**This Story Contains Tcest**
Pairings: Leonardo/Michelangelo, Raphael/Donatello
Info: Alternate Universe, Clan Life, Action/Adventure, Romance
(This story takes place two years after the events of Lost Among the Bell Flowers and is a direct sequel.
It can be read and understood on its own, but of course I highly recommend reading the first one if you haven't already!)

~*~.~*~

~*~ Chapter Three - The past is behind... the future ahead... ~*~

For the first few minutes after Leonardo placed the map of the Hamato lands in front of him and asked him to point to where his childhood farm was located, Michelangelo couldn't remember.

It had been so long since the last time he'd thought about it, and on the day he left it all behind his state of mind hadn't exactly been the best. After that he'd aimlessly drifted for a few years, always looking forward, never back. Eventually he wandered far enough that the path he'd traveled to get there disappeared into the mists of his memory.

In the end, he had to search the map for landmarks until he found one he recognized and traced the route back from there. No one was more surprised than he was to find that the farm was actually located within the Hamato clan's territories, right at the edge of the northern border.

It would only take them three days by horse to reach it.

There was something unsettling in that discovery, knowing that the place where he had lived through some of the worst years of his life, was really not that far away from the place where he'd found all of his best.

Once he'd explained his dream, Leo had jumped straight out of bed and rushed to wake Raphael and Donatello. Now the four of them sat around a table in the sitting room of their row house, discussing what to do next.

"I don't... none of this is makin' any sense." Raph said, his voice thick with sleep. "You're just gonna pack up and run off... because of a dream?"

"It was more than a dream, Raph. I remember that day." Mikey insisted quietly, wishing he had something more solid to convince them with.

"I'm not sayin' ya' don't, but... how? How did it get there?"

"I don't know. I just... remember my grandmother showing it to me."

"How did she get it? That village is isolated in those mountains. How did it end up on a farm in the middle of nowhere years after it went missing?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out, Raph." Leo said, leaning over the table.

"Yeah, okay, but why does it have to be you? If you're so gung-ho on this, let me send a unit. They can search. If it's there, they can bring it back..."

"No, Raphael." Leonardo said firmly. "This is something I have to do myself."

"...can't believe you two woke me up for this..." Raph grumbled. The brothers stared at each other, silently waging some sort of challenge that stretched into an uncomfortably long moment.

"Okay, we should take a step back for a second." Don cut in with a placating gesture. "Let's say the amulet is there. What happens then? There is a lot of violent history surrounding this artifact, and there are innocent people that would be caught in the crossfire if you bring it back here and the wrong people find out it's been rediscovered..."

"No one will know, Don." Leo said, giving him a patient look.

"There's no way you can know that for sure..."

"At least let me send some men with ya'. I can't let ya' go without an escort..."

Leo scoffed, "Don't be ridiculous, Raph, when have I ever needed a..."

"Since you became the leader of this clan, Leo!" Raph yelled, slamming his hands down on the table and rising to his feet. "You made the rules, I'm just following 'em! 'The lord of the Hamato Clan will not travel without an escort.' Your words, not mine! You put me in this position and as the commander of your army, it's my job to make sure you're safe!"

Leo shut his mouth with the shadow of a stunned look on his face. Mikey could tell he hadn't expected his brother to throw his own words back at him in that way, but Raph wasn't wrong. There'd been many times over the last few years that Mikey had heard Leo reminding his own father of that exact stipulation when the lord had wanted to go on an outing.

"You're right. I'm sorry." Leonardo said after a pause.

Raph blinked, surprised that his brother had actually listened to him, and sat back down.

"If it's just the two of us," Mikey began carefully. "we'll draw less attention. What if we wear a disguise? Will that make you feel better, Raph?"

"A disguise?" Raph asked with a raised eye ridge.

"There's a monastery, close to the village." Mikey said quietly, pointing at the map. "If we wrap up in cloaks and scarves, we might be passed off as a couple of the monks on pilgrimage."

"That's smart, Mikey," Don said, pressing against Raph's side to make sure he had his mate's attention. "and, under the circumstances, probably the best option we have. Sending an entire contingent will only draw attention, people will see it and wonder where they're going and why. Despite the danger, I think we all agree that the amulet must be recovered, and doing so with as much secrecy as possible may be the only way to ensure it doesn't fall back into the wrong hands."

Raph looked at Don for a long time with his jaw clenched, but eventually he nodded his understanding, looking back up at his brother. "I'm goin' with ya' then."

"No." Leo said with a shake of his head. "I need you to stay here and cover for me. While I'm gone, I need you to keep the estate, and our people, safe. I understand this isn't ideal, but you're the only one I trust to do that, Raph."

"Fine." Raphael grumbled. Mikey could tell that he didn't like it, his discontent was written all over his face, but their roles were different now, and all of them were still adjusting to the change.

"It's decided then." Leo said, heading for the door. "Let's get started. I want to be on the road before dawn."

"Before...?" Raph practically squeaked as he got up to hurry after his brother. "What the hell's the rush? The damn thing's been buried under a tree for twenty years, it's not goin' anywhere..."

The second son's voice faded as the door slammed shut behind them, leaving Mikey and Donnie alone. Donatello was looking thoughtfully at the map with a small frown barely creasing his brow.

"You believe me... don't you, Donnie?"

"Of course I do, Mikey." Don said with a sympathetic smile. "Dreams are more than just images that play in our minds when we're asleep. They are memory and... prophecy. They can lead us down paths we may never have taken otherwise. This is a strange situation, but dream or not, if you say the amulet is there... then it's there."

"Prophecy, huh?" Mikey said with a teasing smile. "Never thought of you as the mystical type."

Don, to his credit, didn't take the bait. He just gave Mikey a placating look and started rolling up the map. "There is magic all around us, Michelangelo. Just because I tend to focus on the more practical side of things, doesn't mean I can't also understand the impractical."

Laughing, Mikey reached out and grasped Don's fingers tightly, giving them a grateful squeeze. "Thanks, D." he said before rushing out the door to follow the two Hamato sons.

~*~.~*~

In an effort to assuage Raphael's concerns they avoided the bustle of villages and towns and camped off trail. Wrapped head to toe in plain brown cloaks with the hoods drawn up and scarves stretched across half their faces, they looked exactly like low level monks traveling on monastery business and not a single soul bothered to spare them even a passing glance.

As they drew ever closer to the place Mikey had once called home, he grew quieter, his usual lighthearted outlook tempered by an unpleasant sense of dread. Tension settled stiff in his joints and his shoulders and neck began to ache with the strain of it. Leo kept looking his way with concern in his eyes, but Mikey stayed focused. At this point words were not going to make him feel any better. He just wanted to get there and get this done.

When they spied smoke drifting lazily into the sky from just over the tree line, Mikey knew the village was near and he turned them from the road, leading Leo down a disused path that circled around the back side of his family land.

The approach by way of the southern fields, took them through a bright wood. The light seemed to dance through the canopy of silver birch and dogwood trees, while tiny flower petals floated around them on a warm breeze. The fairytale scene was almost enough to soothe Mikey's nervousness, but when the trees began to thin and he finally caught sight of their destination, the reins in his hands began to creak from how tightly he was clenching them.

He stopped where the trees ended and stared. Everything was different, and yet... exactly the same. The old house in the distance. The weathered fencing, wood silvered from years in the sun. The endless, open fields, once lush and green, now dry and brown and empty.

A pang of sadness nearly stole his breath. He had once tended these fields with love and care, had taken pride in nurturing the life that sprung from the soil, in knowing that the food he grew brought happiness to other families in the village, other children like him... well... not exactly like him... the young ones with loving families had mostly given him a wide berth, afraid of his thin frame and sunken eyes. Those were hard years of neglect and abuse, with no friends to call his own, and he'd taken refuge in these fields, the plants his only companions, never imagining there could ever be more to life.

He supposed he hadn't really expected his father to stay on top of the work required to keep the farm alive, but seeing the wasted husk of what it once was right before his very eyes... Mikey suddenly felt like a piece of him had died too.

"You've been quiet, love."

The softly spoken entreaty startled Mikey out of his thoughts, having almost forgotten that Leo was even there. He turned to his mate, and it was a long second before he could breathe again. "I never thought I would come back here."

Leonardo reached across the space between them, taking Mikey's hand, brushing his lips across knuckles dusty from their days on the road. "It's alright. Take your time."

The filigree on their skin seemed to twist in the sunlight, moving, joining, bridging them together and Mikey felt the smallest burst of courage strengthen his resolve. This was the last place in the world he wanted to be, but that didn't matter, their purpose here was more important than that. He took a deep breath and nudged his mare into movement, feeling like he was stepping through a veil into another world.

The house was small, only two rooms surrounded by a yard in the middle of the open fields, but as Mikey approached, it seemed to loom before him, larger and larger in his vision until it was all he could see. A weight that he hadn't felt in a very long time settled in his chest. He pulled his mare to a stop, the heat was suffocating... he couldn't breathe, he lowered his hood and pulled the scarf from around his face, sucking in a lungful of clear air. Silence pressed against his ears with only the soft sounds of jingling tack and beetles buzzing in the sun to convince him he hadn't gone deaf.

Leonardo hung back, peering down into the darkness of an old well, dilapidated and crumbling, with shingles that dangled by single nails off what was left of the tiny roof. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but he looked every bit a lord uncomfortable to find himself surrounded by such squalor and poverty. It was a reaction he may have been trying to hide, but Mikey could always tell, had spent too many years on the streets where haughty nobles looked down their noses at him.

Hot shame pricked under Mikey's skin as he guided his mare around the side of the house, toward the front. Lightheaded and detached from his own body, the true state of the place where he had grown up only just registered. The structure was barely holding itself together, leaning precariously sideways, the paint peeling, the foundation cracked, the windows broken and dark.

There was no movement, not a soul in sight, only the wind blowing small dust clouds across the barren land.

Stopping at the front of the house, Mikey could almost believe that there was no one left alive here. He was visiting the ghosts of a life that seemed to have belonged to someone else. It couldn't have been him... not in a million years... how could he have come from this place, where hope withered on dead vines.

He looked down at the filigree twisting around his fingers and suddenly bile was burning in his throat. He was a liar, a charlatan and a cheat, playing pretend in a nobleman's clothes. Bringing Leonardo here was the stupidest decision he had ever made. Now he would see, now he would know exactly where Mikey had come from. The Lord of the Hamato Clan deserved better than a meaningless peasant... and that was all Michelangelo had ever been... all he would ever be.

How could Leo still want him after seeing this... place...

A sharp bang shattered the silence as the front door slammed open. Startled, his mare danced sideways, and Mikey jumped, staring wide-eyed as an old turtle staggered out into the sun, brandishing a pitchfork with shaking jabs in the air.

"Get off my land you no good poachers! I ain't got nothing left for you to steal!" The last word died in the thick air. The old man stared for a long moment before the tines of the pitchfork dropped into the dirt and he sneered. "Well look who it is… back from the dead..."

Michelangelo almost didn't recognize him. Vitor. His father.

As a child Mikey had lived in constant fear of his wrath. He still had nightmares of this man, dark and immense, towering over him, quick with biting words and quicker with his belt. But what stood before him now was... a shell, withered and hunched, with clothes that hung off his shoulders like rags. His skin was a sickly green, his cheeks gaunt, and he swayed a little on his feet, like his legs no longer wanted to support his weight. It had been less than a decade since the last time he'd seen his father, but Vitor had aged as if three or four had passed.

Mikey blinked, surprised to realize that this ragged man, dirty and stinking, produced no more fear in him now than would a shadow passing over the moon.

The old turtle's gaze lingered on the horse and Michelangelo's clothes before settling on the filigree just peeking out from under his sleeves. A frown creased the space between his eyes, and Mikey cursed quietly to himself, wishing he hadn't taken off his gloves when they'd left the main road. They had never been wealthy by any stretch of the imagination, but they had sold their crops to more than just the local peasants. Vitor would know the meaning of the markings on Mikey's skin.

"Gone and got yourself all fancy I see. Don't suppose... you've come to share the wealth with your poor old man now... have you?" he said lowly, licking his lips around darkly rotted teeth. His frown turned to a scowl when Mikey didn't respond. "Your Ma is dead. Did you know that? Died of a broken heart after you left."

Some hollow emotion that Mikey couldn't identify flooded his veins. Both his mother and his father had treated him terribly, never showing any remorse for their actions... but when it came to his mother, Mikey knew that it hadn't been entirely her fault. Of course, nothing could ever excuse or justify her treatment of him, but some days were worse than others... depending on how much she had been drinking.

Mikey had always thought that she tried to hide at the bottom of a bottle because she wasn't strong enough to face the reality of her life. Poverty, isolation, an abusive mate... he knew she'd had no other family, remembered the night she'd drunkenly sobbed out the story. Her parents, her brothers, all tragically killed during a bandit raid. She survived, only just, but she was never the same. Shunned and outcast, Mikey's father had been the only one willing to take her in when she would have otherwise died in the street. Unfortunately for Mikey, somewhere along the way she chose to hate the world for the hand she had been dealt, and she directed that hate at everyone... especially her son.

He couldn't mourn the person she was because at the end of the day she made her own choices, but as he looked at the house and then back at what was left of his father, he thought that maybe he could mourn the person she should have been, the mother he might have had if things had been different.

The old turtle slammed the blunt end of his pitchfork down into the dirt, anger twisting his features into an ugly mask. "Say somethin'! Have you gone mute?! Or did you come to gloat?! Come to see the ruin you caused?! You always were a selfish little piece of..."

At that moment Leonardo rode around the corner of the house, having removed his cloak and lowered the scarf covering his face. He sat tall, with all the importance of the lord he was, and glared down at the old man.

Mikey saw the instant when recognition froze the blood in Vitor's veins. Leonardo's face was not unknown, even all the way out here at the outer reaches of the clan lands. Surprise and fear shadowed the old man's eyes and the pitchfork clattered to the ground as he took a step back, his shriveled frame visibly trembling. He bent at the waist, managing half an awkward bow before his gaze fell on the lines of color shining on Leo's arms.

He sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes darting back and forth between Michelangelo and the unexpected lord, slowly putting two and two together. He speared Mikey with a scowl and a low growl as shock replaced the fear. "What do you want...?"

"Nothing from you." Mikey heard himself say with surprisingly more confidence than he felt.

Vitor's sallow skin flushed with offense, opening his mouth to respond in a way that Mikey was sure would be both very loud and very heated, but before he could say even one word, Leonardo slid from his saddle, pulled a fist sized pouch from one of his saddlebags, and stalked forward. The old turtle seemed to shrink in on himself, lowering his eyes as the Lord of the Hamato clan advanced.

Michelangelo had never seen his father look so afraid.

The pouch made a satisfying clinking noise as Leo shoved it into Vitor's chest. It was full and lumpy and most likely contained more than just simple coin. "You will forget we were here, and in the future, if you are foolish enough to ever again come near Michelangelo, myself or the Hamato Estate, you will be living out the rest of your days from the inside of a jail cell. Am I understood?"

Despite all his flaws, Vitor had never been a stupid man. He shot a look at Michelangelo, and even from all the way up on his horse Mikey could see the gears turning in the old man's head. He was weighing the amount of wealth contained within the small pouch clutched in his shaking hands, against how much more he could potentially get from a long-lost son now mated to a lord.

With a single, fluid motion, Leonardo stepped between them, blocking their view of each other, and Mikey breathed in relief. He couldn't see his father, but he heard the disappointment and frustration in Vitor's voice as the old turtle softly mumbled, "Yes, my lord... of course, my lord."

Mikey swallowed thickly, suddenly angry at himself that he had ever believed this pathetic shell of a man was someone worth being afraid of.

Without a second glance, he urged his mare away from the house and led her with single minded focus through the eastern fields until the land began to slope gently upward. Above him, dark against the bright blue sky, the ancient sycamore stood tall and proud and exactly as he remembered it.

Coming to a stop directly beneath it, Mikey slid to the ground, scratching his mare under her chin as he looked up at the tree. Sunlight glinted through the branches, dispelling some of the shadows that had gathered around his heart. After only a few seconds Leonardo came trotting up behind him, quickly dismounting and moving close.

His mate had seen it all now, seen the stock Mikey had come from. Suddenly afraid he would find only disgust and pity in Leo's eyes, he turned his gaze back the way they had come. The house was small in the distance and his father was nowhere to be seen, had probably retreated back inside to count through the contents of his unexpected good fortune. Mikey couldn't help but wonder why Leo had even bothered.

"You didn't have to do that. He didn't deserve it."

Leonardo's hand came up to rest against Mikey's cheek, stroking a path across his cheekbone with his thumb, turning his face until they were looking into each other's eyes. "I didn't do it for him." he soothed with a low whisper.

Those few simple words conveyed all the acceptance and devotion Mikey had so needed to hear. His chin trembled as he blinked away the itchy sting of tears in his eyes. This was stupid, he was being so stupid. Leo had always treated him as an equal, had always gone out of his way, time and again, to show how much he wanted Mikey as he was. Nothing would change that.

Leonardo was his future, his happiness, his safety... until the end of time.

Mikey turned into Leo's palm, pressing a kiss into the ribbons of orange and blue that glimmered in the afternoon light. "I love you." he whispered.

"And I, you." Leo replied, leaning in, drawing Mikey into a gentle kiss that was hope and promise and understanding and the only thing that could immediately calm Michelangelo's frazzled nerves.

The kiss faded to soft smiles, and for a long moment they stayed pressed against each other, forehead to forehead, awareness of everything surrounding them disappearing into the background. Mikey would have liked to stay there like that, where nothing could hurt or separate them, but they'd come for a reason and had already wasted enough time.

He took a deep breath and pulled back, extracting himself from the warmth of Leo's arms. From his saddle he pulled the small shovel they used to bury campfire ashes, then moved to the base of the tree, directly between two large roots, where the sunlight dappled the ground just like in his dream. Without hesitation he hit his knees and started to dig.

It didn't take long; the box was not buried that deep.

Leo helped him brush away the dirt as Mikey set it on the ground between them. Time and the earth had not been kind to the cheap metal, rust had chewed small holes through the sides and the lock disintegrated when Mikey pulled at it. Inside they found several layers of moldy animal skin wrapped around a smaller, wooden chest. Only an old, rusted padlock held the wood closed, and it broke away easily.

Flipping back the lid, Mikey gasped, and they both sat back in shock.

Folded neatly inside sat a bundle of inky black cloth, and on the top, embroidered with thread as deeply red as fresh blood... was the three-pronged symbol of the Foot clan.

"Leo?" Mikey asked, completely confused. Why would his grandmother have this? He looked closer and saw, just peeking out from under the cloth, a small glass bottle, corked and sealed with wax.

Leo only shook his head as he carefully lifted the cloth onto his knees. Mikey reached for the bottle, and through the clouded glass he could see a bit of rolled parchment. He started picking at the wax, peeling it away, while Leo carefully began to unfold the fabric. It was an old tunic, moth eaten and threadbare, the same as the uniforms Mikey had seen during that frigid winter, when they'd sought to make him one of them.

Just as he was wiggling the cork free, Leo made a small noise in the back of his throat.

A beam of light broke through the leaves, and it shined off the amulet like both the sun and the moon had fallen from the heavens above. Gold glowed around silver inlays, the metals joined into swirling lines that twisted toward the center. Following the path of each swirled line were thin accents of jade and diamond dust that sparkled as if someone had plucked the stars directly from the sky. And set into its center, a perfectly cut, brilliantly clear emerald pulsed darkly green with a deep and heavy magic.

Leonardo was speechless, reverently touching the delicate artifact like he almost couldn't believe he was truly holding it.

"This is crazy..." Mikey whispered, shaking the parchment free of the bottle. As he unrolled it tears filled his eyes. His grandmother's handwriting in dark black ink stood out sharply against the bright cream of the letter. Swallowing around a lump in his throat, Mikey began to read aloud.


My dearest boy,

As I write this, you are asleep on the mat beside me, unaware of the greater world and all its evils. I have done all that I can to protect you, to keep you safe, and it is my greatest hope that with this final confession, I will be absolved of my sins and the chains of my past will vanish into the ether... only then will I finally be free.

These words are my truth, and I will bury them, along with my stolen treasure, deep in the earth where they will never be found. If fate is kind, that is where this will remain, undisturbed and forgotten, until the sun extinguishes its light.

I have never told my story to anyone, not even the man I loved knew the truth about my past. The memories have been buried in my mind for so long that sometimes it feels as if some other girl lived them. But, when I lie awake at night, I remember, and I live each day with a fear that I can never fully ignore.

Long ago, I was born into a life of servitude. My father and mother were conscripts in what is known as the Foot clan. We lived a simple life, and I was raised to be a devoted member of the clan. It was all I knew, and all I ever could have wanted for myself.

All that changed when a man named Oroku Saki rose from the ranks to challenge for leadership of the clan. There was little contest, Saki easily won total control, and it quickly became clear that he would not be as benevolent as our previous leader had been. Within a year, he was ordering us into acts that would forever shame me, but I obeyed because I believed them to be for the betterment of the clan. He had such a way with words and convinced us that the Foot clan was superior to all others, in every possible way. My only excuse is that I was young and naive, and I believed my oaths to the clan justified my actions.

My parents, however, were never taken in by his lies. How I wish I hadn't been so bullheaded then, maybe things would have turned out differently. I was angry that they would rebel against the natural order of things, and I reminded them of their oaths, told them that Saki only wanted what was best. I truly believed he loved us and would never hurt us, so long as we obeyed his commands. But they refused, and one night my father led my mother and a group of insurgents to the doors of Saki's manse where my father challenged him... and was quickly beheaded for his trouble. Saki then took my mother and the others, including their families, and executed them all. Men women and children, right in front of the clan, as an example of disobedience. He would have ended my life as well, but I fell to my knees and begged him for mercy, assured him that I was his, mind, body and soul, and that I would never betray him. Somehow, I managed to convince him of my sincerity and devotion... and he let me live.

At the time I had meant my words, but no matter how hard I tried to forget, I could not banish the terrible images of that night from my mind. I was horrified and frightened by what he had done, and it wasn't long before I came to see Saki for who he truly was. I saw how we were fooled and brainwashed, realized that to him we were merely tools to be used and nothing more. I had given so much of myself to the clan, it was the only life I had ever known, but eventually I could no longer ignore the truth. Saki murdered and pillaged with impunity, and though it went against everything I had ever been taught, I could no longer bring myself to harm even one more soul in his name.

The difficulty came in deciding what to do next. I knew I could not defeat him, so I made the difficult choice to defect. Perhaps that makes me a coward. If so, I will accept any consequences I may face when I leave this world with my head held high. But walking away was not so simple. It was another year of playing pretend and keeping my head down, until an opportunity finally presented itself.

I was in the grand hall when Saki came stalking in. He took no notice of me; I was beneath him and therefore unimportant. His advisors fawned at his feet, listening raptly as he spoke of a turning tide and how the other clans would soon cower in his shadow, all while brandishing the very same amulet that will soon lie entombed with this letter. He proceeded to demonstrate exactly how he would win his war. The details are almost too fantastic to be believed, but that day I saw with my own eyes the dangerous power contained within this beautiful treasure, and it turned my blood to ice. It was at that moment that I decided to act.

My memory of the days that followed is clouded. I truly do not remember how I found myself alone in the room where Saki kept the amulet secured, perhaps his arrogance was to blame for the lapse... but nevertheless there I was... and the window was ajar. I prefer to imagine that the spirits themselves opened the path and offered me the chance to save, not only myself, but the countless innocent that were destined to die at Saki's hand. I was being given the chance to atone for the terrible things I had done, if I was willing to take the risk. This magical thing made of gemstones and gold terrifies me right down to the marrow in my bones, but on that day, I ignored my fear, plucked the amulet from its case, and slipped away.

I was nothing, nobody, just another Foot soldier doing my duty, I wasn't worth the time it would take to notice me... as long as I looked like I was busy with some important task. I had forged a letter, sealed it with my commander's wax seal when he wasn't looking, and I told the guard at the border that I was delivering the missive to a noble as a bribe for his cooperation. I was barely given a second look. They waved me through, and I passed out of the Foot clan territories without question or thought.

Those early days were agonizing, I barely slept for fear they were coming. I was sure they would find me if I dared to stop. I changed my name, I changed my clothes, I changed everything about myself. Even now, I still carefully scan a crowd, looking for the assassin lying in wait, but with each passing year I feel a greater sense of relief. Here at the end of my life, after decades of hiding, I finally feel like Oroku Saki will not come for me.

Through the long years I have often wondered why I was able to disappear so easily. The spirits surely played their hand carefully. They chose me to keep the amulet safely out of Saki's hands, so that it would never again be used for a destructive purpose. Only... I fear that I have failed them. I have tried to destroy it, but it will not crush or break, and it will not melt in fire. There must be some sinister magic that protects it from harm, so, this is my last resort. I will bury it where none should think to look and pray that it is never uncovered.

I am proud of my life and how I have lived it, because all my choices led me to you, my sweet Michelangelo, and I hope you know that the best days of my life have been the days I have spent with you. I love you with all my heart and I will always watch over you, even after the march of time conspires to separate us.


At the end of the letter her name was signed in her beautiful, flowing script, but Mikey could barely read it through the tears in his eyes. He wasn't upset, this was a peaceful sorrow, he felt the love in her words as clearly as if she had been sitting right in front of him.

"I had no idea... who she truly was... what she went through... I didn't know..." Mikey sniffed.

"She sounds as if she was very brave." Leo said, moving closer so he could press in against Mikey's side.

"She risked her life for this... she..." A terrible thought suddenly occurred to Michelangelo, and he went very still. "I almost joined them... she risked everything... and I... I almost walked right into it." His tongue almost couldn't form the words as he gasped. "Her sacrifice would have meant nothing... I failed her..."

"Shhh... no, Mikey." Leo insisted, wrapping an arm around Mikey's shoulders. "You were doing your best to survive in the only way you knew how. There is no shame in that. She fought to be the master of her fate so you would have the freedom to make your own choices. I think she would be very proud of the person you are today."

Mikey laid his head on Leo's shoulder, nodding with another sniffle. He knew Leo was right, but the thought still made him tremble with doubt. His grandmother had always been a luminous being of light in his memory, now she was that and so much more. His accomplishments in life seemed like nothing in comparison to her deeds.

There was still time for him to make it right though. He may have been born of the lowest rank, in the dirt and the dust and the decay... but now, he was a Hamato, and he would keep the amulet safe. For her, and all that she had done.

~*~.~*~ tmnt ~*~.~*~