Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12

Chapter 10:

Jeremy leaned motionless against the heavy metal grating that held him from a twenty foot drop into the East River. His forehead rested against one cold bar as his left hand grasped another. He stared downward as he kicked loose pebbles into the water far below.

I'm powerless. Trapped in my own prison.

He snickered a little at the stupidity of the thought, tucked himself further into his sweater and looked up at the clear night sky.

"What's the joke?"

Startled, Jeremy turned around to see Donatello pulling up a milk crate to make himself a slightly comfortable seat.

"Ah nothing. I was just thinking. I was laughing at myself for thinking, actually. I'm starting to think in prose." Jeremy explained while scratching his brow.

Donatello sat on the crate, saying nothing further. He gazed out behind Jeremy into the river reflecting the bright sky of the city. Jeremy approached him, his tattered sneakers crunching gravel and broken glass beneath his feet.

"Hey, Don?"

Donatello looked up at Jeremy.

Jeremy fidgeted with his hands, peeling off some dead skin. He began quietly, "I've come to the conclusion that after all that's happened, that I haven't achieved anything at all." He leaned up against the tunnel wall. "You've helped me in so many ways. I can't believe how kind you all have been. It hasn't been easy, and I know that I'm probably just dragging you down for the most part. I think that it may be time for me to leave..."

"Jeremy." Donatello spoke up. "You've got to understand -- this is what we do. We are in the business of helping people. We aren't all just skateboards and pizza. We do what do because we have to. It's our mission, but at the same time, we want to do it."

Still fidgeting with his hands, Jeremy said, "It's just that this isn't your problem to face. I should have never let you all get involved this much. Really, what I should do is just say screw it all. Just remember what my father did to me and leave him wherever he is now. It's his fault things are the way they are. I think of you all as my friends, really, but I shouldn't have let you all get involved."

Both Jeremy and Donatello were quiet. They continued gazing at the water for some time, until Jeremy walked back into the darkness of the tunnel. Donatello stayed at the grate, staring at nothing in particular.

As Donatello made his way back to the lair some time later, his thoughts enveloped him.

We do what we do to help people. Why can't we do better? Jeremy can't handle this on his own, and what he wants to do is let it all go. And THEN what? What's he going to do? Where will he go? It's the wrong decision...

Are you certain of that, my son?

Donatello looked up, startled, his thoughts interrupted by a fatherly voice. Splinter was sitting cross-legged atop a wide metal pipe engulfed in shadow. He motioned for Donatello to sit next to him.

"What are you doing in the dark, Master? And on a cold night, too..."

"I am comfortable, Donatello. I have my luxurious fur coat, remember?" He ruffled his fur and posed in mock conceit. "Besides, this pipe radiates a soothing warmth. These aging bones are enjoying the therapeutic heat.

Donatello smiled slightly as he took a seat beside his surrogate father. He drew up one leg to his plastron and hugged it tightly, resting his chin upon his knee. Splinter eyed his son, yearning to meet his downcast eyes. But Donatello didn't look at Splinter directly.

"This dilemma with Jeremy troubles you so, my son. Please, tell me what is on your mind."

Donatello continued staring ahead into the darkness with his chin on his knee. "You know, Splinter, we've taken you for granted..."

"Oh... no, my son."

"Yes, Splinter, we have. Not everyone has a caring father like we have. And that is all we've ever known. This is the first time I've ever encountered a father who has not taken pride in his son. Ten years... God... ten years. And now... now that he needs his son to get him out of hot water... that's when he gives a damn.

I never thought that there could be families in such disarray. Such chaos. But there it is... abuse, molestation, abandonment. I want to believe that all fathers care for their sons. But seeing Jeremy in such pain..."

Splinter placed a hand on Donatello's shoulder.

"Donatello, you and your brothers have been model sons. You have not taken me nor my teachings for granted. You have used them to the best of your abilities. As a father, that is the best gift I could ever receive. You have used the skills I have taught you to bring at least some justice to this world. Yes, my son, we live in chaos. And I have raised you to be strong enough, to be courageous enough, and wise enough to overcome and harmonize with that chaos. With these virtues and some patience, you have proven yourselves to be the heroes I knew you would become. You have brought much beauty from what would otherwise be dissonant chords."

"You could have left us there to die."

Taken aback, Splinter replied, "No, Donatello. I could not have left you there to die."

"But you could have. Splinter, four turtles dropped ten feet onto concrete, covered in glass... why did you take a chance on us? We were slow, bloody, near death. Why take that chance?"

Splinter stood up on the pipe. He looked down at his son, and their eyes met. "I did what I did to help you, Donatello."

He hopped off the pipe and began walking down the concrete corridor. "I help those in need. It's what I do."

Donatello followed his master through the darkness. "Splinter, I'm sorry... That's what I told Jeremy tonight. He wants to leave. He wants to forget about his father. That can't be the right choice, Splinter."

"Again, I ask, are you certain of that, my son?" he called out as Donatello was having trouble keeping up with his pace in the darkness.

"I... Well, I don't know, Splinter. There's some seriously bad stuff going on. It's not just about Jeremy and his father."

"So it would seem." Splinter stopped with Donatello nearly running right into him. "Donatello, yes. It is the right thing to do. We must help the Stokers. They are in grave danger, I fear. I am uncertain how powerful this Turtelli is. But, to have a gang of thieves as powerful as the Golden Triangles pledge their allegiance to you... I am afraid, Mr. Stoker has indeed gotten himself in over his head.

However... Jeremy is a grown man. If he wants no part in this war, then he shall have no part in it. Indeed, he has had more than his fair share of hurt and anxiety in recent weeks."

Donatello nodded, "He feels trapped by all this. But, Splinter, I don't know if he can get on with his life without knowing about his father."

Again, Splinter placed his hand on Donatello's shoulder. "Perhaps he can and perhaps he can not. He may be headstrong, but he is also intelligent. Jeremy will seek out answers and, if need be, return to us. But whether or not he involves himself beyond that... Well, that is his choice to make, my son."

Chapter 11:

"Guys! Wake up!" Leonardo walked into the bedroom tunnel, turning on the lights.

"Gah! What is it that's so important, Leo?!" Raph threw the sheet covering his carapace aside.

Urgently, Leonardo prodded Michaelangelo. "You too, Mikey. Get up. This is important. It's about Jeremy."

Donatello was sitting cross-legged on his bed. "He's gone."

The three turtles looked at him. "There's a note, isn't there?" Donatello continued, rubbing his eyes and making his way off the bed.

"Yeah... You okay, Don?" Leo asked. "Do you have any idea why he took off?"

Donatello was at the door. "Yeah, I have an idea," he said smiling mirthlessly. "I'm gonna get some coffee. I'll fill you in over breakfast if you'd like."

The three turtles joined Donatello in the kitchen as he replaced the previous day's filter in the coffee maker. Michaelangelo sat at the kitchen table as the others stood by Donatello at the counter.

"What's going on, Don? Why'd Jeremy take off?"

"Didn't he say in the letter?" Donatello asked.

"Not really... All it says is thanks for the help and not to worry." Leo glanced at the note again. "If you ask me, this sounds fishy."

"Nah, it's not fishy, Leo." The coffee percolated into the pot. "He needed to get out. It's too much for him."

"What? WE'RE too much for him, or what?" Raph said insulted.

"No... not us, Raph. The problems with his father. He was so close the other night down at the dock. And at the same time it was nearly impossible for him to do anything about it. With every new lead, Jeremy gets another stab in the chest. Put yourself in his shoes. Guys, he didn't have the love and support, not to mention the skills taught to us by Splinter. He wasn't taught to shoulder the burden of heroism. He's done well so far. But it's hurting him. He needed to get out."

"But we're still gonna find his dad, right? I mean... we've got some good leads and this Turtelli shit needs to be put out of commission."

"Yes, Raph, we're still going to put Turtelli out of business," Leo interjected. "It's what we do, Raph."

Donatello smiled again briefly. "That's right. That's what we do." He poured the coffee into his mug. "If Jeremy needs us, we'll be here for him. But what we need to do right now is deal some justice. Turtelli needs to be brought down and Stoker needs to be brought home safe and sound."

"Eeyahh. So we gonna do this, then?" Raph roared. Donatello and Leonardo smirked at each other. Raph continued, "Eh, Mikey? What you say?!"

Michaelangelo was still half asleep, sitting at the table. Almost without moving his lips, he murmured, "Let's kick this shit."

Mid-afternoon found Raphael and Michaelangelo training and Leonardo on patrol. Donatello, on recess from sparring, made his way down the adjacent tunnel. It was dark and dank, but once he opened the doorway to the service room turned efficiency apartment, the climate controls and comfort settings he had installed when Mondo Gecko first moved in, made Donatello feel right at home. He hoped Jeremy had felt the same way during his brief stay.

He yanked the string overhead, which switched on the light bulb suspended above the bed. There, at the foot of the bed, lay an envelope clearly marked "DONATELLO."

Inside the envelope was a page torn from an aged book. Donatello unfolded the yellowed paper and read what was printed on it:

New House : Old Home

Your house is built on holy ground;
A loving home was here,
Where I a kindly welcome found
For many a goodly year.

I bless the old with grateful heart,
With joy I hail the new,
Whose walls the patient builder's art
Have built so sound and true.

With happy eyes its strength I see,
And all its beauty own :
Each part complete as't were to be
Prized for itself alone.

New House -- Old Home; O happy walls
For such a glory meet ! --
To echo little children's calls,
And hear their pattering feet ;

To shield them in their gentle sleep,
Nor frown upon their play ;
The treasure of their life to keep
From every harm away.

Here love that seemed complete before
Shall yet more perfect grow,
As every happy year shall more
Of inward grace bestow.

New House ! But still old books shall cheer,
Old music sway the heart,
And flowers that have been always dear
Their tender grace impart.

Old Home ! for o'er the threshold strange
Old friends shall haste to prove
How little changing place can change
The hearts of those who love.

Old Home ! for westering age shall shed
Its blessing on the scene,
With sacred thoughts that daily wed
What is with what hath been ;

Ay, and what is with that beyond
Our vision's farthest scope
Which makes each memory sweet and fond
A promise and a hope.

New House, Old Home ! and what if here
An emblem true should be
Of things which shall to us appear
In love's eternity?

John W. Chadwick.
Late 19th Century

Chapter 12:

Coming soon.

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Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and all related characters ©2000 Mirage Studios

The characters Jeremy Stoker and Jackson Lee Stoker ©2000 Michael E. Perez

Any similarity between any characters, names, persons, and/or institutions in this story and any living, dead, or fictional characters, names, persons, and/or institutions is not intended, and if does exists, is purely coincidental.