HI! Welcome to chapter two! Thank you so much for sticking with me. I really appreciate it! :D If only there was a way to digitize hugs, I'd send one to each and every one of you!

This chapter has some funny moments...and may or may not hit some feels. I know it did with me while I was writing it, but then I'm a bit of a sap. ^^; I hope that you enjoy your time here! If you do, please don't forget to favorite, follow, and/or review! I really do want to hear from you! I like hearing about what your enjoyed and what you feel I could improve on!

Thank you so much for your time and attention! :D

"Thank goodness Mikey isn't here. He'd be laughing his shell off," Donnie thought, unable to keep an embarrassed flush from painting his cheeks. "Are you sure this will work, Murakami-san?"

"I do not see why it wouldn't. You were sure to cover yourself completely, right?"

"Well, yeah…but-puh!" he interrupted himself to spit out some of the downy beard-mustache combo that had drifted into his mouth. "But I just don't see," he looked down at one of the faux-fur trimmed red mittens covering his hands, "how I can blend in with this get-up."

Murakami laughed as though Donnie had just said the funniest thing he'd ever heard. "Santa Claus is not supposed to 'blend in,' Donatello-kun."

"I suppose that's true. And I do have to admit that I'm impressed with how well this suit hides my appearance," Donnie replied, pausing in front of a store window to check his reflection. The pants with their matching overcoat comfortably accommodated his shell and the mittens made his hands seem almost normal. Even though the outfit's boots had been a definite no go, his homemade ones didn't look so out of place that they would arouse suspicion. Meanwhile, the hat with its extra wide faux-fur trim and the large fluffy beard made it so that the only visible part of him was a small rectangle around his eyes. He had opted to keep his mask on because the tiny strip of exposed green skin seemed to glow when surrounded by so much white. At least this way, he could always say that he had a skin condition. "Give me a bell and I'm ready to stand on a street corner and collect charity donations.

"But," he persisted while he adjusted the bag that Murakami had asked him to carry into a better position on his shoulder and broke into a jog to catch up with his human companion. "I don't understand how dressing as a mythological character could possibly be helpful at a homeless shelter."

The old chef stopped outside their destination and gave Donnie a gentle smile that carried a trace of sadness, "You soon will, my young friend." Without further delay, he opened the service door and stepped into a kitchen area.

"Teruaki!" a man who appeared to be in his mid-forties greeted them with a smile that was both friendly and relieved. "So glad you could make it! We were beginning to worry that we wouldn't be seeing you this year."

"Ah, I am sorry, Thomas-san," Murakami replied as he extended his hand for the other man to shake. "I had an unexpected but welcomed delay." He gestured back to Donnie, who immediately stiffened up when the other human laid eyes on him. "This is my dear friend, Hamato Donatello. I asked him if he would like to help us this evening."

"N-n-nice to meet you," Donnie stuttered while waffling between offering a handshake and bowing to the human for a few moments before settling on the handshake.

Donnie's awkwardness made Thomas' uncertain face quirk into a bit of smile as he accepted the hand. "Hamato Donatello?"

"M-my family is a mixed one," Donnie explained with a sheepish smile.

"With a name like that, I'd say a very mixed one."

Donnie chuckled even as he couldn't help but think, "Oh, you have no idea."

"Well, Mr. Hamato…"

"Please, call me Donnie."

Thomas' smile started becoming more relaxed. "Donnie. I am Thomas, the shelter's director. Thank you for taking time out of your day to give us a hand."

"It's no problem at all. What can I do to help?"

Thomas' smile blossomed into an entertained grin. "Come with me," he said as he walked away. Donnie looked confused but followed. Thomas opened a door on the other side of the kitchen and gestured for Donnie to go through. The disguised turtle's confused eyes became a touch uneasy, but he did as Thomas requested.

Once on the other side of the door, Donnie's breath caught in his plastron. Five twenty-five foot long tables stretched out before him. Humans of both sexes filled each one as they ate what appeared to be a cafeteria styled version of the traditional Christmas dinner. Having lived in New York City his entire life, Donnie had seen his fair share of homeless people, but never so many in one place.

He froze when several of them stopped eating to look at him. Some of them merely turned back to their meals. One especially scruffy man scowled at him with such venom that he began to question how good an idea this had been. However, more than he expected began to smile. He didn't have time to puzzle over their reaction because he nearly jumped straight out of his shell thanks to a sudden squeal of, "SANTA CLAUS!"

Donnie focused on the cry in time to see a little girl, no older than four years old, spring up from the table and begin racing over to him. Before he knew it, a drove of children that he hadn't noticed on his first sweep of the tables joined the little girl's charge. They were as young as three and as old as nine. A quick second glance at the adults revealed more children from teenagers all the way down to babies who hadn't even had their first birthday yet.

His heart clenched at the sight of each them. Even though he'd logically known that a percentage of homeless people had to be children, Donnie had never seen any before now. As he watched them flock to him, he suddenly understood what Murakami-san had meant. He blinked away the burning sensation in his eyes. Then, he gave everyone a broad smile and went down on one knee in time for the first little girl to wrap her arms around his neck. "Why, hello there!"

"I knew you'd come, Santa! I knew you would!" she cried as she buried her face into the fake beard with such vigor that Donnie feared for a moment that she'd pull it off.

"Of course!" Donnie proclaimed while letting out his best belly laugh. He scooped the little girl up with one arm and stood up. "I would never let you down!" After a quick look around the rest of the room, he spotted where he was expected to go: a simple chair sitting next to a neatly decorated tree that was about nine inches shorter than him. He waded through the rest of the children, patting a few of them on the head as he went, and made his way over to the chair.

Once there, he set the bag that he'd almost forgotten he was carrying beside the chair, settled into it, and placed the girl on the floor in front of him. "Now," he started as he untied the bag. "Let's see what we've got in here!" The bag was full of toys: plastic vehicles, stuffed animals, dolls, storybooks, and even baby toys like rattles and teething rings. Donnie made a mental note to get Mr. Murakami to tell him how much had been spent on this so that he could scrounge up at least half the cost.

For the next couple of hours, Donnie passed out the toys to the eager children all around him. He spent time with each of them, learning more about them so that he could be sure to pull out something they would like. Many of them looked at what he gave them as though it were a priceless treasure, making his heart feel like it would break. Once all the children around him were playing, he peered inside the bag and saw that there were still plenty of toys inside.

He scanned the tables again, locating the children that hadn't come to him. Ones that were too young to come over on their own or were too shy to approach this strange man dressed all in red. Or those that had decided they were too old for something as silly as Santa Claus. Donnie's eyes shone with his smile as he stood up, shouldered his bag, and headed for the tables. He sought out every child he could and made sure each one got a special visit.

After he'd finished in the dining area, he left to check the sleeping area for anyone that he might have missed. It wasn't long before the building resonated with the laughter of children. Their joy was infectious and Donnie marveled at how it drove away the somber cloud of defeat that hung over many of the shelter's adult tenants. Soon, the evening was alive with such merriment that Donnie couldn't help but get caught up in it. Even the scruffy man who had given him the evil eye when he'd first arrived had a small smile for him the next time their eyes met.

The hours passed so quickly that Donnie found himself giving the wall clock a double take when he saw that it was half-past nine. He had just finished trading parenting mishaps with the mother of a three-month-old and was about to head back to the dining room when he spotted him. The little boy was sitting on the floor away from all the other children with his knees drawn up to his chest. Donnie could tell that somehow the little guy had been missed. Perhaps his family had only just shown up?

Regardless of the why, it was an unacceptable oversight that Donnie intended to correct. "Hey there," he opened with as he crouched down in front of the child. The boy looked up with a jerk, surprised that someone had come over to him. "May I ask what your name is?"

The boy shifted a little bit before looking away from Donnie. "Marquis," he murmured.

"Hi, Marquis," Donnie said with a gentle smile. "How are you?"

"OK."

"May I sit with you?" Marquis said nothing for several minutes. When it became clear that Donnie wasn't going away any time soon, the little boy gave him an ambiguous shrug. Donnie took it as a 'yes' and plunked himself down next to the child. The two of them sat together quietly for several minutes before Donnie spoke again. "Everyone sure looks like their having fun, huh?" The little boy didn't look at him but made a quiet nod in response. "What's your favorite thing to play with?"

"My daddy's truck," was the subdued answer. "He gave it to me before he had to go away."

"Oh," Donnie replied while trying not to wince. "That means it's a very special truck. Very precious." Marquis nodded. After a long pause, Donnie ventured again. "Did something happen to it?"

Marquis pulled his legs tighter to him. "One of the big kids at school was saying mean things about my mom. Told him to stop, but he just laughed and shoved me. That's when Daddy's truck fell outta my jacket," the boy murmured miserably. "He stomped on it."

A surge of anger ran through Donnie, but he managed to keep it from showing. "That was an awful thing for him to do." The boy only gave him a doleful nod. He allowed them both to sit in silence again while he watched Marquis try to keep the tears in his eyes from falling. Then he quietly asked, "Do you still have your dad's truck?" The boy looked up at him in surprise but nodded unsurely. "May I see it?"

Marquis reached into his jacket's pocket, pulled out a little yellow dump truck, and warily placed it in Donnie's outstretched hand. Donnie gave the toy a slow, careful inspection. One of the cab doors had been broken off. The dump bed had been snapped off the back as well and was bowed inward like a crushed soda can. He could tell by the extent of the damage that if the toy had not been die-cast, there would've been nothing left to salvage.

"Little jerk sure did a number on this," he wanted to say but kept it to himself. Instead, he murmured, "Let's see what I can do." He pulled out a mini toolkit from the pocket of his overcoat, silently thankful that he'd had the forethought to take the kit out of his gear, and began to work.

It was slow going at first. His mittens were quite a hindrance. He had to resist the temptation to take them off. However, he managed to compensate for them and soon had the cab door back in place. Then he got to the business of straightening the walls of the bed again.

While he worked, he sensed movement beside him. Little hands rested themselves on his knee and he spared a brief glance at Marquis. The child stared at the toy in his hands with utter amazement written all over his face. Donnie smiled before returning his focus to the task at hand, his tongue unconsciously pressing itself to his upper lip as he did so. After several long minutes, Donnie reattached the bed to the rest of the toy. He tested both repaired parts to make sure they were in working order once more before offering the little truck back to its owner. "There you go. Good as new!"

Marquis could only gape for a few moments before he took the toy. He looked it over as though he couldn't believe his own eyes. Then, all the sorrow and confusion on his face evaporated into a huge grin. He threw himself at Donnie, hugging the disguised turtle around the neck with every bit of strength his little body had. "Thank you, Santa!" he cried before getting up to race over to a woman who sat on a nearby cot. Donnie had felt her eyes on them ever since he'd approached the boy. "Look, Mom! LOOK!" Marquis excitedly shouted while waving his beloved toy at her, "Santa fixed Daddy's truck!"

"He sure did, baby," Marquis' mom said with a shaky smile as she wrapped her little boy into a tight bear hug. From over her son's shoulder, she looked straight at Donnie, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, and mouthed, "Thank you."

Donnie felt his eyes widen. Then, a gentle smile spread onto his face and bowed his head to her. He watched her kiss the Marquis' forehead before coaxing him into bed. It was then that Donnie noticed how the shelter's volunteers were encouraging everyone else to start doing the same. "I guess it's time for 'Santa' to make his exit."

He was just about to get up when his eyes stumbled upon the little girl who had greeted him at the start of the night. She watched him with an enormous grin from where she'd cocooned herself in her quilt. That was when he decided that it wouldn't do for him to simply walk out. He returned her grin, winked, and waved goodbye just before a couple of adults walked in front of him. In the brief moment that he was hidden from her view, he used his ninja training to vanish without a trace. From just outside the sleeping area, he heard her gasp and then whisper in delight to the little boy in the cot next to hers, "I told you he was the real one!" A fond smile stretched across his face as he turned to make his way back to the cafeteria.

"We were wondering where you'd gotten to," a cheerful voice called out when Donnie walked into the nearly empty eating area. He looked in the voice's direction and saw Thomas approaching him with Mr. Murakami trailing after.

Donatello's throat went dry. "Was I not allowed to leave the cafeteria?"

Both men laughed at his nervousness. "That is not it at all," Murakami assured. "Most new volunteers do not feel comfortable enough to venture far from the dining hall on their first visit." Mr. Murakami's smile became a more knowing one. "But then, I should have expected you to not be like most newcomers." Donnie felt his face warm and he sheepishly rubbed his neck.

"I was just telling Teruaki how glad I am that he asked you to join us tonight," Thomas said with a gentle smile. "You had people laughing tonight that I haven't seen smile once the entire time they've been with us. And believe me, for some of them, that has been a very long time. Thank you." Donnie felt his face heat up more and he turned his eyes to the floor bashfully. "The other volunteers and I were wondering if you would be willing to help us out again next year."

Donnie looked up with wide eyes and stared at the human, too dumbfounded to speak. When he finally found his voice again, he had to work it around an unexpected lump in his throat. "I would consider it an honor."

The human's small smile grew into a thankful grin. "Then I look forward to seeing you again. Do you need a ride home?"

The turtle laughed. "No, thank you, Thomas-san. I'll be fine."

"Alright. Thank you again. Have a good night and happy holidays," the human said with a chuckle before turning to go back to his duties.

"Happy holidays, Thomas-san" Donnie returned. Once he and Murakami were alone, Donnie murmured, "Thank you, Murakami-san."

"For what?" his old friend asked as he offered Donnie the duffel bag he was carrying.

"For convincing me to go through with this crazy idea," Donnie explained while shouldering the bag that contained his clothes, Master Splinter's tea, and the coloring books Murakami had given him earlier.

"You were the one who wished to come. I merely helped you find the means to do so," Murakami said with a soft chuckle.

"And if you hadn't, I would have just gone home…and never have known what I do now. So, thank you." His human companion bowed his head acceptingly. Donnie sighed as he looked around the now empty dining area. "This…this has been a night I'll never forget."

"That is how I often feel," the blind man agreed while he and the disguised turtle made their way to the service door.

"Would you like me to walk you home?"

"Thank you, my friend. But I will be taking Thomas-san's offer of a ride home. It, too, is something of a tradition."

"OK then. Stay safe, Murakami-san."

"You as well, Donatello-kun. And Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Donnie replied warmly before stepping out into the alleyway.

He waited until he heard the door behind him close to give his surroundings a quick glance. Once he'd confirmed that he was alone, Donnie jumped and flipped his way up the alley's walls until he landed on the roof of the building next to the shelter with the effortless grace of a cat. He walked over to the building's ledge so that he could gaze out at the skyline. Was it just him or was the city more beautiful now than it had been a few hours ago?

A crisp winter breeze kicked up and he closed his eyes as it washed over him. The fake beard of his costume tickled his nose, making him want to sneeze. Despite this, he didn't want to take the outfit off just yet. The Santa suit was warmer than his winter garb but, it was more than just that. "If I take it off," he thought even as he carefully pulled the beard free from his face, "it means that the night…that the moment…is truly over." He watched the beard's white curls dance in the wind. "I don't want it to be over. Not yet."

However, the get-up had an enormous downfall: it made him stand out like a sore thumb. As long as he wore it, he was a big, red bull's eye for the Foot Clan or anyone else that decided they wanted to pick a fight. Even though Donnie knew that he could take care of himself against any random Foot soldiers he might encounter, he was also intimately aware of how quickly a fight could turn for the worst. Keeping the outfit on wasn't worth courting such danger. He made a heavy sigh and looked around the roof for a spot that would provide him some cover while he changed.

The night was markedly less pleasant once he was in his typical winter outfit again. He braced himself against another gust that whipped past him, pushing down his hood and tousling his mask tails together on its way by. That was all the encouragement Donnie needed to get going. The mutant turtle pulled his hood up and, this time, tied it in place before beginning his trek across the rooftops.

He was about five blocks from his preferred entrance to the sewers when the wind kicked into high gear, forcing him to hunker down on a fire escape for refuge. Now he was really regretting his decision not to wear more layers. Of course, he hadn't expected to be out this late. His face stung and he noticed that the end of his nose was going numb. Donnie cupped his gloved hands over his face so that he could breathe into them to warm himself.

While he waited for the wind to stop howling long enough for him to make a break for it, a door in the alleyway below slammed open. Donnie bit back a startled yelp and pressed himself against the brick building to stay out of sight.

"I can't believe those jerks!" cried a voice from the alley.

Another, older sounding voice made a rasping chuckle, "What else can you expect from a bunch of a-holes?"

"How about them stayin' home if they're gonna spike the eggnog that much!?" was the first voice's snappish retort.

Donnie cautiously slid to the edge of the fire escape so he could peer down at the humans. He could tell from their clothes that they worked for the store he huddled against. The two of them lugged a long, unwieldy box between them.

"You're just pissed 'cause they messed up the one you were eyeballin'," the second voice's owner said with a smirk as he led them over to one of the store's dumpsters.

"You bet I am! Mr. Scofield said he'd give me sixty percent off whichever display I wanted at the end of the night. Sixty percent!" the younger employee continued. "Now it ain't even worth spendin' that." He stopped complaining to grunt as he and the older human hoisted the box into the dumpster.

Donatello watched the older man give the younger one a companionable pat on the back as they ducked inside the store, the younger one griping the whole way. He waited for a good five minutes after he heard the door below click shut before he dared to climb down and investigate what they had just thrown away. Other than being about six feet long, the cardboard box was fairly nondescript. There were no identifying pictures on the sides and the store code was one that Donnie wasn't familiar enough with to readily decipher. After a quick double-check of the door to make sure that he wasn't about to get company again, he reached into the dumpster to satisfy his curiosity.

He barely even touched one of the box's overlapped flaps and it sprang open as though something was about to burst out. Donnie let out an involuntary squeak and scuttled backward into a defensive stance. After several seconds had passed without anything leaping at him, a hot flush flooded over Donnie's face. "Some ninja," he muttered, quietly thankful that his brothers weren't around to see that. His wounded pride was almost enough to make him leave, but his inquisitiveness wouldn't let him. He just had to know what was in there now!

Donnie carefully approached the dumpster again and craned his neck to peer inside the box. His eye ridges furrowed at what he saw. The box looked like it was stuffed with some sort of coniferous bush. No…that wasn't quite right. The way the light caught the leaves was off. He pulled off one of his gloves, reached into the box, and ran his hand over a branch. The prickle of the needles was all wrong. It was as if they were…fake?

He tried to pull out the branch so he could examine it further but encountered resistance. That was when he noticed that a wire had been wound around the branch, tying it to the rest of the false evergreen. All along the nearly invisible green wire were tiny, multicolored glass light bulbs. Donnie's eyes widened slightly before his eye ridges drew together again. "What on Earth happened to you for them to throw you away?" he asked the inanimate object.

As he dug deeper into the box, he noted that several of the branches were horribly disheveled and splayed in peculiar ways. It was as though someone had fallen or thrown themselves into the fabricated conifer. However, he could tell that the branches were meant to be manipulated. They could have easily been righted. Then, he found the real reason that the evergreen had been condemned to the dumpster.

The pole that served as the fake fir's trunk had been turned into a literal U-shape. Donnie also discovered that several of the hinges that were for connecting the branches to the trunk had been broken. The poor thing had taken quite a beating. It was kind of sad. Before it had been so abused, it was evident that it had been a pretty little tree.

He lifted one end of the pole to his ear and thumped a finger against it. The way it resonated with each tap gave him an idea of the kind of metal it was made of. Then he grabbed one end of the pole and carefully pulled. The metal resisted him for a few moments, proving how sturdy it actually was before it shifted only a few millimeters. With the right tools… "I can fix this," he breathed as he moved down the pole to examine the damaged hinges. His eyes drifted back to the dumpster and the treasure trove of written off merchandise it contained. They eventually settled on a piece of pink, glitter-covered tulle. As an idea grew in Donatello's mind, so did a broad smile on his face. "Perhaps…the moment doesn't have to be over just yet."