I hope that you enjoy this chapter. The next one will probably be the last, but I'm not sure when it will be posted. Thank you for all of your reviews, favorites and follows. They have all meant a lot to me!


The next few days were a whirlwind. Saturday night, Donatello agreed to the surgery. This launched a debate about who should accompany him to the future, and who should stay behind in the present.

Leonardo wanted everyone to go, but Splinter felt that the hospital would prefer not to have a crowd hanging around. Raphael hated the future, and he was still holding a grudge against Renet, so he elected to stay with Splinter. In the end, Leonardo decided to stay home as well, so that Michelangelo and Donatello could enjoy a little one-on-one bonding time. To make up for temporarily splitting apart, they all agreed to take a little vacation at the farmhouse afterwards, while Donatello recovered.

Sunday morning, teenage Renet arrived to bring Don and Mikey to the hospital. Michelangelo enjoyed his brother's reaction when they rematerialized in Renet's time. Donatello hadn't left 21st century New York in almost five years, and was feeling a little skittish. Michelangelo tossed a sturdy arm around Donnie's shoulders and led him to the window. Futuristic cars, planes and busses zoomed around. All of this had become commonplace to Michelangelo, and he chattered on about the different sights while Donatello soaked it all in. Then they visited the doctor.

Watching Donatello during that first doctor's appointment was truly a sight to behold. Michelangelo knew how apprehensive Donnie was, but when the doctor began talking, it was like a switch was flipped. Mikey had no idea how Donnie understood the medical jargon that the doctor was spewing, but his brother managed to sound like an expert himself.

Michelangelo sat back in his chair while the two yammered on about bone mineral density and metabolism, vascular complications, and connective tissue grafting. He had no idea what they were talking about, but he supposed it didn't matter, since Donnie clearly had a handle on things, and could always provide an interpretation afterwards. Michelangelo gave the doctor his piece of Donnie's shell, and the doctor promised to be ready to operate in six months.

Of course, six months can pass in the blink of an eye when you're friends with a timestress. All it took was a simple jump. In fact, the jump was so simple that Renet allowed Mikey to control the leap on his own for the first time.

Michelangelo would never forget the look of abject terror on Donatello's face when he raised the time scepter. The time jump was rough, but successful. It took Donatello a few seconds to release his death-grip on his traveling companions. After that, Renet went home, and Donnie checked into the hospital with Mikey in tow.

The two turtles sat in the waiting area, and finally had a few moments to decompress and talk.

"So, Donnie," Mikey started.

"Hmmm?" Donnie responded, his head still lost in the clouds.

"Can you explain what this surgery is all about?" Michelangelo requested. "All that medical talk sailed straight over my head."

Donatello raised an eye ridge and leaned forward. "Well, basically they're going to do a total knee replacement, as well as resetting all the improperly healed fractures in my leg. For spots where the bone is too far gone, they're going to use grafts. It's a good thing you saved that sample of my shell, because the doctors spent the past six months extracting my genetic sequence from it, then bioengineering the donor bone and tissues that they'll be using today. While they have me sedated, they're also going to go in arthroscopically and clean up some connective tissue damage in my wrists and shoulders."

"That's… slightly more understandable," Michelangelo praised. "I guess I should ask how you feel about this?"

"Uh… optimistic," Donnie answered.

"Do you think it will get you back to 100%, then?" Mikey asked, hesitantly.

Donnie rubbed his chin. "Well, 95% anyway… eventually."

"That's good right?" Mikey begged.

Donatello's face brightened. "It's great! I really didn't have any hope before. But now, this just seems so doable. Thanks for giving me the kick in the shell I needed, and for setting all of this up."

Michelangelo blushed beneath his green skin. "Well, you know I'm always in your corner, Don."

At that, Donnie tossed his arms around Michelangelo. "I do know that. I do. I hope you know I'm in yours too, future time-master!"

"Of course I do," Michelangelo gushed.


Donnie woke up after surgery to find Michelangelo in bed with him. He opened his eyes and boom! - Mikey, right in his face.

"How ya feelin, bro?" Mikey asked as soon as Donnie's eyes began to flutter.

"Uh, fine? Surprised?"

"By what? Me?" Michelangelo bubbled. "I just didn't want you to wake up and wonder where you were. I know you still get confused sometimes, and I figured with the drugs… But anyway, you feel okay?"

"Yeah," Donnie confirmed, having taken a moment to gather himself and take stock. "My leg just feels… heavy and sort of numb. It doesn't hurt at all. Did the surgery go smoothly?"

"From what I can gather it did," Michelangelo answered. "There was a lot of medical talk that you would understand better than me, but my takeaway was that it couldn't have gone better."

"Great!" Donnie looked down at his leg. He was wearing a johnny, but from what he could tell it was bound from hip to mid-foot in a bright white cast, only his two green toes were sticking out. They looked pretty swollen, and he didn't dare wiggle them. Despite the swelling, there was no pain at all. His mind was completely clear, even though he had just woken up. He had expected to be groggy, but he felt more rested than he had in years.

Donnie was monitored overnight, just in case his unusual history and anatomy led to any unexpected side effects. The next morning, he was issued a bottle of top-notch painkillers and a pair of crutches and sent on his way. He was instructed to take it easy, and come back a month later for a follow up.

Michelangelo noticed that his brother was immediately a pro on the crutches. Donnie may claim that his ninja days were behind him, but his instincts and reflexes were clearly just as sharp as ever. The old straight-splint had caused him to move at a snail's pace, but now he sped around like a true athlete. Michelangelo reveled in seeing him like that, like just another guy with a broken leg.

"So what's next?" Donnie wondered. "Do we ask Renet to take us home?"

Michelangelo broke into a grin. "We could, or we could play a bit of hookie. I guess it depends on how you are feeling."

"Good enough for Leo-level shenanigans, but not yet ready for Raph-level shenanigans," Donatello answered.

Michelangelo snapped his fingers. "I know just the place!"

The two spent the afternoon cheering on a the underdogs at a martial arts tournament. Michelangelo rented a private box so that Donatello could stretch out and keep his leg elevated. They ordered too much food and had a lot of laughs. Even though it was the future, it felt just like old times.


Vacation - Now there was a luxury that Donatello figured he would never enjoy again. Fate had smiled upon them all, and Indian summer had hit soon after they arrived. Better yet, things had been relatively calm in New York. There were no new leads to pursue, no imminent threats, no fires to put out.

Donnie sat on the dock, languidly swishing a hand back and forth in the water, and watching his family splash around. It was mid September, and Donatello had been free for almost exactly six months. As the sun warmed his shoulders and the water lapped around him, he couldn't help but think about that desperate turtle that had leaped into a cold Long Island river six months before.

He had scars. He couldn't deny that, but he'd come further mentally and physically than he ever thought possible. Even though his leg was secured in a massive cast, it felt better than it had in four years. Mentally, despite the worst of odds, he'd held onto the most important parts of himself. If anything, he was more empathetic than he had been before, more tender with his loved ones, and gentler in his thoughts and actions.

Most importantly, that turtle that had jumped into the river hadn't known if his family was alive, or if he would ever find his way home to them. Donnie closed his eyes in supreme happiness as the boisterous laughter of his brothers wafted to the dock where he was reclining with his father. His green, calloused fingers glided rhythmically through the water, the very water his family was playing in. Happiness like he had never known washed over him. The scars didn't matter. The future didn't either. Only this moment did.

Later in the week, Leo built a campfire and they spent the night under the stars. Splinter regaled them with stories of ancient Japan, which somehow, through a series of extreme non-sequiturs, led to Donatello describing the origins of the Phoenician alphabet. Donatello was oblivious to the fact that no one cared about the subject matter. His family was just happy to hear his comfortable, relaxed rambling.

What Donatello's family didn't tell him was that they used to do things like this when they were mourning him. When the memories and ghosts of him swirling around the Lair got to be too much, they would come out to the farm. They would build fires and stare dolefully into them, each of them caught up and isolated in their own painful worlds. They rarely spoke during those long, dark nights, and when they did it was never like this. To hear Donatello's random musings now was like something out of a dream. He hadn't spoken like this since he had returned. His love of linguistics was one of those little details that had almost been forgotten during his absence. He had loved many things, after all - too many to remember.

It was as though when he had gone to the future and allowed those strange doctors to cut him open, they had somehow lanced the last of his deep wounds, drained the venom from him. Against all odds, he was the Donatello of their youths again - plain old, familiar, and utterly remarkable Donnie.


Upon their return from vacation, Donatello was a well-behaved turtle. He spent a week either in bed or on the sofa with his leg elevated by a pile of pillows. He watched movies and chatted with his family, read books, called old friends, and worked on small projects that could be contained on his lap or a side table. He laughed frequently, and assured everyone that he felt no pain at all, despite the intense surgery.

Two weeks post-surgery, his bed-rest restrictions were lifted. He crutched around the Lair to work out his arm and back muscles. He lifted weights with Raph and began stretching exercises with Leo. Mikey took him for walks around the sewer. The ninja team broke into another one of Pseudo-Shredder's weapons warehouses while Donatello ran surveillance from the van.

A month after surgery, all four turtles returned to the future to see Donnie's cast removed. In the past, he'd barely allowed them to catch a glimpse of his leg, so it was strange to see the damaged limb openly on display. It was skinnier than the rest of Donatello, and badly scarred, but the bone was straight. Best of all, Donatello was able to bend his knee easily in all directions. They returned from the future with a list of physical therapy exercises, a new brace, and hopeful hearts.

Don still needed to use crutches for a few weeks. For the rest of his life, he would have to keep the knee braced, albeit as he aged and continued to heal, the braces would become smaller and more discrete. The doctors warned him that he would always have a limp, but it would get better with time. After all, most things do get better with time.

Donatello returned to training. He began tentatively, then picked up in intensity. He moved from exercises, to katas, to more rigorous practices, then full-fledged sparring sessions. His brother's refused to fight him at first, even in half-speed practice. Donatello insisted that he had to get used to being hit again. They were doing him a disservice by going too easy on him. It was Splinter himself who stepped in to face Donatello during those first mock battles. Eventually, his sons followed his lead.

Donatello was rusty. He froze up quite often at first. He hit the mats again and again. Every time, he got back up. He was the worst ninja of any of them, but he worked as hard as he could, letting his engineering projects fall by the wayside, leaving maintenance to Raph, and reconnaissance to Leo, April and Karai.

That reconnaissance kept everyone busy. Donatello joined his brothers and friends as they continued digging deeper and deeper into Pseudo-Shredder's operations. Fighting was rarely necessary, and when it was, Donatello seldom joined in. When he did, his brothers watched him like a hawk. If fighting was like riding a bike, he still had his training wheels on.


Six months after the surgery, the team decided that they knew everything that they needed to know about the enemy. The time to go on the offensive had arrived. A date was set. They were going to join forces with the Foot to dismantle the Pseudo-Shredder's operation from the ground-up.

On the eve of the battle, Donatello stood in front of the dojo's full-length mirror and examined himself from head to toe. He looked a lot like the Donnie of old. His muscle mass and definition was back to his pre-capture conditions. Even his bad leg had finally caught up with the rest of him. While he was still a bit shorter than his brothers, it turned out that his Mikey-induced chubbiness had served as the precursor to a growth spurt. He'd grown two inches since coming home, apparently making up for several lost years of growth.

His shell was so much better now. It had weak spots that were still healing, but it was no longer jagged or cracked. The fissures had closed, and the spacers were removed. The screw holes were almost completely closed up. The outlines where the fractures had been were still visible, but they were only scars and superficial ruts now. The shape of his shell was correct. Nothing was ingrown, and he had a full range of motion.

He had scars on more than just his shell. They were all over his body, some big some small. He knew that there were unseen marks on his soul as well, but he was getting better.

Donnie pulled pads onto his elbows and his left knee, just like his brothers wore. His right leg still needed plenty of extra strength and support. On that, he wore a self designed brace that covered most of his leg. He had built in some hidden features, and if all went well it was going to be his secret weapon, turning a weakness into a strength. He had also designed an armored shell to protect his back. He wasn't in pain anymore, but his shell would take years to completely heal, and in the meantime it would need some extra protection. The armor was made of tightly woven kevlar padding beneath a layer of lightweight stainless steel. Donnie had designed a fastening system to keep it snapped in place over his tender shell. The exterior design matched his leg brace.

Donnie wound brown leather around his wrists. His brothers had always worn a thin layer, almost like bracelets. Donnie extended his further, to cover the manacle scars. Now that his shell and leg were better, they were the most unsightly scars on his body, and no one needed the constant reminder. He did the same thing around his ankles and feet, more for cosmetic purposes than anything. The wrappings partially covered the brace on his leg, and softened the affect.

For the first time in years, Donnie pulled on his belt and holster. He slid his bo into place as easily as ever. The motion was as natural as breathing, and comforting in its familiarity. The years slipped away as the wood slid smoothly into the leather.

Finally, Donnie looked down at the purple mask in his hands. His family had been trying to convince him to wear it, but he hadn't been ready until now. He knew that Splinter or Leo would have loved to have tied it on, just for the sake of ceremony, but it was something that Donnie felt needed to be done in private. He needed to make this decision for himself, not for anyone else. Donnie ran a finger across the material, then resolutely tied it around his eyes. He smiled at his reflection.

Donatello had always been a combination of seemingly disparate pieces. He was both a man and a turtle. He was a pacifist, and yet he was a warrior. He was a modern day scientist and engineer, and yet he adhered to an ancient code of conduct and honor. He lived a life hidden in the sewers, that was nevertheless unbound by the constraints of any one world or dimension. He had the body of a monster borne from nightmares, and a soul sensitive enough to share the pain of all God's creatures.

Looking in the mirror, he sensed that duality within him now more than ever. He was part flesh and blood, part leather and steel. Those parts of him that had been hurt the worst were now covered with the vestments of battle. He was back.