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English
Series:
Part 1 of SAINW-Prepper
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Shellcord Pile
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Published:
2022-08-30
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4,458
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1/1
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654
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Loose Ends

Summary:

In the events of "Same as It Never Was", Donnie saw what his unexplained disappearance would mean for his family and the world. Fearing a similar fate in his own timeline, Donnie has a plan in place to help his brothers for just-in-case. However, Mikey exposes his scheme, giving Donnie the uncomfortable job of explaining himself.

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“Dude,” Mikey’s voice was uncharacteristically serious. “What. Is. This?” With a grimace and a pop he ripped off the other electrode and held it out, inches in front of Donatello's face.

Notes:

Huge gratitude to numerous writers, including Halogalopaghost, Flynne, HamsterMasterSamster, and fowo (among others) for helping me understand that my least favorite TMNT episode could lay the basis for some of my MOST favorite fanfiction. This is largely inspired by them. In fact, I think of it as taking place some months after Halogalopaghost’s SUPERBLY-written story “As It Never Will Be” once Donnie has had more time to get his feet under him and reflect after SAINW.

The premise came to me while listening to RadioLab’s podcast titled “9-Volt Nirvana”. I will NOT be trying this method of neural-electrical stimulation at home. But I absolutely think Donnie would.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Donnie might have gotten away with it if Mikey’s video game hadn't been glitching.  Every time, just when Mikey got to the best part with the lasers and the translucent squid-aliens, it stuttered and failed.  Home screen—start over.

So, Donnie’s plan was still in the preparation phase when Mikey slid into his lab, late in the evening but before the lair had completely settled into silence, the game console in his hand.  The air was chillier in here, Mikey noticed again.  Donnie never prioritized the heating in his own space like he did for the rest of the lair.   Maybe Mikey could find a space heater or something for Don on their next junkyard trip, he mused.

 A low thrum of music came from the computer, but Mikey didn’t find Donnie there.  No welding gun, no chemicals, no computer code scrolling across the screen.  Instead, Mikey found his brother at a desk in the far corner.  He sat in the  glow of a lamp with a haphazard pile of open text books and charts in front of him.

Donnie’s  shoulders were hunched.  His mask lay in soft folds around his neck, and his eyes rapidly scanned what looked like a medical journal, flipping from page to page with almost robotic jerks.  But it was the electrodes taped to his brother's cranium, emerging from a 9 volt battery, that caught Mikey’s breath in his throat.

“Shell!” with a fluid leap, Mikey bolted over several half-finished machines and tools to stand at his brother’s side. “ Shell , Don!? What are you doing?”  Mikey dropped his game console as his  hands fluttered over the contraption hooked up to his brother.  Leading straight from the rusted junk-yard battery, one wire was stuck with black electrical tape  to the front of his brother’s head and another to his left temple. Mikey’s impulse was to rip off the mad-scientist wires and nodes, but he had a terrifying image of them zapping Don, of somehow making it worse. 

“Donnie??” Mikey’s horrified whisper didn’t seem to phase the other turtle.  Don’s  brown eyes still feverishly moved across the pages of the anatomy book as if he hadn’t even heard his brother.   Mikey’s voice pitched higher, a little frantic, “ Donnie! ” and he grabbed the back of the  other turtle’s neck sharply, spinning him around in his chair.

With a tiny fizz, the electrical wire on the side of Donnie’s head popped off.  For the first time, Donnie seemed to notice his brother there, standing in front of him with eyes wide in fear.

“Oh.  Oh, Mikey, I’m sorry.” Donnie blinked, as if just waking up. “ I was… I was focused on something else.    Wow…  That was really something.”

“Dude,”  Mikey’s voice was uncharacteristically serious.  “What. Is. This ?”   With a grimace and a pop he ripped off the other electrode and held it out, inches in front of his brother’s face.

Donnie’s eyes focused on the wire, the node, the scrap of tape, and a crease of concern appeared on his forehead.  “Look, I get how this must’ve looked, but it’s really safe.  Mostly.  If it’s done right.  I’m 97 percent sure.”   Mikey did not look convinced, and Donnie continued, “It’s transcranial direct current stimulation– tDCS– and I’m using it to try to learn something abnormally quickly.” Donnie reached over to a small red switch that Mikey hadn’t noticed until then. When he flicked it, a small, almost imperceptible hum immediately ceased.  Donnie gathered up the wire and electrode that had popped off and gently took the other from Mikey’s closed hand.  “It’s safe,” he repeated softly, and then amended “I’m being safe with it.”

“You’re zapping your brain! ?”

“Sure. Yeah, but only a little.  A very little.”  Donnie’s eyes grew a little wider, more luminous.  “To be honest, it sorta tingles.”   He lapsed into Professor Don mode.  “Our brains run on electricity, little bursts of energy from dendrite to dendrite, cell to cell.  Theoretically, transcranial direct current stimulation activates neural pathways to find ones that suit a task, like the one I’m learning… It’s supposed to help me enter a ‘State of Flow’ .”

Donnie’s nerd-lecture and the sweetness of his familiar enthusiasm for all things science helped ease Mikey’s distress.  He took a deep breath and flashed a forgiving smile.  “Bro, theoretically ?   You’re electrocuting your brain on a theory ?” Mikey shook his head, as if in awe at his brother’s gumption.  “Leo’s going to take away all your toys for this one!” He turned to bump his brother’s shoulder with his own and gestured at the array of gadgets, appliances, and tools on every  surface of the lab.

Don’s answering shoulder bump was playful. “First of all, not toys.  But also,  I don’t feel like  we need to bother Leo with this right now.   You know.  He’s got a lot on his plate.”     Don grinned.  “Besides, we’ll be busy.  You coming to me with this?” Donnie’s hand flicked out to grab Mikey’s discarded console.   “Glitching again, huh?   Probably an easy fix, but you never can tell… Hm.  It would be a such a shame if we couldn’t get it to work.”  Donnie held it out in front of him, giving mischievous side-eye to his little brother.

“Blackmail is beneath you, Donatello.” Mikey turned  his head and produced an exaggerated sniff.

Don chuckled low as he went to retrieve a small screwdriver and soldering iron from his workbench.

Abandoning his brother to his task, Mikey wandered over to the corner desk, carefully avoiding the scavenged battery squatting on one side, to peruse the messy jumble of books sprawled open beneath the lamp light.   “What the heck were you trying to learn so quick, anyway, Don?”   No answer, Donnie was already deep into the innards of the console.  Mikey, almost to himself, murmured  “What’re you up to, bro?”    

Ten seconds later, Mikey’s body had gone stiff and  tense, his eyes wide.   “LEO!”  His call echoed through the lair.  “ RAPH !   Get in here!!”

 

_____

 

“He’s gonna operate on himself !”  Mikey’s arms were wide open, gesturing to the pile of anatomy and biology texts as Leo and Raph looked on, eyebrow ridges creased  in befuddlement.   “Look!” vigorously pointing at stacks of papers,  “Turtle dissection charts, heart surgery descriptions, sub-thermal implant doohickey!”

“Sub- dermal , Mikey.”  Donnie interjected wearily  from across the room. “It means below the skin.”

“Exactly!” Mikey threw his hands up.   “That proves my point!”  Turning, he grabbed up a medical journal roughly and thrust it into Leo’s hands.  Look at this!  Application of anesthetic.  For HEART SURGERY!”  Even as the two oldest brothers maintained a skeptical silence, Mikey’s tone rose into an appalled yell.

Leo took a deep breath and stepped forward, gently putting the medical journal back on the desk and softly squeezing his youngest brother’s shoulder.   “Michelangelo, I get why you’re worried.  But I’m sure  there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this.  Donnie’s our medic.  He should  know these things.  There’s no telling when one of us could be hurt and need some kind of… of surgery.”  Leo glanced uncertainly to Raphael, who was eyeing Donnie suspiciously, and then back to Mikey.  “This is probably the kind of thing he needs to know.”  He dropped his hand from Mikey’s shoulder and turned to Don, “Right?”

Donatello, sitting on a high stool, leaned bonelessly against the wall, his head back and eyes closed. He sighed.  “No.  I mean yeah, but in this case, no.” He raised his head and looked at his brothers.   “Mikey’s right.”

For a beat, no one breathed.

“I told you!” Mikey huffed, a note of triumph alongside the frustration.

“Oh yeah?” Raph’s voice cut across the room, deceptively quiet.  “You want to bring that one around again, genius?   Mikey’s right?” He turned, rounding on Donnie.    “You want to cut yourself open, huh?  Why not just walk right up to Bishop or Stockman? They’ll be just thrilled to do the service for ‘ya!”

“It’s not like that!  I have a reason.  And what I’m planning isn’t nearly as invasive as you think.”

Raph’s fingers twitched.  He strained to keep them from tightening into fists only through force of will.   “Oh, good! A reason .  Well as long as you have a reason , you should feel free to saw yourself into bits.”

“Donatello?”  Leo’s family could hear the chill of anxiety under the forced calm of his voice.   “Are you sick?  Is something— is something  wrong ?”

“No, no, I’m good.  Really.  I’m fine.”  He ignored Raph’s snort of derision.  “It’s just a precaution.”

Leo’s words were ice.   “Okay, Donnie.  We’re listening.”

Donnie took a moment to look at his brothers, standing in a semi-circle in front of him with looks of hurt, anger, and confusion on their faces.  But young.  Whole.  His.  In the bare moment between heartbeats, he saw them in exactly those places, same expressions on their time-scarred.  But  30 years in the future, skin grayed with age, lined with despair.  Letting out a breath of aching sadness, Donnie nodded.   “Okay.  But we’re not talking about this here.  I’m going to need a blanket.  And some hot chocolate.” He pointed to Mikey.  “With marshmallows.  Let’s go sit on the couch.”  The other three glanced at each other in wordless communication, then gruffly murmured their agreement.

“Yo, Don,” Mikey stage-whispered as they left the room, “If I don’t tell them about the electrodes, will you still fix my game?”

“ What !?” Raph's eyes blazed fire.

Donnie palmed his face.   “Yep.  Thanks, Mikey.  Definitely not mentioning the electrodes.”

 

_______

 

The living area glowed in the light of one lamp and a few candles that Leo pulled from a drawer.  They knew this had to be a quiet conversation; none of them wanted to wake their father at this hour.

Donatello had read a study once proposing that people were less aggressive and more relaxed when holding warm beverages.  This was no small part of the hot cocoa plan.   An admitted  factor in his equation was that it would take Raph an extra second to put down his mug if he wanted to punch Donnie in the face, giving his target enough time to duck.   But frankly, Don just needed its warmth.  When Mikey’s urge to add ridiculous ingredients (salsa, rainbow sprinkles, kool aid powder) was curbed, and when he was limited to just a touch of cinnamon, no one could match the young turtle’s  stovetop cocoa.   Plus, the time it took for Mikey to prepare it gave Donnie a few moments to sit, to breathe, to remind himself of what he needed to tell his family.  Nevermind that Leo and Raph were glaring daggers—for once, not at each other.  A fragile silence held the room.

Whatever Don said now, he’d have to repeat to his father in the morning.  He needed to get this right the first time.  He needed to convince his brothers that his plan was a good solution. No, not a solution.  But a precaution.  Just like he’d told Raph.  A precaution.

Finally, his brothers were settled around him, mugs in hand.  Donnie sat in the corner of the couch, legs curled under him, and Mikey sat on the other side, knees up, facing Donnie.  Leo had pulled a chair close, and Raph, unable to sit, shifted restlessly in front of them.  It was time. He cut straight to the chase.

“Here, this is what I’m going to implant under my plastron, next to my heart.” From a fabric pouch, Donnie pulled a small metal tube, flat on one side, barely the length of a paperclip.  He held it up to the light.  “It’s a heart monitor. Subdermal.” His eyes, though still weary, gleamed  with a touch of the joy of invention.  “I’ve been working on it for a couple of weeks, taking prototypes that cardiologists already use and… adapting them to what I need.  Once implanted, it will run on my own electromagnetic energy!”  Donnie looked around.   His enthusiasm was not shared.

“Okay. But why do you need a heart monitor?” Leo asked, taking the small device from his brother and inspecting it critically.

“Yeah, Brainiac. You just told us you weren’t sick.” Raph’s tone was indignant.

“I’m not. I swear.  The idea is that I’ll leave this wireless receiver in my lab.” From the same pouch, Don drew a small, squat, cylindrical device.  “It’ll blink.  As long as my heart is beating, this receiver will blink—one blink per beat.  That’s all it will do.   And you’ll know if I’m okay.”  Donnie forced himself to keep his gaze steady.  “And you’ll know if I’m not.”

The lair was silent for a space.

Mikey tilted his head.  “Bro, won’t we sorta already know if you’re okay?   Like, you’re not planning on going anywhere, right?  We’ll always know. We’ll always be around ‘ya.” Mikey’s voice sounded calm enough. But Donnie could hear a curl to it, a tender edge.

“I certainly don’t plan on going anywhere, Mikey.  But do you remember the alternate timeline I went to?  The one where Ultimate Drako threw me when he scattered us all using the Time Scepter?”

They did.  Of course they did. It had taken time for Donnie to tell them— time filled with a frightening sequence of unforeseen panic attacks and strange night terrors that left their brother shaking and gasping for breath.   Eventually, Mikey pestered, nudged, and coaxed Don into revealing what his time had been like there—a future in which he was inexplicably absent and Shredder had dominated the globe.   Where their family, their whole world, was fractured, almost beyond repair. 

But once Don was able to talk about it, the nightmares receded, the bouts of anxiety eased.  If anything, it had brought them closer, Leo thought.  He treasured every moment with his brothers just a little more, spared a breath of gratitude when he could look around at his family, his world, and thank the stars he wasn’t in that other, ominous one that Donnie had reluctantly described.

But Leo knew that it wasn’t over for Donnie.  He could still sometimes see it, like a storm-colored cloud of heartache at the corner of his vision when he looked at his gentle brother.

“Donnie,”  Leo leaned forward to put his hand on his arm, his voice radiating warmth.  “Donnie, that wasn’t us. That was a whole different timeline.  A whole different future.  That’s not going to be us.”

Donnie looked up sharply and his voice grated:  “You don’t know that!  None of us do!   Drako tossed you all into alternate universes, whole different dimensions, even!   But, Leo,  I was in this one!  It was this one, just a future time branch of it.  Probably a different time branch.  But maybe not .   And if there’s one thing I know from Renet about alternate timelines and alternate universes, it’s that they’re sticky; they like to have some cohesion.  Especially neighboring ones…”  He took in the lost looks of his brothers and breathed out.

“It’s like a ripple effect,” he continued.  “If something happens in one timeline, it ripples out.  It makes that event proportionally more likely in the ones around it.”

“You’re saying you’re gonna disappear on us.”  Raph words formed an accusation, his grasp on his mug  so tight Donnie thought it would shatter.   

Argh , he was doing this all wrong. He was scaring them needlessly.   “No, no, no!  I’m just saying it’s not impossible.  We might have fixed that timeline.  We probably did!  When we came back, with the knowledge we gained…. Hundreds, thousands of things will be different now.”  Donnie looked into Raph’s eyes, pleading for him to understand.  “But some things will be the same. My plan is a kind of backup.  It’s for just-in-case.”  Donnie curled in on himself, clutching his head in misery.   “You don’t get it! The problem with that timeline wasn’t just my absence!  It was the WAY I was absent.  You had… no, sorry, they had no clue, no warning about where I– I mean he – was or if I– he – was alive or dead.”  That word sent a tremor of deeper silence through the room, but Donnie barreled on.  “If they’d just been able to know, if they’d just had some sort of clue, they could have grieved and healed and moved on.  You know.” He sighed. “Closure.”

“Yeah, easy .”  Raph snarled.  Mikey’s breath was shallow.  Leo’s face was turned, shadowed in the partial darkness.

“They just wouldn’t have been so vulnerable , Raph.  And I– I mean he – WAS dead, guys.  I’m certain.” Donnie looked up, voice steady and firm.  “He’d never leave them like that!   No conversation, no plan, no nothing?   I’d never leave you like that.”

With a spontaneous lunge, Mikey vaulted himself across the space of the couch and threw his arms around his brother, his face pressed into Donnie’s neck.   Donnie's eyes widened in surprise, but his face quickly  softened as he drew his brother into the embrace, his head resting on Mikey’s.  “You promise?”  Mikey’s words were muffled in tears and barely discernible against Donnie’s skin.  “You promise you won’t leave?” Donnie realized this was something the younger turtle had been carrying for the weeks—no months—since their return from their experience with the Time Scepter.  Since he’d told them.

“Yeah.  Yeah, Mikey, I promise.” Don’s voice was steady and certain as stone. “I can absolutely promise that I won’t willingly leave you.”

Raph and Leo shared a glance.  Then Leo knelt in front of the couch, his head pressed against Don and Mikey’s, his arm around Don’s shoulders.  With a sigh, Raph dropped into the space Mikey had just vacated on the couch, barely avoiding sitting on his feet, and put his hand on Michelangelo’s shell.  He softly  rubbed the familiar scutes and ridges while his eyes lost focus and he gazed into the darkness of their home.

Minutes later, Mikey’s breathing had deepened and the tears had receded into soft snuffles.

“I would never abandon you guys.” Donnie reiterated, talking into the top of Mikey’s head, but addressing all three brothers.  “No word, no discussion? Just gone?  You know that isn’t me.” Now his voice was a plea. “But if something did happen, I would want you to know.  I mean know .”  Mikey disentangled himself from Donnie and sat up, eyes wet, looking somber as  his brother spoke.

“If I go missing and that light goes out, you’ll know I'm gone .  You can cremate my bo. You can burn some incense.  You can redistribute my belongings.  (Yes, you can have my autographed Carrie Fisher Episode IV poster, Mikey.)” Mikey, still sniffing back tears, closed his mouth  just as it had begun to open.  “You can do all the things.” Donnie continued.  “And then, then you can keep living. I don’t want you to get… I don’t want you to get stuck.”  

Donnie closed his eyes, suppressing a shudder.  For a split second, he relived the cold, suspicious look of Other-Mikey, one-armed and stony-faced.  The electric-ozone tension between Other-Raph and Other-Leo.

Raph’s voice brought him back.  “And if you’re gone?  …If you’re gone and that light’s still blinking?” Raph poked a finger at the receiver that now rested somewhat precariously on the arm of the couch.

Donnie took a breath, grounding himself in the present.

“Well, in that case,” his smile was beatific.  “In that case, I  give you permission to hope .”

 

________

 

And so Donnie laid out his plan.   Local anesthetic, a winch holding open his plastron, a quick placement of the monitor next to his heart (“The cardiovascular systems of non-crocodilian reptiles function on a single ventricle!”), and the sutures—all this with the aid of a mirror on an angled stand.  Mid-description, Leo returned to his chair, the green of his face a little pale.

“Uh huh.  Tell us about the electrodes, Don.”  Raph interrupted, menace not yet absent from his voice.  “I ain’t forgettin’ Mikey mentioning electrodes.”

Donnie winced.  “Oh, right, the tDCS!”  He launched into another explanation for his brothers, whose expressions ranged from anxious to aghast.

“So, let me get this straight.”  Leo’s measured voice interceded.  “You were electrocuting your brain to more quickly learn how to perform heart surgery. On yourself.”

Donatello at least had the presence of mind to look abashed.

“Whoa.  Way metal, dude.” Mikey shook his head in admiration.

“And not only were you going to perform this self-surgery secretly and at night,” Leo continued, “but then you’d just planned to show up for training the next day with a bandage around your chest and surprise us all with this news?”  

“I mean, now that it’s out… not secretly would be better?” Donnie looked hopefully at his siblings.  “I could use some help.”

He was met with utter silence.  “I mean, nothing too intricate.  It would be useful to have someone to hold open my plastron rather than the winch; that was a potential problem if I shifted too much.  And the stitches… Our cartilaginous plastron may be more flexible than a typical turtle’s, but it’ll still take some muscle to punch through. And I’ve never been great at sewing backwards. I could ask April, but frankly I have someone even better in mind.” 

Leo and Raph both began shaking their heads frantically, talking over each other: “I’m really not the turtle…No, no, no, no, no  … Shell , you’ve seen my stitching skills, Don, they’re crap!”

“Actually, I was thinking it should be Mikey.”

“Me?”

“Mikey??” Leo and Raph were incredulous. 

“Really, Donnie?”

“Yeah.  You’ve got a strong stomach, Mikey.  You’re nimble, you’re adaptable.  And you learn quickly when it’s kinesthetic…” Mikey looked blank.  “When someone shows you actively with your hands.” Donnie clarified.  “We can practice on leather beforehand.  You’ll be good at it.  Way better than me!”

Mikey beamed.  “Yeah! Battle Nexus Champion AND surgeon extraordinaire! I got you, dude!”

“Gimme a freakin’ break!” Raph cut in. “Seriously?  This is decided now?  This is a done deal? Leo, you’re just gonna sit there and be okay with this?”

 Leo rubbed a hand across his brow, resigned.   “You want to try to stop him, Raph, be my guest.  We’ll have to talk to Father. But, in all honesty, I’d rather he do this and get it over with while under our supervision  than sit around wondering when he’s going to sneak off and do it by himself when we’re not looking.  If there’s one turtle in this room more stubborn than you, it’s Donnie.”

This time, Donnie’s smile was one of victory.

_______

 

Two week later, Donnie’s chest was wrapped in a white bandage.  He was slowly easing back into training, though his brothers were careful about how much power they put behind their attacks.  

The surgery had gone well.  Mikey, as promised, had performed admirably—which only served to skyrocket his already-excessive bragging to new heights.  And once Leo and Raph saw their brother up and moving around again, the nausea of worry dissipated and they were just grateful to have things back to normal.  Or almost normal.  Maybe they sat together in the kitchen a little longer during  a meal just to talk.  Maybe Raph’s arm lingered across  his brothers’ shoulders after sparring.  

They lived this tenuous life, always balanced on the knife-edge of loss.   That gadget, the purple light blinking steadily where it was stored on a visible shelf in Donnie’s lab, became a reminder.  For each of the four turtles, it was the first thing their eyes were drawn toward every time they entered the lab.  It was a beacon, a sign that for now, if maybe only for now, they were together.  They were whole.

Nevertheless, Donnie wasn’t really surprised one late evening when he came back to his lab from a kitchen coffee run to find Raph leaning against his workbench.  His brother gave a head-nod in greeting as he wiped grease from his hands.

“ShellCycle needed some work?” Donnie asked, moving to lean companionably next to his brother.

“Yeah.  Mostly nothin’ I couldn’t handle.” Raph’s reply was casual.  “Could use a little help on the TurboBoost, though.  Been actin’ up.  A little slow.”

Donnie nodded. “Sure, I’ll take a look.”

Raph’s eyes shifted quickly to the small metal circle of the receiver—the steady blinking light—then back to study the grease-rag he held in his hands.

“Don, there’s something we didn’t talk about.  Ya know? Back when you were tellin’ us ‘bout how all this would work?”

“Hmm?” Don murmured, sipping coffee.

Raph took a deep breath.   “What’d happen if you get thrown to another freakin’ universe or time-branch or other stupid idiotic thing?  Like at April’s place with the one guy who drew a door to the other world, and you and he just walked right through?” Raph twisted  the rag in his hands.  “Or what happens if Renet shows up and accidentally tosses you back to the iron age and you have to figure out how to build a time portal with sticks and leaves?” Raph’s smile was sour as he returned his gaze to the receiver.  “What then?  Does that thing go dark?”

Donnie followed Raph’s eyes up to the receiver— blink… blink… blink…  

“I’ve thought about that, too, Raph.  And yeah, I’d be out of range.”  Donnie winced when he thought back to those times where he’d willingly traipsed into other worlds, other universes without leaving so much as a post-it in explanation.   He’d been so stupid .  The incident Raph had mentioned with Kirby wasn’t much over a year ago, but he’d been so agonizingly young , so naive.  

Raph’s voice was rough.  “So how about you try not to do that?” He was silent for a moment, working to control his breath.  “Or die. That too.”

Donnie pressed his shoulder against his brother’s, then gently laid his head on Raph’s shoulder and closed his eyes.  “I’ll try if you try.”

“Yeah.  Deal.”

They stood like that for a while, leaning against the workbench, leaning on each other.  Through the walls came the hushed rush of the water pipes, the hum of the air recycler, the soft whir of the  fan in Donnie’s computer.  The sounds of the lair. The sounds of safety.

Finally, Raph shifted his weight and gently took the coffee cup out of Donnie’s hands.  “Come on, genius.  No more coffee.  You’re off to bed.  You’re still healing ‘n all from your crazy stunt!” Raph gently cuffed him on the back of the head.

Donnie shrugged, and for once, he didn’t try to argue. He held up his hands in mock surrender, smiling blearily.   He clicked off a table lamp and, hand on Raph’s shell, he followed his brother from his lab into the warm, welcoming darkness of their home.  Behind them, high up on a shelf, a purple glow pulsed.

Notes:

Since writing this, my first fic, I've included two other stories in this series--one 12-chapter story and another more simple one-shot. All three are rooted in my thoughts about how Donatello would be working to prevent/prepare-for the SAINW future in different ways, but they are not otherwise linked by plot and do not need to be read in order.

Much appreciation to everyone who chooses to interact, whether it be via kudos or comments. This story, and the encouragement folks showed for it, re-opened my life to writing, and it has been a joy!

Series this work belongs to: