William II - Saga of the next Generation
By Red Turtle
A/N: Please forgive that all the author note chapters that were so helpful to others understanding this story had to be removed per request of fanfiction.net people. Since this request came so late in the development of the story I was unable to incorporate any of the information smoothly into the story in another format. So, those of you joining after those chapter removals will probably be slightly confused for a while, but if you got this far than you have probably been able to figure most things out. And some things have yet to be explained, like what Saber Khan is trying to do to the mutant turtle family and why. Also, I'm no longer sure if this is explained anywhere so I will state here that this story has been partially developed in my head forever, but it was in a comic form and never fully developed until now, and in the process I am trying to keep track of everything, explain events adequately and not have any plot holes, but with something this complex its hard, so please let me know if there are any problems. But I must be doing something right as I won an award for most complex plot.
It also inspired a sub-story concerning the events at the house while the older children were away, and what happened to the parents. It gives some insight into the bad guys side of things and I think it adds to the plot development. Someone worked very, very hard on it. But, only the stoutest of those among you will want to try reading it, as its very graphic. It is in the R section.
Another lost note is that the time jumps around a little from chapter to chapter, not more than a couple hours before or after the last point of view, but it can confuse people if you don't realize it (because different things are happening to them at different times). As in this chapter, you will find that William is a little ahead of where Catholicism left off, but the next chapter will take up with Julian in the enemy's camp.
Anyway, now onto Williams continuation of the saga:
This is the best meal I have ever had. Seated with my uncles, grandfather, and my long lost father, it's like a dream come true. But it's the kind of dream that is beautiful and hideous at the same time. And the nightmare will begin as soon as the meal ends, for then they will demand answers of us, we will have to speak to them, or we will have to leave, both of which present frighteningly unknown futures. Although we slowed our meal down as much as possible, an hour has passed and all of them have finished eating and are waiting on us. Once or twice they try to start the conversation leading to our past (future) lives, and we derail it. Donatello and I just cling together, while Chris' method is to immediately stuff his mouth with pizza and then chew for a very long time. This is almost funny but so deathly serious.
And, I can't help wonder how is time passing in our own world? How long have we been gone? What happened to Julian and Romea, who didn't end up with us? Maybe in our world, if we return, time will have moved backwards for us. . .and we really will be able to eat with our real father, and. . .
This is insane. I can't let these thoughts get a hold of me.
Finally I just can't take it anymore. This little moment of peace has come to an end. But still we don't know what course to take, so I carefully begin speaking to Donatello, to try to form a plan, or at least convey some feeling with out the others knowing. We have our own language for just such a purpose, and I enjoy using it because it creates a nice bond between us that I really need right about now.
"Hi na saur", I whisper to my twin.
"Im mel yes", he replies.
"Quenuvale `u! Hi na gayasir", I hiss, perhaps a little louder than I meant to.
Basically what was going on was that I began by telling him how horrible this was, what torture, and he responded that he thought it was beautiful. This was such an unexpected response that I snapped, and basically told him that he was crazy and to shut up.
You see, it's fairly common for twins to develop their own little secret language as children, but usually its either complete nonsense or some variation of pig Latin. But no, not us. We had to be special. After reading The Lord of the Rings at age five, we decided to adapt the Elvin speech as our own, complete with its own grammar, inflections and everything. We incorporated all that was already formed by Tolkien himself, then improved on it over the years, increasing the vocabulary and adding new rules and pronunciation as needed, until we now had a more advanced form than I'm sure even he had ever envisioned. Our only mistake was not differentiating the Quenya dialect from the Sindarin, so those words are combined in our version. Oh, well, what do you expect from five year olds?
"Peduvalmet ilye an hain!" he told me, very determined.
"Man quenuva? Man diruva?" I asked.
"Nin quenuva", he answered darkly.
In short, he thinks they should be told everything, I said who the hell is going to tell them, and he said he would. The language actually translates much fancier than that, I'm just summarizing here.
We met each other's eyes, our first disagreement that I can remember, at least over something more significant than who got the bigger share of a happy meal. I registered that all other conversation had ceased, I guess we were getting a little carried away with ourselves, so I lowered my eyes to my plate and tried to hurriedly think of another way out of this situation.
"Quenuvalye i lamber Eldareva", Our father interjected after ten seconds, "And what are you going to tell us?"
Oooooh! Busted! We forgot he's a genius too! What he said to us was one of the more common phrases; Thou speak the language of Elves, that's even straight out of the book. Durr, of course he would have the Elfish language memorized, and he probably just read the book recently at that! He wouldn't know all our words, of course, and he spoke it with different accents than we did but he obviously got the jist of it.
"Uh, Don, what language is that?" Uncle Mike asked, he and the others looked totally dumbfounded.
"That would be the language of the High Elves of Middle Earth", our cousin replied wearily, having long gotten used to our frustrating secret language he could never understand. He hated babysitting us, let me tell you.
"I'm sorry, you speak Elfish?" Uncle Leonardo asked, in exactly the same manner his future version did when he first heard us speaking at the dinner table.
"Its from Tolkien", our father replied dismissively, "And I really want to know what you have to tell us. There's obviously something going on with all of you."
We bided some more time by sitting there, the three of us with almost terrified expressions on our faces. It was sort of like when our father first died, there was a certain amount of dread when you tried to actually say it out loud. Even Donatello, in spite of his determination to tell all, remained stock silent.
"Well, see, it. . .See, we. . .um, there's this guy, no, see, first. . .uh. . ." Chris stammered unsuccessfully, then looked to us for help.
"I don't know where to begin" he finally sighed. My heart lurched in my chest when he actually started crying. It was just one tear, but still.
"You could start with who beat you up", Uncle Mike suggested.
"No, we should begin with my name", Donatello suggested, but then offered no more.
"I thought you didn't have a name", Our grandfather Splinter pressed after a moment.
Chris pulled us into a small huddle.
"Wait, we shouldn't. . .I mean, maybe. . .ah. . .how much are we going to tell them?" Chris asked us quietly, as hopelessly lost in the situation as was I.
"We're going to tell them everything. It's the only way we can win. And. . .it will be okay. Trust me, I. . .I know how this works", Donatello assured us.
"You know how?!", Chris demanded, "When have you ever. . .you know. . ."
"I haven't in practice, but I know. There is research in it, and I believe the theories to be true."
After a minute of contemplation, Chris nodded to him.
"Okay, fine. I guess you would know better than me."
"William?", Donatello asked me, because I was so resistant earlier. But now I just didn't know what would be better. I guess things couldn't be any worse.
"Ore: ello nin quen im, hi nuva tu", he speaks in Elfish again, saying his heart tells him this is the right path.
Well, I can't argue with that. And, in fact, of all of us, he would know the most about the ramifications of time travel.
"Maruvan", I say quietly, also in Elfish. I will abide.
We break the huddle and turn back to our family. It feels a little better to think of it that way, these guys are family, so we have to tell them.
"Okay", Donatello begins, "We have a lot to tell you. First, I have a name, and its. .. ."
My twin falters at his own name. I could tell, he's trying to say it out loud and he's choking on it. I gently squeeze his hand to try and give him some strength, or maybe get enough of his to continue the conversation.
"Is it Thomas?", Our father guesses.
I thought this revelation from our father (that he must have been thinking of that name for like thirty years before we were even born) would throw Donatello speechless, but he surprised me.
"My first name is Thomas", he replied, recovering quickly, "However, I go by my middle name, which is Donatello."
So then they all stare at us for like a whole minute. I'm really not enjoying this attention, as much as it is nice to see my father's eyes on me again.
"Well, that's kind of odd", Father finally says.
"Not really", Donatello gathers his ability to speak, "I'm named after. . .you."
We wait and watch their reactions, which grow even more intense in their puzzlement.
"Back that truck up, dudes", Uncle Mike interjects, "How are you named after him? Your only maybe a year younger than us-"
"Who named you after me?" Father interrupts, and he's looking kind of freaked out now. Geez, I hope he adjusts as well as we do, which is to not go running out of this home screaming like I want to.
"My Mom", Donatello answers, "It's actually quite simple, see-"
"Whose your mom?!", Everyone chimed in at once.
"It's kind of complicated", Donatello tried to explain, contradicting himself, "We're not from here. The. . . easiest way to explain is that were from. . ."
There was a slight awkward pause. Donatello seemed to be having trouble actually saying it.
"Are you guys from the future?",. Uncle Mike, and in the most serious tone I had ever heard him use, especially for words that sound so crazy, so movie like.
"Its not exactly the future", Donatello starts to explain, relieved that its finally coming out, "Because what happens in our life course is different than yours, and there the QT101 theory, which if it applies means that our courses will evolve in separate formulas, because of the quantum-"
"Oh, for fucks sake, yes, we're from the future!", Christopher interrupts, than quickly looks embarrassed at his out burst. He never swears like that in front of his father, even though here uncle Leo isn't exactly his father, still. . .
There is abrupt silence at this. All of them are examining us very closely now. I wonder what they are thinking.
"So. . .then, you're my kids?", father asks, amazed and slightly freaked out.
"Yes", I answer earnestly, almost envisioning hugging him in reunion.
"Kind of", Donatello adds, and holds my hand again, perhaps sensing what I am thinking.
"Well, they are", Christopher stresses, "I'm Leonardo's."
"Really?", Uncle Leo looks pleased at this announcement.
No more conversation follows, as they all are staring at us with even more interest than before.
"Why aren't you happy to see us?", Uncle Mike asks the first question, and it wasn't what I was expecting.
"Um. . .its just that were here under. . .unpleasant circumstances", Chris answers.
"Do you need help with whoever beat you up?", Uncle Mike offers sincerely.
"I don't know", Chris answers for us, "I'm not sure it's a good idea, you know, mixing everyone around and all. If we could just get back, our. .. .family there will help us."
"Do you need help getting back home?", Father asks, probably already going over the quantum physics of time travel ramification in his mind so he can try to build us a portal.
"Yes, that we definitely need", Chris replies, gratefully.
"How did you get here in the first place?", Father inquires, apparently he wasn't able to conceive of the mechanics on his own.
"The enemy, the ones that beat us up, we were fighting them and they threw us all in this portal thing", Chris answers, "Actually, they just threw Donatello in. The rest of us jumped in after him."
"What about me and Mike's kids? I mean, do we have any? Are they helping?", Uncle Raph asks his first question.
"Your kids were with us, but I haven't seen them over here. Mike's kids are all too young to fight", Chris tells them.
Once again I wonder how the others are all doing. I wish now we had taken JB with us, he might have been helpful. And it would have been worth something for him to see how serious and helpful his father his over here.
"Do you have communicators at all?", Father asks.
"Yeah, we do", Donatello says, and brings his out to show our father, who examines it with great interest, probably trying to get an idea of the technology we had developed in the future.
"These aren't standard radio waves, are they?", Father asks.
"No. They use a different form."
"Have you tried contacting your family with them?", Father asks, handing it back, "It might be worth a shot, the signals might go through to the other frequencies, and we could try to talk to your family and get them to work the portal. If they don't work, maybe we can adjust them somehow. That would be more likely than building a time machine."
"Okay", Donatello agreed, and initiated the communicator.
We're shocked when it is answered on the first ring. We are even more shocked to see what answered it, some kind of feathered turtle creature. At first I thought we must have contacted some alternate universe.
"Hello. Are you cousins?", the feathered turtle asks us in a female voice.
"Who. . .are you Michelangelo's kids?", Donatello sputters in amazement.
"Yes, we are. Hello cousins. I am Catholicism. I am with Julian and Romea, and my brother Judaism. We do not know our location, however."
"Donatello? Is that you?", Romea inquires, and grabs the communicator from Catholicism, "Donatello, thank god! I am so glad you survived! And William and Christopher, as well? Did they?"
"Yes, we're all here", Christopher responds, opening his own communicator. I have one too but opt to just share with Donatello.
"Oh, Chris", she sighs, "I'm so happy to see you."
This is disturbing to me. Very disturbing. Something is wrong. Even if we had been missing for a week, I don't think Romea would be this distressed. And, why are Uncle Mike's kids here? They have never done anything with our family.
"Listen, Romea, Saber Khan put us in a time warp. It's hard to explain, but can you guys get to that machine and figure out-"
"I'm sorry, Chris, but no, we can't. He used it on us. We're not in that room anymore, and I don't know where we are, or how to get back to him."
There's a slight pause.
"Time warp?", Julian asks, in a delayed reaction.
"Yes, time warp. We're in New York fifty years ago. We actually hooked up with our family here, if we could get back and join forces with everyone back there, we could really kick Saber Khan's ass!", Chris explained excitedly. Well, seems like he's adjusted to this idea now, quantum physic ramifications be damned.
There is another silence. Our grandfather, uncles, and father all wait patiently, following the discussion.
Romea hands the communicator to Catholicism. She's crying, and in the background, I'll be damned if Julian isn't crying too. This is really wrong.
"If we are thrown in the same time, perhaps we can try to unite here", Catholicism suggests, then with a breath adds, "We have much to tell you, before we make a plan to return. But we are unfamiliar with this territory. Where are you at?"
"Just tell Romea to set the homing signal on the communicator. We'll track you guys down, if you are in our dimension or whatever, we'll find you."
"Very well. We shall wait for you here, cousins."
"Hey, make sure you stay hidden. Wherever you are, its probably before mutants were accepted, so don't get in trouble, okay?"
"Yes, we will stay hidden. Please hurry."
She shuts the communicator down. We click ours off.
"Wow. That was really strange", Christopher says to us, "I didn't remember we had those cousins. I think they were in Nepal or something."
"So, this Saber Khan is responsible for your being here?", Splinter inquired gently.
"He's responsible for a lot of things", Chris answered darkly.
"What is he like the Shredder or something?", Uncle Leo asked.
"The who?", Donatello responds, simultaneously with me responding, "The what?"
Sometimes we do that.
"The Shredder was just some punk that used to bother them all the time", Chris explained non-chantly to us as he stood up and gathered his swords.
"I would hardly refer to the Shredder as 'just some punk'", Uncle Leo told him, indicating that apparently the Shredder was a big enemy of theirs right now, although he obviously didn't do anything long-lasting, or we would have heard about him growing up.
"No offense, but the Shredder never did anything serious to you. The worst he ever did was cut off Grandfather Splinter's tale, and that hasn't even happened here yet."
"So, what did Saber Khan do? Besides throw you in a time warp?", Uncle Raph asked.
Okay, here it comes. The very awkward and bitter truth.
"Two years ago, in our place, Saber Khan assassinated my uncle, Donatello, on national TV. We've been at war ever since."
More stunned silence, this time with more than one of them gaping at us.
"He assassinated Donatello?", Uncle Leo gasped in a horrified whisper.
"So. . .I'm dead? In your time? I'm dead?", Father asked.
"Yes. I'm very sorry. We promise to avenge you if it's the last thing we do."
As a gesture seemed in need, Chris bowed to him.
"Then. . .this must be so. . .awful for you", father said, staring at us again.
"Yes, well, I think our chances of growing up as well-adjusted adults are pretty much shot", I replied, partially sarcastically. Then I looked away.
He almost looked like he wanted to hug us, but thought better of it.
"That's why it's been so hard to, you know, say anything to you guys. We didn't know what to do, or how to act, and I'm sorry if we messed up your lives here somehow", Chris told them.
"Do not worry", Grandfather replied, "If that is what it takes to destroy this Saber Khan, than so be it. I will travel time, space, worlds and what ever it takes to avenge my son!"
Grandfather looked really, really pissed. I had heard stories of his prowess as a ninja, of course, but since he had died long before I was born I never experienced it. I should say something about that it wasn't exactly his son, in the future, but thought better of it.
They all seemed, with out question, united in this quest now. And it all seemed according to as Donatello said, nothing was exploding, time fabric wasn't ripping, if it did that, and it seemed to make sense, that they were part of our family and were going to help us even if it meant traveling to another time and place to do it. This gave me renewed confidence, for the first time since our father was killed I felt that his vengeance was real, and at hand.
But at the same time I didn't want to go meet up with Romea, Julian and the strange cousins. There was something wrong there, something very, very wrong, and I didn't want to know what it was.
To be continued. . .
A/N: Please forgive that all the author note chapters that were so helpful to others understanding this story had to be removed per request of fanfiction.net people. Since this request came so late in the development of the story I was unable to incorporate any of the information smoothly into the story in another format. So, those of you joining after those chapter removals will probably be slightly confused for a while, but if you got this far than you have probably been able to figure most things out. And some things have yet to be explained, like what Saber Khan is trying to do to the mutant turtle family and why. Also, I'm no longer sure if this is explained anywhere so I will state here that this story has been partially developed in my head forever, but it was in a comic form and never fully developed until now, and in the process I am trying to keep track of everything, explain events adequately and not have any plot holes, but with something this complex its hard, so please let me know if there are any problems. But I must be doing something right as I won an award for most complex plot.
It also inspired a sub-story concerning the events at the house while the older children were away, and what happened to the parents. It gives some insight into the bad guys side of things and I think it adds to the plot development. Someone worked very, very hard on it. But, only the stoutest of those among you will want to try reading it, as its very graphic. It is in the R section.
Another lost note is that the time jumps around a little from chapter to chapter, not more than a couple hours before or after the last point of view, but it can confuse people if you don't realize it (because different things are happening to them at different times). As in this chapter, you will find that William is a little ahead of where Catholicism left off, but the next chapter will take up with Julian in the enemy's camp.
Anyway, now onto Williams continuation of the saga:
This is the best meal I have ever had. Seated with my uncles, grandfather, and my long lost father, it's like a dream come true. But it's the kind of dream that is beautiful and hideous at the same time. And the nightmare will begin as soon as the meal ends, for then they will demand answers of us, we will have to speak to them, or we will have to leave, both of which present frighteningly unknown futures. Although we slowed our meal down as much as possible, an hour has passed and all of them have finished eating and are waiting on us. Once or twice they try to start the conversation leading to our past (future) lives, and we derail it. Donatello and I just cling together, while Chris' method is to immediately stuff his mouth with pizza and then chew for a very long time. This is almost funny but so deathly serious.
And, I can't help wonder how is time passing in our own world? How long have we been gone? What happened to Julian and Romea, who didn't end up with us? Maybe in our world, if we return, time will have moved backwards for us. . .and we really will be able to eat with our real father, and. . .
This is insane. I can't let these thoughts get a hold of me.
Finally I just can't take it anymore. This little moment of peace has come to an end. But still we don't know what course to take, so I carefully begin speaking to Donatello, to try to form a plan, or at least convey some feeling with out the others knowing. We have our own language for just such a purpose, and I enjoy using it because it creates a nice bond between us that I really need right about now.
"Hi na saur", I whisper to my twin.
"Im mel yes", he replies.
"Quenuvale `u! Hi na gayasir", I hiss, perhaps a little louder than I meant to.
Basically what was going on was that I began by telling him how horrible this was, what torture, and he responded that he thought it was beautiful. This was such an unexpected response that I snapped, and basically told him that he was crazy and to shut up.
You see, it's fairly common for twins to develop their own little secret language as children, but usually its either complete nonsense or some variation of pig Latin. But no, not us. We had to be special. After reading The Lord of the Rings at age five, we decided to adapt the Elvin speech as our own, complete with its own grammar, inflections and everything. We incorporated all that was already formed by Tolkien himself, then improved on it over the years, increasing the vocabulary and adding new rules and pronunciation as needed, until we now had a more advanced form than I'm sure even he had ever envisioned. Our only mistake was not differentiating the Quenya dialect from the Sindarin, so those words are combined in our version. Oh, well, what do you expect from five year olds?
"Peduvalmet ilye an hain!" he told me, very determined.
"Man quenuva? Man diruva?" I asked.
"Nin quenuva", he answered darkly.
In short, he thinks they should be told everything, I said who the hell is going to tell them, and he said he would. The language actually translates much fancier than that, I'm just summarizing here.
We met each other's eyes, our first disagreement that I can remember, at least over something more significant than who got the bigger share of a happy meal. I registered that all other conversation had ceased, I guess we were getting a little carried away with ourselves, so I lowered my eyes to my plate and tried to hurriedly think of another way out of this situation.
"Quenuvalye i lamber Eldareva", Our father interjected after ten seconds, "And what are you going to tell us?"
Oooooh! Busted! We forgot he's a genius too! What he said to us was one of the more common phrases; Thou speak the language of Elves, that's even straight out of the book. Durr, of course he would have the Elfish language memorized, and he probably just read the book recently at that! He wouldn't know all our words, of course, and he spoke it with different accents than we did but he obviously got the jist of it.
"Uh, Don, what language is that?" Uncle Mike asked, he and the others looked totally dumbfounded.
"That would be the language of the High Elves of Middle Earth", our cousin replied wearily, having long gotten used to our frustrating secret language he could never understand. He hated babysitting us, let me tell you.
"I'm sorry, you speak Elfish?" Uncle Leonardo asked, in exactly the same manner his future version did when he first heard us speaking at the dinner table.
"Its from Tolkien", our father replied dismissively, "And I really want to know what you have to tell us. There's obviously something going on with all of you."
We bided some more time by sitting there, the three of us with almost terrified expressions on our faces. It was sort of like when our father first died, there was a certain amount of dread when you tried to actually say it out loud. Even Donatello, in spite of his determination to tell all, remained stock silent.
"Well, see, it. . .See, we. . .um, there's this guy, no, see, first. . .uh. . ." Chris stammered unsuccessfully, then looked to us for help.
"I don't know where to begin" he finally sighed. My heart lurched in my chest when he actually started crying. It was just one tear, but still.
"You could start with who beat you up", Uncle Mike suggested.
"No, we should begin with my name", Donatello suggested, but then offered no more.
"I thought you didn't have a name", Our grandfather Splinter pressed after a moment.
Chris pulled us into a small huddle.
"Wait, we shouldn't. . .I mean, maybe. . .ah. . .how much are we going to tell them?" Chris asked us quietly, as hopelessly lost in the situation as was I.
"We're going to tell them everything. It's the only way we can win. And. . .it will be okay. Trust me, I. . .I know how this works", Donatello assured us.
"You know how?!", Chris demanded, "When have you ever. . .you know. . ."
"I haven't in practice, but I know. There is research in it, and I believe the theories to be true."
After a minute of contemplation, Chris nodded to him.
"Okay, fine. I guess you would know better than me."
"William?", Donatello asked me, because I was so resistant earlier. But now I just didn't know what would be better. I guess things couldn't be any worse.
"Ore: ello nin quen im, hi nuva tu", he speaks in Elfish again, saying his heart tells him this is the right path.
Well, I can't argue with that. And, in fact, of all of us, he would know the most about the ramifications of time travel.
"Maruvan", I say quietly, also in Elfish. I will abide.
We break the huddle and turn back to our family. It feels a little better to think of it that way, these guys are family, so we have to tell them.
"Okay", Donatello begins, "We have a lot to tell you. First, I have a name, and its. .. ."
My twin falters at his own name. I could tell, he's trying to say it out loud and he's choking on it. I gently squeeze his hand to try and give him some strength, or maybe get enough of his to continue the conversation.
"Is it Thomas?", Our father guesses.
I thought this revelation from our father (that he must have been thinking of that name for like thirty years before we were even born) would throw Donatello speechless, but he surprised me.
"My first name is Thomas", he replied, recovering quickly, "However, I go by my middle name, which is Donatello."
So then they all stare at us for like a whole minute. I'm really not enjoying this attention, as much as it is nice to see my father's eyes on me again.
"Well, that's kind of odd", Father finally says.
"Not really", Donatello gathers his ability to speak, "I'm named after. . .you."
We wait and watch their reactions, which grow even more intense in their puzzlement.
"Back that truck up, dudes", Uncle Mike interjects, "How are you named after him? Your only maybe a year younger than us-"
"Who named you after me?" Father interrupts, and he's looking kind of freaked out now. Geez, I hope he adjusts as well as we do, which is to not go running out of this home screaming like I want to.
"My Mom", Donatello answers, "It's actually quite simple, see-"
"Whose your mom?!", Everyone chimed in at once.
"It's kind of complicated", Donatello tried to explain, contradicting himself, "We're not from here. The. . . easiest way to explain is that were from. . ."
There was a slight awkward pause. Donatello seemed to be having trouble actually saying it.
"Are you guys from the future?",. Uncle Mike, and in the most serious tone I had ever heard him use, especially for words that sound so crazy, so movie like.
"Its not exactly the future", Donatello starts to explain, relieved that its finally coming out, "Because what happens in our life course is different than yours, and there the QT101 theory, which if it applies means that our courses will evolve in separate formulas, because of the quantum-"
"Oh, for fucks sake, yes, we're from the future!", Christopher interrupts, than quickly looks embarrassed at his out burst. He never swears like that in front of his father, even though here uncle Leo isn't exactly his father, still. . .
There is abrupt silence at this. All of them are examining us very closely now. I wonder what they are thinking.
"So. . .then, you're my kids?", father asks, amazed and slightly freaked out.
"Yes", I answer earnestly, almost envisioning hugging him in reunion.
"Kind of", Donatello adds, and holds my hand again, perhaps sensing what I am thinking.
"Well, they are", Christopher stresses, "I'm Leonardo's."
"Really?", Uncle Leo looks pleased at this announcement.
No more conversation follows, as they all are staring at us with even more interest than before.
"Why aren't you happy to see us?", Uncle Mike asks the first question, and it wasn't what I was expecting.
"Um. . .its just that were here under. . .unpleasant circumstances", Chris answers.
"Do you need help with whoever beat you up?", Uncle Mike offers sincerely.
"I don't know", Chris answers for us, "I'm not sure it's a good idea, you know, mixing everyone around and all. If we could just get back, our. .. .family there will help us."
"Do you need help getting back home?", Father asks, probably already going over the quantum physics of time travel ramification in his mind so he can try to build us a portal.
"Yes, that we definitely need", Chris replies, gratefully.
"How did you get here in the first place?", Father inquires, apparently he wasn't able to conceive of the mechanics on his own.
"The enemy, the ones that beat us up, we were fighting them and they threw us all in this portal thing", Chris answers, "Actually, they just threw Donatello in. The rest of us jumped in after him."
"What about me and Mike's kids? I mean, do we have any? Are they helping?", Uncle Raph asks his first question.
"Your kids were with us, but I haven't seen them over here. Mike's kids are all too young to fight", Chris tells them.
Once again I wonder how the others are all doing. I wish now we had taken JB with us, he might have been helpful. And it would have been worth something for him to see how serious and helpful his father his over here.
"Do you have communicators at all?", Father asks.
"Yeah, we do", Donatello says, and brings his out to show our father, who examines it with great interest, probably trying to get an idea of the technology we had developed in the future.
"These aren't standard radio waves, are they?", Father asks.
"No. They use a different form."
"Have you tried contacting your family with them?", Father asks, handing it back, "It might be worth a shot, the signals might go through to the other frequencies, and we could try to talk to your family and get them to work the portal. If they don't work, maybe we can adjust them somehow. That would be more likely than building a time machine."
"Okay", Donatello agreed, and initiated the communicator.
We're shocked when it is answered on the first ring. We are even more shocked to see what answered it, some kind of feathered turtle creature. At first I thought we must have contacted some alternate universe.
"Hello. Are you cousins?", the feathered turtle asks us in a female voice.
"Who. . .are you Michelangelo's kids?", Donatello sputters in amazement.
"Yes, we are. Hello cousins. I am Catholicism. I am with Julian and Romea, and my brother Judaism. We do not know our location, however."
"Donatello? Is that you?", Romea inquires, and grabs the communicator from Catholicism, "Donatello, thank god! I am so glad you survived! And William and Christopher, as well? Did they?"
"Yes, we're all here", Christopher responds, opening his own communicator. I have one too but opt to just share with Donatello.
"Oh, Chris", she sighs, "I'm so happy to see you."
This is disturbing to me. Very disturbing. Something is wrong. Even if we had been missing for a week, I don't think Romea would be this distressed. And, why are Uncle Mike's kids here? They have never done anything with our family.
"Listen, Romea, Saber Khan put us in a time warp. It's hard to explain, but can you guys get to that machine and figure out-"
"I'm sorry, Chris, but no, we can't. He used it on us. We're not in that room anymore, and I don't know where we are, or how to get back to him."
There's a slight pause.
"Time warp?", Julian asks, in a delayed reaction.
"Yes, time warp. We're in New York fifty years ago. We actually hooked up with our family here, if we could get back and join forces with everyone back there, we could really kick Saber Khan's ass!", Chris explained excitedly. Well, seems like he's adjusted to this idea now, quantum physic ramifications be damned.
There is another silence. Our grandfather, uncles, and father all wait patiently, following the discussion.
Romea hands the communicator to Catholicism. She's crying, and in the background, I'll be damned if Julian isn't crying too. This is really wrong.
"If we are thrown in the same time, perhaps we can try to unite here", Catholicism suggests, then with a breath adds, "We have much to tell you, before we make a plan to return. But we are unfamiliar with this territory. Where are you at?"
"Just tell Romea to set the homing signal on the communicator. We'll track you guys down, if you are in our dimension or whatever, we'll find you."
"Very well. We shall wait for you here, cousins."
"Hey, make sure you stay hidden. Wherever you are, its probably before mutants were accepted, so don't get in trouble, okay?"
"Yes, we will stay hidden. Please hurry."
She shuts the communicator down. We click ours off.
"Wow. That was really strange", Christopher says to us, "I didn't remember we had those cousins. I think they were in Nepal or something."
"So, this Saber Khan is responsible for your being here?", Splinter inquired gently.
"He's responsible for a lot of things", Chris answered darkly.
"What is he like the Shredder or something?", Uncle Leo asked.
"The who?", Donatello responds, simultaneously with me responding, "The what?"
Sometimes we do that.
"The Shredder was just some punk that used to bother them all the time", Chris explained non-chantly to us as he stood up and gathered his swords.
"I would hardly refer to the Shredder as 'just some punk'", Uncle Leo told him, indicating that apparently the Shredder was a big enemy of theirs right now, although he obviously didn't do anything long-lasting, or we would have heard about him growing up.
"No offense, but the Shredder never did anything serious to you. The worst he ever did was cut off Grandfather Splinter's tale, and that hasn't even happened here yet."
"So, what did Saber Khan do? Besides throw you in a time warp?", Uncle Raph asked.
Okay, here it comes. The very awkward and bitter truth.
"Two years ago, in our place, Saber Khan assassinated my uncle, Donatello, on national TV. We've been at war ever since."
More stunned silence, this time with more than one of them gaping at us.
"He assassinated Donatello?", Uncle Leo gasped in a horrified whisper.
"So. . .I'm dead? In your time? I'm dead?", Father asked.
"Yes. I'm very sorry. We promise to avenge you if it's the last thing we do."
As a gesture seemed in need, Chris bowed to him.
"Then. . .this must be so. . .awful for you", father said, staring at us again.
"Yes, well, I think our chances of growing up as well-adjusted adults are pretty much shot", I replied, partially sarcastically. Then I looked away.
He almost looked like he wanted to hug us, but thought better of it.
"That's why it's been so hard to, you know, say anything to you guys. We didn't know what to do, or how to act, and I'm sorry if we messed up your lives here somehow", Chris told them.
"Do not worry", Grandfather replied, "If that is what it takes to destroy this Saber Khan, than so be it. I will travel time, space, worlds and what ever it takes to avenge my son!"
Grandfather looked really, really pissed. I had heard stories of his prowess as a ninja, of course, but since he had died long before I was born I never experienced it. I should say something about that it wasn't exactly his son, in the future, but thought better of it.
They all seemed, with out question, united in this quest now. And it all seemed according to as Donatello said, nothing was exploding, time fabric wasn't ripping, if it did that, and it seemed to make sense, that they were part of our family and were going to help us even if it meant traveling to another time and place to do it. This gave me renewed confidence, for the first time since our father was killed I felt that his vengeance was real, and at hand.
But at the same time I didn't want to go meet up with Romea, Julian and the strange cousins. There was something wrong there, something very, very wrong, and I didn't want to know what it was.
To be continued. . .