Story originally inspired and based after Cynlee's "Misconceptions." It may borrow some elements from that story, but it may not directly quote it. This story is dedicated to Cynlee; need I say more? You go girl! XD

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Chapter One:

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It was an average day in the turtles' lives, or that was what two of them had thought when they woke up that crispy someday morning.

It had been about a week since Leonardo had come back home, from his pilgrimage when it had ended, after his journey to Japan to meet the one their father had called the Ancient One.

The family rejoiced at the final family reunion, though bits and pieces of uncertainties and apprehension still remained.

Mostly it was about the blue masked turtles spiritual healing, and if he had indeed come back to whom they knew him to be.

Donatello was glad Leo was back. He had missed his level headed and tactful brother dearly, and was very grateful to know the turtle displayed none of the brash, rash and angry behavior from merely a few months ago, it was a change he very much appreciated.

Raphael and Michelangelo were glad their blue-clad brother had come back as well, though Raphael was still at edge and unsure if the problem had been honestly dealt with, or was merely swept under the rug.

However, he did not mull over it for today he and Michelangelo, along with Leonardo and Donatello, had to sneak back towards the destructed Y'lantian lair, to retrieve what little had survived of their belongings, after Karai's massive destructive forces, and then move said items to the abandoned pumping station that had become their new home.

Much rubble had been left in the battle's wake, and one visit would not be enough to retrieve all that had survived. So they merely had to go back and pick up some items every now and then of closer junkyard-like recourses that are closer to home.

"Man, it's true when they say good things don't last for long." The orange masked turtle mumbled sadly, carefully he flipped a thin board-like slot of bluish grey plaster on the floor with his foot, and watched the small cloud of dirt rise as the debris rolled away, "How long had we lived here, again?" he turned to his brothers questioningly.

"About a year or so, I think." Donatello replied, he carried an intact wooden chair at hand.

It was slightly scratched from being knocked out of place, but otherwise it was in good useable condition, though it might need a support on one of its barely chipped legs to make sure it won't break when a certain heavy body sits on it.

'Are you calling me fat?' Raphael snarled angrily at his widely grinning little brother.

'Of course not, I'm saying your butt's fat!' Micheangelo replied.

The broken furniture and bruises each adorned afterwards lasted for a few hours, but the lumps on their heads were mainly the result of their father's cane, admonishing punishment for knocking over his tea set and spilling the beverage, while still hot, on his lap.

"I can't believe it's been that long, though. Everything just happened so fast." Donatello gave a small sigh as he glanced up at the ripped cables that hung around the ceiling, "And I was so happy and getting those last touches completed." He mumbled a little sourly at the destruction of so much effort gone to waste.

"Hopefully the station would suit you better, Donny. After all, it's much bigger, and you already got that internet cable installed." Raphael quirked a smile and then squatted down to pick up the huge box he had used to collect smaller items.

He picked it up careful as to not strain his spine from the massive weight, weighted and balanced it in his arms, before he then turned to the others, "Okay, I think this is the last of our haul for now." He was about to say something more when he blinked and frowned confusedly, before he glanced around then he turned to the two turtles before him, "Hey, where's Leo?"

"Over here." A voice echoed nearby, at the direction of Splinter's chamber. At the remains of the sliding paper door, the turtle in blue stepped out with a tray-like box, whereas Bonsai trees were sorted to fit the small space and not fall during the ride home, "I just had to get these for sensei." He said with a soft smile as he advanced closer towards them.

Although none said anything, they had all missed that tender brotherly smile. It gave them a sense of safety and familiarity, a piece of their brother they had missed for so long, and they cherished it whenever it visibly showed.

"Okay, are we good to go?" Raph grumped, disturbing the peaceful moment with a feint huff, shifted the box again in his arms and already headed out towards the newly restored Sewer Slider.

It had taken Donatello approximately three weeks to get back together, and another two weeks to have it working properly. Although it had not been damaged all that badly, it was more the distractions he kept getting from his family, especially the easily bored orange masked one who took a toll on his nerves.

From needing to adjust the new lair to accommodate to their needs, and trying to repair whatever was broken from their salvaged loot, it practically ate up his time and he could barely catch up to most of those duties, without Michelangelo riling up the angry beast and smash even more things up, before he would crash in bed or even on his work bench from sheer exhaustion.

Don was still upset and frustrated about the slow repairs were coming, for he knew there was still so much to do, and refusing to let April pitch in with money to pay for what he could not fix was something he strongly felt about. Casey's aid in fixing some vehicles was welcomed, but offering help with technical equipment or offering money was not.

Casey had good intentions, he just had no skills with delicate technical equipment.

Also, the itch on his thigh from the giant bug attack a few weeks ago was driving him up the wall. Not to mention that Raph kept slapping his hand every time he started scratching it. He appreciated his brothers concern, as rough as it might seem, but he couldn't help it, and he wouldn't allow himself to rest, not when there were so many gaps in their walls that needed patching; figuratively speaking.

"So is this the last load?" Mike asked one last time. They had been doing laps from the pumping station to the demolished Y'lantian lair for the past week, and every time they came late at night to collect what little bits salvageable here and there to take home. "I mean, is there anything left, or this gonna be the last time we come here?"

"I believe this will be the last time, for a while at least." Don explained with a slight smile, "Maybe until we remember something and come back for it. But for now, no there is nothing left, this is the last patch."

"Good, cause I'm tired of coming and going back and forth." Mike confessed, squatted down and picked up the box he had gathered his treasures in, or whatever remained from his comic book and action figure collection.

He had seriously thought he had lost it all during the Foot's sudden attack, but thankfully the roof had fallen over the bookcase he had sorted them in, preventing the hail of bullets from Karai's giant battle-suit bots from tearing the wads of paper into confetti.

'They don't call them Shred-bots for nothing, Sherlock.' Raphael had once remarked.

He was glad the wooden frame fell face first onto the floor, protecting the comics under its wooden body. Mike gained a few splinters from the broken wood while in haste to rescue his babies; he had to shove a few planks aside oblivious to the splinters that littered the wooden frame. But they weren't that bad, but having Raph pin him down so Don could pluck out the splinters from his twitchy fingers was what truly irritated him.

"So, you got what you need, Donny?" Raphael questioned as he returned.

He picked up another box; it was mostly full of the smaller and more fragile items from their kitchenware. Utensils like glasses, china and pots that had survived, as well as an assortment of spoons and the kitchen clock and the like. Beakers from Don's lab, some glass bulbs of sorts Raphael couldn't identify, but he knew some pieces were items Don used in his microscope, so he knew they would need to be cleaned once they got the lair.

After all, the place was crawling with rats when they got here, Mikey ironically enough stepped on a gift on the floor last time they were here.

Nevertheless, where Raphael hauled the delicate glassware, Leo carried Splinter's Bonsai trees towards their vehicle, while Mike pretty much cradled his precious comics.

Donatello, however didn't carry more than his Bo staff and his so called magic bag, its strap over his shoulder. But that was more because his mother-hen-mode kin, had refused to let him carry anything heavy, just because he looked a little paler than usual that morning.

"I already got what I wanted from our last few trips, so there is nothing for me to take." He shrugged a shoulder in answer to Raphael's previous question, 'Not that you would have let me carry anything, anyway.' he grumped silently to himself, mildly annoyed.

"And besides, what was left isn't fixable even to me; they'll just be excess cargo. I already gathered the repair or spare parts available during the last few times we were here." He amended then glanced towards his workshop, or what remained of it, "And those that could be fixed are pretty much useless due to the fact that I got more efficient and reliable replacements now, so I frankly don't need them anymore."

"You sure?" Mike inquired again, "I mean, maybe you missed something, dude?"

"Yes, give your workshop one last look, Donny. We won't be coming here for a very long time." Leo suggested with a concerned look in his eyes, yet he held onto that gentle smile, "The Foot had been rather active the past few nights, so we need to make our trips back here limited. We wouldn't want them backtracking us to our new home, either."

"I know, that's why I did a quick scan and sweep over everything we gathered during the last few trips." Don replied with a confident smile, hiding how irritable he was inside. "No bugs or traces of tracking deceived anywhere, so we're safe." He assured with a grin, an effort to hide the scowl on his face. "But if it'll make you feel better, I'll just go check what's left of my workshop, anyway." he added with a slight nod and headed towards his workshop; breathing deep once he was out of view and wishing he had something to punch.

"Alright, but be quick about it, okay?" Raph grumped, already heaving the last of his delicate load towards their vehicle. Much of the kitchenware survived, so Raphael had had to haul about four boxes with assorted china, glass and lab equipment into the vehicle, and sorts them around in order not to smash them against each other if he decided to ride full speed ahead.

"Great! Then can we go home now? My legs hurt." Mike complained, already he continuously shifted his weight from one side to the other, having already disposed his box of comics in the vehicle and commenced helping Raph with the last box. "And it's almost dinner time, I'm starved!" he continued as he followed after the hothead, taking the passenger seat, "I wonder what's for dinner."

With a slight grin, Leo gave a negative shake as he placed the trey between two china boxes to keep them apart and pinned in place, before taking the seat behind the other stooges, "We'll go home as soon as Don is done scanning his spot, Mike; don't worry."

For a good fifteen minutes, Donatello searched through his old cabinets, drawers and various smashed machines he had installed and work on, during their stay within the now demolished lair. He had taken his take to breathe and mentally count in his mind to clear out the irritation of being babied by his brothers, so the silence alone in the graveyard of what was once his frivolous lab gave him a poignant feeling.

There were a few smashed floppy disks and cracked CD's, but nothing of value to him in the backup-files drawer, so he didn't pick them up. They were mostly backup copies of his hard drive, beta projects and test run results anyway; most were awfully outdated, too.

To Donatello, he was sure there was nothing worth of value, therefore did not put much of attention in his search, but while moving some debris and shattered wood off and out of a drawer, he noticed a small sparkling object.

He blinked, and then frowned confusedly at the gleaming foreign object within his belongings. For one thing, he did not recall leaving anything shiny behind, and he didn't remember seeing it when he had taken his belongings during their previous couple of visits; nor possessing anything that might attract Mike to his belongings, anyway.

Curious to the identity of this shiny object, and wondering how he could have missed it earlier, then decided he needed to see what it was to figure out the answer. He shoved the debris aside and reached in for it in its darkened little corner. It was tucked inside a partly crushed metallic cabinet drawer, so he had to maneuver his thick fingers into the small pocket, while careful not to graze his hand against any of the sharp and pointy sides within the confined space.

After a little effort, accidentally stubbing his palm against a pointy metal edge, and ignoring the sound of his siblings calling for him to hurry up, he felt his fingers brush against the cool, smooth surface of something that almost felt like a marble, except it wasn't, that much he know upon touching it. Braving on, he withdrew his hand and gripped the messed up drawer, shaking it a bit to tug the drawer from its pocket, hopefully enough to loosen the item from it's sheath.

With success he tilted the whole cabinet to let the object role out like a marble in a pinball machine. To his surprise, once the drawer creaked out of its place with a few good inches, he placed his hand at the small opening to receive the little object, only to be greeted by the sight of a small sized crystal popping into his hand and coming fully into view.

With a blank stare, Donatello examined it.

It was about an inch or so long, about half an inch thick and a little bit dully-sharpened on both ends, but not enough to cut. It was small but bright and with a pinkish-red glow, but a white and nearly transparent hue in the center. It reminded him so much of that small, similar looking crystal his dear friend Kirby used on his pencil, but Don could not recall seeing it in his drawer before, so how did it get there?

"Don, we're leaving!" Raph's agitated voice called aloud from beyond the lair's exit, "Move yer shell or we're leaving you behind!" he shouted.

There was then a muffled-murmured conversation the purple masked turtle could not catch, a laugh and then a loud smack soon followed by a pained yelp, so he smiled, no longer needing an explanation to what irritated the hothead so suddenly.

A moment later, the Sewer Slider's engine roared with life, as if beckoning to hurry or Raphael will carry out his vow; its bright lights shone through the sewer tunnels a fair distance away.

Fingering the crystal in his hand, Donatello gave a grim smile.

He recalled Kirby fondly, treasuring their unusual adventure together before his friend was trapped in an imaginary world, a world of his own creation, unable to come back to the real world. Although he did not remember possessing this crystal, or Kirby passing it down to him with the letter he had sent through the portal, he decided to take it along for the sake of something to remember his friend by.

Who knew? It might come in handy if it worked like Kirby's magic crystal, right?

He didn't really believe in magic, but seeing is believing, and he was inclined to believe this tiny shiny rock could also be a magic crystal as well; but only time to test it out could tell, really.

But that is an experiment for another time.

After pocketing the crystal in his bag, Donatello gave their demolished home one last look, before he exit the lair and boarded the Sewer Slider, paying a blind eye to Michelangelo's hurt 'Raphie bro is picking on me!' puppy face, and rejoined his brothers on the ride home.

There was much work to be done, but perhaps he'll take some time off today, he figured he deserved it.

After all, with the way Raphael looked sour as he and Leo fought over who will drive, he figured getting home for that matter might be open for debate for the time being.

Frankly, with Raphael's victory over the steering wheel, he wondered if he was in more of a risk getting smashed than the crate full of china right behind him.

He honestly wished to get back home in one piece.

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A/N: constructive critique is welcome.