The telescope was polished and new, not scuffed or rusted in the slightest. Filled to the brim with quiet awe, Donatello ran his fingers over the finish, the brass, the spokes that stuck out from the bottom.

Splinter chuckled with amusement. Judging by his son's reaction, he could scarcely believe the instrument didn't burst into a cloud of smoke at his touch. "Happy Mutation Day, Donatello. Do you like it?"

And Donatello, intelligent, introspective, and surprisingly wise for his age, turned wide, sparkling brown eyes on his father. "Hai!" The statement was joined by several fervent nods which, when coupled with the floppy way the tails of his bandanna bounced over his back and shoulder, made for quite the picture.

Donatello had never brought up his newfound love of the stars in conversation. Unlike his brothers, he had no interest in having posters with vivid depictions of his interests plastered over the walls in his room. No, when deciding what gift to procure for Donatello, sneakier methods than simply listening to the child had been required.

Splinter had tried asking him what he would like, but the boy claimed he wanted nothing, that he was perfectly content with what he had. No child of six yearned for nothing on their birthday, Splinter knew this, so had checked the boy's Internet search history.

Usually, he abstained from such actions, as they felt intrusive and he wished to give his sons their space, but this was an emergency. To his surprise, every other site listed was related to the observation and categorization of stars. There were even articles regarding the mythical origins of some of the night sky's constellations. Cassiopeia, mother of Andromeda, appeared to be a favorite search engine topic.

But what on earth had sparked this?

Though confused by the discovery of an interest his son had perhaps been too shy to mention, Splinter immediately took measures to aid him in whatever way he could. He applied to online, stay-at-home jobs, finding work as a freelance Japanese-to-English translator. The work deprived him of some of the few hours of sleep he managed to procure with four growing boys, but watching the complete bewilderment on Donatello's face shift into open joy as he opened his gift had banished every ounce of exhaustion, replacing it an exuberance matched only by his son.

There was a rustle at the door. Splinter glanced up to see if one of his other sons had followed them to his room with the intention of checking up on them, but observed no one standing in the doorway.

Suddenly, Donatello ducked his head, hand still running possessively over the length of the instrument as he struggled to give voice to a question he'd been too frightened to ask before. He blinked slowly. "Sensei? Where is our mother? I've studied the shows on TV and most of those children have two parents, a mother and a father." Splinter sucked in a breath, hoping he didn't look nearly as panicked as he felt. He'd always known this day would come, after all. But so soon? "Where is our mother?"

Splinter's thoughts leapt to Tang Shen, to Miwa. He was not certain what expression formed on his face, but Donatello gasped, leaving his present in an instant so he could cling to his fur and exclaim how sorry he was. A warm smile melted Donatello's fears away. "There is no need for apologies, Donatello. I was merely… surprised."

How could he explain to his son where his mother was? Was it too late to preserve his innocence?

"She's far away," he heard himself say. It sounded evasive to his own ears.

Donatello frowned in thought. "Does she live on the surface?"

"No, Donatello. She does not live on the surface."

"Higher?"

Splinter breathed a sigh of relief. He'd been so worried, but it seemed his son was placing the pieces together on his own. "Yes. Your mother watches over us from the stars. She can see how big you and your brothers have grown." And the more he spoke about his beloved watching over him, the more true it felt. This was not merely comforting a child. It was comforting them both.

A fleeting shadow passed behind the screen of his shoji. Most likely, one of Donatello's brothers had been listening in. And though the topic exhausted him, Splinter resolved to speak with them as well.

After one last embrace, Donatello cradled his new telescope in his arms and carried it off to him room.

Only to have it stolen later that day.

Donatello woke up in a cold sweat, an unknown sense of panic seizing him. He reached over the side of his bed to touch his telescope, then frowned as his fingers brushed the floor. He propped himself on his side, heart pounding, craning his neck to see an empty space where Master Splinter's gift should have been. A shout rose in his chest, interrupted only by a metallic banging noise emanating from the den. Donatello leapt out his bed. He raced out into the den to discover the thief was none other than his younger brother.

Mikey lifted his head to look up at him with a flash of guilt, his arms fumbling with the instrument he was too small to carry.

"Mikey," Donnie hissed as he marched to confront him. "what are you thinking? That's my telescope!"

Mikey winced. "I know, and I'm sorry Donnie, but I heard Sensei tell you where our mother was and… I was just thinking… maybe we could find her with this?" He scuffed his feet together, fidgeting. "I want to find her, Don. Don't you?"

Of course he did, but he'd been doing a lot of reading about space lately and there was simply no way a human or a mutant could be living among the stars. The air would be sucked out of their lungs in seconds. They'd die.

Still, he could feel himself softening. Even if he couldn't bring himself to believe it, that didn't mean he couldn't pretend their mother was waiting among the stars for them to find her.

"Okay." he said finally. "We'll go up on one of the roofs for an hour or so, but we have to get back here before Sensei wakes up and realizes we're gone. Can you promise me you won't make a ton of noise or go wandering off when I'm not looking?"A bright smile lighting up his face in the dark, Mikey nodded. "Good. Now give me back my telescope. You're gonna break it."

They camped out on the roof for almost the entire night, each taking turns peering through the glass as Donatello explained the constellations. "You see that one that looks like a lion? That's Leo."

"Nuh-uh. Leo's sleeping. And he's a turtle."

"Not our Leo. Leo is the name of the constellation. It's what humans call that patch of stars." He pointed to a group of stars that look like ladle. "That's called the Big Dipper. And that," he pointed to the brightest star in the sky, "is the Northern Star. Polaris. Sailors used that star to find North when they sailed at night."

Mikey swung the telescope around for a better look. "Do you think she's there?" It made sense that their mom would be waiting for them with the brightest star in the sky. "If I were lost, I'd stay there. That way, anyone looking up could find me." He paused, a slight frown tugging at the edge of his mouth, as though he'd encountered a problem he hadn't expected. "Donnie, how do we get her down?"

Donatello sighed. "We don't even know if she's really up there, Mikey. And what if she doesn't want to come down?"

"Why wouldn't she? Doesn't she want to see us?"

Faced with that question, Donnie forced down a lump in his throat as he wrapped an arm around his little brother and said, "Of course she does. She just needs some time. She'll come down when she's ready, okay?"

Mikey sniffed as he leaned against his plastron, the telescope momentarily forgotten. "Okay."

After that, they'd had enough of the stars for one night, so they snuck back into the lair, breathing heavy sighs of relief when it seemed they'd managed to dupe Master Splinter, which they must've done, because they weren't in trouble the next day.

This was only the first time Donatello snuck out with his telescope, though. Sometimes, he went with Mikey. Other times, it was just him and the night sky, with all its glittering wonders. The only real constant during his nightly escapades was the North Star. It was the only tie he had to a mother he'd never met, so he always made sure to watch it for a time before he packed up his things. There were times, when he was particularly upset or lonely, where he'd vent out loud, imagining she could hear him, that she cared and wanted him to be happy.

Even at six, he knew there was no one up there.

But it was nice to pretend.