AUTHOR'S NOTE- Longest chapter so far, but packed full of info! I hope you guys like a trip down Daniel's past and a surprise twist at the end!


In the following weeks the room which I would have normally declared an upgraded prison cell became my sanctuary. It was a lot bigger than the cell, but still was surrounded by plain white walls and floors. However this room at least had a closest, desk, and small bathroom that even had a shower. There as also a small window to the side overlooking the mountainside.

No body bothered me there and was really the only place where I could truly feel any kind of peace.

It was also a place of complete privacy which made me feel safe and uneasy at the same time.

The best thing was that I could come and go as I wanted. Nobody came in and forced me out but at the same time I could always call for an escort and take a walk around the grounds if I wanted. Also Dr. Jones let me sit out the therapy sessions if I didn't feel like going, which most of the time I didn't, in favor of having a private meal together. This way he told me, he could finally treat me more as a friend than a patient. I didn't know if this was going against the rules or not but I didn't care.

This world was a circus to me and somehow that made me feel exempt from any of its rules. And maybe they were just too insane to follow.

In any case I had a lot of alone time. Something I realize is a pretty bad thing when you're going through grief, but helped me just the same.

Mostly it gave me time to remember my real past.


The first thing that came back to me was my mother.

I remembered how she loved too laugh and smelled like lavenders. She wasn't beautiful, but somewhat pretty, if that makes any sense. Someone that didn't really catch the eye, but had an appearance that you grew to love.

She had silky dark hair and a long narrow face with soft blue eyes embedded within it. Her father, my grandfather, was Chinese and her mother was English.

She was given the name Tang Shen by her father which meant strong spirit. Although when she had her own children she wished to honor her mother and gave all of us English names.

I also remember how she had numerous interests and hobbies and pursued a new one almost every week. For example, the first week of the month she would be really interested in interpretive dance, but a few weeks later she would suddenly direct all of her attention to silent films.

Really the only thing all of her interests and hobbies had in common was that they were in some way or another related to art. I later learned that was because she was a medieval art history major in college and had the personality as similar to the college hippie as you could imagine. This made it all the more difficult to understand how she ended up with my father, a no nonsense Japanese man completely dedicated to tradition and rules.

However, as unlikely a couple as they seemed, she was the joy of my father's life. He would listen to her go on for hours about whatever artist or performer she was obsessed with that week while she would work tirelessly every day to make him smile.

Looking back, they probably fell for each other since she needed somebody to take her seriously and he needed someone to make him smile.

Every thing went downhill when my mother was killed.

Again, I was only five years old so I don't remember all of that night, but some moments are engraved into my memory like it happened yesterday.

It was the opening night of a Renaissance exhibit at the Museum of Natural History. My father was working late, but mom couldn't wait to show us. Renaissance art was the only thing she had a lasting interest in.

All I remember about that museum visit was that we spent a really long time there. Heck we probably never would have left if the night guard hadn't kicked us out. On the way home we were about five blocks from our apartment when a man who walked funny and smelled terrible approached us from the ally. His voice was gruff and slurred as he tried talking to my mom while caressing her awkwardly all over her body. She tried pushing him away but he was stronger than her and persistent. Soon she was mouthing to us to go get help but we were too scared to move.

Finally he tried grabbing her chest and she slapped him. Furious he pushed her to the ground and pulled out a gun.

Never having seen a gun before, me and my brothers screamed which must have shocked him into pulling the trigger. I remember for the next five seconds not staring at the blood oozing from her head but the lifelessness in her eyes. It wasn't until Leon grabbed my arm and yanked me away that I joined my brothers in a frantic run back home.


After my mother was killed my dad went into a depression. Initially he went to the therapists, but there was really nothing they could do for him. The pills they prescribed to him did little to nothing and eventually he couldn't afford them anymore.

Then he turned to a cheaper form of therapy, and dedicated himself to getting drunk every time he missed her, which was all the time.

My brothers and I were in grief as well, but somehow we worked as our own sources of comfort. We were each born within a year of each other, which made Michael barely four when it happened, so he showed the most initial grief. He would cry every night wanting mommy since he didn't quite understand the concept that mommy wasn't coming back.

However when one of us saw our brother under the covers sobbing we would usually take it upon ourselves to spend the night in bed with him. We comforted him by either making him laugh, distracting him or just listening to him. And in that way somehow comforting somebody else helped us all feel better.

Seven years old and with a lasting memory, Leon's grief was the most persistent. Even though we all dd every thing we could to help him, he never really moved on like the rest of us did.

Since we were so focused on helping each other feel better, we sort of let our father slip through the cracks. Once in a while Leon might have tried to talk about it with him, but he would always be harshly turned away. Nevertheless there was a lasting guilt my brothers and I felt for ignoring him when he needed us most.

As a result in the passing years as the four of us slowly got better, he got worse. In a matter of months he was a complete alcoholic, a habit that consumed his job, our apartment, and pretty much any genuine love he had for us.

He even started to blame us for mom's death, claiming that we should have been able to protect her. Michael, Ralph and I never really feel for this, all we could distinctly remember of that night were the feelings of fear and grief. Leon on the other hand feel for it more easily, and slowly started to become as serious as father.

Although instead of letting feelings of guilt and grief consume him like father, he redirected them into helping and protecting us. He dedicated his life to becoming the perfect son in father's eyes, that way when one of us got in trouble he could vouch for us. Ralph never really understood this and would often end up getting into fights with Leon out of jealously. However this never really did any lasting damage and by the end of the day they were just about as close as Michael and I were.

When father lost his job he also left whatever shred of sanity was keeping him together. I was eight years old.

When he came home that night he was drunker than usual. Leon immediately picked up on this and shuffled us all into a bedroom closet while he hid under the bed as father viciously searched the house for us. When he finally came to search the bedroom, Michael sneezed and he shot right to the closest where we were hiding. Before he could open it however, Leon came out and lied to him that we were at a friend's house.

Then there was screaming, father even started cursing at Leon, telling him what dishonor all of us brought to the family. And then he hit him.

It wasn't very hard or anything, from what I could see through the closet doors, but both of them seemed to stand there in shock. Then my father shook his head, almost as to rid his feelings of guilt and regret, and started to beat Leon.

Ralph practically had to shove his fists in me and Michael's mouths to keep us from crying, knowing that if we even made a peep Leon would only get hit harder. It only lasted about five minutes, but felt like hours for all of us. Finally father left Leon crying on the floor to go drink more alcohol.

Leon's teacher, Mr. Murakami, noticed his new bruises immediately the next day at school and persistently pestered him until Leon revealed how he got them. Within a week a strange man with a dark suit and greasy slicked back dark hair visited our house and started questioning father. He then took us aside and started asking us all sorts of questions as well. 'what does your father do all day?" "Does he ever hit you?"

I remember that Ralph, Michael and I were all too afraid to answer is questions, but Leon stepped up immediately and lied to him that everything was fine. Leon later explained that he heard that the man had come to take us away and separate us. And despite everything going wrong at home, we would have much rather faced our problems together than apart. I can't remember his true name but Michael called him Mr. Kraang (mostly because he couldn't pronounce the real one) and it stuck.


Dr. O'Neil adamantly wrote down the details of my past as I told them to her. They weren't always in order, but she noted pretty much anything I gave her.

"Why turtles?" she finally asked one day.

"Huh?"

"Why did you imagine as you and your brothers as turtles? Was there any connection in your past?"

I paused and thought about this for a moment, "Honestly," I said after a while, "I can't really think of any."

I sighed, "I guess that part is just because I'm crazy."

I half heartily meant this to be a joke, but a significant part of myself believed it. I still remember my other 'past' as a turtle as clearly as I did the human one. And even though I knew the notion of being a giant alien fighting ninja turtle humanoid was a ridiculous one, I still couldn't convince myself that it never really happened. It was like I was now made up of two people...beings, the miserable outcast Daniel, and the heroic tech dork Donatello. The worst part was that I couldn't really feel like other one, rather I was made of the scraped bits from both.

Dr. O'Neil was stared at me in a glare that was a mix of anger, disappointment, and disbelief.

"Daniel," she said finally, "You are not crazy."

I scoffed, that was the only thing I was sure of. I mean what normal person thinks they used to be a 6 ft ninja turtle?

"If I'm not crazy than why did I create an alter ego for myself and all my brothers and actually believe in them?"

"Daniel," she said leaning towards me and gripping my shoulders tightly, "Everyday I work with lunatics and nutcases who kill and steal without reason. You are not one of them. You...you are just a kid, someone who caught a really unlucky break and wasn't given the chance to deal with it properly."

She forced me to look at her directly in the eyes as she told this to me.

I didn't know what to think, or whether or not to believe her.

After a long silence she sighed and finally spoke again, "Look Daniel..."

"I can't forget them." I interrupted.

"Who?" she asked.

"My brothers, Leonardo, Michelangelo, and Raphael...my whole other life basically. Every night I dream about my real past or my turtle one. Sometimes I still confuse which one is real or not. And that par of me that is still convinced this is all a lie is...is still there." I confessed.

I couldn't believe I did that.

Great job genius, if she didn't think you were crazy before now she is certainly convinced.

She signed deeply and took my hands, "Daniel," she said softly, "There's this new...procedure, and I-I think it might help you."

I pulled back a little confused, she was looking down at the ground and sounded unsure of herself, which definitely meant there was something wrong.

"What kind of procedure?"

"Have you ever heard of lobotomy?"

I nearly jumped up, "Yes I have! And I don't want to be a vegetable!" I cried.

"You don't understand, this procedure is like a lobotomy, but instead of disconnecting the prefrontal cortex of the brain it disconnects certain parts of the hippocampus, or the part of the brain where memories are stored."

"I knew that," I snapped, "And how would that help me? The memories I want to get rid of didn't even happen anyway."

"There are several studies that suggested hallucinated memories are stored similarly to real ones. Even though they didn't actually happen, the feelings and reactions that you had from them did. That's why some people can so vividly remember their dreams."

"H-has it been successful before?" I asked nervously.

"Well, its relatively new, but the success rate is quite promising. But to be honest you would have to volunteer for this procedure as a test subject."

I swallowed really hard. As a scientist I knew that the test subject never had any insurance of safety. Heck when I made Mikey test out the turtle...

I took a deep breath, maybe I didn't really have a choice. But then again even if these memories were driving me insane, did I really want to forget them? Leo, Raph and Mikey now only existed in my memories, wasn't letting them go like the ultimate betrayal?

"I-I don't know if I want to forget." I admitted softly.

"Daniel," she said voice soft again, "Normally I would encourage you to confront your past not forget it, but in your case...I-I just don't want you to relapse." she said, and suddenly the thought spread fear through me as well.

"Can-can I get the night to think about it?" I asked after yet another long silence.

"Of course," she smiled, "You can have all the time you need."


Dr. O'Neil left a little while after that and I climbed into bed to think.

On one hand those memories I had as a turtle were the happiest of my life. It was a time where I could be a hero and was surrounded by people who liked and cared about me, namely father. On the other hand, if I got rid of them, maybe I could finally become Daniel again and try to pursue real happy memories.

My throat suddenly felt dry and I wanted to cry. Daniel didn't have any brothers, and Daniel was all alone. How could he possibly be happy? All Daniel had was his family and now that it was gone...

I finally realized how important it was that I became Donatello so I could save Daniel. But if Daniel couldn't survive his grief then, how could he do it now?

I rolled over, it was too much to think about and I was too tired. I closed my eyes and within minutes was fast asleep.


I woke up to a scraping sound on the floor. My eyes flew open and jumped into a sitting position and looked around the room. With the moonlight from the window being my sole light source I could barely make out the furniture in my room.

Suddenly a slick cold hand slapped across my mouth as a voice whispered, "shh," to me.

I tried to scream but my voice was muffled. Before I knew it the hand turned into a set of incredibly strong arms and heaved me out of bed and through the now broken window.

I tried kicking and squirming my way out of its grasp, but their grip was unbreakable.

Soon I was hoisted up the building and thrown over the edge of the roof. When I finally managed to get to my feet I screamed, "Who are you? What do you want from me?"

"Yo Donnie, relax," came a voice all too familiar to me, "It's us, we're here to rescue you."

And from the shadows, Raph, Leo and Mikey all revealed themselves, each of them smiling and relived.

My heart stopped and my jaw dropped. And before I knew it, I felt myself falling to the ground, the world consumed by darkness.


AUTHOR'S NOTE- Confused? Great! Everything's going according to plan!