"I really don't mean to push, but I need to see the truth

tonight.

You hide your gold beneath the surface and your

your shimmering light.

You say you never had love.

You say that you

you need to survive.

…

I need to see the truth. I need to see the true you

tonight." –Aftergold Big Head Todd & the Monsters

Chapter 22 - Finale

On wobbling legs, April moved aside. As Donatello crept forward, Mikey jumped up.

His face darted between the two, contorting as it continuously tripped between shock and astonished joy.

"Donnie!" The name erupted with a hysterical titter. "Bro! You're here! Oh man, I-I'll just, uh, um," he suddenly spun on his heel. He sped from the room towards the kitchen and the fire escape.

Donatello and April exchanged a glance and watched him go.

He called, "See you tomorrow, April! You, too, bro!"

The sound of the window creaking and slamming shut reached them. April and Donatello stood for a moment, speechless and awkward in the ringing silence of Mikey's speedy exit.

At once they both started to speak.

"Do you want something to—"

"I didn't mean to barge—"

"Sorry –"

"Uh, no. I'm sorry."

They fell again into that slippery quiet.

April hastily wiped at her cheeks and cleared her throat. Looking down, April started. "Oh, let me get a towel." With that she slipped from the room nearly as quickly as Mikey had done a moment ago.

Donatello noticed then that his metal arm was dripping onto the carpeting. "Oh gosh," he said, cupping his right hand under to catch any further drips, "I'm sorry about that. It's snowing pretty hard out there."

He stepped back as she returned and dropped to dab at the damp spot. Before he could try to help, she rose and began to gently wipe at his arm. He could feel nothing, but his heart stumbled at her proximity. His eyes were locked on her face and it seemed she pointedly kept her gaze away from his. She kept herself at arm's length and the distance spoke to Donatello's fear.

He closed his hand over hers, halting her movement. "April."

She still didn't look at him, but pulled away, leaving in his grasp, the towel. Hugging herself, she moved around him and with her back to him, in a voice that was falsely light and high, said, "So, what brings you over," she glanced over her shoulder, and her words wavered as her eyes lifted to meet his intense gaze, "so late?"

"I had to see you."

"Oh?"

"It couldn't wait," he started, but fell silent. He held the hand-towel between his fingers, toying with it, tugging and fidgeting with the edges. He sighed and shook his head. Quietly, he said, "I don't know where to start."

"Nothing's wrong at the lair, is there?"

Donatello shook his head mutely.

"Okay." April sat down, a curious, cautious expression on her face. "Why don't you sit . . . just start wherever." Tentatively, she allowed her senses to reach out, testing the vibrations around him, searching for a hint as to his motives. But her apprehension, her tumultuous emotional state just before he'd arrived blurred any unconscious messages he might've been sending.

Was it Donatello who was so . . . vulnerable . . . so raw? Stinging and aching like an old wound reopened. Or was it a reflection of her own state?

He perched lightly on the edge of the cushion. His eyes searched the room, scouring the floor, flitting to the walls hung with Christmas lights and greeting cards, and up to the ceiling. A deep frown creased his brow. He blew out a breath. His throat worked and his mouth opened only to close again. When he looked up, his eyes were huge and glassy.

"I've been stupid. Unbelievably stupid. Monumentally. Exponentially."

"Okay, we've established that," April interrupted. "Do you want to explain what you've been so stupid about? What is it?" Her expression softened, "Is it something you've been working on in the lab? Or the garage?"

Donatello tried not to notice the way her eyes flicked to his prosthetic as she prodded. He felt the old defensiveness prickle at the back of his neck at any hint of pity. With some effort he pushed the feeling away. He was past feeling defensive about his condition. He had to be in order to keep up with his family's demands. And they hadn't gone easy on him – requests for inventions and projects for repair were constantly made. And for that, he was grateful.

And he knew better. The only one pitying him had been himself. All along. The revelation made his stomach knot, coil and sink.

Before he had his thoughts sorted, she straightened.

"Wait. Raph isn't hounding you about building him a new engine for that piece of junk he rolled home two months ago, is he?" Her hands on her lap balled into fists. "I told him you have enough work on your plate. I swear, the next time I see him—"

Donatello held up his hand. The metal fingers flashed. "No, it isn't that." A half-smile flickered over his face, but dropped away as he grew serious. "Actually," he said, "Raph's part of the reason I'm here."

At her darkening expression, he added quickly, "But not for that."

April tipped her head, listening.

Slowly he said, "I've spent the last thirty months, twenty-four days and seven hours being completely and utterly blind. Willfully so, to be honest. And I don't know why. I can't even begin to explain it. But the most important thing now is," he scooted further on the edge of his seat, "I see. Everything. My eyes are open."

April frowned. "You see."

He nodded.

She pointed a finger into her opposite palm. "And that's the most important thing."

He nodded again, looking more hopeful.

She stared out into the room. Felt the spiraling pull of disappointment within her stomach. But then, something flashed within her, like a flint piece of fury striking against the stone of her patience.

"That's what you came here to say to me?" she asked, the edges of her words brittle with disbelief.

From the corner of her eye, she saw him hesitate, then nod again.

She stood up. She paced with her arms crossed tightly across her chest. Holding it in. Holding it all in. But it was too big. Too big to keep locked in the cage of her ribs. Her heart slammed and her throat tightened.

All this time and this is how he comes to me?

Don't cry.

She stopped, glared at him until he shrank back a bit and blinked. Looking all the world like a lost puppy. She continued pacing.

Stay calm. Remember. You wondered if he'd ever come around at all. Be grateful, April.

Donatello said, "Don't you . . . get what I'm trying to say?"

She froze. A tremor went through her. The silence stretched, tense and oddly foreboding.

"April?"

In a low voice she said, "I'm really glad you finally see. That you see," she shook her head, "whatever that means. But no, really. That's . . . That's great. For you."

Donatello stared at her back. Her tone seemed . . . off. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but it wasn't this. Running a dry tongue over his bottom lip, he decided he needed to clarify.

There was just so much ground to cover. He'd hoped that pointing out to her that he finally saw her feelings for him for what they were would make more of an impact. He'd finally realized that his feelings for her would be returned. Not only that, but he'd accepted the truth of the situation. Thanks to Raph. And the rest of his family.

He needed to say all this and more. So much more. It terrified and exhilarated him: her love for him was real. Real.

He could only hope that she'd hear him out. That Raph was wrong in thinking it might be too late. He would make things right. If she allowed him to. If she listened to what he was about to say.

He opened his mouth to speak.

April chuckled. It was a broken, small sound, but it filled the corners of his fearful heart.

Donatello stiffened.

She broke off with a sniff and a choked sigh. The sound of it foreboding. Final.

A cold wave of dread washed over him.

Slowly, as if trying out the words, trying them on to see how they fit in her mouth, how they felt as they spilled across her lips, she said, "I'm leaving, Donnie. After the holidays. I'm going away."

He froze. His mouth hung open. All the air had suddenly turned to ice around his head, a bubble of impenetrable, yet invisible fright, making it hard to breathe, let alone speak. His mind numbed in the chill, making it hard to think.

Stubbornly, his lips blundered out a mangled attempt at a word.

"Wh-What?"

Speaking magically shattered the blockade surrounding his head. But left in its wake was a scattering, raw terror; an animal panic, a frantic rush of senses all tuned beyond what could be tolerated. From a distance, he felt his mouth shut as a tingling bout of pins and needles ran the length of his metallic arm. His phantom pain – long dormant - erupted in a burning, itching, torment.

He scratched at his left shoulder. Rubbed it and squeezed, trying to make it stop, trying to focus. He searched the floor frantically for help.

"You heard me. I'm leaving," she spat, wheeling around.

Her face was pale but mottled in the way it got when she was really upset, but trying to stay calm. The interior storm she was battling was written clearly in the stiff way she held her upper body. The defiant jutting of her chin. The way he'd seen her get when a rare situation had pushed April too far for too long.

His heart pinched.

This is my fault.

The pain he saw in her eyes was because of him. Pain that he could commiserate with, for he was the architect of that intricate hurt, wasn't he?

At his worst, he'd wanted his family to pay for his suffering and loss; at his best, he'd pushed away the rare and beautiful thing April had offered to him. And why? For what reason did he have to give aside from his pathetic pride?

He felt sick.

Oh god. What have I done?

April huffed an exhalation. Her eyes shifted to the floor and the fury that hardened her expression eased. Revealing beneath a vulnerable softness. An abiding sorrow. She explained quickly, all the words tumbling out in one even breath, "I'm moving my father in with my aunt upstate and once he's settled, I'm leaving."

His face snapped to attention. Maybe it wasn't as bad as he was making it. Maybe there was still hope.

"But . . . Wh-Where? F-For how long? When will," he choked on the word, swallowed and tried again, "Will you be back?"

She shrugged. Feigning indifference. Voice strained with a forced-sounding levity, she explained, "I have no idea." Then, "Does it matter?"

"April," he said, full of hurt, voice tight, "of course it does."

"Why?" And with his wince her eyes flashed, in a kind of triumphant anguish.

Crushed, he blinked helplessly about himself, speechless. His heart galloped in his chest. He started to shake. The phantom pain in his left hand and arm now turned to a savage itching. He ignored it. Focused on the issue at hand.

He had to make this right. He had to fix this mess.

Okay, she's angry. She has a right to be angry. To be furious. You've pushed her away for nearly three years and at the very best, returned her friendship with coldness. What did you expect, genius?

He glanced up at her and still there remained the look of cold triumph, but also, larger the longer he stared, that deep, aching sorrow.

His heart tripped. The word was a puff of strangled air that he strained to say. "Please."

She waved her hand through the air. Dismissing him. Done.

Oh god, Raph was right. It's too late.

His breath hitched. Tears stung. His missing limb throbbed in time with his hammering heart.

No. I won't let this happen.

Donatello slipped from the couch. He fell forward onto his knees.

April's started.

He dropped his head, shook it once, then, he raised his eyes. They were huge, glassy and bright with regret. "I have no right to ask you not to leave. But I'm going to."

He took a shuddering breath. "Don't go. Please don't. Don't go because . . . because of me. Do whatever you want to me, I deserve everything and more. But . . . April. Think about the guys. Don't punish them because I've hurt you. It took me so long not to lash out at them for my pain. Don't fall into the same trap that I did."

Her breath hitched and she wiped at her cheeks, looking away.

"I know I don't deserve," his voice trembled, "anything from you. But I need you to hear me when I tell you that I'm sorry. Because I am. I'm so sorry."

He dropped his gaze, his breath caught in a suppressed groan. He pressed the heel of both hands into his eyes.

"I'm so, so, terribly sorry for everything. For everything I've said or done to hurt you. You were nothing but good to me. And I treated you like dirt."

He curled forward, pressing harder.

April's eyes widened as she noticed the metal of his left hand cutting into the flesh of his brow just above his mask. "Donnie," she croaked. "Stop. Stop it."

He shook his head. "No. I need to tell you. I have to get it out. I-I thought it wasn't real. I convinced myself that I knew what your heart was telling you. I was . . . am so stupid." His voice cracked, "I ruined everything out of spite and stupidity. I threw away a chance that'll never come again."

She moved closer, took his wrists and tugged gently at them.

He resisted for a second before relenting. His hands moved away to either side of his face.

Her breath caught in a sharp sob, for there was a long, deep gash running just above his left eye dribbling blood down the side of his face. A deep bruise marked his left cheek.

"Oh, Donnie," she murmured. "Look what you've done to yourself."

"I deserve it. I'm a fool," he whispered.

She shook her head, unable to speak.

"If you never forgive me, I'll understand. If you never want to see me again, I'll-I'll accept it. I will."

She closed for eyes, fighting the surge of tumbling emotions. Her hands, still holding his wrists, began to shake.

"But, I can't go on without telling you this . . . without finally telling you . . . I have to . . . no matter what the outcome."

A tear welled and spilled over, mingling with the trickle of blood coloring his bruised cheek.

"April," he started.

Her eyes widened.

"April, I lov—"

The front door slammed open. April jumped back, releasing Donatello who slumped back onto his heels, as her father rushed into the room, beaming, in mid-sentence.

". . . to say the blue ones! Yes. Casey, the blue lights are my favorite. Second are the red." He looked at April. "We saw the lights coming home."

His smile faltered as his gaze flicked from his daughter to Donatello who was slowly climbing to stand. The young mutant looked as though he were about to be violently sick all over their carpet. And his face was bleeding.

"Oh, Donatello," he said. "Are you feeling okay?"

Donatello offered a weak smile that was more of a grimace as he stooped to retrieve the hand-towel from the coffee table from earlier. He dabbed at his cheek, then turned slightly away as he held the towel to his face, his head low between his shoulders.

Kirby turned a bewildered look to his daughter. "Is everything okay? I-I thought Mikey was staying to help you bake."

April stood by, partially in shock, still unable to say anything.

Casey sauntered up behind her father. He strung an arm around Mr. O'Neil's shoulders. His bulk made the older man bump forward a step. "Sorry we're a bit later than usual. I made sure to go down forty-second to that house I spotted a few days ago." He whistled low. "They did that place up to the nines, huh, Mr. O'Neil?"

Kirby chuckled. "It was very, very pretty. Lots of blue. That's my favorite."

"That's right it is! That's why I wanted to take you over there," Casey said and gave him a rough, but loving shake.

"Well, it's very late, now. I think I'll turn in." He ducked his head as Casey pulled away, noticing for the first time that April had a guest. Mr. O'Neil said quietly to April, "Will you make sure, honey?"

Starting as if awakening from a dream, April nodded. "Ye-Yeah, Dad. I'll make sure there's no bats in your room." She took her father by the elbow and moved to leave, tossing a glance at Casey, but not looking in Donatello's direction. "Be right back."

Casey, his gaze never leaving Donatello, sidled across the room and fell into the loveseat. "Haven't seen much of you around lately."

Donatello said nothing.

"How's the arm working? Still looks pretty cool to me."

Donatello dabbed at his eye and winced. Ignoring the question.

Casey's laugh faded to a soft cough.

"You been in a fight?" Casey's blue eyes flashed with sharp interest. When Donatello merely gave a short, sharp shake of his head, he fell back in his seat. "Okay." He scratched at the dark stubble along his jaw. "Then, you wanna tell me what you're doing here?"

Donatello's eyes narrowed. "I don't need to explain myself to you," he rasped, voice still affected from the storm of emotions roiling through him.

Casey grinned. He sat up. "Nah, man. 'Course not." He folded his thick fingers and shrugged. "We're all friends here, am I right? I'm just, you know, curious."

"I just came by," Donatello muttered. He stood awkwardly, unsure what to do with himself. He sniffed, looked at the blood on the towel and sighed. Miserable.

"Almost midnight. You should probably get going," Casey said with a slight wave of his fingers. He brought his arms back behind his head and crossed his feet at the ankles. When Donatello didn't move, Casey added, "Run along."

Irritation flashed. "No. I think I'll stay. April and I were in the middle of something and –"

"Oh, ho ho! Really." Casey slapped his thighs and stood up. He crowded into Donatello's space, eyed him close. Said quietly, "I'm going to try and be polite, but it ain't going to be easy. 'Cause I've been watching a really sweet, smart girl I care very deeply about being strung along by this asshole I know. And I've had about enough of it."

Donatello's lip curled back in a partial snarl. "Back off."

"Make me." Casey poked a finger into Donatello's upper plastron. "Whatever you think you're doin' here, forget it. Get lost."

A low growl rose up from the back of Donatello's throat. "Touch me again and I won't be the only one who needs a prosthetic."

Casey chuckled. He stepped back and stretched. The muscles rippled beneath the jean jacket he wore. "Don't try an' threaten me, Robo-cop."

Donatello trembled with building rage. The edges of his vision grew hazy with a reddish tint. But he stopped himself. Through gritted teeth, he blew out a breath. He didn't want a fight with his brother's friend. Especially not tonight. Not here.

"Look," he said, trying to be reasonable. "I just need to finish talking to her."

"About?"

"That's none of your business."

Casey's eyes twinkled behind the thick fringe of dark lashes. "I'm not gonna repeat myself. But I'll try and make this simple." He cracked his knuckles and crossed his arms. "You're done talking to April. You're done stringing her along. You're done messin' with her head. You. Are. Done. Got it?"

Donatello scowled and stepped forward. The low growl grew louder.

Casey cocked his head. Raising his hands he said, "Now, now. I ain't the bad guy here. But if you wanna go, let's take it outside." Casey motioned towards the door.

"Either way, you're leaving. 'Cuz whatever it is you think you need to say to Red . . . forget it. You lost any chance you might've had with her a long time ago. And if you think I'm gonna stand by and watch you toy with her feelings, you're in for a shock. She doesn't need you in her life. She needs someone who'll take care of her. Who'll appreciate how good she is. And that person isn't you."

"Casey," April said.

Both men jumped in surprise.

"Uh." Casey rubbed the back of his head and laughed nervously.

Coldly, "Thank you for bringing Dad home. But I think you need to leave now."

"What – but April," he started and chuckled nervously. "Ah, hell. Didn't mean nothin'. I just . . . that is, I didn't mean - Donnie-boy here, just got the wrong idea. I was setting him straight."

"Wrong idea about what?"

"Well," Casey huffed a laugh and jabbed his hands into his front pockets. "I didn't wanna do this quite like this, but, uh, I was goin' to, uh . . ." He pulled a small box out from the front pocket of his jacket and lunged forward to hand it to her. He shot back and grinned widely. "Merry Christmas, babe."

April's shocked expression hardened. "Excuse me?"

"Erm," Casey covered his mouth and chuckled. His brows came up together as his eyes crinkled, chagrined. "Sorry. Heh. Just slipped out. Habit I picked up from Rex at the shop."

April eyed him, then studied the gift in her hand, seeing Donatello stiffen from the corner of her vision. She felt his wave of fear like a blast of chilled air, tainted around the edges with something sour, feeling like dread or despair. Or surrender.

"Well, here goes," Casey said, shifting from foot to foot. "April, would you like to, uh, maybe try getting more, uh, more serious-like . . . with me, I mean. Us."

April stood motionless, dumbfounded.

"'Cuz I've wanted to tell you this for a really long time. I care about you, a lot. And I was hoping maybe we could try taking our friendship to a higher level. Like, um, you know, wanna go steady with me?"

April closed her eyes. She felt the room tip. The future splitting before her into two paths, each with unique peril and unforeseen consequences. Did she care about this young man before her? Yes. There was no doubt. He'd been a friend when things were at their worst. He was rough around the edges, but had a heart of gold, she knew this. Saw it in action with the way he looked after his little sister, the way he defended his dad despite being abusive and cruel. He was loyal and fun. And in fact, she did love him. In a way.

But did she love him in the way she did with Donatello?

Just thinking his name filled her with a comfort, a glow that was both new and old. A feeling like coming home after being gone for a terribly long time.

Despite the interminable stretch of years that were filled with yearning and unrequited longing. Despite being on the verge of giving up on this love forever. Her love for him remained. Untouched, somehow, and still as real as ever.

There was nothing to decide here. No choice to be made. No, April knew what she wanted. It was never clearer than now.

And she knew she stood upon a crossroads. A test of character. For she was perched on the very edge of losing him forever, with just a word. It was in her hands. It was up to her. She could take revenge for all the wasted time. All the hurt and longing. She could destroy him for what he'd done to her.

It was her chance. It was simply a question of whether she would take this opportunity or not.

When she opened her eyes, she had her answer.

And Donatello was gone.

She started. "Where –"

Casey shrugged. "I dunno. The kitchen, I guess," he said, looking confused as to why she was so worried about the mutant's absence, when she should've been answering his proposal. "So, uh, what do you say?"

She whirled and ran from the room, without a word to him, dropping his present. She left it there, without a second glance.

Casey stared at the gift.

Slowly, he began to nod his head. He might be rough around the edges, uneducated and from a broken home, but he wasn't stupid. There'd been a chance that she would reject him. He'd known how long she'd pinned after the mutant-boy. How much she cared about him just based on how much she talked about the guy. Which was constantly.

No, he wasn't stupid.

Then again, he was stupid enough to ever think that someone as special as April would even give a loser like him a chance. Donatello didn't deserve her, no. But neither did he.

Eyes welling, he stooped and grabbed the forgotten gift from the floor. He dusted it off and pushed it back into the pocket over his heart. He coughed, wiped roughly at his nose and slipped out the front door without looking back.

# # #

In the kitchen, April caught Donatello as he ducked to exit by the fire escape. She grabbed his prosthetic arm and pulled, hard. The metal groaned and gave a sharp screech. Stunned, the turtle clambered back inside, half-falling over the bottom of the window sash. His long legs tangled. He tumbled sideways and the momentum brought April to her bottom with a gasp.

They rolled apart, sitting on the floor.

"What are you –"

"Where are you going?!"

Donatello looked out the window, then back at her. "I thought I . . . I thought I should leave."

"Why?"

He blinked.

"You can't go. You were about to tell me something, remember?"

His head ducked. He glanced up at her, mournfully. "Yes."

April's brows raised with expectation.

Donatello frowned and said, "But Casey . . ."

"Casey?"

As if just remembering now that she'd left him back in the other room, she glanced over her shoulder. She fidgeted. "Oh. Uh-oh."

She sat in contemplation. Knowing she'd hurt someone else tonight, however inadvertently. And briefly, the idea that pain and causing hurt was an inevitable stumbling block in this life made her heart pinch and her eyes sting.

Under her breath, she murmured, "Oh Casey. I'm sorry." She faced Donatello. "I think he left."

Donnie said nothing, looking at her with a morose expression.

Any lingering anger she might have had at Donatello had faded back to a numbed resignation. He'd hurt her, in the beginning with his lashing out in pain, then later with his avoidance, his refusal to accept her feelings, it was true. But what she wanted wasn't some petty retribution.

She just wanted to be able to love him and hopefully, have that love returned.

Donatello shifted and looked out the open window as a gust of wind blew in a swirling trail of snowflakes. The chilled breeze brought her out of her musing. She realized she hadn't addressed his unspoken question.

"But, listen, as far as Casey . . . we're just friends." And she hoped that wouldn't change after tonight. But that was a worry for another day.

"Friends?"

"That's all."

Donatello nodded, then shook his head. "I don't want to get in the way, April. I've done enough damage."

His throat worked. He thought of what Casey had said. The guy wasn't wrong. He didn't deserve to waste any more of April's time after what he'd done to her these past years. And despite what April just said, he would not judge her if she wanted to try and find something like happiness with Casey.

"I-I should go. I'm sorry."

"No more apologies for tonight." She reached out and took his hand, stopping him from rising by caressing the back of it with her thumb. She took a deep breath and leveled a look at him. "Donnie, I would like to hear what you wanted to say to me. What you were about to say just before my dad came home."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Please?"

Donatello stared at her. "Now?"

She nodded.

He opened his mouth, moved to speak, then stalled. She waited. He tried again.

"I was going to say. What I was about to tell you, uhm," he swallowed again, fidgeting. He blinked slowly. Softly, he said, "I . . . I love you."

She gasped, covering her mouth.

"I love you, April. I love you. I've always loved you. From the second I first saw you, I have done nothing but fall more and more in love with you. I love you. I will always love you."

Now that he'd spoken it, he couldn't seem to stop saying it. He babbled it like a lunatic. Like a fanatic. And it was both terrifying and wonderful! Like plunging to a certain death on a roller coaster you knew was missing a track at the very bottom.

It was too late, now.

It was as though years of denying himself the right to feel this way about his friend, of denying himself the privilege of even whispering those taboo words to himself, alone at night, had finally eroded all composure. All propriety. And he didn't give a damn. Not anymore.

A crooked, half-crazed smile broke out over his face. He was giddy with his confession, euphoric and terrified and liberated. He met April's watering gaze with tear-filled eyes of his own.

"I absolutely love you."

"Donnie!" she cried, choking on her overjoyed laughter. "I can't believe it - I love you, too."

With that, April fell forward, throwing her arms around his neck.

They shuddered in each other's embrace, laughing and murmuring sweet words unencumbered by guilt, regret or shame.

And from the rooftop just adjacent, Mikey witnessed the embrace as he stood on tip-toe to see better.

Raphael, Leonardo and Splinter hovered just behind, shivering ankle-deep in the eddying snow, all equally on edge ever since Mikey had called them to this rooftop an hour earlier, saying it was a supreme emergency of epic proportions. They'd gathered and had waited for any sign. Any sign at all. Each silent and worried in their own way for their brother and son.

Somewhere a bell tolled midnight.

And in the deepening darkness, the tinted flakes –- pink, green, blue - whirling around the strings of light, framed the scene. Where just inside the warm yellow illumination of April's kitchen window, the small family watched as Donatello and the love of his life opened their hearts to one another.

And finally, kissed.

"WOO HOO!" Mikey pumped his fist in the air, leaping in joy.

Splinter wrapped his arms around his sons, pulling them close as they laughed, babbling about their brother's good fortune at last. Splinter hugged them tight, touched by the scene below.

Filled for the first time, in too long of a time, with hope.

A/N: Oh gosh, I'm a bit choked up here.

Thank you, everyone. For your continued support and wonderful comments, and patience!

What a joy it was to write this ending. I hope you enjoyed the ride and loved the ending as much as I loved writing it. I will be working on my other WIPs - be sure to follow me, if you're not already, to keep up with my new stories and updates.

Until then, I'll see you in another story!