Epilogue

30 years later, New York City

His family is broken; smashed to pieces, fragmented and scattered across the barren city scape of what was once the Big Apple. Splinter and Casey are gone, Leatherhead forgotten, and Angel is across town leading a group of rebels. April is widowed and scarred. His brothers are damaged, marked by war and burdened by loss.

Donatello's hands shake as he tries to finish the last few touches on the Tunneler. He is alone, at his request, so he can repair the Tunneler in peace. He's gone over the plan no less than three dozen times in his head, accounting for every foreseeable obstacle.

When his hands shake too hard to manipulate the wrench Donatello drops it and buries his face in his hands, sucking in quick gasps of air. This is his third anxiety attack this evening. It comes from nowhere; crushing his lungs and making him tremble all over, his head spinning with grief.

New York is a mess. His family is torn apart. They are left with one final plan, one last hope to turn things around. Even he can tell it's a long shot.

"And it's all my fault," he whispers aloud, his voice hoarse.

He tries to justify himself, to think logically that the disappearance of one turtle couldn't be the cause of an alien dictator's total takeover of one of the largest cities in the world. There is no way. And yet, Don sees the accusation in Mikey's cold blue eyes, in the tension of Raph's posture after their hug, in Leo's rough, gravelly voice. They lived through a nightmare and a half, all because he left.

Donatello hears a clang behind him and some faint voices. Finally, one pierces the air: "Donnie? How are ya doin' in there?"

It's Raph. Quickly Donatello composes himself, inhales two calming breaths and recedes into his armour, stronger than any steel and built from his own fears.

It is no time for grieving. Guilt will not consume him. He will not abandon his brothers.

Not again.