Disclaimer: I do not own, nor will I get the funds together to buy them out. As such the TMNT are the property of Laird.

A.N: Thanks to pacphys for beta'ing this baby. Also special credit to the summary and title amendment and rewording of the final sentence (along with a couple of others); all from her.

Thoughts are in italics.

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On Borrowed Time

New York

The second the turtle landed on the rooftop he turned his head to the heavens.

Sky's clear

Relief flooded through him, there was still time. Now the sounds of a skirmish greeted his ears and he looked for that. A slate grey jacket that covered his torso and arms with a stainless steel plated bo in easy reach strapped diagonally across his back. The coat ran down to his waist and billowed out marginally to allow for the straps that were wrapped over his chest. Attached to the straps that were secured over his plastron were numerous smooth, tubular, purple and white cylinders. A twist, tug and throw would stop almost all that came into his path. In a world where Shredder had ruled with an iron fist the vicious attack was not too much for the man. He was so similar, yet so different to the source of his search. Whilst his younger form had innocence and intelligence on his side all Don had was time, and even that was starting to lag now. Running down his arms was a gentle ridge that traced his veins and ended with a star shaped design on the back of both his hands. On the palms were smaller rounded nodes that pressed up against his skin.

As he stretched, the tails of his singed, purple bandanna were caught up in the wind tunnel made by the various rooftops of the New York skyline.

"Yagh." Inhaling sharply Don gritted his teeth against the ripple of energy that traversed through his body, burning through his nervous system before dissipating into the atmosphere. Instinctively, his head had gone backwards about the same time that he had gritted his teeth and grimaced. In the same instance the muscles tightened and cramped, they then eased off leaving him with an all too familiar spark of determination in his eye. He had spent over two years looking for a pocket in time like this, and as he set off he hoped he had finally found the right one.

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Purple dragons

That was a good sign, they had died out in almost the same time that Shredder had returned. "GOD - …" another surge, "Damnit." Holding up one hand to his face a small smile spread because though glitching he wasn't shifting on yet. That had only happened in one other instance, when he had returned to his home to find nothing but smoke, ashes and debris.

"Donnie, look out!"

Don's head snapped down to view the street. There he was, or rather the shadow of his youth. Securing his own bo, the turtle stepped off the side of the six storey building. Air raced through his form as it traversed through a third, less violent glitch To the naked eye, the turtle moved from a mix of purple, grey and green to a translucent state that at times appeared to be nothing more than a whisp.

Solid

Don's eyes widened slightly, he was indeed dropping the final three storeys in a solid state. Nimble fingers wrapped around his enforced bo, and he pulled it free. With one clang, a tip ricocheted off a fire escape and held, a jerk of his wrist and the other end was entangled in a washing line. Tugged down one final time, Don's arms were jarred before he used his momentum to bounce down, up, free and down into the ground of the alley below.

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The 'dragon' didn't know what to make of the soft thump and fifth turtle it brought to the fray. It looked older, wiser and like a bit of a hard ass. Thin, grey flannel stretched over its body, and there were numerous scars that were littered over the flesh, all of them looked painful and those were the ones that were visible. One hand ran over the ground before it instinctively moved away from the chain that was wielded at its bowed head. Moving easily in his crouched position, Don's head snapped up to look at the wielder. Metal pipe, six feet in length was in his free hand resting upon the ground of the alleyway. Maintaining a steady grip on the weapon Don spoke;

"Hun? Do you answer to him?"

The word threw the gang member that was waiting to see his attack.

"Oroku Saki? Tell me!"

The skies might have been clear but that didn't mean that it hadn't started. Hun would run to Saki the moment he arrived in an attempt to make amends. In a single motion, turtle number five was on his feet and waiting for a reply. A chain ripped past his face to wrap around the end of his now raised pipe. Turning inwards, the dragon came flying towards the turtle to be thrown over his shoulder and into the hard ground.

Never mind

Gripping the weapon, Don turned and ran out into the street.

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"Donnie look out!" Eyes like a hawk, speed like a cheetah and reflexes like a turtle. When things went melee there was no stopping the little dynamo.

Just once Donnie would like to not hear those three words. Not now. Ducking under the fist, he had brought the man to his knees with a bo to the back of his legs. Stepping around him, the opportunity to return the favor was granted.

"Mike-"

The smooth end of a metal bo crashed into the skull of the dragon closing in on his baby brother. A hand mottled with scars and scratches gripped the shoulder of the human and threw him to one side whilst a friendly, half smile greeted the orange clad turtle, "You have no idea how long I've waited to do that." There was a hint of melancholy to the words, before the shrewd eyes tilted up to his younger counterpart.

For the longest time Mikey couldn't hide his feelings then one day something changed and he shut down. If he was confused, shocked, surprised or felt any other emotion it just shone right on through on his face. "Donnie?" He didn't sound too sure and he sure didn't look it. It was a stupid little thing, but once again it added fuel to the dampened spark of hope Don had nursed through all of his temporal disturbances.

Both siblings could see the fifth turtle now. The grey coat, the red speckled weapon, the blackened tips of the royal purple bandana that was wrapped around his skull. The pair watched the elder grit his teeth before glitching in a haze of subdued, crackling energy. Don heard the rattling of a wire fence behind him, the dragon climbed back to his feet and waited. Don knew that look, and he knew reinforcements when he saw them crawling out of the wood work. By the time he had reformed there was a sense of inevitability in the air. One scuffed hand drew the grenade from its holding, "Catch!" his teeth bit into the enforced outer shell and with a jerk of his jaw the two chemicals started to mix. Tossing it to the first gang member, he gave them the dignity of looking into the eye of the one who would kill them. They'd earned that. There was a soft bang followed by a hiss and scuffling.

Panting softly, he turned away and looked up. Slowly a far wider smile spread over his face.

Father

The rat wielded his cane with skill, dispatching the remaining dragons that lurked. In a manner that he had not seen in years, Don watched the tip of the stick come to rest between his Father's feet as Splinter turned to stare at him.

It was the only female voice on the battlefield, "I've lost Hun."

April, red haired and as beautiful as ever

She stopped and simply stared. "How …" then she turned and looked at Donnie.

And they were so young; things looked promising. He rarely stayed, let alone survived for more than a few minutes in a world where he had no place. "He won't know." Don spoke with a confidence that came with years of working alone, it was no lie to state that even he had not known it would work when he had decided to do this. Patient eyes that rested on April shifted across to Donatello "You'll guess it has something to do with the Daimayo again but it's not magic, it's science and it's our … your brainchild."

"Don-nie?" Mike didn't sound so sure.

Don nodded his head, "How old are you?" he conducted his affairs with his younger self.

"Seventeen"

"What's the date?"

"November 8th …" Donnie paused, the grey clad turtle's mouth opened to press so he added uncertainly "2004"

"The Daimayo's been." The fact that he appeared to find relief in that unnerved Donnie. Slowly he nodded his head to the rhetorical question.

It was Donnie's turn to ask questions: "You're from that world aren't you?"

"Not a world Donnie, a time. Thirty years from now a teenager is going to turn up in a world where Shredder is king. And not once did anyone ask or wonder why you were so young. Not once did they question you. We are not alike as you can see, I've aged too."

"It's over." Donnie interrupted calmly.

"Seventeen years from now Ch'rell will return to this planet with a group of rebels. He will crush the EPF and Bishop as if they were insects under his foot. Did you not find it odd that Bishop was not there? He was, and he was destroyed. That was when we knew we had problems. And the second that Shredder comes home, Karai will blindly hand over the Foot to him in return for his favor. Twenty one years from now, Leo is going to go out and come back blind; that is the last time he and Karai talk until she kills him. Twenty eight years from now our Father will die and I will disappear."

"It is over."

When did he lose that naïve hope? Don couldn't recall, slowly his head shook from side to side. A sharp spasm ran through his arm and his beloved bo dropped down onto the street's surface with a clatter.

You did the right thing

This sojourn through time would not be in vain. Leaving as he had would be for the best. Though his eyes did not focus on anyone for a moment, his jaw set itself with stubbornness.

"What the f-…" Raphael censored his own words.

The family was still complete. Turning at the waist, Don looked at Leo and Raph. The two were covered in sweat and had probably been chasing after the remaining dragons.

No

Leo hadn't been: he'd yet to see the Ancient One. Don could see it in the way he still clutched his katana and stared at him. The complete lack of trust that shone in his eyes, the manner he watched him like a hunter measuring up potential prey. Raphael had probably been running after Leo, keeping him out of a fight he couldn't finish. Cracking a playful half smile he turned but didn't speak to Donnie right away. Despite the hardness to his 'younger' eldest brother's face there was some sort of relief to be taken from it. He never had quite mastered his temper, and it had cost him his sight. At this time there was no lasting damage to the four of them.

Perhaps there would be now, "She wasn't dead when you left." Slowly Don turned his head back to Donnie.

"April?!"

A simple shake of his head was followed by a sharp intake of breath. Starting at the starburst shaped scars on his hands a river of blue crackled. Crawling up his skin, it took only a few seconds for his entire form to be encased in the tempest of temporal energy. For a moment Don thought he might shift out before he was ready. "It's just Angel and Karai now!" the crispness of his voice was distorted by the energy that coursed through his frame. To his audience, his features had been contorted in a combination of pain and desperation. For a split second it looked like he was going to indeed get ripped out of that particular time and place but his hands moved. Determination knotted his brow and his hands clasped together, causing a secondary ripple. Gasping, the strands found ground and began to crackle out of his system. The translucence that had claimed Don faded and he returned to a solid state, volume returning to his vocals as he did so."…nd Karai is winning…"

"She will not win!" Leo ground out slowly. "I'll promise you that."

"You left." Don recognized the doubt in his counterpart's voice.

"To find you." He pointed out coldly, "You … can still stop this. Do you think I'd, we'd just walk away? There was pain weaving its way into his voice. He was going to be torn out and soon. He could feel it deep within his own molecular structure. Not yet. From the pocket of his flannel overcoat he pulled out the silver disc, it wasn't supposed to be here, but it had to be. He'd risk the paradox. If it fixed this, he'd risk anything.

"How do I die?" April's words cut through the tension like a hot knife. "It's not often we get a chance to know when our number's up right?" She chuckled in an attempt to make light of it all. "We've heard everything else, we might as well know how this story ends right?"

"You'll stay behind after I leave to tidy up the bodies and prepare them for moving." Don began quietly, "You won't see it coming, by the time you realize that she's moved she'll be behind you and swinging her sword." Pressing his lips into a line, Don lifted his voice a little, "You'll die alone, terrified. She'll take you and you'll become an example to put the fear of God into Angel. Things are going to happen to your remains that shouldn't happen to any ones."

April's head nodded, "When?"

"Thirty years from now."

"To the day?"

"Every time we make a decision an alternate pocket in time is created where that decision and subsequent reactions are acted out to their conclusion."

"Right." April's cogs were turning, "Okay."

Don could see where this was going. "Body armor isn't going to save you. Leo wasn't an idiot, there was Kevlar in it." Don's eyes turned back to Donnie, "Her sword went through it all, flesh, bone, shell and armor. It isn't too late to fix this. Appeal to Karai, stop her from realigning with her Father when he returns. Remember, I found a way here. Don't for a second believe she can not. Karai forewarned us of the consequences of striki-…"

"Ooo." Raphael's sarcasm was scathing, none the less it was one of those odd things that Don took comfort in. "That ship has sailed."

"Rebuild the bridges." He could feel it within his body, the tremor that came with the incoming shift.

"They got dowsed in gas, greased with TNT and blown right outta the water. Trust us on that one."

"Start training Angel. Warn her of what … will … come …" Pain brought him to his knees with a thud and hissed cry. "Fix it!"

All of the potential possibilities ran through Donnie's head. The amount of energy that would need to go into trying to make amends with Karai was impossible. "It can't be done." Not to mention there was a chilling sense of inevitability to witness what looked like his own demise. He wouldn't have ran if he didn't think something could be done, he wouldn't mutilate himself with an experiment that looked like it would destroy every fiber of his soul if he believed the results would yield naught. Don's head turned up he was doubled over, his palms driven deep into the tarmac and his respiration fast. Morale would have been low when he had decided to do this, the scientist within realized why he had never said a word to his siblings. Why it would have been preferable to 'disappear', success and he was gone to try and solve the problem at its source, failure and that form of his family would have witnessed his demise. An effective suicide.

Don't let this be in vain

Through the pain and flickering Don pulled free a small note pad from within the folds of his clothes. Tremors were rocking violently through his body, yet with one barely controlled limb he pushed the paper away from his person before giving into the labored breathing that was tightening his chest like a vice. Collecting up the metal bo, Donnie tucked it away before rapidly padding over and opening the book. Skimming the first page, he nodded before sliding it into his belt. Grey, green and a smidgen of purple started to flicker and blur, tainted by a hazy blue that caused Don's entire body to glitch. Donnie was pretty much standing over him. Now he was close enough, he studied his elder counterpart and realized that this was his fate. To witness his body as it was torn apart by energy that was not meant to be conducted through it.

"Find a way…"

This was how he would die, clinging to hope … Two years ago Donnie remembered speculating about the vibration of atoms and how certain frequencies would unlock the ability to enter into different universes. He'd crack the code then hurl himself into a life where he would exist alone, defying space and time until his frame could no longer handle the pressure. He would choose a life where he would be, quite simply, living on borrowed time.

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