Nirvana

The Right Meditation...
Donatello pulled himself away from the window and took his coat from the hook, where he'd so carelessly thrown it in a crumpled heap just a few days previous. It had been cold that day, and one of his buyers had kept him out for three full hours, reworking price negotiations and discussing his various technical needs. By the time he had gotten home, he was exhausted. All he'd cared about at the moment was a nice hot bath and the warmth of his bed. In fact, the thought of soaking in a tub of warm, soothing water was a very welcomed one right about now.

No... he told himself. Duty first.

He put on the jacket and grabbed a small, flat metal disk from the coffee table. He shoved it into his pocket as he made his way to the door.

"I'll see you later, Chet. Maybe you can have some lunch waiting when I get ba--"

Suddenly, an alarm was triggered. Red lights flashed throughout the house, bathing the interior a bright crimson. A high-pitched tone, not unlike that of a police car, blared over the delicate speakers. Don covered his ears. He remained alert, however, his eyes anxiously scanning for intruders.

"Chet, what is it?" he called above the ruckus.

^^YOU HAVE ONE NEW EMAIL.  IT APPEARS THE ALERT MECHANISM HAS BEEN TURNED UP A BIT TOO HIGH^^

"Yeah..." Don mumbled. "That's an understatement." He'd only witnessed this particular alarm once, and that was when someone had tried to pry open the back window. A nice soft buzzer would have done the trick in this instance. He moved toward his desktop computer and sat down on the edge of the chair, calling out above the noise of the siren. "Can you turn it off now, please!?"

In an instant, the red lights vanished. The tone stopped abruptly, bathing the room in silence. Donatello sighed in relief and turned his attention to the monitor. He swallowed hard as his hands nervously fumbled over the keyboard.

D-O-N-H-A-M-A-T-O

As he typed in his user name and password, the adrenaline began to rise. His heart began to pound in his temples, so hard, it made his head hurt. Cold sweat beaded up on the palms of his hands. This email could mean everything. It could provide the answers he so desperately sought. Or, it could lead to nothing but disappointment--more spam mail to add to his growing collection. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, attempting to mentally persuade the computer to do his bidding and provide him with what he wanted.

As the program booted up, it seemed to take an eternity. Don drummed his fingers on the table top, not even daring to breathe as he watched the inbox begin to load. He scanned the screen excitedly, bringing his face close to study the contents.

Come on, come on, come on...

He saw it. One new email, and it was sitting as plain as day at the bottom of the screen.

< Shadow W	12:23 PM	2K >

"Oh god..." He whispered. "God...let it be her..."

He moved the mouse and clicked on the link to open it. The page began to load and he sucked in a breath, his eyes widening as he began to read.

	Dearest Donatello,

	When I first received your letter, I could hardly
	believe my eyes.  I thought it was a prank.  I couldn't 
	believe that you were still alive.  I thought this 
	world had lost you all for good.  But it makes 
	sense--Hamato Enterprises...it had to be you.  I'm 
	so happy to hear from you, Don.  It's been such a  
	very long time.  We have a lot of catching up to do.  
	Yes, I would be overjoyed to come for a visit.  
	Thank you for the offer.  I'm sure your nieces and 
	nephews and their children would love to meet you too.
	I've told them so much about you.  Of course, most 
	of them think I'm telling stories.  Won't *they* be 
	surprised? ;-)  

	In case I haven't given it away yet, I'm married 
	to a wonderful man.  His name is Andrew, and he's in 
	the computer business as well.  He works for Compudor.
	Perhaps you've heard of it?  We have two children...
	well, they're grown now, but my grandkids are still 
	very young.  They remind me a lot of myself when I 
	was that age.  Sometimes...they even remind me of 
	you and your brothers.

	In answer to your question, yes, Justin is alive and 
	well, and living in New York City as an artist.  Mom 
	used to say he got that from Michaelangelo...but, I 
	dunno.  He was so young when...  Well, anyway, though 
	he wasn't much more than a baby when you left, he said 
	he does remember you.  He's looking forward to seeing 
	you as well.

	God, Don, you don't know how I've missed you.  I can't 
	wait to hear your voice and see your face again. 
	Anyway, I think I'm rambling now.  Write me back soon 
	and let me know when you'd like me to come.  I'm looking
	forward to it.

	Yours, 
	Shadow Jones-Whitfield

He felt the sting of tears as they rolled down his cheeks, his heart nearly jumping into this throat. She was alive! And he'd found her at last! Suddenly, in the thirty seconds it had taken him to read the note, he realized he wasn't alone anymore. Shadow and Justin...both of them were alive. And god...did she say nieces and nephews? Grandkids? A husband? He could hardly believe that so much time had passed without ever hearing from her. Now, finally, he had a chance to fix things, to get to know her all over again, and possibly enjoy her family as well.

He cracked his knuckles and laid shaky fingers over the keys.

	Shadow,

	My deepest gratitude for your response.  I have been
	waiting my whole life, desperately searching for you 
	and your brother, for the peace of mind that the two 
	of you were okay.  I can only apologize for all that's 
	happened in the past.  I hope that we will be able to 
	put that behind us and look toward the future.  Words 
	can not express how happy I am to hear that your life 
	is going well.  I wish that I could have said the same 
	for myself, but I think that things are finally starting 
	to look up again.

	Send your brother and family my love.  Tell them that 
	I can't wait to meet them.  Expect an airline ticket 
	to arrive within the next few days.  I believe it
	would be best if our initial meeting was kept between 
	the two of us.  There is no need to air old memories
	with your family, and I don't want to spoil their 
	opinion of me with the tears I am bound to shed.  I 
	really can't wait to see you again.  Call me when 
	you get the chance, if even for a brief moment.  I miss 
	your voice.  See you soon!

	Warmest,
	Donatello

He shut down the email and stared at the blank screen, a million thoughts racing through him at once.

"She's alive..." he whispered. He laid his head on the desk and began to sob, but this time they weren't tears of sorrow and loneliness. They were tears of joy and hope.

^^DONATELLO...IS EVERYTHING WELL...?^^

He looked up, not bothering to wipe the wetness from his cheeks. "Yes, Chet...it will be again soon."

The sky was clear and crisp. Cold, harsh winds blew, but were tamed slightly by the brightly shining sun. Don gripped the metal disk in his pocket, nervously rolling it around between his fingers. He paused and gazed up into the blue abyss to say a silent prayer before continuing his journey. As he walked, he ran his hand over the mechanism's smooth surface, locating the button with his thumb. As soon as it was pressed, his form began to waver and fade from view, to be replaced seconds later with a new one.

The combination of short dark hair, beard stubble, and fair skin was a very familiar sight to his clients. But whenever he looked into the mirror at this holo-projected image of himself, it gave him the creeps.

Would I really look like this if I were human...?

He kept walking, staring down at the bare human feet that were not his own, the way the blades of grass poked up between the five toes...so realistic. He raised his head, gazing out over the landscape, at the quickly approaching tree. A whole array of flowers greeted him at its base--red, yellow, green...the colors that reminded him of home. He stopped short, staring at it with apprehension, as if he was afraid to place himself among such beauty.

I don't want to be here...God...why am I doing this?

He was frozen in place as the wind whipped the jacket about him. He shivered, breaking the trance, and glanced out over the hillside. It was late afternoon. It had taken him a while to calm down enough to venture out here after reading Shadow's email.

She's alive...thank God she's alive...

The warmth of tears was a sharp contrast against his cool skin. He wiped at them quickly, but still more came. Whether they were due to happiness or sorrow or a little of both, he couldn't quite be certain. What he did know was that now was not the time to ponder the reasons. He was here to see Splinter.

Slowly, he made his way to the site he'd chosen as his master's burial ground. Although his body wasn't laid to rest here, the memory of him seemed to electrify in this place. As he neared the tree, his emotions and remembrances began to intensify, and it was a struggle to keep them in check. Finally, he was standing in the spot he'd abandoned well over a year ago. Slowly, he reached out a hand, running it along the trunk of the old tree. As he touched the living wood, pictures of his family flashed through his mind. He retracted his hand quickly and turned away. It was all so painful. So many sorrowful memories.

He could hear his master's voice in his head, almost as if he was standing right there with him. "Do not worry, Donatello...everything will be all right."

He sighed, sucking in a ragged breath, and turned back toward the tree. The branches hung low, brushing the top of his head with their lush green leaves. He lowered to the ground carefully, being sure not to sit too closely to the patch of flowers. They made him nervous, although he couldn't explain why.

His hands still in his pockets, he glanced all around him, looking for signs of people in the vicinity. Once satisfied that all was clear, he pressed the button on the disk and waited quietly as the magical disguise disappeared.

Back in his turtle form once again, he closed his eyes. "Splinter..." His voice was soft and melancholy, his hands gripping the fabric of his jacket. "I'm so...sorry. I know I should have come earlier, but I--" He choked on the words, unable to voice them.

"I wish you could hear me, Splinter. Maybe you can. I don't...I don't know. But if you're listening to me somehow, I want you to know that I have never forgotten about you, or the others. I've just...I've been having such a hard time..."

He shifted his weight, feeling suddenly very uneasy out in the open air. A quick glance around confirmed that he was still alone. He stared down at the soft blades of grass, trying to regain his composure enough to speak.

"Anyway, I think all of that is behind me now. I wanted to tell you...that I know what you meant now. I understand. And I think I've finally been able to forgive myself. It's taken me so long, Splinter, but I--"

Again, that eerie feeling crept over him, and he stood, glancing around the hillside for hidden enemies. After several minutes, he realized that it was only his imagination playing tricks on him as it always did when he came here. There was something about this place that filled him with dread. He took a deep breath and cautiously sat beneath the tree again.

"I have no regrets, Master Splinter. I realize that everything that has happened has happened for a reason. There's a greater purpose that I have yet to understand, but I know it's there. Please forgive me for doubting your teachings.

"In this moment, I'm happier than I've been in a very long time. Shadow and Justin are alive. I'm going to see them soon! God, how I wish it was you and my brothers returning to me now, but I'm glad. It will be very good to see her again."

He could hear the shakiness in his voice as he spoke, and realized he needed to relax. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, laying his hands over his knees as he struggled to find that safe place in the recesses of his mind. This exercise had always been harder for him than his brothers, but in time he'd learned to master it. Still, even now, it took much concentration and effort to reach that peaceful void of the subconscious.

He felt his body slowly drift, that tingle of recognition in the back of his mind. Suddenly, he felt very light, very relaxed and calm. He began to drift, far away from his earthly body, but he wasn't afraid. He'd done this hundreds of times. It was almost like second nature now.

As he floated in the realm of subconscious, he saw them--his brothers, his master, his old friends. They surrounded him with expressions of eagerness and love. Although they said nothing, he could sense their joy. He could feel the memories of past pain and anguish, and although it hurt him deeply, he also felt the present--the peace. He smiled despite himself, and reached for them, grabbing their hands, touching their arms, holding onto them as though they could disappear at any moment.

He tried to speak, to tell them all what he was feeling, but he found he had no voice. He longed to ask them if they were all okay, where they were now, if they were happy. But there are some things that living beings aren't allowed to know, and so he never got his answers. Yet, that sense of peace remained.

Suddenly, he felt himself being pulled back by an unseen force. He reached out for them, but they disappeared, leaving him alone in the swirling emptiness. His eyes flew open, and he found that he was sitting in front of the large tree trunk, in the same position he'd been in just moments before. He blinked a few times to regain his bearings, feeling that uneasiness return. It was then that he realized the images he'd seen in meditation were not actually his brothers, but representations of them that he'd conjured up in his own mind. Still, it was comforting to know that it was possible to enjoy the memory of their existence without the pain and anguish he'd grown so accustomed to.

Something had reached out and brought him back from his meditation, but what was it? A long forgotten memory that refused to surface now? Maybe if he concentrated hard enough...

"Donatello...?"

He froze. It was all he could do. He felt a presence behind him, and this time, it wasn't his imagination.

Dammit! If only I'd been more careful...if I'd trusted my instincts...

How could he have let someone sneak up on him like that? He should have been able to sense it. But wait--something about the voice was familiar somehow. And they hadn't called him 'Don' or 'Mr. Hamato' as he'd instructed everyone to do. No, this was someone that knew his full name.

He swallowed, quickly reached into his pocket to turn on the holographical device, but stopped himself. What was the use? It was obvious whoever this was had already seen him in his true form. Worse yet, this person had recognized him that way. Feeling very threatened, he turned around slowly to face his pursuer, readying to defend himself if he had to.

As he turned, their eyes met, dark, hopeful ones that penetrated into his. He stared at the cloaked figure before him, the wind whipping the long cape, threatening to pull back the hood that covered its head, and his eyes grew as wide as saucers.

He rose to his knees, an exhilarating rush of hope flooding through his entire body, yet still painfully obvious that his life might be in danger. His body struggled against him. He wanted to jump up, to discover immediately who or what was hiding beneath the confines of the cloak, but he knew it would be foolish to make any sudden moves. Perhaps he'd come across as threatening, and in the process, be attacked.

Instead, he rose to his feet slowly, never once removing his sight from the stranger. Something in those eyes was painfully familiar. He knew this person somehow, he had to. There was darkness there, a sense of overwhelming sorrow and relief, a barrier that had been worn down with time and age.

Donatello let out a gasp, the realization nearly knocking him to the ground. He stared at the figure, carefully moving closer, his legs trembling beneath him. Finally, he found his voice. It came as a whisper, filled with hope, awe, and overwhelming relief.

"Raphael...!?"

He watched wide-eyed as the hands left the concealment of makeshift pockets, revealing green, scaly skin. They were shaking as they found the hem of the hood and pushed it back slowly, deliberately, revealing a green face that almost exactly matched his own.

Oh, what a glorious sight! One of his brothers was alive! He was just as he remembered him too, if not a little worn around the edges. His eyes were softer, different, yet the same--cold fire burning within, yet mixed with a hint of gained wisdom and acceptance. Fine lines of age highlighted his eyes and forehead...and the patch which he now pulled down over one eye, confirming Donatello's suspicions.

Tears began to flow like water. Don's head spun wildly, and he sucked in a breath, trying to maintain his balance. Was this really happening? Could it possibly be that Raphael was still alive, or was this just another cruel figment of his imagination?

"My god..." He looked up into the face through blurry vision. "Raphael...is that really you?"

The face did something he hadn't seen it do in many, many years. It smiled.

"Please..." Donatello croaked. "Please tell me this isn't another dream, because I couldn't bear--"

"It's me, Don."

Donatello felt himself stagger, his knees giving way, and he started to fall. Suddenly, warm arms were around him, lifting him up. "It's me..." the voice whispered. "It's okay."

Donatello slumped against his brother, strong arms--actual flesh and bone--gripping him firmly...so tight, he could hardly breathe. His breath came out in choked sobs, hands gripping fabric and carapace, desperate to reassure himself this was all real and tangible. In that one, single moment, all of his regrets, all of his anxieties, his anguish, his love, joy, intermingled, and as he gripped his brother, felt Raphael's tears, he let go of the past--let it slip through trembling fingers and be carried away by the wind.

"You're alive!" he gasped between sobs. "I thought...I thought you were dead."

Raphael's voice came as little more than a whisper, a voice overwhelmed with emotion. There was an element to it that Donatello had never heard in his brother before. "For a while there...so did I."