Donatello had been staring at that frozen tub of goo for years now. He had promised Timothy that he would find a cure and even after creating retromutagen, it never worked to thaw the boy's gelatinous body and return him to normal.

So, Donatello moved on. He worked on human patches, on making karts, on every other scientific endeavour that crossed his and Sarina's mind, and Timothy moved to the back burner.

Sarina is the one who brings his attention back to him. "We should fix him," she states one day, hands folded behind her back as she observed Timothy's wide, unblinking eyes.

Donatello's shoulders hunch. "Yeah..." he mumbles.

He doesn't look up at his girlfriend. She couldn't possibly understand his fears, the guilt he feels whenever he imagines Timothy's stupid, pudgy face. The kid wanted to be a ninja, that's all. He didn't deserve what happened to him.

"Donatello," Sarina says, her voice a little closer to him than before. "Timothy mutated himself, correct? Against your judgement and warnings."

"Mm..."

"And he also joined the Foot Clan without your knowledge."

His brow furrows and his repeated "mm" gets a little more feral, more of a growl. Idiot, such a stupid kid, and Donatello should have been able to protect him.

"Then why is it that you look so guilty?" Sarina murmurs. Her hand falls to his, stilling his tinkering, but he still doesn't look at her. He sees the flash of her eyes cast brief shadows on the table before him. "You cannot protect everyone and you cannot control what he does. Or...what he did."

He sighs. "Sarina..."

He startles a little as his chair moves, pulling him with it, and yet again he finds himself shocked at how physically strong Sarina is. She told him once that, according to her file, her strength came from a combination of robot muscle enhancements and a strength serum the Kraang tested on her. Diaval was subjected to something similar.

He looks up at her, her expression soft without losing its edge. "The guilt will remain unless you work to change things," she says.

"I've tried," he says, his voice tired. "The retromutagen doesn't work. I'd have to counter the failed batch that froze him and I just..."

She grasps his hands, stepping closer. "You did not have me before," she says, a hint of excitement worming its way into her voice. "If I have learned anything, it's that our minds are brilliant when put together. I can help you."

He doesn't speak right away, his heart pounding. He imagines doing it, imagines curing Timothy after all these years, and he's still terrified. He doesn't know what Timothy will remember, what years in stasis have done to his body, but he's eager too. He could help him, make right the wrongs.

"Okay," he says. Her eyes light up and he almost laughs, reaching to rub his neck. "I'll have to dig out my old notes."

"I know where they are! I filed them the other day!"

And just like that, she's off, and Donatello's smile gets a little bigger. It won't happen overnight, but he's sure that with her help, he can make progress where he didn't before.

He stands, casting a long look to Timothy's frozen tank, and he walks closer, reaching up and resting his hand against the glass. It's still slightly cold to the touch. He remembers the evenings he spent ranting to Timothy about April, about his frustrations with her interest in Casey, finally happy for a listening ear.

That was before Destiny came stumbling into their lives. That was before Renet had placed the image of "the scientist" in his head, awakening daydreams of meeting a mysterious kindred spirit.

Now, standing in his laboratory, so much fuller and so much more organized than it was back then, he knows it's time to help Timothy move on with his life too. Donatello has gotten the chance to grow, to find love, to create amazing things that transcend human science, but Timothy is still here. Still frozen.

He looks over at where Sarina is sifting through meticulously filed papers, stuffed with prototype diagrams and scribbles and hypotheses and everything in between. The blue dye has faded from her white hair and her skin glistens with silver circuitry as she moves.

Donatello never dreamed someone like her could exist or that she would ever be his.

Timothy deserves the chance to discover the joys of life beyond dreaming of ninjutsu.

"Don't worry, buddy," Donatello murmurs, patting the frost-swirled glass. "This time, I'm gonna make you all better. I promise."