The room across from Mikey's - as Mikey insisted - was to be Don's new room. It was relatively wide and spacious and sure, he wouldn't be able to fix his whole lab in here, but he only needed some equipment to get to work on the cure. Things could be added as he progressed.

Mikey wouldn't leave his side. They woke up on his bed, limbs flung around one another and the televsion screen black. The documentary had been long forgotten and the two had just spent the night talking. Not about Shredder or cures or betrayal. Mikey just rambled on about a new comic book he got, or how he had found his new television (in pristine condition) while he was skateboarding at the park during midnight. Don had been happy to listen to pretend that everything was normal. He even asked where Klunk was, but the kitten hadn't taken kindly to the move, and they lost him somewhere in the sewers. Don made a mental note to find some strong-smelling fish.

But the next thing he knew, he was blinking himself awake, staring at an unfamiliar ceiling and trying to recall where he was. Don sat up, found Mikey snoring and halfway falling off his bed, before everything came back to him. Right. He had betrayed The Shredder right in front of Karai. And now he was here. Home.

It felt really weird not to wake up in Baxter's lab. No white gleam or annoying buzzing, beeping sounds. Just quiet. The quiet, dark cool of the sewers. Don tried to smile, but he felt empty. He sat up with a groan and rubbed his face, digging kunckles into his eyes to draw out the residual of sleep. Mikey shifted beside him and was startled awake, falling onto the floor with a thunk. He hopped to his feet like a spring board, a smile as wide as the country adorning his face.

"Donnie!" He pulled the other into a hug before fixing his belt and stooping low to find his discarded kneepads. "Dude, I like, woke up and totally forgot about last night! I was like, was that a dream? And then I look over you're right- hey, you okay?"

Mikey paused, his second knee-pad halfway up his calf when he noticed Don's downtrodden expression. His face pinched in worry.

"I'm okay," Don smiled forcefully. "I'm just, as you said, still processing last night. I forgot where I was."

"Oh," Mikey paused and sat up straight. "You... did you think you were back in Shredder's lair?"

Don nodded.

"I'm sorry, dude. I didn't ask, because well, it seemed rude, but if you want to talk, I'm here for you."

"It wasn't as bad as you'd think," Don reassured him. "Baxter was just an annoying neighbor. More annoying than your snoring."

"Hey!" Mikey grinned again, happy to have avoided the topic altogether.

Don was too. He had no time for self-pity. "Master Splinter said that I'd be helping gather equipment today. I also need something from you, Mikey."

His younger brother gave a salute. "Ask away!"

"A blood sample, when I get back."

His arm fell and a dejected look crossed his face. "Man, I hate needles. But, if it needs to be done," he nodded firmly to himself, "then I'll suffer through it. Somehow."

Don actually laughed. A bough of tension broke from his chest and could breath a little better. "I love you, Mikey."

"I love you too, D! Now let's get some breakfast! Can't start a day of sciency stuff without food!"

Food. Don followed Mkey out into the hall. That word rung clear as day in his head. He recalled Mikey mentioning pizza last night, but no one had actually placed an order. Mikey had been too caught up in his own head, and Don had insisted to Splinter that he was too tired to actually eat. Mostly because his nerves had clenched his stomach painfully. But food sounded really amazing.

Baxter hadn't had the best selection to choose from. But he still had it better than Don, who was stuck with what he called "turtle food." Pellets of some kind. Brown and dry and tasteless. He had gotten so use to them, he'd just swallow them by the handful like a shot of vodka, disgust on his face, and start his day as Shredder's henchman. His stomach clenched again. His nerves flared. Weird. It was just food, he thought sourly. It's not like sleeping in a real bed again, or getting to talk late into the night with Mikey.

But... his heart began to pound dangerously fast when they entered the kitchen. Master Splinter was sitting at the dining table, drinking a cup of tea. Neither Raph nor Leo were here. Don was grateful, watching Mikey sprint to the fridge to pull out a bunch of ingedients. Don forced hsi eyes away from the carton of eggs and the jug of orange juice - dear god, he'd forgotten what orange juice tastes like - and took a seat across from his father. Splinter smiled warmly at him and reached out a paw of grab Don's hand, rubbing a thumb over his knuckles.

"I'm glad to see you up and well, my son," Splinter told him. "It is, I'll admit, quite a shock to have you here with us. Safe." He pulled back, took another sip of his tea, watching Don as if he'd dissapear right again from under his nose. "To have you here brings more peace to my heart than you can imagine."

"I'm... I'm really happy to be back home, Master Splinter."

Splinter's whiskers twitched, just a bit, and his eyes softened. "I understand it is a lot to take in at once. I'm sure once we rebuilt your lab and your room, you feel more comfortable."

"Yeah!" Mikey said from the stove, his frying pan out, something cracking agaisnt its edge. "We can use that old room near the entrance for your lab, D! And you can have the room right across from mine! We'll totally deck it out!"

There was a hiss and a sizzle. Something started to waft around the room. Don's stomach clenched painfully again. How long had it been since he'd eaten? He couldn't remember, but his mouth was watering a mile a minute and he had to swallow to keep from drooling.

"Are you okay, Donatello?" Splinter leaned forward worryingly. Don wasn't sure he'd seen his father display so many emotions so openly. He nodded shakily, looking back to Mikey's dancing form. Depsite the lack of music, he was shaking his body as if the stereo was blaring, flying an omlete into the air and catching itandholyshitthatomletelookedlikeheaven!

Splinter followed his line of sight and his ears perked up. He looked back at his son worryingly. "I'm afraid the excitment of last night caught up to us. You must be starving."

"I- I, yeah," Don stumbled. "Sorry, I just..." damn it, where were his words?! "I missed Mikey's cooking."

"Then you're going to be estatic to be presented with-" Mikey made a flourish of setting a plate before Donnie and sliding the fat omelete onto it. "Mikey's MEGA OMLETE! There's, like, a lot of good things stuffed into it."

It was fluffy and layered with green onions and lots of cheese. Its sides were leaking mushrooms and meat and even more cheese. A glass of OJ was set out beside it. Mikey bowed, sitting up and accidentally bonking his head with the pan. He rubbed at his scalp and played it off with a laugh, sitting next to his brother and setting his chin in his palms. "Try it! Tell me what you think!"

Don's mouth was overflowing now. He swallowed thickly and picked up the fork, taking a large hunk of steaming egg into its prongs. He hesitated a moment, excitment blooming in his chest, and took a bite.

Oh damn. Oh wow.

"What do you-"

Don was shoveling it in. He forgot where he was, forgot what he was eating, just that it wasn't those stupid pellets! And the cheese! He hadn't had cheese in so long, the stuff felt like a drug. He was only part way through when a hand fell onto his hand and tried to keep him from shoveling more in. He felt himself panic and jerk the whole dish away, clutching it to his chest, glaring at the hand that-

oh. Mikey was staring wide-eyed and retreating his out stretched arm slowly. He put both palms up and tried to smile. "Hey, sorry, dude. Just, uh, try to slow down? You could choke."

Emberassment flooded heat through his skin. Don thought he'd turn bright red had his complexion not been green. He set the plate back awkwardly, sourly noting he had smeared cheese on his carpace. Splinter was looking at him with equal worry, his tea forgotten to the side. He asked Mikey for a napkin and the turtle ran to retreive it, holding it out to Don who gratefully began to clean himself up. His face had bits of food clinging to it. He felt humilated.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't know what- I just got-" He couldn't find the right words. He wasn't sure why he had done that to begin with.

"It's cool, D," Mikey's voice smoothed out and he acted as if nothing happened. "You can have as much as you want, just be slower while you eat, yeah?"

Don nodded dumbly. He wasn't hungry anymore. He felt slightly sick.

"Do you wish to talk, my son?" Splinter asked. His voice was so quite, like he was talking to a wounded animal.

"I... I just... really missed Mikey's cooking," his voice hitched on a watery sob. He held a plam to his mouth to keep from shuddering, but his body shook anyway. "I still can't believe I'm here. That I'm back with you guys."

Mikey sidled up next to him. "Gee, Donnie. Had I known you like my cooking that much, I'd a had a buffet waiting for you! I'm gonna make you the best meals ever! Everyday from now on, okay?"

Don finally got himself under control, wiping at his eyes with a fond smile before gripping Mikey by the shoulder. He gave him a small shake. "You're too good to me, and... this omlete is amazing. You really have improved."

Mikey beamed, shoving the plate closer. "Don't let me stop you!"

And though his stomach was cramping, Don couldn't help but take several more bites of the gooey egg before the smell became too much to handle. He sat back and, for the first time in forver, felt his hunger satisfied. Splinter took the plate when he was done, asking Mikey to retreive his brothers. They needed to start gathering things from the old lair, and should Michelangelo like to tag along, he saw no issue. Don was eternally grateful for that. He wasn't sure he could stomach being around his other siblings. Not alone. Not yet. Leo's interrogation had been enough of a scare for a whole year, thank you very much.

Mikey was heard banging on doors when he scampered away to the hall. Don sat at the table, listening to Splinter wash the dishes, until the trio came around. Raph and Leo sent a jolt of panic through Don, but he quickly righted himself and stood, eager to go and get this over with. The sooner he was working on the cure, the better.

"What exactly do we need to be lugging back?" Raph asked, voice heavy with sleep.

"Um, not much," Don said quietly. "At least, not much yet. It'll depend on what I need after I deconstruct what we have of the temporary cure and look at Mikey's blood."

The orange-banded turtle squeaked, but quickly played it off by humming some random song.

"Then let's go," Leo interjected, belt and pads on neatly and his katanas at his back. "We have no time to waste."

"You guys don't want some breakfast?" Mikey asked.

"Not hungry," Raph said, walking by towards the exit. Leo gave Don a quick glance and caught his eye. He looked away and followed suit. Don felt numb walking behind them, but then Mikey bounded up beside him and tried to start a conversation about the nature of zombies. Don's heart wasn't into it, and though he tried to humor his brother, he could only focus on the pattering of their footsteps.

His lab was set up by the end of the day. Just a table and a handful of machines and tools. Nothing impressive. His old laptop still worked after he found the charger and taped up the end. It glared to life with a little tune, and Don felt marginally happier to have access to the internet again. There was always a helpful guide or two. He pulled one up as he got to work on desynthesizing the red serum. They had no syringes, so Mikey, Leo and Raph went topside as soon as soon as it got dark to find some, as well a few more supplies he was lacking. Well, they went on patrol, but Mikey promised to gather everything on Don's list if he could. Even the syringes, he added glumly.

Patrol would have been nice. Don would be lying if he said he didn't feel jealous. But the cure was first and foremost. So he dive head first into tackling the problem, finding it rather difficult to start a new project on his own. For the last year, it had been Baxter telling him what to do and where to stand. He had become so use to follow directions, that as soon as he had to make his own decisions, he felt lost.

His journal was laid out beside him. He began to fill up the pages with his chicken scratch writing. He still felt a bit out of place, but the familair feel of pencil agaisnt paper began to ease him into his old routine. Soon, a few hours had passed. He had forgotten being left behind. He had forgotten about Raph and Leo and even Mikey and his breakfast that made him act like a ravenous animal. And then Splinter knocked at his doorless arcway and Don jumped out of his thoughts, his pencil falling out of his hand.

"Master Splinter!" Don greeted his father with a quick dip of his head. "Sorry. You startled me."

"How is your progress coming along, my son?" Splinter padded up beside him, looking down at the array of tools and notes. The syringe had been opened up and the liquid seperated into different vials. The rat scrutinized them with some confusion before taking Don by the shoulder.

"Please, take a break. I'd like to have a word with you."

"Now? I mean, I should keep working and I've barely-"

"Please, my son. Just a moment of your time."

Don nodded reluctantly, tidying up his space and following Splinter out into the sanctum. The dojo was near the kitchens and as they passed, Splinter asked if he'd like to have some leftovers from dinner. It had been homemade soup - chiken noodle - and it had taken all his strength not to devour his bowl in a few heavy slurps. Splinter, like Mikey, had been very admant about his eating three meals a day. Large ones at that. Don respectfully declined and they walked into the dojo.

It was smaller than their old one. Don had yet to see it. A weapons rack was hoisted onto the wall and mats were laid out under them. Unlit candles were melted into the stonwork, and Splinter lit a few to brighten the atmosphere. They took a seat across from eachother, and Don fidgeted nervously with his hands in his lap.

"Please, do not be nervous," Splinter began. "I know how difficult this transition must be for you, as well as the attitude of you siblings."

"Uh, yeah," Don laughed humorlessly. "I'm afraid it's more of an attitude problem. Raphael hates me."

Splinter's ears flattened. "No, my son. He's just confused. As is Leonardo. The following months after you left, it was Raphael who attempted, agaisnt my wishes, to infiltrate the Shredder's lair. He beleived, as Michelangelo and I do now, that you would never betray your family."

Don didn't have to ask why all that changed. He could still hear Mikey screaming as he drove his kama into his shoulder, desperate to get to his blood.

"And Leo?" He asked instead.

Splinter sighed. It was tired and weary. "I'm afriad Leonardo has been quite emotionally unavailable. He beleives it was his own actions that drove you to betrayal."

"What?" Don perked up, face paling. "He doesn't honestly - why would he have thought such a thing?"

"It was never my place to prod," Splinter said. "I merely wish to help you understand that your brothers are facing their own inner demons. It will take time, but I believe wounds will heal."

"I... I suppose so."

"I also wished to extend an invitation to you, my son."

"Hm?"

Splinter lifted a paw and waved it around the dojo, standing as he walked towards the weapon rack. "I wish for you to resume training with your brothers. My mind has been at unease since your return. I'm feaful The Shredder may wish to have you back, and to continue your training as soon as possible may prevent such a horrible thing from occuring again. I want to rebuild your strength and you bond." He took a staff from its end. Don realized exactly what it was as the rat turned, the wood held almost delicatley in his palms. "I wish for you to take your place once more among this family."

Don was offered the staff. He reached out gingerly and rolled his fingers along the curve. It slipped into his hands, so much lighter than he remembered. So much... better, than the kamas. He stood up as he went through the motions of turning it over and inspecting the grains. He gave an experimetal swipe, a surge of satisfaction running through his limbs.

'Weak'

His heart stuttered. He ground his teeth together and took a second swipe. Another followed after a firm step, then another. The air whipped around the wood, whistling in time to each sharp motion. He stopped with the end held out before him, the pole shaking only minisculy in his hands. His breath was heavy.

"Donatello. Are you alright?"

He eased himself out of the stance. Splinter was watching him with a calm posture but worried eyes. "Yes, sensei. It's just, it's been so long since I've used a staff. If feels... really good, actually. Much better than those kamas."

"Ah, I was wondering about those," Splinter admitted. "I assume it was not your choice to take them?"

"No... The Shredder didn't approve of a weak man's weapon, as he called it. I beg to differ," he added, another swipe sending electricity up his arms. He smiled, retracted, then bowed to his father. "Thank you, Master Splinter."

"No need for gratitude, my son. I am merely returning what belong to you. Just as well as this."

A purple band was slipped from his robe and held out on both palms. Don was momentarily stunned by the deep violet he'd come to see as an extension of himself. He didn't reach out though. Not yet.

"I... I can't."

Splinter looked up in shock. Hurt flashed across his features and Don lifted his hands up quickly.

"No, I'm not refusing, just... just not yet. It wouldn't feel right. Not until Raphael and Leonardo have forgiven me."

"I see," Splinter slipped the band back into his sleeve. "I understand, my son. I shall hold it for you a little longer, and when you are ready, you need only ask."

Donatello bowed, heart heavy. "Thank you, sensei."