Can't believe I received such positive reviews for this...

It is a shock since I am no expert on the TMNT universe. In all honesty, I really don't have a definitive idea on how this story will progress, if it'll be coherent or not or plot hole-infested. Currently I'm writing these as sort of single entries, but some continuity involved. So I do apologize if it doesn't end up to your expectations as it very well might. I just felt like writing something new, and TMNT has become my victim.

Also: though I have no idea how season 4 will go (despite having some speculations), the plot for this fic is based on what I've watched up to now in terms of episodes and previews. Once more new episodes have aired, I'm sure this fic will be WAY off tangent. Though, I'll try to add bits and pieces as eps air into the fic if it helps.

Disclaimer: TMNT and all its related characters belong to Mirage Studios (I hope that's right...).

NOTE: Any time shifts mentioned in the beginning of chapters is relative to the first chapter.So, for example: This chapter takes place approx. fives months prior to chapter one.

Step Two

Five months before

"Come in, my son." Splinter gestured for the summoned turtle to kneel on the cushion before him. Flames of the candles made the shadows in the room dance to their silent melody.

Slowly, Donatello kneeled down in front of his master, knowing why he was in this room of calm.

"Donatello, do you know why I have called you here?" Splinter gently asked.

The turtle swore the rat had the ability to read minds, "I think so, Sensei."

Splinter waited for his son to elaborate on that note, but when none came, he resisted in letting out a deep sigh. Something was troubling his young son since the incident with Ultimate Draco. It was obvious to him that his students had gone through various degrees of elation and trauma through their experiences.

Michelangelo had only recently stopped apologizing to Splinter for effectively taking the evil version of him down while in his adventure. He was, of course, all too eager to describe the cool factor of being superheroes with respect and admiration from the human populace. But he held a firm stance that, if the price was losing someone in his family to gain that dream, then it was not worth it at all. Though it was obvious Mikey was happy to have at least felt what it would be like.

Raphael was one Splinter considered most fortunate. Though he didn't say it in front of his brothers where Leo was present, in the privacy of Splinter's room, the usually hot-headed turtle was almost serene in his description. For the first time in his life, Raph had genuinely put honour before winning above all else. It also deepened his recreational love for speed and even asked Donny if he could tweak the cycle's limits for extra velocity. In effect, the whole experience had allowed him to blow off some steam he forgot he had bottled for much too long. But that didn't mean he would stop being the most aggressive of the four.

Leonardo had the initial trouble of getting over the idea that he felt the entire ordeal was his entire fault somehow. Of course the others had denied him of this self injustice. He felt he should have been stronger to pull his brothers back to him from their dimensions, but his brothers reassured him that he indeed reached them. If it weren't from the interference of Ultimate Draco, there was no doubt in his brothers', or Splinter's minds that he would have reunified them. In any case, there was a pleasant aspect to his adventure. Meeting Usagi again was wonderful. The world he visited and its ways, where he seemed to perfectly fit in made him realize there is a world out there that would wholeheartedly accept his values and his family.

Donatello, however, was very concise with his experience compared to the vivid descriptions his other brothers would paint for their family. Just from the brief talk, Splinter could tell there was more than what he heard that went on in that distopian nightmare. Though in privacy between the two he had opened up more details, it was still a mystery.

A world ruled with the iron claw of the Shredder and many more worlds that were soon to be his. Donny described his future brothers as being "different" and didn't specify just how. Though he faintly smiled when he did explain one thing. Raphael tried to keep a growling face, though it was the opposite of what he was thinking inside. He hugging Donny like a teddy bear was not something he wanted in his reputation, in the open at least.

Friends were lost, enemies becoming allies, and the separation of their family was the tale of the story. Hearing Don's visit of Master Splinter's grave sent chills down the turtles' spines. Leonardo found himself crestfallen when Don told of Karai's allegiance to the Shredder to the bitter end.

Then, Don ended it with four words that did not do the story justice, "We fought. We won."

His brothers didn't believe that that was all there was to it. In such a hellish world where the stakes were against them, it couldn't have been that simple. Splinter thought the same and couldn't shake off the feeling that his intellectual son was grazed by the blade of guilt. As if winning the battle was the worst outcome of all.

It was Mike who was first to hug his brother, saying that that would never happen. "For one thing," the young turtle said while an arm around his brainac's shoulders, "we're back together right now, right? So that future is mute!"

Leonardo and Raphael joined in making the gloom float away, and Donny played along. That seed of worry was still there, along with the guilt. Mikey hugged Don again, and then Leo encircled both his arms around the two. Raph eventually joined them, though still trying to look "manly" about it.

Splinter looked on with pride of his family's bond, but he could see through the pile of turtles that Donatello's eyes still held sadness before he blanketed it with a smile. And it was the reason behind the guilt that Splinter wanted to understand.

It had been one week passed since the incident and he finally called his son to get to the root of the problem. Too many times, the old rat spotted Don awake in the middle of the night on his way for midnight tea. Sometimes they'd meet in the kitchen, or Splinter could hear fiddling of one machine or another from behind the purple-banded ninja's door. It was clear nightmares were the factor.

He needed to be patient with him, "My son, Donatello, you seem to be preoccupied with something."

The turtle did not meet his master's eyes, "There's just this invention I'm having a hard time to find the root problem with."

Splinter could see a lie ten miles away, "Donatello. I do not tolerate the fabrication of truth. I have taught you and your brothers better then that."

Head dipping lower, Don responded with a defeated, "I'm sorry, Master Splinter."

No, this was not how he intended this to be. The old rat decided a more direct method would be the best course of action. It was obvious that unless questioned directly, the scientific turtle would continue to skirt around the issue. "Let me ask this, my son. It is obvious that you were distraught by your experience of the future. Why do you not share this with your family? It may help to alleviate such feelings."

A specified question was laid out for him, and Donatello had a choice. He could try to work around the topic though it was unlikely to succeed. He could outright lie to his father, but this was too intimate to do something like that to him. It would be like stomping on the concern that Splinter was generously giving. The problem was Don didn't know how to start. But he let his brain go, and let his heart take centre stage.

Splinter waited patiently, as two, three minutes elapsed.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, Donatello opened his mouth, "I'm afraid that…you'll all hate me."

The old master was expecting the worst, but he did not expect that answer. "Hate you, Donatello? Why would you think such a thing?" He resisted the urge to touch his son. On the shoulder, arm, or cheek, just any physical contact that his fatherly instincts commanded.

"I thought it was the obvious choice at the time…" Donatello almost seemed distant, as if he was talking to a voice in his head, trying to give a good reason to convince himself. "But now I realize, I forced them to do something they didn't want to get involved in anymore…"

Confusion reared its head and stared at Splinter. "Donatello, are you speaking of your future brothers?"

Wearily, Don nodded. Even speaking about the ordeal was trying him, "I've sent them to their deaths, Master Splinter. I was too full of myself to think that we'd have a happily ever after ending… I shouldn't have—"

This time, Splinter couldn't hold back the paternal instinct. He stood and crouched before his almost weeping son, and cupped the flushed cheeks with his own paws. "My son, why do you believe so?"

Don tried to take comfort from the warmth his mentor was providing him. His voice dropped to a strained whisper. "I… The future, it was too much. The despair, the death…seeing your grave was the last straw, father."

Splinter's eyes pained at the affectionate use of that word. Only a few occasions would his sons call him directly with that term of endearment.

"When I saw your cane, seeing Mikey so unfeeling and mutilated, Leo being so bitter and angry, Raph becoming softer and gentle below that gritty exterior than I ever imagined he could be…" Holding back the sobs, Don continued on, "Casey was dead, April trying her damnest to keep the hope alive but killing her slowly inside... Our homes... so many friends gone…"

Then it dawned on the rat on where this was going. Under such trials, it was a frame of mind he knew only too well. "You wanted vengeance."

Donatello opened his eyes he didn't realize were sealed and looked up to his father, fearing to see disappointment. What he found instead was empathic understanding.

"You wanted revenge at whatever cost," Splinter continued softly.

The turtle heaved a sigh, "I, I thought I was doing it for justice. To right all the wrongs made and eliminate the threat. But it was vengeance in its purist form. I even sunk low enough to work with Hun and Stockman. And in the heat of battle…"

The Battle. Splinter braced his son's shoulders harder, as if being afraid he would collapse right then and there. "You've watched your brothers go down, one by one."

Donatello nodded. "They didn't want to go through with it at first, but I gave them this hope that all would be better in the end. How wrong I was…"

"But you did, my son. You said before that they had lost the will to face the Shredder again. Until you came and rallied them. Hope came back to them." The master couldn't help but let a bit of pride seep through in his words.

"It's not…" Don tried to find the words but it was becoming increasingly more difficult, "I chose vengeance over family, Sensei. Even if it was all about doing the right thing, I've chosen to sacrifice my family for the sake of justice. My version of justice." The tears he was holding back could not be contained any longer. "I killed them…"

Without hesitation, Splinter wrapped his arms around his sobbing boy. At that moment, he was holding the toddler who quietly approached his room in the middle of the night after a nightmare, eyes so pleading to be allowed to sleep next to him in bed—wanting the comfort of his father's warmth and sturdy presence. "You did no such thing, my son."

"You weren't there…" It was a statement, not accusation nor resentment. Donatello started to shut down his emotions though Splinter tried to soothe him away from that course of action. "It felt like I touched Darkness itself, Master Splinter…

"The moment I saw Michelangelo struck down, something snapped. I forgot about my surroundings; my world contained only me and Shredder. I didn't even react when Karai took out Leo and Raph.

"I just wanted it all to end."

It was Splinter's turn to sigh. The source of Donatello's woes was much deeper, much more traumatic than he realized. A pacifist wanting blood was a dramatic transformation. But the waves of unwarranted guilt that he manifested meant that he desired to quench that bloodlust. "Do not feel ashamed or guilt, Donatello. In under such stressful circumstances, no one can blame you for your course of action."

Then, the weary rat continued to soothe his son, rubbing the back of his shell, and voice almost hushed to a whisper. "Though your brothers of your present may not understand he full extent of your emotional turmoil, I do understand that the turtles you were with in the future are much your brothers as your present ones.

"But I do not want you to forget that you have sacrificed yourself too, Donatello."

The purple-banded turtle looked up in bewilderment. Had his Sensei been paying attention? "No Master Splinter, I was greedy. I wanted—"

Splinter took his son's hands in his, "You sacrificed the part of yourself that makes you who you are, Donatello. Perhaps you do not realize it, perhaps this is delayed shock. For that moment in the battle field, you lost your love for peace. But the guilt you have demanded on yourself tells me that you wholeheartedly want it back. And it will come to you." Faintly smiling, the master squeezed the trembling hands in his paws, "The fact that they fell apart without you, Donatello, even before my untimely demise says so much."

Donatello frantically shook his head, "But we'd fall apart if ANY of us were gone."

Gathering his strength, Splinter closed his eyes to collect himself, and then looked straight into Don's eyes, forcing the other to remain eye contact. "That is true, Donatello. We all contribute something special to the group that make us whole and strong. But you must acknowledge you do have something to contribute. Do not think your worth is lower than the rest of us."

Though he couldn't tear his eyes away from his father, he could not shake the feeling of failure twisting that gaze into scrutiny. "I don't get why. Out of all of us, I'm the worst fighter of the group, always the first to be knocked down, playing with stupid trinkets and bolts and—"

Splinter silenced him with a finger on the other's beak. He had enough of the self-deprecating talk from the son who provided so much everyday comfort to his family. "Michelangelo was not misguided when he told you that your level-headedness was of importance, Donatello. You four represent one being.

"You, Donatello, are the Head: wisdom, logic and reason guides as the light in troubled times. Michelangelo is the Heart: true and open to the gift that is life, both ill and beautiful. Raphael is the Soul: the charged emotional fire that drives you all, to move and act. Leonardo is the Body: who houses the three of you together, and protects you all in its secruity."

Donny quickly caught on to his master's thinking, and a faint whisper of a smile graced his lips, "And you're the Spirit that enriches us, Master Splinter."

"If that is how you wish to see me as, my son." Splinter modestly accepted the compliment. He was relieved to see the upward curve of lips.

But the smile on his son's face did not last long. "What you say is true. But if anything, I'm low on that ladder, Sensei. I had no right to force my brothers into a kamikaze mission. I—"

"Listen to me, Donatello," the strict father's tone made an appearance, "You have heard the expression, 'do not run like a chicken with its head cut off,' have you not?"

Confused on the change of topic, Don just nodded waiting patiently for his master to go on.

"All of us have something dear to contribute, and you must realize that although there is the Body to move us, the Soul to motivate us, the Heart to soothe us, but without the Head, there is chaos."

"But Master Splinter, you—"

Splinter silenced him with the raising of his hand, "I will not be around forever, Donatello. Nor will my influence be strong for such a length of time." Gently he tipped his son's chin towards him, "I would be devastated to know that one of my sons would never return to me or know that I must part with my beloved family. What good is a haunted Spirit in a time where a calm mind is needed to guide through the course of chaos?"

That was something Don didn't want to think about it, but forced to experience it first hand. It was a scenario he wished that would never come, but Time was a trickster like that; he had been its unwitting victim already. What would he do if Splinted passed on? He didn't know if he was more scared of the fact that he had no answer at all, or that it was prematurely answered.

"If you still feel guilt, my son, then let me at least tell you this. I forgive the course of action you were force to take though I believe there is nothing to forgive. I am proud of you, my son. In the face of adversity, you have come through. And it is my hope that, one day when I leave this plane, that you will help guide your brothers along in this life."

"But Leo—"

"Leonardo will lead as he always has... as he is compelled to do, but do not think that your silent affection for your brothers has gone unnoticed. With three passionate beings, the tranquility of passive Water is needed to soothe the scorches they can leave behind." Splinter relinquished his son from the embrace and looked him over to make sure the message has been understood.

"I… I guess I understand, Master Splinter." The words were there, but there was little strength behind them.

For now, that was all Splinter could ask for. For such a delicate matter, his son must heal at his own pace. "Contemplate, but do not let these dark thoughts rule you." Slowly he pulled the turtle up, "Now go to your brothers. Talk to them if you wish about your thoughts, or do not. But know that the day will come when you have to face them to let it go."

The look of something reminiscent of fear on his son's face tore the old rat's heart.

"In your own time, Donatello. In your own time."

Reluctantly nodding, taking that as a promise that the conversation made in these walls for the walls and the two occupant's ears alone. Don bowed his departure and left the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

Splinter returned to the mat kneeled for meditations. The revelation Donatello had brought before him needed much thought. His mind wandered back to his analogy of water. More than ever the wise master knew his prodigal son was Water, not Leonardo. Leonardo belonged to the formidable Wind while Raphael to Fire and Michelangelo to Earth.

The element of Water. Indeed, beneath the calm, passive ripples of its surface, deep in its bellows there is a point where even the light of the sun cannot reach, where Darkness rules supreme

Did I mention I'm a Don fan:) Reason this chapter was late to post when already written? Was working on ch.3. It's not finished but getting there.

I'd just like to take a moment to thank: Pi90katana, shannon, Husk, Amberli Raven, BubblyShell22, Sakura117us, Chibi Lauryn, pacphys, eldarsenvenstar and Aries Zodiac for your reviews. Thank you for reviewing the first chapter which is always hardest to turn into an eye capture. I know my summary is too vague and surprised many people clicked on it...XD

Special thanks to pacphys for adding my story to your C2. It is an honour indeed coming from a talented writer as yourself. I've read most of your works (still many to read my way through!) and I find every one I've read a real treat. Though I lack reviews...I end up just sputter-typing "AwEsOmE!" instead of something worthwhile... Better to wait for the right words in my case.

Again, thank you to you readers,
-Art of Silence