Just so you don't get confused, I'm starting this chapter in Don's POV. It begins before the phone call, and carries on a while after.

Thanks to all my faithful readers and reviewers! I'm sorry I don't update more often.

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Donatello stirred at his desk and pushed himself up. He rubbed his eyes and glanced at the clock, surprised to see that it was after midnight. It took him another moment to realize what had woken him up; his shell cell was making a quiet buzzing sound as it vibrated across a stack of papers on his desk.

He grabbed it and flipped it open, mumbling a sleepy "hello."

No one spoke for a minute, and Don was about to hang up when a hoarse voice answered, "Donny."

There was something familiar about the voice, although it was greatly changed since the last time he had heard it. "Leo?" he asked uncertainly, wondering if his mind was just playing tricks on him.

"Yeah, Don, it's me." A strange sensation flowed through his body as his brother answered; whether it was out of pleasure or dread he couldn't have said. Perhaps it was a mix of both.

Either way, he tried his best to sound pleased. "Leo! I can't believe you're calling! It's so good to hear from you! What's going on?" He was pretty sure it sounded convincing, and he wasn't so sure he didn't mean it.

Leo's voice sounded strained as he answered. "I need your help, Don. You know I wouldn't ask this unless it was absolutely necessary, but…." There was a slight rustling followed by the muted sounds of harsh coughing.

Don's brow creased in instinctual concern. "Are you okay, Leo? That didn't sound too good."

Leo's breathing was heavy when he uncovered the phone. "I'm fine, Don. Just a little cold. I'm calling because the Shredder's up to something. It's big this time, and I don't think I can take care of it on my own."

Don quickly forgot his concern when he heard what Leo had to say. His own breathing quickened as he realized what the older turtle was asking of him. He tried desperately to calm himself before answering. Why was he getting so worked up…? He cleared his throat. "You want me to come back to the city?"

"Not permanently," Leonardo said quickly. "Just until… we've taken care of this problem. Please, Don. I can't do it without you."

Panic was welling up in Donatello, and he tried his best not to let it sneak into his voice. "Yeah, sure. I'll be there as soon as I can."

When Leo spoke again he sounded much more subdued and tired. "Thanks, Donatello."

"Yeah, I'll, um," Don cleared his throat. "I'll see you soon."

"Bye, Don." Leo hung up then, but Donatello held the phone to his ear for a long time before he finally closed it and put it back on his desk. So many emotions were swirling around inside him, and he had no idea how he was supposed to feel. He was glad to hear from Leo, he knew that, but he had been shocked by how changed he had been. And he certainly hadn't been expecting to be asked to come back to the lair and… help fight the Shredder.

The more Don thought about it, the more he wondered what had possessed him to say he would come. He hadn't so much as practiced his ninjitsu in the last four years, let alone actually fought anyone. There was no way he would be able to take on the Foot after so long. And seeing Leo, and their home, again would be harder than that.

But he had said he would go, and he intended to follow through. He threw some things in a duffel bag, unsure of how long he would be staying. He pulled out his old ninja gear and tossed it in on top, then zipped it up. Finally he pulled out his bo staff. He stood in his room for a long time, just holding the familiar weapon. He hadn't used it in years, but it still felt so right in his hands.

Without really thinking about it he moved through a few simple katas, using muscles long neglected. He tired quickly and placed his weapon next to the duffel bag. He moved back through his lab, checking to make sure he could leave everything for an indefinite amount of time.

Finally, he was ready to go. But something was keeping him from leaving, and as much as he wanted to deny it he knew it was fear. Fear of facing the Shredder again, fear of facing all those memories again… fear of facing Leonardo again. He struggled with his emotions for a long time before he came to a decision.

He pulled on an old trench coat and hat, grabbed the duffel bag and bo staff, and left the farmhouse. As he climbed into the Battle Shell, he glanced back at the building that had been his home for the last five years. He didn't know when he would see it again, or even if he would see it again. But… his brother had asked for his help, and, whatever junk there was between them, he would help him.

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The longer Donatello drove in New York City, and the closer he got to their old home, the more he longed to turn around and race back to the farmhouse. But there was a fierce determination driving him forward; a determination to fulfill his promise and help Leo. Still, his heart raced as he finally came within sight of the garage that had always housed the Battle Shell.

He no longer had the automatic door opener he had made to work the garage, so he stopped the vehicle right outside and climbed out. He tried to open the door by hand, and was relieved to find that it was unlocked. The door slid open easily, and Don was met with a billow of dust and dirt.

He coughed and staggered backward, stunned by the stale smell that had bombarded him. He waved his hand in front of his face and waited for the thick cloud to dissipate.

The garage was just as he remembered it; mostly empty save for a few boxes and tools scattered about the concrete floor. It had obviously been untouched since he had moved out. He pulled the Battle Shell inside, into its old space, and closed the door back behind him. The air was still heavy and stale, and he pressed the button for the elevator quickly. After waiting for five minutes, Don decided the elevator must be broken. He sighed and left the garage, heading to the nearest manhole cover.

Memories bombarded him as he climbed down the ladder and walked the short distance to the lair door. He paused for a moment, trying to remember exactly which pipe was the lever to open it. He soon remembered, however, and the door lifted open with a familiar hiss.

Don stood in the open doorway for a long time, just looking in at his old home. It was dusty, dirty, and in a horrible state of disrepair, but it was the lair none-the-less. He took a few slow steps inside before shutting the door behind him and dropping his bag on the floor. His hat and coat quickly followed.

"Leo?" he called, trying to hide the nervousness in his voice. "Are you here?" There was no answer, and Don sighed. "You ask me to come, and then you aren't even here," he said out loud, covering his anxiety with irritation. He took a few steps into the lair, then stopped when he stepped in something wet. "What the shell…?" he mumbled, lifting his foot and looking down. It took him a moment to realize what it was, and when he did his breath caught in his throat. Blood…. And fresh; it's still wet, he thought. "Leo!" he called again, louder. "Leo, are you okay?" There was still no answer, and Don began to breathe quicker.

He followed the trail—mostly large drops, smeared in places and pooled together in others—to the old sofa. He took a deep breath, stepped behind it, and froze when he saw a slumped figure against the back of the couch. He stared for a minute, forgetting to breathe, before falling to his knees next to his motionless brother. "Leo?" he whispered, grabbing the older turtle by the shoulders and pulling him into a sitting position. There was a nasty wound in his side which was bleeding sluggishly. There was more blood on the floor—a lot more—and Don's hand shook as he felt for a pulse.

For a second Don panicked, unable to locate the steady beat in Leonardo's neck, but after a moment he found it. It was weak and slow, dangerously so, but it was there. He lifted his brother and half-carried him to the door of the old lab. "Hang on, Leo," he whispered.

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The lab was surprisingly more tidy than the rest of the lair, and Don found everything he'd left behind exactly where he'd left it. There were very few supplies left, however, and Don was thankful beyond words that he had thought to pack his medical kit.

As soon as he was finished stitching the wound and giving his brother as much blood as he could spare, Don sat down heavily at his old desk and took several deep, calming breaths. He's alright…, he kept telling himself. He'll be okay. Honestly, Don was surprised by how much it had affected him to find his brother in such a state. He had never stopped caring about him, it wasn't that at all. But he had managed to maintain a careful emotional aloofness while he had been away from his brothers. He had thought he was in complete control, but finding Leo dead, for all he knew, had shaken him to his very core.

When he had finally stopped shaking—both from giving blood and the tremendous adrenaline rush—Don stood, checked on Leonardo again, and left the lab to explore the rest of the lair. It was so different than it had seemed growing up. It felt so… empty. Everything was in its place, but most of the stuff Don remembered was gone. The sofa was there, the coffee table was there, the table was still in the kitchen. But so much was missing. The elaborate entertainment system he had installed had been reduced to a single outdated television screen. There were no books, no CDs, no random dishes and food wrappers—none of the things that had always made their underground dwelling a home.

He looked in the dojo as he passed the door; like the lab the room had been kept in good condition. The mats were still in place, the racks of practice weapons remained as they always had been. The room was significantly less dusty than the rest and had obviously been used a lot over the years. This hardly surprised Donatello.

He approached the stairs nervously, wondering what he would find in the upper level. He glanced back at the lab before climbing the stairs and walking to his old bedroom door. It was closed, and Don wondered if Leo had so much as opened the door the whole time he had been there alone. Don took a deep breath and opened the door.

It was several long moments before Don recovered and walked inside. He looked around, stunned by how perfect the room appeared. It was slightly dusty, but even the dojo had appeared dirtier. All of his furniture and the items he had left behind were exactly where he had left them.

Don hurried back downstairs, closing his room behind him. His mind reeled; why on earth was his room so clean when the rest of the lair was such a mess? He went back to the lab to check on Leo, but left as soon as he was done. His heart was still beating quickly, and a storm of emotions was swirling around in his head. So Don did what he had always done when he needed escape from his feelings. He put himself to work, cleaning up the blood and the rest of the dirt and rubble covering the floor. But for some reason, this time it didn't seem to be enough to distract him.

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Well, that turned out to be a lot longer than I expected it to be! I never knew Don was such an attention hog! Lol…. I hope this chapter is okay! It took a lot of time, and I'm not sure how much I like it. But it works, and I think I need to move on with the story. Also, I proofread the whole thing, but I'm not sure if I caught everything. If you see any errors, please bring them to my attention and I'll fix them as soon as I can. Thank you so much to those of you who are still reading this!