I'm going to put a warning right here – this entire Act is basically one long climax for the series. Really. It gets going and it will not let up. At all.

Also, remember how I vaguely associated each Act with an element? Act 7 is Order.

That's about all I can say at this point. Here we go!

Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Stars

Darkness. Emptiness.

Deep space wasn't really how it got portrayed on Earth television or movies. There were no wildly colorful nebulas, not that could be seen by the naked eye in real-time, anyway. There was just endless, unforgiving black spotted sparsely with tiny points of light.

Space was cold, barren, vast, and empty to the extreme.

A green, three-fingered hand rested on the window, feeling the hum of the ship's engines in the slight vibration that was as familiar now as the rumble from subways had once been.

But that life, that world, was gone – lost forever. And so much with it.

Donatello's maskless face lowered until his forehead touched the window beside his hand. The material that was so perfectly clear and yet so strong was warm and smooth, almost soft in the way of all Utrom bio-technology – stolen or otherwise. The ship was not exactly alive outside of the Architect's consciousness, but it felt to Donatello's senses as if it were welcoming nonetheless. Understanding, maybe.

The only company left to him in the endless dark.

At least that was true here. This was the only chamber aboard where absolutely no sensors pried, where no voice could ring out from above. Here, only the ship itself listened to Donatello's breathing. Here, only the ship itself could have caught the expression in Donatello's downcast eyes.

But he did not speak. Words were too dangerous. He didn't trust them anymore.

Our Donatello…

We ain't walkin' away...

You're my brother…

Donatello's hand against the window slowly closed into a fist.

Your Donatello is dead! He died the day you abandoned him!

I declare myself Outcast. I walk alone.

Just like the stars. Just as forlorn, floating in a void of cold and dark and death and loss and pain.

Donatello did not fear or even ache for the barrenness of space; he understood it.

He shared in it.

Slowly, he straightened up, lifting his head from the window and dropping his hand. He regarded the starfield before him, allowed the soothing silence to quiet his soul.

Cold. Remote. Merciless. Unforgiving.

He would wrap himself in this essence of bleakness, the stark, endless abyss of nothingness. He would be absolute and unmovable as airless space, inevitable as eternity. He would spill frigid desolateness from his very heart and soul.

The emptiness would be his refuge, his defense, and his guide.

And in the end...it would be his legacy.

-==OOO==-

Leonardo fought the urge to chomp on his breather in irritation. It was either that or speak out directly – and he had a feeling that wouldn't go well.

"Mortu." The unified voice of the Councilmembers was dispassionate. "While we sympathize with your situation, you have confessed to expressly violating our orders."

Mortu faced the line of Utrom evenly, sometimes casting his eyes up at the beings projected all around, though they were but a fraction of the entire High Council's shared consciousness.

"Yes," he said calmly. "I have gone against the wishes of the High Council and I am willing to stand trial for my actions."

"You disobeyed us knowing that we could hold you for treason as well as putting the safety of the Collective at risk?"

"Yes. Although I would argue it was no more or less at risk regardless of whether I left the Homeworld again or not." Mortu's face morphed to an Utrom expression Leo couldn't identify. "There is little the Architect could have learned from me that it cannot learn from Donatello already."

"Still, given your position, you of all beings cannot simply defy us and escape without punishment."

"I know."

Leo could feel the High Council shifting their attention to him even though no one's eyes moved in his direction.

"And you, Hamato Leonardo."

Leo straightened up. "Yes, High Council?"

"We advised your father that he should not pursue this situation, that we could not protect him. And now he has been removed from the Homeworld."

Leo forced himself to take a breath before answering.

"If you will forgive me, there was never any chance that we wouldn't keep trying to save Donatello. He's our family." He allowed himself a very Raph-like smirk. "You'd have to lock us up to stop us."

"It is a course of action we have considered," the Council said. "But for now, we require your insight into the mind of Astrocyte Donatello."

Leo flinched but nodded. "What do you want to know?"

"Mortu has testified that you were witness to Hamato Splinter's abduction?"

"Yes."

"And you are certain that it was Donatello who engineered it?"

Leo considered. "I think so. I mean, the...whatever you call the teleporting lights and how it looks, it was the same as when he left the planet where we saw him. I've never seen anyone else transport like that."

"But there was no record of any ship within range for a standard transmat."

"The digitization Donatello had been working on was a bridge between teleportal technology and his own," Mortu said. "If he found a way to recreate the accuracy and distance of a teleportal with the efficiency of his digitization process, that could very easily have been the result."

"Then why remove Hamato Splinter from the Homeworld?" the Council asked.

Leo took a breath. "I think...he didn't want Sensei to stop him."

"Please explain."

"Don was using a magical weapon he brought from Earth when we saw him. Master Splinter knows more about that sort of magic than anyone. Without our own weapons, Master Splinter was the most likely person to be able to shut down Don's Byakko."

"And what do you believe he will do next? Will he harm his own father?"

Leo glanced to Mortu before he answered.

"When we were on that planet, Don was just as much under the control of the Architect as the first time we saw him. But when Raph charged him, he knocked him back before the laser came down from the Architect's ship in orbit. I think he was keeping Raph from getting fried."

Leo tightened his hands into fists.

"I think Don's still in there somewhere, deep down underneath whatever the Architect has done to him. If he wanted to hurt us, he could have. I don't think he'll hurt Master Splinter, even if I don't know what he's doing with him."

"And what do you think he will do next?"

Leo sighed. "Honestly? I have no idea. He said that...the next time we saw him, it would be the last. And Don's not one for idle threats, so I'd assume he means it. That whatever this is all about, it's close to the end."

"Please," Mortu said. "I know I am under censure for my actions. I do not contest that. I will accept any punishment the Council wishes to give without protest. But please hold your sentencing until after Donatello has been retrieved. Please allow me to help Leonardo and his brothers save both Donatello and Splinter. It is all I ask."

The Council went quiet for a moment.

Leo dropped one hand to his belt where Don's mask was still tucked. Other than when Mikey had almost made off with it about an hour before Leo and Mortu had been called to the High Council to testify, Leo had not let it out of his sight in a full day.

Donnie. Whatever's going on, I'm not going to abandon you. I'm not giving up on you. I know you're in there somewhere, fighting. No matter what the Architect has done, we'll fix it.

Just hang on. We'll find you. We'll save you.

I swear it.

The Council spoke.

"Mortu, while we are disappointed in your actions, we cannot help but recognize that they stem from the same conviction and loyalty which has made you so valuable to the Collective. There will be disciplinary action levied against you when the current crisis passes, but we have decided to delay it until such time as these events have been resolved."

Mortu made a gesture with his forelegs. "You have my supreme gratitude, High Council."

"Leonardo."

"Yes?"

"We are sorry that we were not able to protect your father while he stood upon the Homeworld. For as long as you remain within the Collective, you are under our protection and subject to our laws. However, Mortu has made multiple arguments with compelling evidence that you and your brothers are fully competent warriors. Your defeat of the criminal Ch'rell proves such to us."

Leo held still.

"So it is as a warrior we ask you to understand that what Donatello has done is gravely concerning. Before this, we were willing to attempt other means to disrupt the Architect and rescue your brother. However, now we cannot turn such a blind eye. The direct abduction of an individual from the Homeworld is an escalation we will not ignore, no matter the consequences."

Leo's throat went dry. "What does that mean?"

It was Mortu who answered him.

"It means that the Council can no longer afford to try to spare Donatello's life. If they get the chance to destroy the Architect, they'll take it. Even if it means killing Donatello and Master Splinter in the process."

-==OOO==-

Donatello emerged from his room and strode for one of the big labs in the sector in which he had spent the most time in recent days.

"Donatello. Your bio-readings suggest elevated levels of stress."

"Well, things are about to get loud, aren't they?" he replied.

"Please explain the colloquialism."

Don huffed a small laugh. "It means things are about to get busy and frantic and involved."

"This is true. We stand at the edge of completing the first phase of my task."

"Exactly. I know you don't have the right sort of internal emotions to be anxious about it, but I do. Even with my feelings locked down, there's a lot to anticipate."

"I understand. Perhaps you should rest more."

"Oh, no. No way. I've got way too much to do. And now that Master Splinter is aboard, I've got something else I need to add to my list before I even start working on anything new."

"Your Source Unit is in bio-stasis."

"Oh, trust me. That is not enough to hold a spirit like Sensei's. Not even close."

"It has been sufficient for all life forms awaiting their turn with my neural link."

"Well," Don said, stepping into the room and mentally considering his supplies, "that's sort of my point. Master Splinter isn't like any of them."

"Is he a threat?"

"Honestly?" Don started filling his arms. "Probably the biggest one of all."

-==OOO==-

Mikey knew he was going down before the foot hit him square in the shoulder, but he couldn't help it.

He slid across the mats with a low squeak.

"Are you all right, Michelangelo?"

Mikey looked up at Guardian Owens.

"Yeah, sure. Just landed funny on my pride."

The Guardian offered him a hand and pulled him to his feet. After a moment, he said, "You know, the reason you were off balance is…" But he stopped.

Mikey made an attempt at a half-smile and reached behind his shell. He produced Don's bo and held it out in front of him.

"I know. I'm not used to having to compensate for this thing sticking out. I keep getting it caught."

Owens's face went slightly gentler. "But you do not wish to set it aside."

Mikey shook his head. "It's...it's all I've got left, you know? Leo caught me stealing the bandana and Raph swiped the medallion we found when Mortu wasn't looking."

"Donatello had many pictures and other artifacts from his life that he relocated with him," Owens said.

"Yeah but...these ones are real." Mikey looked at his feet. "Maybe if he'd had his old duffle bag that would have been okay because he brought that thing everywhere. But the new one isn't even beat up yet."

Owens nodded. "I understand. You wanted something close to Donatello. Something he carried with him."

"Yeah. I mean, you guys found the bo, and Don...gave us the mask." He gulped. "And we don't really know about the medallion. But...they were all with him. Before the Architect, you know? They were part of him."

"Michelangelo," Owens said, "for all that has happened, Donatello is not dead."

Mikey let out a laugh that was half-choked.

"No, but that's almost worse in a way, isn't it?"

Owens was surprised. "Why?"

Mikey walked across the mats to look up at the picture of Hamato Yoshi. Even in the silence of the otherwise-empty Guardians' dojo, his feet were perfectly soundless.

"It isn't that I want him to be gone, okay?" Mikey held the bo and rolled it between his fingers. "I want him back so much it hurts. But...if the Architect killed him like it killed all those others, he'd still be Don. He'd still be my brilliant, stupid brother who went looking for trouble and couldn't keep from wanting to fix it. He'd be the turtle in the vids, the bro I remember. Not…"

"You should not give up on him," Owens said, moving to stand at Michelangelo's shoulder.

"I'm not." Mikey shook his head. "I just...argh."

Michelangelo leaned the bo against his chest and ran both hands over his head.

"I'm no good at this, okay? I'm just a goofball! I'm the screw-up turtle! I don't know how to fix this and I sure as shell don't know what I'm supposed to feel about it!"

The bo wobbled, but before Owens could even shift to intercept it, Michelangelo snagged it and slid it back into place on his shell.

Owens watched the turtle for a moment before he spoke.

"I think you must feel whatever you feel, Michelangelo, no matter how difficult or inconvenient or ugly. What matters, in the end, is the choice you make and the path you follow to its end."

Mikey rubbed at his beak. "When...when I got called back to the Battle Nexus to redo the championship, Leo took me on a walk up a mountain to help me get my head on straight. He told me something important. Something that helped me win."

He closed his eyes as he recited it.

"In this life, we only have each other. If one of us goes down, we all go down."

Owens waited until Michelangelo opened his eyes and then simply nodded.

Mikey sucked in a breath. "All I want is Don back. I want to tell him how stupid it was to forget about him and make it up to him and go back to the way things were. But if...if he can't come back, if he's gone but still there...I'd rather go with him than be here without him."

Owens raised his eyebrows as Mikey gave a bitter laugh.

"Which is great when you consider how Don got here in the first place, but it's true. That other dimension made me forget about my family and now I'll never be able to forget again. I don't ever want to be alone again. If Donnie...if Donnie is siding with this Architect, there has to be a good reason. There has to be."

Owens shook his head. "Everything you have said and everything in Mister Mortu's reports suggests some form of mental coercion at the very least. If not something more insidious."

Mikey shook his own head. "Don's in there. I know it. And maybe the Architect is making him do stupid things, but there's no way he isn't trying to stop it or get out of there. And he's doing it all alone. Again."

Mikey looked up at the portrait of Hamato Yoshi.

"Don said that the next time we meet, it'll be the last time. I don't know what he means by that. But whatever it means, he's right about one thing."

"What's that?"

"We won't be 'meeting' him again after that. Either we get him away from the Architect or I'm going with him next time."

Michelangelo turned and his eyes burned.

"I'm not leaving him again. No matter what. If I gotta give my brain to the Architect, well, there isn't much there as Raph would say, but it doesn't matter. I'm following Don all the way."

-==OOO==-

"Donatello, are you certain this is not a miscalculation?"

Don sighed and looked up from the workstation he had cleared of its usual mechanical parts, replacing them with more arcane objects. "It's not. You want me to be able to focus on the Utrom Homeworld, right?"

"Of course."

"My brothers can take care of themselves. And they'll be busy fighting us anyway, I'm sure. But Master Splinter is old and his health is not what it was. I wasn't going to be able to randomly knock down buildings or smash through defensive positions if I was afraid he'd be caught in the crossfire."

The Architect considered for a moment. "That much is logical. But then why bring your Source Unit here? Is he not a greater threat where he may unduly influence you? You have made it clear he is a risk to our task."

"First of all, he's safest here where we have control and can ensure his protection, which keeps me focused and not worrying about him so we don't risk rupturing my emotional control," Don replied. "Secondly, I'd think you of all people would understand it, Architect. Your Source Unit is the code inside you and you protect it with a couple thousand firewalls the last time I looked. Master Splinter is mine. And I have the same need to protect him – even if for different reasons."

"I see. I recall the difficulty even I suffered while attempting to dislodge those who had boarded me while you were within the link due to his influence."

"Exactly." Don nodded, closing his eyes for only a moment. "I have to protect him. I...I just have to."

"Very well. Logic adequately supports your explanation and rationale, and as long as he does not prove a distraction or a liability, you may contain him as you wish. May I suggest you ensure he has been placed in full isolation before we begin?"

Don sighed again, this time with impatience. "What do you think I'm working on here?" He gestured to the table. "Look, I know you don't know a lot about mysticism, so I'll try to explain it some other way. Master Splinter has...the innate ability to communicate over long distances even when unconscious, I guess. So I need to build an appropriate firewall to keep him from sending a signal either to me or to my brothers."

"A firewall of ink and paper?"

"It's not science that makes it work. It's something else. And yes, the ink and paper will be enough, but only after I use my own mysticism to implement them."

"Will you be vulnerable to infection while interfacing with Master Splinter?"

"That's a weird way to think about it, but no." Don shook his head. "I think he will not agree with our plans and he will try to argue with me, but he won't be able to change my mind or weaken my resolve. Interfacing with him, as you put it, will only make my conviction to finish this stronger."

"Then I urge you to complete your task as quickly as possible. If successful, perhaps further exposure to him will continue to aid you in our purpose. Your bio-readings have improved since we have begun discussing him. I prefer to continue to see you improve, Donatello, and if his presence facilitates this, I will encourage you to make use of it."

"Maybe," Don said. "But I don't want to get distracted. I bet you could spend lots of time analyzing your source code, but eventually it'll use up too many resources to be worth the results you get."

"You are wise, Donatello. Please proceed, then. I shall alert you if I think you are spending either too much or too little time interfacing with your Source Unit."

"Thanks."

-==OOO==-

Raph stood in the center of the room and almost laughed at himself.

You'd be surprised, Donnie-boy. For once it's Mikey needing to blow off some steam, Leo doing all the talking, and me looking for answers.

It's a crazy world these days, bro.

And you're the craziest of us all.

Raph absently walked forward to run his hands over the nearest tool-bench. The tools had not been moved since the last time he'd been in the lab, in spite of Mikey's fiddling. But then, Mikey had felt just as nervous and wrong-footed then as Raph did now, so of course only a Mikey on the edge of worry would actually put things away correctly.

What this is doing to us...if you knew, you'd hate yourself, wouldn't you, Donnie? Except how none of this is your fault. No matter what anybody says, I know it's the Architect doing this.

And that thing is gonna pay for every minute of this, I promise.

But only after we get you out of there.

Raph put his hand on his chest where he had hung Donatello's medallion. It had taken some doing, but he'd managed to grab it from Don's room after Mortu took Leo to go talk to someone at the High Council. Mikey had been right on his heels, but Raph had sworn that this was not a fight his brother was going to win and this was not a prize he would let Mikey take.

Raph was sure Mortu would be furious when he found out, but he didn't care. He needed this. And of all of them, Raph figured he understood this emblem the most.

Machines had always been what bound him to Don when it came to hanging out and having fun. For years they had spent hours working on various vehicles and even some tech together. Just as Raph had been the one most able to help Don build a new lair, he had always been the one quickest to get involved in anything else Don was building.

Mikey always said it was because he just liked using the big, manly tools. And there was something to that, sure.

But it was also the one place he and Don could meet on an equal footing even though Don still knew everything about everything. Because they came to the task with the same interest and the same way of thinking. Even if Raph couldn't have designed a motorcycle from scratch without help, he knew how to build one from the plans Don dreamed up, and he knew how to speak the language of torque and horsepower.

Maybe you're rubbing off on me, Donnie. When you were upset, you always retreated to your lab, and now here I am.

But it ain't the same without you.

Do you have anywhere to hide on the Architect's ship? Are you hiding even now?

If I knew how to find you, I'd be there in a second, Don. In a second.

Their bond over machines had not replaced their bond as brothers, but it had strengthened it. It also meant that Raph was the only one who had the slightest idea what exactly Donatello was doing when he pulled his techno-magic to get them all out of whatever trouble they'd found themselves trying to handle. He might not know how to hack a computer, but he knew that shutting down the wiring of an alarm system took more than just yanking out one wire.

It was why Raph had made it his particular job to watch Don's back in combat. Don's head was always building a new computer system or calculating the odds even when he was face-to-face with something looking to kill him. It wasn't that Don was a poor fighter – it was that he rarely fought with his entire brain on the problem.

It was something that made Don a genius in the lab, solving multiple problems all at the same time, but tended to get him cornered in a fight.

Raph had always been there to guard him so his brain could keep curing cancer or whatever it did in those moments – until recently.

And now, not guarding him, not protecting him from the Architect or whatever it had done to Don's brain, it was almost more than Raph could bear.

Don belonged here. Here in his lab. Here tinkering with new ways to save lives and invent things no one had ever imagined. Here with this medallion which proved to the entire galaxy all the things Raph had known Don was and could become in those easy nights in a greasy garage working together over half of an engine.

But it was Raph who stood here now. Raph who had abandoned him and driven him away and who hadn't been able to make that right.

But I will. I promise, Donnie. We're gonna tear that Architect apart and bring you back and I'll be your Number One Turtle-in-Waiting and Chief Hammer-Holder. Nobody, not a whacked-out computer system, not the Shredder, nobody gets to keep you from where you belong.

And nobody's gonna keep me from being right there with you.

Suddenly the lab was plunged into darkness.

-==OOO==-

Splinter opened his eyes.

He knew at once, however, that this was figurative rather than literal. While it was entirely possible to fool Splinter as to what was reality and what was an astral projection, no such attempt was being made this time.

Splinter's body felt weightless, light and airy, which was strange to him – normally, he felt quite grounded in his meditations, as if the world of the mind were more real than the world his physical self inhabited. His surroundings were equally hazy and undefined, a fuzzy sort of field of green, but none of the blades of grass or flowers had any true shape, and the sky above was a pale, insubstantial blue.

"Master Splinter."

Splinter turned to see Donatello moving towards him. Unlike everything else, Donatello seemed entirely solid and well-defined.

"My son! Are you all right?"

It was the first question to come to Splinter's mind. His last memories were of a discussion with his other sons over Donatello's plight under the control of the Architect.

Donatello winced. "I'm fine, Sensei. Why wouldn't I be?"

Splinter decided to proceed cautiously. "Donatello, you may be unaware while your soul is anchored here, but your mind and body are under the influence of a great evil, and with it you have been committing terrible crimes."

Donatello's wince grew deeper. "No, Master Splinter. You're wrong. I'm not being manipulated or controlled by the Architect. I know everything I'm doing. I'm aware of it." He swallowed audibly. "I chose to help him."

Splinter could not imagine anything Donatello could confess that would have shocked him more than this.

When he found his voice, he asked, "And did you then willingly break the Clan bond? Sever yourself from your brothers and from me?"

Donatello's bright eyes closed and Splinter could see a tear form on one cheek, diamond sharp in this world of soft edges. "I'm...not sure I'd call it 'willing,' Sensei. But I meant to do it and I knew what I was doing and I would do it again if I had to."

"My son." Splinter's heart cracked at the pain he could not only see but now sensed in the very air of the astral space. "Please. Speak to me. Help me to understand."

Donatello took a deep breath and visibly brought himself back under control. "Honestly, I don't think we've got enough time for all that. But… if you really want to know…"

"Do you doubt me so much, my son?" Splinter's voice went low and soft.

Donatello said nothing. He did not need to – his father knew that answer too well.

"There is no apology I can make for what happened to our family, Donatello." Splinter's voice stayed low, vibrating with his pain for his gentlest son. "There are no words that will ease the suffering you have experienced at our hands. And through it all you have remained filled with the heart I once knew so well. I sensed as much in my meditations as we tried to find you. I sense it now. You are not bitter nor hateful."

"No, Master."

"And yet you threaten a war in the galaxy. But you, my son, you could never do this." Splinter's own eyes closed, not that it mattered – he could see with his mind just the same. "Of course I wish to know what you have believed, your reasons for your actions. But if you cannot trust me with them, if you cannot give them to me, I will not blame you."

A pressure tingled along Splinter's awareness, a mental grip that was firm and strong, but profoundly careful and reverent. Splinter had suspected his son had grown much in his mental disciplines during their absence, but now he understood that in this place of his son's making, Donatello's powers vastly exceeded his own. And yet Donatello moved gingerly, as though Splinter were made of spun glass and easily broken in his much stronger psychic hands.

When Donatello's voice sounded – or perhaps it was his heart, so close were their spirits Splinter no longer could tell the difference – there was anguish, and pride, and a child's need in his words.

"I'm not going to hide anything from you, father. I won't even try. I thought I might never see you again. Take what you want from my mind. I'll give it all to you."

Splinter's heart lurched, and he opened his astral soul wide to absorb everything Donatello offered.

Only the study and practice of a lifetime kept Splinter from becoming lost in the howling intricacy that was his son's mind. He had known Donatello's brilliance was vast and deep, but it was something else to experience it directly, to be caught in a maelstrom of thought and strategy and knowledge and estimation, a hurricane of equations and feelings and memories swirling around a soul grounded in steel and love. It took Splinter several tries to stabilize and orient himself so that he could understand.

And Donatello's memories, thoughts, feelings, and plans broke over him like sunlight.

He lived his son's loss and loneliness in the lair, shared his depths of despair and dangerous grief. He rejoiced with Donatello's acceptance among the Utrom, felt the draw of curiosity and familiarity as Donatello studied with the lost memory of Hamato Yoshi. And Splinter witnessed Donatello's meeting with the Architect, but from within, reading the thoughts and decisions and sorrows that ended in the nearly-complete plan which had been hatched.

Splinter pushed himself away from the sharing with a pained shock. "Donatello. My son."

Before him, Donatello made a small, sad smile. "So, now you know, I guess."

"Yes, but you are aware I cannot possibly agree with the course of action you have chosen."

He sighed. "I know. But it's the only way this works. The only way to make everything right."

Splinter's heart cracked again. How many more fractures could it endure? "Is that why you brought me here, my son? That your reasoning might be heard?"

"I guess. Well, besides the obvious reason."

"Not the one you gave the Architect."

Donatello shrugged. "Partially. I really don't want you underneath anything we might knock over when it all happens."

Splinter managed a slight glare. "You know well not to underestimate me so, my son."

That earned him a rueful laugh. "I know. But old habits die hard."

"Yes, they do." Splinter moved his body nearer to his child. Even slightly insubstantial, he still put his arms around Donatello. "Your choice is wrong, my son. But I see now the pain that drove you to it. I do not want you to continue along this path, Donatello."

"I know. But you can't stop me."

"No, it seems I cannot." Splinter stretched out his awareness as he would track a scent in the air. "Your defenses are admirable. When you leave here, I shall not be able to reach your brothers, nor yourself, unless you again create a gateway for me."

"That'll probably frustrate the shell out of Leo," Donatello said with almost a huff of a laugh. "I designed the psychic barriers around you to give him enough of a sense that you're still alive and safe if he comes looking, but that's it. I didn't want him to worry that I'd actually hurt you."

"Your brothers have not lost their faith in you, my son. However they misunderstand your actions, they do not doubt in the truth of your heart. They will not believe you could harm me."

"Well, that's something, anyway."

Splinter's tail lashed with sudden anger. "It is everything, my son. They have wronged you, they have caused you great suffering, but they have not abandoned you. You must not pursue this course of action. You must open your heart to them and allow them to help you. You must allow them to bring you home."

A tear slid down Donatello's check and splashed with icy cold on Splinter's head. "I can't. I've made my decision. And no matter what happens, I'm seeing it through."

Donatello pulled himself from his Sensei's arms. "But at least you know now. That...means a lot to me. I didn't think I'd ever see you again, father."

Later, Splinter knew, he would weep at the pain and truth in Donatello's eyes, the certainty made so much worse because it had almost come to pass. But now he focused, forced himself to remain present if only because he did not know if he would receive another chance to change his son's mind.

"If you continue on this course, you may not see me again. Not in the way you wish."

"I know. But this is enough now. I...I can live with this much."

"And your brothers? What will you do with them? They would have come for you regardless, to save you and protect you. Now that you hold me, they will certainly do anything in their power to stop you."

A slow transformation overtook Donatello's face. His despair melted and his expression shifted to one of certainty, then confidence. He drew himself to his full height and his eyes shone with a conviction whose power seemed fathomless.

In all his years watching over his sons, Splinter had never seen such honest fearlessness in Donatello.

"My son?"

"They'll come. I know they will. And I know how and when and what they'll do when they get here. Even now, they're still as predictable as ever. And that's what I'm counting on. That's what is going to make my whole plan work."

A wash of cold understanding swept through Splinter's chest. "They will not forgive you, my son. If you use them to this end, they will feel your betrayal for all their days. You would condemn yourself this way, even knowing what they will think of you? Of themselves?"

Donatello's conviction did not falter even when his face fell. "Yes. Because it's the best way."

"No, my son. It is not."

Donatello's form began to fade.

Splinter tried to hold his son, to keep him from escaping. "Donatello! I beg of you, my son! Choose another path!"

Donatello's voice was all that remained. "I'm sorry, father. I'm so, so sorry. More than you could ever imagine."

Then he was gone.

Splinter sank down upon the soft, insubstantial grass and felt his own tears begin to fall.

"No, my son. I can imagine it all too well now."