Don splashed some water onto his face and then took a few deep breaths in an attempt to bite down the nausea that was still raging within him. He didn't usually consider himself to be a magical thinker, but some silly optimistic part of him had been expecting to feel better simply because he was home now. It hadn't worked out that way. Trying to hide what was going on and stressing out about how to speak to his brothers probably wasn't helping.

He sighed as he examined himself in the bathroom mirror. He'd lost a little weight from being so sick all the time. His cheeks weren't quite as full, and the flesh at his sides was pulled a bit closer to his ribs. In contrast, his stomach was noticeably swelling. He fussed uselessly with his belt, in a futile effort to hide the evidence of his condition. Don sighed and slumped over in frustration. Who was he kidding? There was no hiding it anymore. What was the point of even trying?

He'd told himself that he'd only wait a few days before spilling the beans. The self-imposed deadline was Monday, which was today. He had to quit stalling and face the music before his brothers figured it out on their own. Even though one of them bearing children was the last thing that anyone would have expected, the constant illness and bulging midsection painted a pretty clear picture. Don steeled himself and strode out the bathroom door.

His brothers, all seated around the table for breakfast, greeted him warmly. His stomach churned at the sight of all the food. He stared at it in distaste, feeling even sicker.

"You okay, Don?" Raphael asked.

"Yeah," Mikey added. "You're looking either too green, or not green enough. I can't tell."

Don swallowed thickly. "I'm fine. Just feeling a bit sick to my stomach."

"I'll make you some of that peppermint tea," Leo offered as he rose. "You seem to have grown rather fond of it."

"And toast," Mikey said, getting up as well. "Toast is good for a sour stomach."

"It's really okay. I'm not very hungry," Don told them. "Honestly, it's part nerves. There's something… Well, there's something I need to tell you guys, and it won't be easy."

Don looked at his family's patient faces. He knew that they suspected that he hadn't been totally honest about his time at Area 51. He opened and closed his mouth, but the words he had spent all weekend formulating just wouldn't come. Instead, he felt an all-too-familiar feeling rising in his throat. Even though he'd just emptied his stomach, it was happening again. Don covered his mouth with one hand and made a mad dash back to the bathroom. Tears rose to his eyes as he began to uselessly heave all over again.

Leo had managed to keep Don from locking the door as he made his desperate sprint. He knelt down beside his sick sibling and rubbed his shell while Don continued his unproductive retching. "What's going on with you Don? Just tell us. You'll feel better."

"No, I won't," Don wailed into the toilet bowl. He rocked back on his heels as the latest wave of nausea faded away.

"Yes you will. Just say what you've been trying to say and get it over with," Leo gently urged. Raphael and Michelangelo watched from the doorway as Leo pulled Don into a tentative hug. "You can tell us anything, Don."

Don melted into his brother and closed his eyes. Maybe if he didn't look at them, this would be easier. "Bishop," Don moaned. "Bishop… he did something to me."

"I knew it!" Raphael exclaimed.

"What Don? What did Bishop do?" Leo whispered.

"He…. I…." Don looked up from where he had buried his face against Leo's chest. "Leo, guys… I'm… I'm expecting." Don couldn't bring himself to say the word pregnant, even though he knew that he was, and that it would've been clearer. He still couldn't bear to think of himself that way.

"Expecting what?" Mikey asked from the doorway. Everyone else seemed to be waiting for that answer too. Although they should've easily been able to put it together, their minds weren't accepting this outlandish story. Surely Don meant something else.

"Babies," Don moaned, leaving it at that. He could feel Leo's body tense up around him.

Michelangelo still didn't get it. He looked behind him. "What babies? When are they supposed to get here?"

Leo, at least, finally understood. "Is that why you're so sick?" he asked. "Bishop… he did… this to you?"

Don nodded and released a single sob. He was unable to compose himself enough to offer a verbal response. Rather than gentle, like before, Leo's grip around him was vice-like. The leader's whole body was as rigid as stone.

"Don, how?" Raphael asked, his voice soft with shock.

"Produced the embryos using genetic samples he collected from us four. Gassed me. Messed around with my anatomy and implanted them in my cloaca. Hormones. Using hormones to sustain things," was Don's fragmented answer.

Michelangelo made a noise of understanding.

"Embryos?" Leo repeated. "How many?"

"Th-three," Don gasped before letting out another sob.

"Three? And you said he used samples from all four of us?" Leo reiterated.

"Y-Yeah...that's it," Don sighed. As terrible as he felt, he was at least happy that it was all on the table, and that he didn't need to cover things up anymore. Don felt his brothers' eyes move to his belly, and he put a protective hand over it, not wanting to be looked at in that way.

"So this is, like, morning sickness?" Mikey asked.

"Yeah," Donatello said with a ghost of a smile. "Lasts all day, though," he added, softly.

"So, do you know when… How far along are ya?" Raph asked hesitantly.

"Um, three months."

"And when are you...expecting them?" Leo asked.

Don shrugged. "No way to be sure. Bishop thought that my progression would be similar to a human's, but slightly shorter because the embryos were already somewhat developed prior to implantation, and because it's multiples. Maybe five or six months from now?"

"Around November or December, then?" Mikey wondered.

"Maybe," Don replied.

"Well, three baby turtles would be a pretty cool Christmas gift," Mikey proclaimed.

From the mournful looks that he received, no one shared that particular sentiment.

"Shell!" Raphael shouted, breaking the silence that had briefly overtaken the room. He punched the bathroom wall, sending dust and bits of concrete flying into the air. To his credit, he didn't storm out, but the glare that he fixed on Donatello was anything but merciful. "How long have you known about this, Donatello?!"

Don felt everyone else's eyes burning into him. If he could have melted into the floor, he would have, but it was time for the white lies and half-truths to stop. He had to put everything on the table, be totally honest and move on. "I've known for a couple of months now," he softly admitted. "I didn't figure it out right away, but after I started getting really sick and not improving, I confronted Bishop. Then he told me… showed me everything."

"You really believe that he told you everything?!" Raphael yelled, flailing his arms for emphasis. "How gullible are ya, Don?"

"Raph, stop!" Michelangelo begged.

"You've known for two months?" Leo questioned. "Why didn't you tell us? All those phone calls…"

Leo trailed off, and from the expectant looks on everyone's faces, Don knew that he had better answer. He really didn't want to, though.

"I was scared," Don said in a small voice. "I was so scared, and I didn't know how to tell you. I knew that you would want to come free me or fight Bishop, and I just couldn't let you do that. Plus, you guys were arguing so much as it was, and I knew that this would only make things worse. I just… couldn't do that to you guys."

"Don't pretend that it was out of nobility, Donatello," Raphael said coldly. "You didn't trust us with the truth. You did the same thing that you always do and just dealt with everything on your own. You purposely left the rest of us in the dark, again."

"I didn't say that I did it to be noble," Don defended. "I was scared. That's all."

"Scared of us," Raphael bellowed.

Michelangelo frowned at his hotheaded brother. "Can't imagine why that would be the case," he teased. He was trying to lighten the mood, but the attempt fell flat.

"And scared of what we'd do, or that we'd fall apart in your absence, because we're just a bunch of shellheads who need our hands held all the time," Raphael continued.

"I don't think that," Don said firmly. "I just didn't want to make things worse when they were already so bad. I know that this is the worst possible time."

"You got that right," Raphael growled.

"That's enough, Raphael," Leonardo scolded. He had stepped away when the yelling started, and was standing by the sink with his arms crossed. Don was now all alone on the floor, like a cowering animal.

"Don, you do have a habit of hiding things from us," Leonardo pointed out.

Everyone knew that Leo was referring to the Outbreak virus. Don had been sick for months with what he claimed was just a cold. The cut on his leg had kept getting worse, rather than better, but Don had insisted that he was okay. He kept working and training, as usual, even holing up with Leatherhead to work on cures for the very virus that he was infected with. The other turtles had found it hard to believe that Don truly didn't know what was going on within his own body. Leatherhead was as close as they had to a doctor, after all. It seemed as though Don had kept them all in the dark right up until he mutated. Don honestly hadn't known what was going on, but the others never quite believed him.

"I don't purposefully hide things from you guys, I swear," Don promised. "I truly didn't know that I was sick with the Outbreak."

"Not this again," Mikey groaned. "Can't we just leave the past behind us, where it belongs?"

"We're ninjas," Donnie pointed out. "We all have aches and pains that we push through. That's all I was doing. I wasn't hiding anything from you guys back then. I'm not doing that now, either."

"Sure, you aren't now," Raphael scoffed.

"What do you want from me?" Don begged. "I know that what I did was wrong, but I'm trying to be honest. It's not like I wanted to hurt you guys. I was just trying to do what I thought was best… for everyone."

No one had anything to say to that. Leonardo pinched between his eyes and shook his head. Raphael was frozen in place at the door, inadvertently blocking it. Michelangelo had been pacing the room, and finally came to rest on the closed lid of the toilet. Donatello had slid up to the opposite wall, and was sitting with his legs hugged to his chest.

Leonardo realized that he should step up as the leader and head of the clan, so he broke the silence. "Well, if you've known about this for two months, I'm guessing that you have some ideas about what you want to do?"

Don looked at Leo thoughtfully for a few moments. "What do you mean?" he finally asked.

"What do you want to do?" Leo repeated. "Have the babies? Get rid of them? Raise them? Put them up for adoption? Go back to Bishop? What do you want to do, Donatello?"

Don choked. He had assumed that the answer was a given. "Have them and raise them, of course. You want me to do something different?"

Leonardo frowned. "Does it matter what we want?"

"Of course!" Don exclaimed.

"Yeah, right," Raphael scoffed.

"What.. what options would you guys have me consider? I can't get rid of them." The very thought almost made Don sick. "They're a part of me. Of all of us, really."

Leo actually softened a little at that. "I know, Don. Of course, you wouldn't allow any harm to come to them."

Don was the gentlest of the brothers, the one that chose a bo because it was harder to do real damage with it, the one who often begged them to show mercy in battle. All of the turtles valued life, but none more so than Donatello.

"There's no way that I want Bishop to raise them. And, who would adopt them?" Don wondered.

"I would!" Mikey bubbled. "Baby turtles, dudes! Am I the only one excited about this?"

Don gave Mikey a weak but grateful smile.

"What about your medical care?" Raphael asked. "Ya ever think of that? Leatherhead is finally back on the Utrom Homeworld. Who's gonna make sure you stay healthy during all of this?"

"I am," Don said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Right, because you've been so awesome at taking care of yourself in the past," Raphael grumbled.

"I've learned a lot since the Outbreak virus," Don defended. "I'll be careful. Everything has been fine so far."

"You've been barfing round the clock for months," Raphael yelled. "And no one wants to say it, but you look like hell."

"That's normal for someone in my condition," Don groused.

"I thought pregnant women were supposed to glow," Mikey teased.

"I meant the vomiting," Don clarified. "But thanks for letting me know how bad I look."

"Shut up, Michelangelo," Raphael hollered. "Don could be dying. If you're not going to take this seriously then just get out!"

Michelangelo looked abashed. "Dying?"

Don laughed brokenly. "I'm not dying."

"What makes you so sure that your body can handle this?" Leonardo asked in a more gentle tone than Raphael had adopted. "I mean, it's not…. natural. You've been so sick."

"We're not natural, but we seem to do okay," Don opined. "Besides, Bishop seemed to have it all planned out. He seemed to know what I'd be able to handle and how things would progress."

"Bishop wouldn't have cared if he lost you," Raphael spat. "He just did whatever struck his fancy at the time. Even if he really did value you for some reason, I'm sure he figured he could just scrape a few cells from your corpse and clone you if you were to die during this process."

The thought was chilling, but Raphael was probably right about that. Don shook his head. "Maybe so, but that doesn't mean that I'm dying."

"So you're just gonna carry triplets like it's nothing, be your own doctor. Then, what happens when it's time for them to come out?" Raph ranted. "You gonna cut yourself open too?"

Don flushed. Discussing his body was embarrassing at the best of times. "Um. From what Bishop told me, and what I've seen on my scans, I don't think that I'll need a cesarean."

"Dudes don't give birth!" Raphael squawked.

"They don't carry children either, but here we are," Don countered, feeling a little heated for the first time. "And we're not regular 'dudes.' Our hips and backs are more turtle-like than human. We have wider dimensions than regular humans. We're...hooked up differently, and our cloacas are somewhat similar to a female's uterus. They're elastic and capable of contractions. Plus, Bishop messed around with my insides to make all this possible, and he wanted me to do this over and over. So yeah, I'm thinking that surgery won't be necessary."

"So everything is just hunky dory, then?" Raphael mocked. "It's all gonna turn out just perfect, like some sort of fairytale? You know that's never the case for us!"

"Maybe this time it will be," Don defended. "Why does your mind always go to the worst possible place, Raphael?"

"I don't know. Why does your mind always go to the best possible place, Donatello?" Raphael shot back. "If you hadn't trusted Bishop, we wouldn't be in this mess."

"Raph," Leo warned.

"He already had me," Don correctly reasoned. "He was going to do whatever he wanted regardless of my feelings on the matter."

"And what are your feelings?" Leonardo asked.

Don sighed and took a moment to calm down and consider his answer. "I'm not thrilled at the timing, and I'm not enjoying life much lately, that's for sure. I'm not too excited about giving birth, and I'm worried that I won't be a good dad. But… I'm happy about the babies. I mean, this is probably my only chance to be a dad, and deep down inside, I guess it's something that I always kind of hoped for - like, in my wildest dreams, you know?"

Don looked to his brothers to see what they had to say. Raphael's lips flared. "Well, Congratulations to the expectant father. It's been real nice knowing you," he sneered before storming out of the bathroom.

Michelangelo began to chase after Raphael, but Leonardo effortlessly caught his wrist. "Just let him go."

Michelangelo gave Leo a searching gaze, then nodded and sat back down.

"You've got to forgive Raph," Michelangelo told Don. "He was really worried about you staying in Area 51. He felt helpless to protect you, and you know how much he hates feeling helpless."

Don nodded. "I do."

"He kind of felt like you abandoned us, too," Leonardo put in.

"We all did," Michelangelo clarified.

"I know," Don sympathized. "I'm sorry."

"We were all scared about what Bishop might do," Leonardo said. "Raph especially. He wanted to drive over there and break you out. But, you said that you wanted to stay, so I told him to stand down. Now, I think that he feels like he was right all along."

"Even if you came to my rescue right away, you would have been too late to stop this," Don reasoned.

"Maybe so," Leo agreed, "but it still stings."

Don let out a heavy sigh. "I get it. I just wish that you didn't see this as a bad thing. A next generation would be… a good thing, wouldn't it?"

Leonardo hesitated before answering. "Raph has a good point. This might kill you, Don. All we have is each other, and I don't think we could stand another loss."

"You won't lose me," Don reassured, "and you'll get three new nieces or nephews to love."

"Nieces or nephews?" Leonardo repeated. "I thought you said that the DNA that Bishop used came from all of us?"

"To varying degrees," Don answered, "But most of it was mine."

"It still feels like they'll be more than nieces or nephews," Leo considered.

"I hope they will be," Don reassured. "They'll be your ninjutsu students, I would imagine."

"I'm satisfied with uncle," Mikey commented. "I'll be the fun uncle."

"Not like you have much competition there," Don said, wryly. He winked at Leo, who didn't seem to notice.

"But where does this leave me?" Leo asked.

Don squinted. "What do you mean?"

"Since Dad died, I've been clan leader. Do you still want me in that role, Don? I know Raph hates me being in charge, and it seems like you do whatever you want anyway. Now, you'll be the parent to these kids. Is there even a point in me… maintaining some semblance of control around here?"

Don hadn't seen this coming. He cocked his head, searchingly. "Leo?"

Leo pushed himself off of the wall that he was leaning against and shook his head. "Just food for thought, I guess. We can talk about it later." With that, Leo left the room.

Michelangelo looked down at where Don was slumped on the floor. The family genius was kneading his temples with trembling hands. "Could you please get off of the toilet, Mikey? I think that I'm going to need it."

Mikey stepped aside and opened the lid. He watched his brother begin another one of his sessions. As tempted as he was to leave the room, he stayed. When Don was done, Mikey helped him up.

"Well, that went about as well as I expected it to," Don quipped.

Michelangelo knew that he should have said something, but for once, he had no words. Don muttered something about a migraine and stumbled into his bedroom. Michelangelo was left awkwardly standing alone by the sink, shell -shocked, and with absolutely no idea of what to do next.