Hiya everyone!

I am SUPER excited to say that I've been given fanart for Worlds Apart! I'll be uploading it to the AO3 version tonight after I get this chapter up. Thank you SO, SO MUCH MsGoodDay!

I'm still working on replying to everyone who leaves a review or comment or a DM, but there's one question I've been asked which I want to answer for all of you: will this have a happy ending?

The short answer – it's complicated.

The longer answer – this isn't a spoiler because you need only read my entire body of work to know that I don't like endings that ruin your feelings forever. My endings may be difficult, but they're usually constructive if not actually positive. But that only holds true for whole series taken as a whole. I make NO promises about individual Acts, guys. In fact, at least one of them is going to be pretty darn awful. But at the end of the end? When the final chapter closes on the final act in December? Yeah. Things will turn out okay. You just have to hang on.

Keep that in mind as we go. This whole story is written and there is reason an explanation behind everything that happens. On something like this, I play the long game. I invite you to play with me.

Here's a chapter with a few explanations that will move us along. But be warned, this is where the tragedies I mentioned in the summary will start to arise, too.

(Ooh, anybody got the song for this one yet?)

Enjoy!


Chapter 2: Trying


"What can you mean? Gone? Where have they gone?" Professor Honeycutt asked.

Donatello looked across the lair, anywhere but at either of his friends. "Edo."

"What is Edo?" Leatherhead asked, trying to stand close enough to Donatello to be reassuring without also seeming to suffocate him.

"It's...the capital city. The original name for Tokyo, apparently the same city from our dimension in the corresponding time period. Anyway. Leo's note said that the Daimyo was required to travel there by order of the Shogun and Leo and Master Splinter went with him. Leo says...Raph will be patrolling the han and Mikey is at Mitsu's place."

Leatherhead's eye-ridges rose. "Did he leave you no way to contact him?"

Don shook his head. "Not really. I think...he was in a hurry."

"A trip of such magnitude, especially with an invalided Master Splinter along, could scarcely be a last-minute affair." Honeycutt's words were low.

Don closed his eyes. "I know. He didn't say as much but...I know how to read Leo. I think...he forgot to tell me about it until they were leaving. That's why he didn't even bother to come looking for me. He just opened the doorway and chucked the scroll through." Then, even more quietly, "They must have been planning it...for weeks. He only remembered me on the way out."

Suddenly Donatello pushed himself to his feet, almost rising straight into Leatherhead except the crocodile was quick and shifted aside.

"I...I need some air."

"You are not yet fully healed of your concussion," Honeycutt said, stepping in front of him. "You cannot risk physical exertion yet."

"I know, but I...I need…"

"Let him go, Professor." Leatherhead put a hand on the Fugitoid's shoulder. He looked to Don whose shoulders were shaking, but his expression was closed and defiant. "I trust Donatello to manage his own feelings in his own way."

"Thanks, LH," Don said.

Leatherhead released Honeycutt only to rest a hand on Don's shell. "However, I wish you to take both a weapon and a phone with you. And I want you to return here to rest when you are finished so I may continue to monitor your recovery."

Donatello nodded wordlessly, but he shot Leatherhead a bare almost-smile as he edged around them to collect his belongings. He paused at the door, as if to turn back and say something, but fell silent as his jaw worked against his tightly-closed expression.

"Stay safe, my friend," Leatherhead said.

Donatello twitched slightly. Then, he turned just enough so he faced them fully.

To their surprise, he gave them a half-bow.

"You have my word, Leatherhead."

And he quit the lair.

Honeycutt turned to Leatherhead. "Are you certain this is wise?"

Leatherhead sighed heavily. "No. But I do know that Donatello's heart feels things deeply and even the complexity of his mind cannot mitigate such thoughtless pain. He will tear his heart apart if we try to force him to let such feelings build without release."

"You don't think he'll get hurt?"

Leatherhead shook his head. "I don't think any hurt of the body would trouble him against what is weighing upon his soul. And if he can only find some way to live with himself by driving his body beyond its limits...well. That's why I told him to come back."

-==OOO==-

Donatello returned several hours later, sweating, breath heaving, and almost trembling with exhaustion. He said nothing even when spoken to directly, but allowed Leatherhead and Honeycutt to examine him for any injuries other than overexertion before he dropped into the makeshift bed where he fell asleep at once.

In the morning, the Donatello that woke was completely different from the silent, barely-constrained creature of the night before.

"Thanks for understanding about last night," Don said, sipping at his second cup of coffee. "I really appreciate it."

"So, if I may ask," Honeycutt said, "what will you do now?"

"Today's Sunday, right?"

At Leatherhead's nod, Donatello actually smiled.

"Okay. Then I'll go to April's like usual. After I finish there, maybe I'll see if I can find either Raph or Mikey in Usagi's world. They'll know what's really going on. And if I can get a fix on where Edo is relative to the coordinates I already have, I should be able to program the portal stick to drop me off where I can kick Leo's tail for scaring me like this."

Leatherhead looked down to his young friend. "Would you like some company when you venture into the other dimension?"

Donatello's whole body flinched as though he had been hit by a gust of cold wind. But he smiled when he shook his head. "No, thanks. I appreciate the offer. But I can handle this."

"If you change your mind, I daresay either of us would gladly make the journey with you," Honeycutt said.

Don looked at both of them with the sort of half-smiling sincerity that was more familiar. "I know. And it means a lot, believe me. But I would rather sort this out on my own."

Suddenly his Shell Cell beeped.

"That's my reminder. I should head back to the lair, reset the password, and grab a couple of things before I head over to April's. Casey always gets outvoted when we pick the movie after we eat, so I thought I'd bring one he can actually enjoy for once. I figure Kingsman will appeal to him and April will appreciate the casting even if she gets tired of the rest of it."

Leatherhead chuckled. "I can see the wisdom of the choice. Well, let us not keep you from your afternoon."

Don nodded and started picking up his belongings, including his duffle bag. But he paused before actually departing.

"I think...if it's okay with you, I'll go home tonight after I check in with the other dimension. But...I'd like to come visit again tomorrow, if that's not a problem."

The Fugitoid nodded and Leatherhead smiled broadly. "You are always welcome here, Donatello. Day or night. And you may call upon us whenever you like."

Don smiled. "Thanks, guys. Okay. I better go. See you later!"

After the door closed behind him, Leatherhead let out a breath. "I hope a peaceful afternoon with his friends will help him face his journey tonight."

Honeycutt's voice went warm, as though he were smiling. "I am certain it will at least remind Donatello that he is not alone in this world, whatever his family has decided. Yes, I think today will do much to encourage him. Or, at the very least, distract him from his troubles for a time."

Little could either of them have anticipated how distracted Donatello was about to become.

-==OOO==-

"Hey April. Uh...how's it going?"

Don looked around the apartment above the shop with confusion and a little trepidation. In the four weeks he had come up on Sundays for the weekly meal, he had always found the place in its usual chaotic-tidy order, delicious scents in the air, and Casey and April bustling around with an edge of nervousness to their otherwise usually cheerful teamwork.

Today, there were two pizza boxes on the table, a stack of unwashed dishes in the sink and one entire shelf of books scattered across the floor – and Casey was nowhere to be found.

April looked up, her face pale and drawn.

"Hey Don. Honestly, it's not going so well today."

Donatello crossed the floor to her and put a hand on her arm. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

April let out a breath. "I'm fine, more or less. It's…" She covered Don's hand with her own and steered him to the couch. "It's Casey."

Donatello braced himself, not trusting his voice.

"Yesterday, he got a call." April paused and collected herself, facing Donatello as if she were discussing a flaw in a program code or a chemical formula. "Casey's mom is sick. They found a malignant tumor."

Don's heart lurched and he sank to the couch beside her. "Oh no. How's Casey taking it?"

April gestured to the books. "How do you think? He's out running it off right now, but he'll be back pretty soon."

Don shifted and put an arm over April's shoulders. "If there's anything I can do to help, you know I will. Casey'll probably be busy worrying about her, so make sure you do whatever you have to for yourself while you take care of him."

April nodded and tears gathered in her eyes. She leaned her cheek against Donatello's arm.

"I know that...but...how can I help him through this? And how can I...ask you for help? You're hurting, too." Her tears began to fall.

Don squeezed her tighter against him. "Yes, I am," he admitted. "But...I can deal with this. I've...I've had a while to get used to things. And you've been great. Now Casey needs you. So you can need me for a while, too."

April gave a shuddering sob and started to cry in earnest. Don held her, keeping his body relaxed and comforting. But he directed his eyes above her head where she couldn't see their emptiness. With every breath, Don drew another layer of protection and deflection around his feelings; long before April's crying slowed, he had buried everything but the comfort and steady friendship he wished her to see deep inside himself.

They might have stayed that way longer but for the metallic clanking that sounded from outside.

Donatello's senses went on high alert and adrenaline flooded into his system. "Stay here," he said, unwinding his arms from April and getting to his feet. In one stride he retrieved his bo from where he had leaned it beside the door.

April looked up at him, her eyes red and her face blotchy. "But…"

Don shook his head. "I'll call you if I need you, but right now you're too unfocused for a fight. Besides, if it goes wrong, I'll yell for you to call 911, okay?" He flashed her a smile. "Trust me, April. It'll be okay."

April's face flashed with stubborn pride, but then it faded and she nodded. "Watch your back, Donnie," she said.

"I will." And he set off down the stairs, sinking into the shadows of the unlit hallway.

It isn't really fair to treat April like she isn't a competent fighter, but right now her emotions are raw and she didn't sleep much last night, I bet. It's a recipe for letting her guard down.

And I can't let anything else happen to someone I care about. No matter what.

At the door to the alley where April put her garbage into the dumpster, Don paused and listened.

He heard a low, familiar groan.

Then another voice spoke in deep, threatening tones. "Listen, you nutcase. You're gonna tell me where to find those green freaks, or you're gonna wish you never tangled with the Purple Dragons."

Between one heartbeat and the next, Donatello calculated the likeliest positions of those he could hear outside. Then he grabbed the doorknob and braced himself.

In one movement, he unbolted the door and flung it open, catching Dragonface with the door's edge right on the side of the head.

Donatello leaped through the door, kicking it shut behind him and drawing his bo while he positioned himself between Casey, who was leaning against the wall beside the door, and everyone else.

"Hmm," Don said. "Eight Dragons against one turtle? I'm not sure that's fair."

"Yeah," Casey wheezed from the ground, clearly working on getting air back into his lungs. "For them. Get 'em good for me, Donnie."

"My pleasure." And Donatello attacked.

Because of the narrowness of the alleyway, Donatello was able to use his bo to divide the Dragons, keeping them to either side of himself and thus preventing them from charging him in one mass. Three of the gang got too close and were easily knocked out by Don's spinning bo. Two more tried to attack him simultaneously from opposite directions, and he snapped out a split-kick to bring them down while slamming the bo overhand onto a third. That left only Dragonface himself and one other slightly smarter-than-average goon.

The goon looked at his unconscious buddies and promptly bailed, running away at top speed.

"So." Don took a step towards Dragonface. "You wanted to see me?"

Dragonface backed up warily. "You and your freaky family are gonna be sorry. We ain't gonna give up on takin' you down."

"Why?" Don asked, honestly curious. "What's the point? Hun's gone, the Shredder's gone."

Dragonface smirked. "You're still the baddest things out here. If we take you down, we own these streets."

"Aside from that being a significant fallacy of logic on your part, it's not going to happen."

"We'll see about that." Dragonface edged backwards a bit more before he turned and ran. "Later, freak!"

Donatello watched from the alleyway to make sure he was really gone before he turned to Casey. "You okay?"

Casey was shoving himself to his feet. "Yeah. I'm fine. They jumped me as I was comin' back in. Knocked the wind outta me, but that's about it." He managed a jaunty grin. "Pretty lame beat-down, really."

Don returned the smile. "Glad to hear it. Now, let's go upstairs and call someone to collect the garbage."

-==OOO==-

By the time Donatello returned to his lair, the very last thing he wanted to do was venture into Usagi's dimension. The hours with Casey and April had been gruelling at best. Once the police had come, taken statements from the pair, and removed the unconscious Dragons, everything had been stilted and awkward and raw. Casey didn't seem to want to talk about anything at all, and April had struggled to try to keep things normal when they clearly weren't. After the movie was over, Don had escaped as quickly as possible, and he guessed he wasn't the only one relieved.

Casey probably doesn't want me to see him struggling with this, Don thought to himself. I don't blame him one bit. It's not like I really want them to see me having trouble, either.

He crossed the lair to the stand he had set up for the portal stick.

It was nice of Leatherhead to offer to come with me. But if I'm going to get stared at by everybody in the castle, I don't really want anybody else to see that, either.

Before he could talk himself out of going, he keyed in the coordinates and the portal stick sprang to life.

Bad enough for one whole dimension to think I'm worthless at best and a failure at worst. I don't need anybody from here sharing that opinion.

It was almost time for the evening meal in the castle when Don emerged into the empty inkhouse. He had not wanted to appear in the keep – the guards might have tried to skewer him before they figured out who he was.

And maybe after, too.

The inkhouse was barren, all the trappings of anyone having ever lived there completely gone. The materials to make ink had not yet been set up, but they sat piled together in the spot that had been Splinter's bed.

Don didn't dare let himself dwell on the pang that sight left in his heart; instead, he pushed open the door and strode out. He approached the first guard he saw – no longer guarding the inkhouse itself, but stationed at a corner down the lane.

"Good evening," Donatello said. "I've come to talk to Honda Ryome-san."

The guard scowled at him. "He will not speak to you. None here will pollute our honor with your presence."

Don drew himself up. "I'm not a plague. And I don't care about your honor. I just want some answers."

"Find them for yourself, mongrel." And the guard looked away, his face going stony.

The next two guards Donatello talked to didn't even look at him, let alone respond.

Fantastic. When Leo was around, they had to pretend that they didn't hate me. Now that he's gone, I guess this is what they were thinking all along.

Since he was getting nowhere inside the castle – and since he did not under any circumstances want to have to fight any more duels – Don decided to head into the village instead. The samurai at the front gate grew an expression on her face like she had eaten pond scum when he approached, but she opened the door before he could even ask.

Next time I come, I'm going to pop out down here, Don decided as he walked towards the village. Fewer people to glare at me.

I hope.

The villagers were bustling around as usual, and though they were not overtly welcoming to Donatello as they saw him coming, they didn't respond to him with the same hostile disgust from the castle. However, no one approached him to speak, and as he passed, he noted furtive glances being cast back up the road.

Yeah, I bet talking to an outcast isn't great for one's social standing.

Originally, Don had intended to go see the priest, hoping he would be above such behavior, but now he wasn't so sure. However, the choice was taken from him by a familiar voice calling out.

"Kame-sama! It's the Kame-sama!"

Don grinned at the eager dog-child who raced to his side. "Hello, Hiroki."

In a moment, the little dog's father appeared. "Kame-sama. You have returned." He bowed. "Is there anything my family can do for you? We owe you still a great debt."

Don's stomach uncurled at the first kindness he'd seen in the dimension today. "I have some questions. Maybe you can answer them, or at least point me in the right direction. That would be worth more than enough to repay me."

"Then please come," the dog said. "Let us offer you some tea and we will answer anything we can."

In minutes, Donatello was seated on the one soft cushion in the humble home, Hiroki slurping tea beside him and both parents kneeling before him as though he were a Lord. It made Don uncomfortable, but he knew by now that trying to force familiarity on them would make them uncomfortable instead. And he really did want answers.

"Can you tell me why the Daimyo left so suddenly?"

Hiroki's family were but farmers, but they were well able to explain the Daimyo's absence to Donatello.

"It is called sankin-kotai, Kame-sama. All Daimyo are required by the Shogun to live one year in Edo and the next in the han, back and forth. Lord Kawauso had been offered an additional year here in the han due to the suddenness of his ascension, but the time had come for himself and his entire household to journey to Edo."

"Then what about Leo and Master Splinter?"

"The law states that any Heirs of the Daimyo must remain in Edo for their education and also to ensure their loyalty. When the Daimyo marries, his wife and children will do the same."

"So they're hostages?"

"That is a crude way of putting it, though there may be truth in it."

"So, can you tell me where Edo is?"

At that, Hiroki's father shook his head. "No. I have never traveled there. It is a journey of many days, however."

Don sighed, closing his eyes in defeat.

"However, Miyamoto-san has been to Edo many times. He could certainly guide you."

Don's eyes flew open. "Usagi! Of course! Where is he?"

"I believe he went out into the han with a last errand from the young Lord, and to offer to guide your other brothers to Edo if they wished to join the Daimyo."

Don considered. "But he'll want to stop back here for supplies, right?"

"That is likely."

"Okay. If you see him, can you please ask him to come visit me before he goes onto Edo? He knows how to find me."

"We shall. Anything for you, Kame-sama."

Don smiled. "Now you're the ones doing me a huge favor. I really appreciate it."

Hiroki piped up, "You saved me! I don't care what anybody says about you! You're the most honorable person ever!"

"I'm glad you think so," Don told him. "You're kind of alone in that opinion."

"Yes, it seems we are," Hiroki's father said quietly. Then, with a more cautious expression, "Take care in our world, Kame-sama. Misunderstandings and tales of deviant behavior spread like the wind in the countryside. Because of the young Lord, the people here tolerate you. And some of our friends may like you as well, but they dare not show it openly or risk censure."

Don nodded. "I guessed as much."

"But farther out in the han, away from the castle and the control and influence of the young Lord, others may not be so stilted in their response."

"You think I could be in danger?" Don asked, eye-ridges rising.

Hiroki's father's eyes fell. "I think, Kame-sama, you would be very much disappointed in my countrymen who forget, sometimes, the true meaning of honor."

-==OOO==-

The following afternoon, as promised, Donatello returned to visit with Leatherhead and Honeycutt. He did not disclose the news he had received from April and Casey, but he told them about the fight and his trip to Usagi's dimension.

Honeycutt's voice carried the tinge of a frown. "Why on earth should you be so despised, Donatello, merely for experimenting with the art of smithing?"

Don sighed. "It's not just that, though that's part of it. Let's see."

He began ticking points off on his fingers.

"First, we're dealing with a world with a lot of preconceptions about everything, including ninja. Usagi warned me way back at the start that my only carrying one weapon would make me suspect because apparently real samurai carry two. So the people could look at my brothers and forget the ninja part and think samurai instead, but with me they can't."

"That's ridiculous!" Honeycutt exclaimed. Leatherhead shushed him.

"Second, since outsiders and ninja are both considered to be untrustworthy, I think it was easier for the people to center all that mistrust on me, especially after we tried to play up me as the least worthy of my brothers. We sort of set everybody up to assume I was the worst, and they believed it. I think they still go all 'ninja scum!' about me, but forget the others are ninja, too."

Leatherhead snorted, but gestured for Don to continue.

"Third, once you start adding in the blacksmithing, then I really do look, to them, like more of an outcast than ever. Samurai are supposed to be cultured, into the arts and such, not down in the grime of weaponscraft. It would be like a king making their own dinner reservations – it's work that is socially beneath their status. But that was what I chose to do, rather than standing guard all the time or perfecting my calligraphy or helping Leo run the han. So I was perceived either as not a samurai pretending to deserve the rank of samurai, which is deplorable to them, or else I was a samurai wallowing in the mud with the pigs – equally deplorable."

"And your brothers?" Honeycutt asked archly.

Don sighed. "Mikey wasn't really there all that much – he's been off with his girlfriend. Raph was in and out between patrols, too. And Leo made it clear that I was his brother and should be respected, but that only goes so far. They tolerated me because they didn't want to displease him, but nothing he could say could make them change their opinion."

"I wonder what they would have made of me," Leatherhead said, tipping his head.

Don huffed and smiled. "Probably they would have thought you were a scholar and you'd have been okay as long as you didn't get into a fight. Apparently it's permitted to be smart – to a point – as long as you always behave like a refined, cultured philosopher." Then he sighed. "But I get the sense that there's even a limit on that. This is a world heavily vested in the status quo. There isn't a lot of room for innovation or discovery."

The Professor crossed his arms across his robotic body. "Ridiculous and small-minded. Even my own people of D'Hoonib, who were primarily interested in me for my innovation of weaponry, still appreciated genius for its own sake."

Leatherhead nodded. "Such staid thinking is new to me as well. Amongst the Utrom, innovation and discovery and creativity and experimentation are paramount."

Don shrugged. "So, anyway. That's why I had so much trouble, I guess." Then, casting around for a change of topic, Don was struck by a sudden thought. He turned to the Professor.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Anything, my boy," Honeycutt said, warmth returning to his tone.

"Why have you stayed on Earth so long, Professor? I thought you were only visiting for the wedding, and that was months ago, long before my family even went over there." Donatello shifted his gaze to Leatherhead. "And while I'm on the subject, why didn't you go back with the Utrom after Ch'rell's trial? I mean, I'm glad you didn't or you wouldn't have been around to help with the Outbreak and you wouldn't be here now, but...well, I don't understand. And I just realized I never really asked you about it."

Leatherhead sighed. "One answer is the other, my friend. Do you recall the fall I took as the Shredder's ship launched?"

Donatello shivered. "We thought you'd died. Of course I remember."

"The Utrom believed it as well," Professor Honeycutt said. "That is why they did not retrieve him when they rescued you and your family from the Shredder's ship. It was not until I returned to Earth for the wedding of April O'Neil and Casey Jones that I discovered we had been mistaken and that Leatherhead was still alive."

"Once Professor Honeycutt realized the error, he intended to communicate it to the Utrom upon his return to the Homeworld," Leatherhead said. "However, before we had that opportunity, Ch'rell and his dimensional alternative self attacked."

Donatello's eyes widened. "Your lair was pretty much destroyed. Most of your equipment got fried with all the structural damage in that area after the Technodrome tore apart the city."

"Precisely," Leatherhead nodded. "And, as you can see, it's still in fairly poor condition. Anyway, among the things I lost to that attack was the communications hub the Professor brought with him to reconnect with the Utrom Collective. That is why Professor Honeycutt is still on Earth; we will not be able to contact the Utrom until we have finished rebuilding it from scratch. Thankfully, we have nearly completed the work and should soon be able to reestablish contact with my people."

"Oh."

Donatello knew it would be polite, not to mention honorable, to offer to help with the rebuilding, but the traitorous part of him that had not stopped hurting for months refused to allow it. As terrible and unkind as it was, he could not let himself facilitate some of his only remaining friends leaving him, too.

He was saved from having to say any more by a sudden, urgent beeping.

"What is it?" Honeycutt asked.

Donatello pulled out his Shell Cell. "After last night, I set up my network to track any chatter on social media from the Purple Dragons. I had a feeling they'd try again. They're dumb and predictable like that."

Then he groaned as he skimmed the information from his network's findings.

Honeycutt leaned over. "Trouble?"

"What else? According to these conversation threads, it looks like the entire Purple Dragon force who didn't get picked up last night is going to converge on Casey and April's place tonight. At least this time they don't have Hun. It'll just be us against a crowd, instead of us against a crowd and a giant, freaky dude who looks like a turtle got a little too friendly with a sea urchin."

Leatherhead chuckled. "In Hun's case, an affiliation with reptile DNA could only be an improvement."

Don couldn't help but smile. "Well, it made him stronger, faster, and spinier. Kinda like me when I mutated during the Outbreak."

At that, Leatherhead shook his head. "Hun could never resemble you, Donatello, even when you were mindless and lost."

"Do you intend to go and confront the Dragons?" the Professor asked.

"Yeah," Don nodded. "If as many of them show up as I think, it's too much for Casey and April on their own."

"What about the authorities? Surely the police of Earth should be of some help."

"It's...complicated."

Honeycutt stared at Donatello, waiting.

Don sighed. "Okay. So, obviously I can't call the police myself because I can't give a proper statement with the whole being-a-turtle thing. If Casey or April call the police, it's fine as long as they didn't get into the fight; if they did, they're just as liable, legally, for any injuries they cause even if they would get it thrown out of court. But it's a pain in the shell until then."

"And," Leatherhead raised an eye-ridge, "you wish to give those newer or younger members a chance at redemption."

"That was always more Leo and Mikey than me," Don replied. "They believe that there are usually a couple of people who aren't really committed to joining the Dragons in the crowd, and a fight with us might knock some sense into them so they choose another path. But if they get picked up by the police, it goes on their record."

"I see." Honeycutt tipped the Fugitoid's head. "Do you require any assistance?"

Don shrugged. "I don't think so. Casey and April are pretty good, and between the three of us we should be able to handle things."

"Even so." Leatherhead rose from his place. "I will accompany you. I would feel better if I could keep an eye on you – you are still healing, after all."

"Suit yourself, LH."

-==OOO==-

Over the course of the next week, Donatello had cause to be very grateful Leatherhead had volunteered to assist. In eight days, the Purple Dragons harried the 2nd Time Around shop four different times.

The first was the all-out assault, the Dragons actually breaking into the shop in droves. It took the combined efforts of Casey, April, Don, and Leatherhead to drive them out, and only then when some neighbors again called 911 for help. The shop was trashed – though, honestly, most of the damage inside came from Leatherhead throwing gang members into display cases – and every window was shattered during the assault.

The second and third attacks were smaller: once a trio of Dragons ambushed April when she was unloading groceries while Casey was up front nailing plywood over the broken windows (and they paid dearly for forgetting how competent she was in defending herself), and once a handful of them tried to force the back door only to be met with a fully-armed and incredibly angry Casey Jones ready and waiting.

But the fourth attack left Donatello sick with fury and a little guilt.

The Purple Dragons had tried to firebomb the shop – and had more than partially succeeded.

Donatello returned to his lair covered in soot and sweat. If it weren't for Casey and his baseball skills, I'm not sure there'd be a building left standing at all. He knocked most of the explosives back out the window and into the street. I think that's the only reason they eventually gave up. They were getting tired of having to duck their own explosions.

But it's not enough.

Even with a couple of cops sitting on the front steps, Casey and April had to go to a hotel. And their home is pretty much wrecked. It's not fair! The Dragons are targeting them trying to get at us...me. They didn't ask for any of this.

The Shredder burned down April's place once already. It's my fault the Dragons almost did it again.

With a sudden, angry cry, Donatello launched his bo like a javelin, not caring that it ricocheted off a concrete wall hard enough to break a pane of glass in the subway car nearby.

"Why are they doing this?" Don yelled, his voice loud and strange in the normally-silent lair.

He took a long step forward and punched the nearest solid object - one of the supports for the newly-built half-pipe that just needed some final sanding and painting. His fist went through the wooden post and the whole half-pipe creaked ominously.

They just keep coming after April and Casey. And I can't make them stop. Not on my own.

My friends are getting hurt and it's all my fault.

Donatello's head dropped and he might have given in to either the desire to punch more things or to cry in frustration except that a moment later there was a strange, watery sound and a tingle of energy in the air.

Donatello quickly collected himself, darting over to the cabinet next to the dojo for some strips of cloth normally reserved for wrapping around punching bags to reduce their abrasiveness on bare fists; he bound the cloth over his knuckles to hide that they were split and bleeding. Then he scooped up a towel to rapidly wipe away the worst of the soot.

As the magical doorway formed, Donatello moved to stand across from it, his heart beating with sudden emotion.

"Leo?"

"I am sorry, my friend," came a familiar voice. Miyamoto Usagi emerged from the portal. "Greetings, Donatello-san. Please forgive me for intruding."

Don gulped down his feelings of disappointment and managed a smile. "You're always welcome, Usagi. What's up?"

Usagi's eyes widened at Donatello's disheveled state. "My friend! You have been in a battle."

Don shrugged. "Yeah. But it's no big deal."

"On the contrary, your current state tells me it must have been rather an ordeal." He glanced around. "If you will permit me to be an overly familiar guest in your home, I can prepare you some tea while you take the chance to bathe before we talk."

Don knew it was rude to accept the offer by either world's standards, but the sweat and soot and his raw nerves were all clamoring for a shower. He sighed. "If you're sure you don't mind, that sounds really welcome right about now."

Usagi nodded. "It is no trouble between friends. Go and care for yourself. I recall your kitchen well enough to manage. I am in no hurry and would rather visit with you when you are more yourself."

"And I don't smell as bad?" Don teased.

"That did not enter my thinking at all, I assure you."

"Just your nose."

"Well...perhaps."

Don laughed. "Okay, fine! I'll shower. Back in a few."

Fifteen minutes later, Don was clean, had properly bandaged the cuts he'd taken in the fight – and from punching a plank of wood – and was feeling in control of himself again. He left his mask and pads soaking in soapy water to get the soot out of them, and just pulled a wide bathrobe around himself to ward off the chill.

When he appeared in the kitchen, Usagi was just pouring two mugs of tea.

He looked up and smiled. "So, is that what passes for a proper kimono in your world?"

Don shook his head. "No way. This is just my nice, warm, fuzzy towel with sleeves."

"Hmm. Such an invention would not go amiss in my world, particularly after bathing or an inadvertent dunking into a river."

Don pulled out a chair and sat before one of the mugs of tea. "So, what brings you here, Usagi?" Then, with a little concern, "I assume if something was wrong you would have said so already."

"Of course." Usagi took his seat. "Though it may be more correct to say that were there an emergency, I would have declared it upon arrival."

Don frowned. "So there is something wrong?"

Usagi sipped his tea. When he looked up, his expression was grave. "Not...precisely. I was waylaid by a few of the villagers in Lord Kawauso's han who told me that you wished to speak with me."

"Well, yeah. I mean, I'm kind of hoping you can give me a better answer than they did about what's going on with Leo and everything. But I also want to know if you can help me figure out how to get to Edo so I can drop in on him there."

Usagi peered into his tea for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was low, though he did meet Don's eyes.

"I do not feel entirely comfortable speaking to you of your brother Leonardo without his permission. But I will say this much – he did not have any choice but to travel to Edo with the Daimyo when the orders were levied by the Shogun. Such is the duty of the Heir."

"But what about Master Splinter?"

"Your Sensei had been battling a dangerous relapse of the poison, and it was determined that his best option for recovery was to journey to Edo where there are better healers with more experience with such ailments. The trip to Edo is long, but the carriages used by the Daimyo are rather comfortable and Leonardo-san gave Raphael-san his word that he would take great care not to exhaust or weaken Master Splinter."

"Did you talk to Raph?"

"I did." Usagi nodded. "The Daimyo released me of my service to him, but Leonardo-san asked me to inform both your brothers as to the situation before I continued on my journey. Raphael-san was rather close to the castle and so consulted with Leonardo-san before they set off. He joined me in the village where Michelangelo-san is staying to convey to us both the promise Leonardo had sworn."

Don peered at him. "And...they're all okay with this?"

"Not remotely. When I first informed Raphael-san, he nearly took off down the road without even allowing me to finish my words. And Michelangelo-san seemed not to have realized Master Splinter's illness was so severe as to require the intervention of more knowledgeable healers."

Don sighed. "I guess I'm glad I'm not the only one in the dark."

"No." Usagi shook his head. "You are not."

Don went silent and drank some of his tea, lost in his thoughts.

"My friend," Usagi spoke after a while, "I must ask. Are you...all right?"

Don barked a laugh before he could stop himself. "Of course I'm not! I'm here on my own while my brothers are scattered apart in another dimension and my father is sick and I can't even see him!"

Then Donatello took a deep breath and forced himself to calm. "It's...it's just been hard. And really unexpected."

"I imagine so."

"Hey, so, can you tell me how to get to Edo from the Daimyo's castle?" Don asked, switching the subject before the gloom settling over him could take hold. "I want to program my portal stick so that I can get to Edo and visit Leo."

"It will be many days before they reach it," Usagi warned, "but I should be able to provide you a map and directions."

"That'll work. I'll probably have to go to the castle one more time to calibrate it anyway, but at least then I can give Leo some time to get there and go talk to him."

Donatello abandoned his tea, no longer particularly thirsty for it, and grabbed a nearby notebook and pencil. It took him about half an hour to pick Usagi's brain before he had a map detailed enough that he thought he could make it work based on his existing knowledge of the dimension.

As they finished, Usagi looked up to Don. "Would you like me to remain with you to keep you company for a time? I know I am not your family, but perhaps even a guest is preferable to the silence of solitude."

One part of Donatello's heart surged at the idea – the lair's quiet was maddening at times – but most of him rebelled. Somehow, he could not bear to let Usagi see or understand how lonely he really was, how hard this experience had become.

So he shook his head and forced himself to smile. "Thanks, Usagi, but I think I'll be okay. I appreciate you visiting, though."

"If you need to find me, I will leave word with the family in the village who holds you in high esteem as to where I will be traveling next. And I will try to visit you again sometime."

"I'd like that."

But as Usagi cast the magic that would lead him home, a cold foreboding curled in his stomach.

I do not believe Leonardo-san truly understands the full impact of his choices. And something else seems wrong as well. The Leonardo I met at the Battle Nexus would never let his family scatter so far apart, nor see any of his brothers left to face the world alone. I will go to Edo as soon as I can to speak to him myself.

It is the least I can do after it was my request that led to this in the first place.

Behind him, when the doorway closed and Donatello was alone once more, the turtle peered around at the lair. It was beautiful, perfect, everything he could ever have wanted for his family.

And yet it was his alone.

Don's hand fell to the Moving Book. Without a belt to tuck it in, he had slipped it into the pocket of his robe.

Even if it doesn't matter anymore, I've still got to keep trying. There are a few things I can still do around here to make it even better. I've still got some friends left who might want to visit, anyway.

But he thought of the Purple Dragons, or the Utrom communication device Leatherhead and Honeycutt were working on, and shivered.

At least for now.

-==OOO==-

He stood on a grassy hill far above the rest of the forest. The sun was warm on his shell, but the shade of the enormous tree at the crown of the rise cast an inviting, welcome shadow. He stepped under the branches of the tree and marveled at them, at their vitality, their strength. Nothing could have cut a single limb from the trunk that was so strong.

But then a cold wind began to blow. The sky changed from blue to grey as the world shifted.

And the trunk of the tree, once vibrantly brown, began to fade. Bark started to peel off. Leaves fell prematurely.

And those solid branches started to crack.

Before his eyes, one, then another dropped from the tree, shorn off by a weakness that seemed to grow from within. No lightning had struck, no saws tore at them, but they grew thin and frail and they fell.

Somehow, he knew if the sun came back, the tree would survive.

But the sky stayed stubbornly dark, and growing darker.

Beware the easiest path, for it lies. And darkness will engulf it.

Michelangelo woke with a start.

"Man, what a weird dream!

He rubbed a hand over his head and was surprised when it came away wet with sweat.

"Gross! Mitsu'll head for the hills if I show up to breakfast sweatier than Raph after a run. Better go take a bath."

By the time Mikey hit the morning sunlight, the dream had already faded into insignificance.