, Leo. Donnie only went after that Architect because it was the right thing to do, same as we've done however much stuff that was way worse."

Raph glanced down at the medallion he still wore. Don's medallion.

"Don never went in for that superhero stuff of Mikey's. And he never wanted to be out bustin' heads with me and Casey to get punks off the street. But when did Don ever turn away from a problem whether he knew how to fix it or not?"

"I know that, but..." Leo trailed off.

"Perhaps it was inevitable," Mortu spoke up softly. "For so long while he was here, Donatello was teaching and experimenting, yes, but he was also training with the Guardians. And when he became a target himself, he was driven by the need to find ways of protecting what he had learned so it could not be used to harm others. Perhaps..."

"It's not really that surprising," Mikey interrupted, looking slightly annoyed. "We've done weirder things with less good reason. Just because Don never went looking for the hero gig doesn't mean he isn't one."

"And I know that you're ticked off." Raph turned back to Leo. "I get it. But you're not ticked off that he was in danger, or even that he went. You'd'a been ticked off before we even got here if that was why. No, you're ticked off now because now is when it matters to ya whose fault it is."

"It is no one's fault." Splinter looked into Leonardo's eyes. "My son. It is no one's fault."

"Personally, I would blame the Architect itself," Zayton put in. "That is who was responsible for the pain and destruction that drove Donatello to find and destroy it, and that is what ultimately refused to surrender and had to be eliminated by any means necessary."

"Leonardo."

Leo looked up to where Mortu was regarding him with calm, resolute eyes. It was an expression Leo had seen in the mirror many times – the look of a leader who must bear the burdens of all who put their trust in him.

"What happened on Earth and in the other dimension...you must resolve that with Donatello yourself. All of you." He glanced to look at the rest of the Hamato Clan. "But what happened here? The life Donatello led and the choices he made? Those were and are his own. And while I will likely scream at him myself for being so reckless with his own life and safety, I agree that no one is to blame for it. Not you, and not myself either."

Raph grabbed Leo's shoulder and shook it.

"Be sorry about what you did," he said in a low, heartfelt voice that belied his own guilt. "Promise you'll do better. Apologize as soon as you get the chance. But don't you dare blame him or yourself for how this ended. Don't you dare."

Leo managed a laugh. "You know things have gone sideways when you're lecturing me, Raph."

Raph quirked a half-smile. "Kinda fun. I could get used to this."

"Uh, no thanks," Mikey put in. "One lecturer in the family is way more than enough, dude."

"Two lecturers," Leatherhead said then. They looked at him. "Two lecturers," he repeated. "Or have you forgotten that Donatello is a teacher and lecturer himself now, even if the context is different?"

A host of emotions flitted through the expressions of the three turtles, but Michelangelo made an obvious effort to shove them all down and smile.

"Now I'm feeling left out. You think I could start giving lectures on comic books to all those snazzy people Don teaches?"

For making the entire room relax, Raph didn't even smack him.

-==OOO==-

Don emerged into a familiar Japanese garden, one he had spent some hours in not long before. But this time there were two figures waiting at the center of the garden. Don's knees almost gave way.

"Master...Yoshi."

"I'm here too, you ungrateful kumquat," the Ancient One said, but his eyes were alight with amusement. "After all the work I did to assist you and you do not even greet me? How rude!"

"I...I'm sorry, Ancient One. I...uh…"

But the Ancient One smiled. "It is good you feel so strongly the presence of Yoshi, young one. Do not be concerned. We are all friends here."

Don looked to his older self. "You're sure I'm not dead?"

The other Donatello smiled. "Nope. I told you. It's a different plane of awareness. Not so different from what you've done in meditation before, but with a little more juice. Enough to reach someone who really wanted to talk to you."

In the face of everything, Don could hardly bear to fix his gaze on Hamato Yoshi, the man Splinter had so loved, the man so trusted and honored by the Utrom and the Guardians. The man from the Ancient One's stories. The man from the sphere of memories.

But that man's eyes were gentle and serene and infinitely wise. "Donatello-san. It is an honor to meet you at last."

Don gulped, managed to bow, almost fell over, and finally righted himself. "I...thank you, Master Yoshi."

"I wished to thank you properly for your sacrifice. Because of your courage and forbearance, a great evil has been removed from the universe. And the Heart, and the Utrom to whom I dedicated my life, are safe."

Don almost swallowed his tongue when Yoshi bowed to him. He made a sort of squeaking 'meep' noise that was thoroughly undignified. Yoshi, of course, did not acknowledge it when he rose.

"You and your brothers did what none else could do and defeated the Utrom Shredder twice. You also filled the place made for you by the Ninja Tribunal to vanquish the Demon Shredder. These feats tested all four of you and nearly cost you all your lives.

"But this time you were alone. And still you rose up and destroyed an ancient force who would have eventually caused great suffering across the galaxy. And while your plan was unorthodox, in the end, the Heart was spared because of your willingness to protect it even at the ultimate cost to yourself."

Don shifted uncomfortably. "Master Yoshi, I…"

Yoshi held up a hand and Don fell silent.

"I am also aware of the fact that the course of these events led you to rescind your birthright to the Hamato Clan."

Don nodded and would have dropped his gaze except he couldn't stand showing the slightest disrespect to Master Yoshi, not now that he could finally meet the man who had made everything possible.

"I understand why you made the choice you did, both in that moment and for what is yet to come."

His serene expression warmed with affection.

"But I wish you to know that, no matter the choices you make, or that your Sensei makes, I will always claim you and your brothers and father as my own. Whatever you do, you are still my Clan, Donatello-san. One of my students and Heirs. And, strange as it may be to think, one of my grandsons."

"Strange is what this Clan does best, it seems," the Ancient One grumbled with no real ire. "When I wished for you to bring me children, Yoshi, I did not expect a rat and his kame babies."

Yoshi quirked an eyebrow at his own adopted father. "But are you not grateful for them now? Pleased by the honor they do your teachings?"

"Pleased is a strong word for it," the Ancient One returned. He snorted. "Certainly they are a trial. Every one of them, not just this one."

Don blushed.

But the older Donatello laughed. "So, exactly the Clan you'd expect, then?"

"Unfortunately."

The Ancient One approached Don and looked up at him. Then his face split with a small smile. "Though your foolishness knows no bounds, so far your good fortune has held up. And the Tribunal is quite frustrated that you were able to summon Kiryoku for Leonardo and craft the focus mandala. All in all, you have done well, young one."

"I...uh, thank you." Don wished his voice didn't tremble. "I couldn't have done it without your help, though, Ancient One."

"I'm not so certain that is true." The Ancient One's eyes snapped with amusement. "If you could not have accomplished it alone now, you certainly will someday."

Yoshi spoke again before Don could splutter or panic. "When you next see the rest of our Clan, please convey to them my highest regards. And please tell Splinter-san that I am very proud of him and of all his sons have become." His eyes shone with mirth for a moment. "And remind your brothers to behave themselves, for I am watching them as surely as I have watched over you."

Don drew in a breath if only to keep from passing out – assuming that was even possible at the moment. "Master Yoshi...the sphere you left behind…"

"I wish you to keep it, Donatello-san. I did not know when I made it that it was meant for you, but that is how events have unfolded. If you choose to share it with Splinter-san or your brothers, that is your choice and right. I hope, even if you do not wish them to view its contents, that you will at least pass on its teachings to the rest of your family someday."

Don bowed sharply. "I will, Master."

"Good. There is still much for you to learn, but I know that you shall master it in time." Yoshi glanced to the older Donatello. "And, if your path leads the way his has done, you will surprise even us with what you uncover."

Don looked to his counterpart. "That sounds ominous."

"Oh." And the older Donatello grinned with pure delight. "You have no idea. Trust me."

"I'm afraid to, honestly." Then Don blinked. "Wait. You're all talking like you're sure I'll make it back. I thought...aren't I at death's door?"

Yoshi smiled and Donatello felt like he had the first time he'd seen a sunrise all over again.

"You are. But you gave your word, did you not? That you would not die?"

"I promised. But...it's not like I can really help it." He stopped. "Or can I?"

"Now you remember to think." The Ancient One nodded. "Recall your lessons. What you will becomes truth."

"The only way you die here," the older Donatello said, "is if you decide you want to. It's up to you now. If you don't want to go back, if you can't handle it, that's your choice."

Don blinked at him. "Can't handle what?"

"Living with the consequences. Of everything. Everything you've done and what happened with your brothers and facing what will have to happen next." His eyes went sad for a moment. "It won't necessarily be easy for you. And your life won't ever be the same again."

"However," Yoshi said, and his voice drew Don's gaze back like a comet pulled into orbit. "I have faith in your courage, Donatello-san. And in those who call you family. If you can risk a little more, I think you would be grateful. As would those who now fear for you."

And then Donatello felt something like strings closing around his wrists. He looked down in surprise to see ghostly ribbons of light looping around his arms and trailing off in the air like fading moonbeams; together, they looked a bit like a rainbow. For there were many colors.

And Don found he knew them all.

Blue. Leo.

Orange. Mikey.

Red. Raph.

A sedate brown. Father.

Yellow-green. Leatherhead.

Silvery-grey. Zayton.

Roseate. Mortu.

And so many others. Green for April, slate-grey for Casey, pale blue for Krian'daren. Colors for Angel and the Professor in the junkyard on Earth, for Usagi in his own world, for the students and friends he had made at the Science Institute, for Bonani and the other Guardians. There were colors Don couldn't even name, bleeding into one bright mass of strings that shimmered and tangled together, a riot of light and energy.

A life calling him to return.

Don felt tears gather and fall and he didn't bother to wipe them away.

"I know it'll be hard," he said in a voice that shook. "But...I didn't think I'd make it out alive."

He looked up at his older self, at the Ancient One, at Hamato Yoshi.

"I...can't imagine not wanting to go back. No matter what happens next."

"I know it will not always be the easiest decision, but I feel certain that it is the correct one," Yoshi said. "Go with my blessing and continue to make your way, Hamato Donatello-san."

The Ancient One gave a short nod. "And remember. You can always find us, well, me – at least for now until you learn a bit more. If you need me badly enough. I would not mind another visit. The trouble you find for yourself is always interesting, kumquat."

Don bowed to him, then bowed to Yoshi. "Thank you. Both of you. For everything. I'll...I'll try to deserve it."

The older version of Donatello stepped forward. "Okay. Then let's get you back where you belong."

Don nodded. "I'm ready."

His older self huffed a laugh. "We'll see about that."

The older Donatello braced both hands on Don's shoulders.

And pushed.

-==OOO==-

The door opened and several different beings walked in, including Krian'daren herself.

Leatherhead's parents stayed out of the way, so only a small horde descended upon them in a rush of questions and shouting and demands for Donatello's status.

Krian'daren waited quietly until the group managed to silence themselves before she peered around them.

"Donatello lives. He is hurt, very. He will need much time. But his mind is unharmed and his body will heal."

It was Splinter who asked the only question left that really mattered.

"When can we see him?"

"Now. Though nothing to see. Soon we transport him to healing suite to recover." She pinned the group with a glare. "But must be quiet. He sleeps. The transport is difficult. Let sleep him until then after."

In that moment, any one of them would have given her anything she asked, agreed to any promise, accepted any stipulations, if they could but see Donatello and ensure that he was going to be all right. But she needn't have bothered, really.

Because when she led the entire group to where they could look through a window to Donatello's room, where they could see him suspended in a bed of viscous liquid and wrapped in coverings and tubes and wires, not one felt any need to make noise.

He was clearly battered. He looked – as Michelangelo said later – like he had gone ten rounds with the Shredder and then been put through a paper shredder on top of it.

But he was alive.

He had saved the Heart and thereby the Homeworld and the entire Utrom race.

And he was still their Donatello. Somehow he had endured the Architect and the disintegration and everything else and had not just survived, but had remained himself at his core. Somewhere underneath all those wounds was a heart that still beat for both of his families.

The only thing left – the only thing the Hamato Clan or the Utrom family needed – was for him to wake up and rejoin them once and for all.