Ruins

Donatello's hand shook as he placed the only remaining alien power crystal from their old lair into the niche carved at the edge of the doorway. So hard, in fact, he struck the fragile item twice against the stone of the wall before fitting it into place. He flinched at the boom preceding the opening of the door in front of him and scuttled through into his safe haven.

Ruins of a vast underground civilization spread out before him and, as his eyes adjusted, more details became clear. The architecture, swirling and strange, was like nothing else on Earth. Not surprising, since the city had been left by an alien race.

He let himself into his favorite house but for once, wasn't soothed by the view. While the front facade of the domicile was solid, the main room's back wall featured an open balcony with fluted marble columns supporting a lattice roof.

The building overlooked a tremendous courtyard, complete with sculptural fountains and mosaic mural patterns on the ground divided by gravel paths. The craftsmanship reminded Don of a cross between Greek and Italian, but the entire city incorporated tiles emitting unnatural light of blue or green and the water glowed fuchsia without any artificial illumination.

Some five years ago, this place housed a rogue group of mutants, but after they cleared out Don claimed the underground space as his own little sanctuary. Not even his family was aware he set up an entire townhouse within the ruins as a retreat.

He furnished his personal lair simply; books, mementos, and soft candlelight. He didn't invent or do experiments here, this was a getaway but, being Donatello, it wouldn't be complete without electricity, security, and plenty of computers.

Usually, he spent time here admiring the vista and winding down. Perhaps opening some wine and reading in one of the oversized arm chairs. Today he headed to the computer banks to log in and start looking for Michelangelo. This was the first time he used the place to retreat from a domestic disgrace but even in a self-imposed exile he could be productive.

Don twisted uncomfortably, his mind only half on the search algorithm he was writing. No sign of Mikey's phone in the NYC area, but the device might be off or destroyed. Time for the second option, a satellite scan for body mass and temperature. He uploaded the program to run as it orbited the Earth. For good measure, he absently hacked a second one on the other side of the planet to speed things up.

His current mission accomplished, he allowed his eyes to drift around the room and out over the landscape of the dark city. He had fantasized about bringing Luna here someday to share its beauty, but now, staring out at its emptiness, he felt sick and more alone than he'd ever been in his life.

Remorse overwhelmed him. He'd thought, after their last misunderstanding, he'd come to terms with their relationship. He was her friend and confidant, nothing more. He shouldn't desire her. He shouldn't dream about her.

But he did.

Luna Heliades haunted him, waking or sleeping. Even the most complex projects and problems could not drive her from his thoughts. He'd meant to keep it to himself. A secret fantasy.

It hadn't remained a secret.

Regret burrowed under his skin filling him with an intense frozen pain and a deep shame, as he remembered the faces of his family and friends this morning. Every single one of them looked shocked, horrified even, by his declaration.

Even Luna.

Especially Luna.

Her frightened gasp replayed in his mind and his heart clenched at the memory.

She doesn't want me.

The solution, of course, was simple. All he had needed to do was reach out and take Medes from Hades outstretched hand. If he bonded to the soul everything would change. Her feelings would alter.

The temptation had been almost more than he could bear. After all, the elder god obviously wanted him to. Accept his fate, Hades said. But Donatello could not reconcile that fate with the idea of forcing Luna into any sort of relationship she did not already desire. To make her take him as mate for the sake of saving her soul was underhanded and deceitful.

Besides Raphael and Leonardo were required to agree to the bond. He knew they would, to save her, but how could he hurt his brothers? The anguish had been written all over Leo's face in the lab and Raphael's little temper tantrum left no doubts as to his feelings on the subject. Now they knew he desired her. Their anger would keep them from giving permission.

Knowing all possibility of a bond with Luna was gone hurt more than he wanted to admit, but it had been the right decision. Restlessly, he left his desk and moved out onto the balcony. His heart as empty as the city below him.

There was more than one way to resolve every problem. To let her soul perish was not an option, so he would have to find another way to heal Medes. Perhaps if he modified his scanner to feed it energy directly from the node...

Focus on another solution eluded him. His grip on the balustrade tightened as images of Luna flashed through his head way the sunlight from the skylights caught on her hair. Her impish smile as she challenged his theories and lead him to new conclusions. Her peaceful sleeping countenance- glowing in the light of a single candle in the infirmary, and how right it felt to hold her in his arms after she exhausted herself locating their father.

Too bad those weren't his only memories. Darker ones followed. Her anger and despair at Michelangelo's injuries. Her magnificent fury. His own jealousy as he watched Raphael's mouth descend to hers in his lab. Leonardo taking her up and carrying her home when he refused to do so, and the quiet pain in her voice when he asked about her exile.

But the worst memories, by far, were those of her physical and emotional injuries when they brought her back the first time. He would never get over the shock of seeing what had been done to her.

Her moans still rang again in his ears, his hands were slick with her blood and it flowed in dark runnels over the edge of the stainless table to pool on the floor. Her screams as he set her bones were heartrending. Treating her had not been easy, and though he only intended to heal, he had left lasting marks of pain on her psyche.

Suddenly he understood. Luna could never stand to be with him. Any intimate form of contact from him, the softest caress, would only serve to remind her of the worst moments of her life. The ones right before her death.

Luna, please... forgive me. I never meant to cause you pain. I wanted a life with you so badly and yet everything is wrong. I wish things could have turned out differently!

Quiet tears streamed down his face, as he grieved for what might have been. His heart cracking and breaking as he forced himself to come to terms with his decision.

"Oh, Luna." he whispered.

She's a goddess. Can she hear me calling for her under the hard uncaring stone? No. No sun or moon exist down here. There is no Luna.

For a long, long time he sat, staring out at the emptiness surrounding him. Several hours passed and he concluded bitterly it would be better for all concerned if he stayed away from home.

He would help his family find Mikey but he didn't have to leave these ruins. Information sent digitally would guide his brothers. The others, Luna included, need not see him for a while. Besides, this was the ideal spot to bury the ashes of his broken heart. An empty place no one else would ever lay eyes on.

Automatically, he rose and stumbled back to his computers, determined to spend all his time working so he wouldn't feel the numb void left inside.

A small chime rose from his phone, filling the silence of the dead city sometime near dawn. Leonardo's name flashed on the screen. Don turned dull eyes on it and sighed as he reached for the device. He'd been staring at a computer all night and he didn't want to talk to Leo, but they would only mount a search if he didn't answer.

"Donatello here."

"Don?" The leader's voice came over the line again, much more softly. "Are you ok?"

Don froze with the receiver pressed to his ear. He had analyzed a thousand mental conversations regarding the incident this morning, trying to prepare an acceptable response, but none of them began with Leo showing concern for him. Where was the anger? The fierce protectiveness he needed to hold his weakening resolve together?

"Fine. I just- I thought it would be best to give everyone space for a little while."

"You didn't need to leave." Compassion was thick in Leo's voice. "You were embarrassed, but you were only looking out for Luna. Raph and I, we understand. We know what it's like to... love her."

Undertones implied he knew intimately how Don felt; lovesick, haunted, desperate.

So my secret was never a secret.

"I don't want to talk about it, Leo."

"Donnie," There was a short but significant pause on the line. "We need your help."

Those five words were so familiar, he snapped back into some semblance of normality. Of course they did. His younger brother was missing, Medes was still in danger, and he was a member of the Hamato family. He would fight to protect his own, even knowing his heart's desire would never, could never be his.

He switched into report mode, his voice firming.

"I'm already running the search algorithm for Mikey. He's not in New York anymore. If the immortal he went up against was Charon, ley-lines might have been used to transport him away, so I've got a pair of satellites doing a worldwide scan. It'll take a few more hours, but I'll get the results to you as soon as they are finished."

"Thanks Don. We're all worried about Mikey, but I called because-"

"Oh. The shield? I turned it on before I left. It should hold up ok and keep out any unwanted guests. The coverage extends past the area we've claimed and stretches into the surrounding tunnels for thirty feet or so. Tell Luna will you? She and Hades might sense some odd reflections near the borders, but it's keyed to them from the medical scans so it should let them pass without effort."

"I'll tell them, but that wasn't it either."

Don waited for his brother to continue, instead there was a long pause. After another moment of silence, he shoved back his computer chair and stalked back out to the balcony, totally uncomfortable with this conversation and wishing Leo would get on with yelling at him.

"Spit it out, Leo." he said, his voice grating. "I'm not a mind reader."

"Don, I- I want you to know, of all of us... you're the one who deserves her."

Donatello stopped in his tracks, completely flabbergasted. Finally, he uttered a single word.

"What?"

"Luna. You deserve her. You're the best of us; kind, strong, compassionate, intelligent, loyal, protective, open minded, and caring. With Raph and I, she only gets pieces. With you she'll have the whole package."

"I don't understand. What are you telling me, Leo?"

"She's coming to you. She wants you. She deserves you."

Each word echoed inside his head, unexpected and astounding. His brain, as complex as it was, fought to assemble the syllables into anything intelligible, but his heart grabbed onto them like a lifeline. He sat down hard on the stone of the balcony, his knees collapsing beneath him.

The silence on the line lasted so long, Leo spoke again in concern.

"Donnie, did you hear me?"

"Yes. You said Luna is coming here."

The answer was an automatic and mechanical response to the question, flat and unemotional. He couldn't wrap his head around the truth of the statement.

"Don, you don't sound so good, are you somewhere safe?"

That reminded him, he was off the radar. He'd turned off his phone tracker and no one in the family had knowledge of this hideaway.

Luna could not be coming for him.

He began to laugh, a horrible mocking sound that echoed off the walls around him until the noise filled the entire room. He hadn't thought his brother so petty as to punish him this way but he supposed he deserved it.

Leonardo should torture him with no remorse. Don should never have lusted after his brother's mate. No redemption awaited him at home.

"Good one Leo. You really had me going for a minute."

His hollow tone cut through the conversation like a knife and Leo's startled gasp was clear on the line.

"So you know, I'm already beating myself up about hurting you, not to mention her. It's unforgivable." Donatello paused to take a steadying breath before proposing his solution. "So, I've left the lair. I planned to stay away for a few months, but... just say the word and I won't ever come back."

"Don!"

"I never meant to tell you." Don said, cutting Leo off, trying his best to explain, "This love was a dream, it kept me going. It was selfish and I knew better, but without her I'm just an empty shell. So if you're looking to inflict the most damage, go ahead. Tell me you're done with me."

He tried to stifle his frenetic breathing to hear Leo's reply.

Is this the end of life as I know it?

no. A soft mental whisper stated. it is the beginning.

As weak as it was, the words rang through his head and heart. A whiff of scent followed on the breeze; lilies and hyacinths.

I am going mad.

Don pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped one arm tight around them, the other clutched the phone to his ear as he stared out between the baluster railings at the empty city beyond.

She isn't here. She can't be. She doesn't know about this place...Can you go crazy from a broken heart? Is there some chemical reaction which destroys the mind?

He clenched his teeth and only then realized they were chattering. The scent grew stronger and Donatello covered his eyes. He began to shake all over and whimpered into the receiver.

Luna isn't here! By rights, I should never see her again!

The more potent the smell became the more frantic Don's reaction and the less logically he thought.

What is happening to me?

"Don! Donnie?" Leo asked, and he realized Leo had been calling his name for some time.

"Yes?"

"I don't know how your thinking got so twisted, but I have to tell you something and you need to listen, okay? You were on the rooftop so you will understand. Raphael and I..."

It was overpowering. He wanted to drown in her scent or jump off the balcony to get away, he wasn't sure which. Either way he seemed destined for death by desire and hallucination. The first had shattered his heart, the second was breaking his mind.

"We concede."

Everything stilled with those words. His shuddering, his breathing, even his heartbeat.

Leonardo would never joke about that. So the other things he said...

The phone fell from numb fingers and exploded into bits as it hit the stone floor.

"Donnie?"

A voice, her voice, full of chiming echoes and concern, sounded behind him as a delicate hand landed gently on his shoulder and his heart thudded into motion again. He drew a shuddering breath and gasping, reached up to close his hand over hers.

"I heard you."

Michelangelo glared at the powder puff pink frippery surrounding him in Serra's 'pleasure chamber' and snorted his disdain, his blue eyes ice hard but his actions unusually docile as the guard latched the collar at his neck to a long chain attached to a pillar in the center of the room and left.

He felt uncomfortable without his weapon's harness and pads. Strangely naked, although he wasn't shy and none of them wore clothing at home unless they were going topside. He supposed his physical discomfort was simply mental dread of his next meeting with Serra.

He never anticipated this outcome.

He wrapped a length of the chain around his hand and tested its strength, but wasn't surprised when it didn't give under his hard pull. He avoided touching the collar.

Unfortunately, the damned thing looked to be the same model as the one Don took off Luna and though he didn't have magic to electrocute himself, the mechanical booby traps could make him just as dead. The guards had a remote so it seemed prudent to comply, for now.

Satisfied nothing would break it, he flung a section of chain behind the pillar and hauled himself up, climbing high above the floor to inspect the bolt point. He shook his head at the idiocy of humans. They thought putting the eye-bolt up a story or two would keep him away from it.

Tentatively, he turned the anchor but he lacked the proper leverage to work it free of the hard stone. He needed a long metal bar, one thin enough to clear the hole, but strong enough not to bend when he put force against it. He slid down and searched the room, finding nothing to do the job within reach.

A fireplace poker would be perfect.

There was a fireplace in the room, but it was empty for the summer season and lacked any kind of tending tools. Servants must bring those in as required. As if the thought of servants summoned them, the doorknob rattled and Michelangelo dashed back to lean defiantly against the column.

A small boy with a mop and a bucket of soapy water entered the room. No more than six, he wasn't tall enough to carry the sloshing bucket properly. And the mop kept turning diagonal in his arms, catching on the door, and comically impeding his entrance.

Eventually, the young one dropped his cleaning implement and set the bucket on the floor. With both hands on the rim, he pushed the container into the room, watching to make sure he wasn't leaving any scratches. He turned, trotted out to the hall to retrieve his mop, and jogged back in on little legs, shutting the door with a triumphant smile on his face.

Until he saw Mikey standing in the middle of the room.

The boy stopped and Mikey hurried to cut off the scream he was sure was about to burst his eardrums.

"Hey little dude! It's ok. I'm not gonna hurt you, see?" Michelangelo said in his most cheerful voice, holding up the length of chain. "I can't even reach you over by the door."

His claim was a total lie, but he hoped the child couldn't tell. The boy stayed put, clutching his mop in both hands and examining the turtle in front of him with the same intense focus he'd given the floor a moment ago.

A little gleam came into his eye and he pulled himself upright to bow to Michelangelo before falling into a basic ready stance, holding the handle like a bo staff.

Mikey's eyes widened. "You know ninjutsu?"

The boy gave a short nod and grinned, wiggling his mop exactly like Donnie had his bo when they were sparring as kids. A little impatient 'come on' motion. Mikey smiled at this unexpected diversion, bowed back, and took a defensive stance as familiar as breathing.

Squealing with glee, the boy ran at him, pulling off a few striking moves which Mikey easily avoided. When he saw the boy tiring, he moved in with a lightening fast leap and tickled his sides, the same way he took down Donnie when they fought as children.

Amazingly, the squeals of laughter did not turn into shrieks of fear at his touch. The child giggled and rolled around the floor with Mikey, wrestling happily. They were both winded when Mikey propped himself up with his shell to the pillar and scooped the boy into his lap. The youngster settled himself before staring up into Mikey's face.

"What's your name, little fella?" he asked.

"Jacob," the boy said. "I clean the rooms on this side of the hall."

"And you are excellent at it. I can tell," Mikey said, nodding and looking around in a careful show of attention, before adding. "So, um, Jake. Can I ask you something?"

"Sure!" the child replied with a huge smile.

"Why aren't you afraid of me?"

The boy laughed and wiggled like this was the best joke he ever heard.

"Cause I know ninjutsu, Michelangelo Splinter-son!"

Mikey started violently. If he hadn't already been sitting, he would have fallen over in shock.

"What?"

Jake's brows pulled together. He stood and faced the turtle with a solemn expression.

"You are Michelangelo, yes?"

"Yes, but-"

"You are Splinter-Sensei's youngest son! He said you liked the color orange and were the most fun to be around," Jake said. He frowned and added seriously "Although you are much bigger than Sensei said."

Mikey's mouth dropped open and he closed it with a click. Master Splinter worked in this palace for almost seven years and he was, ostensibly, the Master of Pages, but it hadn't occurred to him 'pages' were children, or that he would ever meet them.

Or that Sensei would have taught them ninjutsu and told them about his family.

Mikey realized suddenly how much their father must have missed them, and how much he loved them to sacrifice so many years of his life for their continued happiness.

"My father is a good man."

Mikey said without thinking, but Jake shook his head.

"Splinter-sensei is a monster."

The emphasis on the word contained only awe and pride, not fear. As if being a non-human equated to being a celebrity. Perhaps in this strange circle of children it did.

A thought occurred to the boy. Mikey saw it brighten his eyes, as he crept closer and lowered his voice, looking furtively around for listeners.

"You are here to save the little light, yes?"

"Little light?" Mikey asked, confused at this description.

"The little light helped Splinter-Sensei escape. At first we thought the fire killed him, but Ben yelled at it until the light told him no. Ben said it sent for help. Ben said it promised."

The boy nodded, clearly believing in the power of the 'little light'. As well he should, for it could only be the remaining piece of Luna's soul, always protecting the innocent. Michelangelo breathed a silent prayer, thanking all the gods and goddesses personally for sending him this gift, then smiled at the boy.

"I am here to rescue the little light," he said, letting confidence leak into his voice. "But I'm going to need you and the rest of the pages to help me do it."