Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The lair is almost quiet as I roll around in my bed. I wince as my springs squeak, cutting into the quiet that has fallen over the lair, save for the snoring (it's not heavy breathing, Bro, it just isn’t) from Raphael and soft murmurs from Donatello. Leonardo almost never makes a sound and I’m convinced Master Splinter never sleeps.

Master Splinter…

I bite my lip at the thought of my master.

Actually, my mega sleeplessness problem is currently revolving around my sensei. Not in a bad way! Or at least… Not because of something Sensei did but more of what he HASN’T done.

The last few days have been absolutely positive-tut-ly radical. Like, one minute we’re fighting Metal-face and the next?

BAM!

Wacko versions of us are appearing in front of us! It was all so wack. And then we traveled to their world, and we looked so crazy and fuller like someone stuffed us full of a billion jellybean and sausage pizzas.

It was a super sensationalistic experience and tots reminded me of that time years ago when Shred-head kidnapped us and brought us to that darker and mondo scarier version of New York where those buffer us helped save not only us but our entire existence from that crazy wacko Kraang-like Shredder. Something I haven’t given much thought to since it all went down. That is, until those smaller us’s came. And they sparked some hefty memories in this noggin of mine.

And something about both versions has been bothering me like a lot.

“My sons! You are okay!”

“Oh, thank goodness. My sons, I was worried about you.”

My sons…

My eye ridges furrow.

Both Splinters from the other worlds called their us’s “My sons” and hugged them. Our Master Splinter calls us “My students” and didn’t hug us when we returned. Which… has never bothered me before. And our master isn’t the overly touchy-feely type really. Shell, even my bros aren’t overly touchy-feely. Sure, Raphael will wrap an arm around our shoulders and Leonardo and Donatello will give ya a pat on the shell when needed. But Master Splinter?

When was the last time Sensei hugged us? Or any of us hug him?

I fiddle with my blanket in between my pointer finger and thumb as I curl into a smaller ball, burying my chin into the quilt.

I honestly can’t remember the last time any of us hugged Master Splinter or vice versa. Now that I’m thinking about it, I don’t think I ever thought of it as a thing we could do now that we’re not turtle tots anymore. But seeing those other versions of us hugging their masters has me now thinking:

“We can do that?”

My stomach swoops as I stare blankly at the dark wall in my room.

And I swear I heard one of the other us’s call their Master Splinter “Father”.

Father….

I press my face into my pillow as my throat constricts, becoming oddly choked up as that word bounces around my head.

Why do my insides feel weird and wiggly whenever I think of those other Master Splinters calling the not-us “My sons”? And why does my stomach drop like 10 pounds of pizza when our master addresses us as “My students”? Something he’s always done, and it has never had me gung-ho like it is now.

“This is like a total bummer, Dude,” I mumble, voice muffled by my pillow as I restlessly bury my face more into the fluffy lump.

Sighing, I throw my blanket off, shivering a little as the cool night air hits my skin and creep out of my room. I shoot my bros a look but none of them twitch as I sneak further out into the main area.

My eyes drift over to Master Splinter’s room.

Soft golden light flickers from the doorway and I tense. Master Splinter tends to do late night meditation and training for himself once we’re in bed. Most of it’s because he knows that he’ll be uninterrupted but it’s also how he always knew if one of us was up or tried to sneak out when we were kids. But now that we’re older?

Would he let me go? Or can I make it without gettin’ caught?

Fiddling with my belt, I glance over at the lair’s entrance.

A little walk through the sewers never hurt any turtle, I think creeping across the lair. And I’ll be back before the dudes even know I’m gone.

Reaching the mouth of the lair, I pause again as thuds echoes from the dojo/Master Splinter’s room. When none of my bros twitch, I nearly sag in relief. I tense when a rhythmic thudding starts up. After a moment, I realize that Master is merely using one of the training dummies for a more rigorous workout.

I don’t dare grab my board, the sound would tots echo around and wake my bros. And holy baloney wouldn’t THAT be a doozy? Because then Leonardo would go all mega mother hen, Raphael would crack some wise-guy joke, and Donatello would try to make a machine that would force me to sleep.

And worst of all? They’d ask what’s wrong, I think, tucking my thumbs into my belt and kicking a rock. The tiny rock skips on the stone before stopping at the base of the ladder out of the sewers. Pausing, I lean against the metal rungs.

“What does it matter what Master Splinter calls us?” I say aloud, peering up at a storm drain at a glowing streetlamp as water drips down. “He obviously cares. So, like, why should Sensei not calling us “sons” bother me? Never has before…”

A flash of the smaller us’s hugging their much taller master and him returning it with just as much vigor fills my mind. I flinch and quickly shove that memory away. Shaking my head, I push away from the wall and walk over to peer down into the water flowing by. My large blue eyes stare back, and I drop to my knees.

“F-F-Father?” I stammer out, frowning at how muddled I made that word sound. Yeesh. Raphael would have called me a newborn trying to talk if he heard me going on like that.

My snout wrinkles. A second try never hurts, right? When at first you don’t succeed, try and try again. Or something like that.

“Fa-Father. Fa-AH-ther? Faaaaaather?” I repeat staring down at my reflection. “Fatherrrrrr. Oh, sewer apples. Why’s a single word so important anyways?” Huffing, I slide into a sitting position, resting my elbow on my knee and placing my chin in my hand. “Betcha Raphael wouldn’t call Master Splinter ‘Father’. Nah, he’s too cool for that. That feels more like a Leonardo or Donatello thing. But Raphael? Nah. Betcha he’d use words like ‘Pops’ or ‘Dad’.” I smile with a chuckle. “Yeah, that’s tots more up Raphael’s alley. ‘Father’ is too stuffy.” My finger taps against my chin. “But ‘Father’ doesn’t feel right on the tongue for me either. Like a seven-day old coconut extreme pizza left in the sun. Yuck.” I shudder. “And ‘Pops’ just ain’t my thing.” I tilt my head. “‘Dad’ is a smidge better. Shorter too. But...still not quite right.”

Biting my lip, I glance over my shoulder at the ladder leading out of the sewers. The spark of an idea slowly forms in my head. I might not understand why all of this is bothering me or why certain versions of ‘Father’ or ‘Dad’ work or don’t work for me, but….

“But there’s a certain redheaded journalist who might be able to answer it for me,” I mutter, shooting my reflection a look. “Like, who’s a better person to ask than a journalist whose job is to dig up answers?” Standing, I make my way over to the ladder. “And, like, April has a dad or knows people who do, so maybe she can tell me more about what a ‘Dad’ is and what a dude is supposed to call them.”

Pushing the manhole cover up, I glance around. Luckily, it appears that most people have decided to remain in doors tonight which doesn’t happen often. Large, cold droplets of rain hit my snout and I glare up at the cloudy sky as it rumbles softly. Welp, that would explain why the streets barely have any people on them.

I drum my fingers on the ground. For a moment, I debate going back to the lair and grabbing one of our trench coats. But as soon as that thought comes to mind, I toss it out like moldy pizza. If I go back to the lair, I run the risk of either waking one of my bros or Master Splinter catching me out of bed. And that’s the last thing I want.

“Besides,” I mutter, climbing out of the hole, shivering slightly as large droplets hit me. “I won’t be out here for very long. The dudes won’t even know I’m gone.” I replace the manhole cover. “And a little water never hurt a turtle.”

Wiping water from my face, I slink into the shadows and work my way toward April’s apartment. Usually, with the streets empty like they are, I’d take advantage of being able to walk around freely with no disguise. But, well, I might not be the brainiest of turtles but even I know that isn’t a mondo good idea to try right now. Not when nobody knows that I’m out here. The last thing I need is to do is give Shred-head and Blob Boy a reason to jump me. Despite all of the quips that my bros make about my brain, I’m not that stupid.

Turning down another alleyway, I shiver harshly when some water from the roof above me drip into my shell. Pressing my shoulder harder against the wall, I turn another corner as I try to get some cover from the downpour. Relief swirls in me and I grin when the fire escape leading up to April’s apartment comes into view.

“And here I thought I was gonna have to ask for a commercial break,” I joke as I climb up the slippery metal, my numb fingers barely feeling the rungs. Reaching April’s window, I gently knock on the glass. “April? Hey, dudette? You there?”

Worry bubbles in my chest as silence follows my knocking. Shell. Maybe I got the wrong window? Or maybe April’s as heavy of a sleeper as Raphael is. I don’t really wanna peek inside as this window should lead to her bedroom and I’m no creepo. But…who else can I ask if April is out of the question?

Crossing my arms, I tilt my head in thought.

I guess I could try to make it to Casey’s place. But that dude lives on the other side of town and there are always Purple Dragons lurking around his homely abode.

I guess… as long as I have my trusty nunchakus, I should be fine--

My fingers reach down to tap on my nunchakus, only for my fingers to tap on nothing. Blinking, I glance down and groan.

“Shell shocked, Dude! How could I forget my two little compadres?” A pout forms on my lips. “Welp, so much for goin’ to Casey’s. No way I can make it there without my ‘chucks. Leonardo would have my shell if I even TRIED.”

Dejected, I shoot April’s window one last look before sighing. Guess I’m gonna have to return to the sewers and maybe try again tomorrow. And hope that I catch her on a break from work or maybe even after work.

Sniffling, I wipe my nose on the back of my wrist guard as I sadly make my way over to the ladder and cautiously start climbing down sluggishly.

But what am I gonna do now? I think as I shoot April’s window one last look before making my way further down the ladder. There’s just no way that my melon is gonna let me sleep. Not with all these questions still bouncing around in my—

“Mi-Michelangelo?” A sleepy voice calls out.

Jumping, a yelp escapes me when my hands suddenly slip from the wet rungs. My stomach rushes up to say hi to my mouth as I become airborne. Air is punched from my lungs when my shell connects with the ground, water splashing up around me and a sharp pain ripples through my skull.

Water droplets hit my face as I dazedly stare up at the sky. What the shell just happened? What year is it? Glancing around, I blink blearily before whimpering as the pain shifts through my skull.

“Owie,” I whine, coughing a little before groaning as spots dance in my eyes. “Attendant, can I have off this ride please?”

“Michelangelo! Oh my god! Are you alright?!”

Warm hands grasp my shoulders as I gingerly sit up, holding my aching melon as my vision fades in and out. Concerned green eyes meet my blue as I squint up, the alleyway lights burning my eyes.

Horror and concern are written all over April’s face as she frantically scans me for injuries, but I flinch away when she reaches for the back of my head.

"I’m so sorry, Michelangelo!" She gasps as I smile at her, waving feebly. “What on earth are you doing out here climbing up a wet fire escape? That’s dangerous!”

Chuckling weakly, I wobble to my feet with a wince as April grasps my biceps in a warm hold to keep me from falling backwards.

“Uh, hiya, April. Didn’t mean to drop in on you like this.”

Fondness softens April’s gaze as she holds me close to her side and I instantly feel mega bad. She’s out here in her yellow pajamas and no shoes, getting absolutely drenched like I already am. Most likely having jumped from her window when I decided to take skydiving lessons with no parachute. Her red hair is already sticking to her face, completely flat against her head. I just know that she must be mega cold just as I am, if not worse.

“I think you’ve been hanging out with Raphael too much,” April teases, leading us back over to the fire escape. “But that doesn’t answer my question of why you’re out here, young man. Especially in this freezing rain! Yuck! And you feel as cold as death!”

Embarrassment floods into my gut and I glance down as she nudges me to start climbing the ladder, but I don’t move.

“Thought ya said it wasn’t safe,” I quip, totally not trying to avoid answering her question. “We might just fall right off again and then we’ll both be flat pancakes.”

Green eyes narrow at me as I don’t quite meet the reporter’s gaze. My bros like to tell me just what an open book I can be with my feelings and I’m suddenly getting some serious cold feet right now. Like, what if April thinks my question is mondo wacko and just shoos me back home?

My four toes wiggle in the large puddle I’m standing in.

Maybe I shoulda just waited for morning and bummed it out in my room, I think sadly, realizing that my question really didn’t warrant such a late-night visit to my very active and busy friend.

A warm hand lands on top of my head gaining my attention. I hiss as April’s fingers brush the top of a growing goose egg on the back of my noggin. She quickly pulls her hand way.

“Sorry!” April apologizes, her concern returning full force. “I’ll have to take a peek at your head when we get inside. But unfortunately, this is the only way we can get back into my apartment. My keys are by my front door and without them, we can’t even get into the lobby.”

Flinching, I move to rub my neck, hating how wet and slippery the rain is making my skin feel at the moment. Aren’t turtles supposed to like water? So why does this feel so bizzarro and gross? Whenever my bros and I go swimming it doesn’t feel like this.

Scrunching my snout, I wipe my hand on my leg.

“Right. Sorry, April. Didn’t mean to force you to come out here and be all wet, cold, and keyless.”

April shakes her head as she slowly starts climbing back up the ladder when she realizes that I’m not budging anytime soon.

“Don’t worry about it, Michelangelo. I wanted to make sure you were all right. A little rain isn’t going to hurt anyone, and my window is still open so we can still get inside.” April glances at me over her shoulder, a small smile forming in the dim light. “And once we get all nice and dry, you can tell me why you were knocking on my window at a little past midnight.”

Another tidal wave of guilt crashes into me nearly causing me to droop. Instead, I nod as the redhead resumes climbing. Shell. I didn’t even realize how late it was. And obviously April is going to have to work early in the morning. Of all the brainless ideas I’ve had, this sure takes the pizza pie. And for what? Just to ask April what it’s like to have a ‘Dad’? And what one would call said ‘Dad’?

Sighing, I climb the ladder very slowly behind April. Not wanting to tumble off again and also not wanting to rush my friend and cause HER to fall.

Luckily, we reach April’s window in no time and with no more flying lessons. She slips back through easily, reaching out for my hands to help me. I breathe out softly as the warm air of her apartment surrounds me and the cushy carpet sinks a little under my feet. Wiggling my toes, the brief thought of how awesome it would be if the lair had such plush carpet like this enters in my mind before I look up just as April shifts around her room.

“Sorry about sogging up your carpet, April,” I apologize, smiling sheepishly at the redhead as she grabs something from her bathroom before re-emerging.

She shakes her head as she hands me a fluffy white towel.

“It’s all right, Michelangelo. I’m also getting them all wet.” April rubs her own towel over her hair causing it to stick up. “But I don’t want you getting sick. So, once you’ve dried off, meet me in the kitchen and we can have some hot chocolate while you tell me why you’ve stopped by. I’m also going to change.”

Biting my bottom lip, I nod again as she grabs some fresh clothes from her dresser before heading back into her bathroom.

Shell. Some amigo I am. Not only did I wake April up, but now her pjs are ruined and yet she’s still willing to treat me to some hot chocolate.

Slumping, I slowly start drying myself off. I hiss as I wipe at the back of my head, frowning as I feel more water dripping down the back of my head. Shell. My mask must be really waterlogged if it’s deciding to continue pouring like Niagara Falls.

Gingerly, I reach back and undo the ties. Once loose enough, the soggy fabric falls and hangs around my neck as I go to wipe my head again. A harsh shiver has me pausing with the towel draped over my head, almost like my own personal hood. Clutching the fluffy and slightly damp fabric to myself, I deem myself dry enough and cautiously make my way out of April’s bedroom and into her kitchen.

My footsteps barely make a sound on the soft carpet and I absentmindedly glance at the photos hanging on the walls. Many are of us with her when we traveled around, and others are of the many awards her stories have won her. I spot a few with just April and Irma right when I make it to the split before the kitchen and living room.

Glancing to my right, I spot two armchairs, a couch, a TV on a TV stand and a fake fireplace. On the mantle of the fake fireplace sits even more photos. Curiosity fills me and I quietly pad over, clutching the white towel tightly as it frames my face like a hood.

These photos are much older than the ones that are hanging on the walls. I can easily spot April in almost all of them, much younger than she is now, except for one. The photo in the middle only has two people in it, a young woman and a young man. The woman has light brown hair and bright green eyes while the young man has bright orange hair and a shade darker green eyes. Neither one looks exactly like April, but there are certain features in their faces that I can definitely in April.

Are…are these April’s parents? I think, glancing around briefly to make sure no one is watching before gently picking up the picture frame.

Tilting my head, I stare down at the happy couple, a strange pit forming in my gut the longer I stare at them. Now that I think about it. April doesn’t talk about her parents all that much. But, to be fair, me and my bros haven’t exactly asked her about them either. Or anything else about her childhood. Swallowing thickly, I grasp the two ends of the towel with my free hand, pulling it tightly against the top of my head.

“Some friends we are,” I mumble, hunching in on myself.

Like, shouldn’t true friends be willing to sit down mono y mono and talk about past stuff like that? I mean, April knows about our past and how we came to be and how Master Splinter found us. How come we haven’t given her the chance to do the same?

I shuffle in place, lifting the ends of the towel up to my mouth and rubbing it against my snout in distress. I mean, April doesn’t have to share if she doesn’t want to, but we haven’t even asked!

My eyes flicker back down at the photo in my other hand.

“All right, Michelangelo! Let’s get some—Michelangelo!”

Jumping, I fumble with the photo, dropping it as the towel falls from my head.

“Sh-Shell!” I squeak as I frantically scoop the frame back up, scanning it for damage before placing the photo back where it belongs. “I…I was just looking! I didn’t mean to drop it!” I start turning around, hunching in on myself as April storms up to me. “Honest, April! It’s not even broke. But…But I’ll make you any pizza you—”

“Turn around!” April orders, her hands landing on my shoulders and spinning me.

“Wha—?” I start, a wave of dizziness hitting me at the rough treatment. “April?”

April hisses.

“You’ve cut your head open!” April says sharply, reaching down and yanking the towel from its place on the floor.

A yelp escapes me when she presses it against the back of my head as she continues.

“You must have sliced your head when you slipped from the ladder. How do you feel? How does your head feel? Do you feel dizzy at all?” April hisses and cuts me off when I open my mouth to answer. “Shoot. You’re bleeding all over the place. We need to call Donatello. I don’t have the proper first aid here to deal with this.” I stare at her with wide eyes as she starts looking around. “Where’s my Comm? Never mind. Do you have yours on you? Let me borrow it.”

“No! Wait!” I cry out as April starts patting my belt.

Concerned wide green eyes meet my own panicked blue. My heart pounds in my chest as I catch April’s hand and hold it in both of mine, eyes burning.

“Please don’t call my bro, April. Please! He’s in snoozeland right now and I don’t wanna take that from him. He finally went to bed early for once and it wouldn’t be fair to wake him.”

And if you wake him, I won’t be able to ask you my question!

April’s mouth falls open and she reaches up to apply more pressure to the towel against my head causing me to flinch.

“Michelangelo, sweetie,” she starts softly, eyes scanning my face as she stares down at me. “I don’t have the proper items up here to treat your head. We have to call Donatello. Everything you need is down in his lab.” She presses a hand to my cheek as I blink rapidly to keep my vision clear. “Michelangelo? What’s going on? You’re awfully worked up.”

Dropping my head, I stare down at our joined hands as burning embarrassment and guilt fills me. Man, if this ain’t mondo embarrassing. All I wanted to do was ask April one simple question and I’ve gone and flubbed it up.

This is going worse than the last time I tried skating blindfolded after a storm and totally wiped out.

April tugs her hand free from my grasp, pulling me from my thoughts. Surprise fills me when she brushes her knuckles against my cheek, smearing something warm and wet across my skin.

“Oh, Michelangelo,” April says soft, her brows furrowing. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. You know I can’t stand the sight of you being sad.” She kisses my forehead. “Why don’t we go sit down at the table and we can calm down for a second? That way I can get also get a closer look at your head, okay?”

“Yeah, okay, Dudette,” I say sadly, sniffling as my friend wraps an arm around my shoulders.

As we enter the kitchen, April flips the light on causing me to squint and guides me over to her table. Pulling out the first chair, she points to it, and I get the hint. Slipping into the chair, I watch silently as the report swiftly moves about her kitchen.

“Make sure you keep pressure on that towel, Michelangelo,” April orders, pulling mugs down from her cabinet and adding milk to them both before popping them into the microwave. “Head wounds bleed more.”

Not wanting to upset the redhead further, I do as I’m told as she moves to grab the chocolate sauce. Keeping my hand on the back of my head, I tiredly take in the new pajamas that April has switched to. She is now wearing a thick, fuzzy red robe and I can see a white t-shirt peeking out at the top and black pants peeking out at the bottom. Part of me wishes that I had a large fuzzy robe right now. Something warm that I can use to hide my embarrassment in.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

I wince as the microwave goes off, the loud noise sending a sharp pain through my skull, and I slump against the table, using both hands to hold the towel to my head. I barely lift my eyes as a mug is placed in front of me and April places the other one at the seat directly across from me. Concern is written all over her face as she watches me, shifting closer.

“How much pain are you in, Michelangelo? Do you want me to turn off the lights?”

“Nah,” I mumble. “April said let there be light, after all. Can’t take that away.”

April hums, placing a warm hand on my shoulder. Her fingers squeeze comfortingly.

“If you’re sure. But if you need me to turn them off, I will. I don’t mind sitting at the table in the dark. Now, let me see your head.” A gentle tug on my hands has me dropping them to the table surface as April gently removes the towel. She tsks. “That’s quite the gash, Michelangelo. I’m no medical expert but if we don’t get this to stop bleeding, you’re gonna need stitches.”

My eyes widen at that. St-Stitches?! I hate stitches! They always make my skin itch and pull grossly. Totally not mondo grando at all.

“Can…can you stop the bleeding?” I ask weakly as April moves toward the sink and reaches underneath it.

“I…I can try,” April replies pulling out two large boxes of bandages. “But, like I said before, head wounds bleed. A LOT. And I don’t have the proper first aid supplies here if we can’t get it to stop. All I have are these massive bandaids and gauze. Which…might work but…” April trails off as she turns toward me, frowning. “I would feel much better having Donatello checking you over, Michelangelo. You might have a concussion and I haven’t even checked to make sure that your shell isn’t cracked from the way that you fell.”

Slumping further down, I stare down at the table. I was afraid she was going to say that.

April walks back over, placing the large boxes down as she reaches for the towel again. Dropping my hands, I allow her to pull the fabric away, hissing a little as she gently pokes and prods at the tender area before something warm starts trickling down the back of my neck again. April quickly presses the towel back into place. She gently grabs both of my hands and uses it to keep the towel right where she wants it once more.

“What a mess. I knew head wounds bled more but I never thought it would be this bad.” April leans forward, pressing a hand to my cheek. “How’s your head holding, Sweetie? Do you want to try some pain killers?” She frowns when I mumble a ‘no’ at her. “Are you sure? Because you’re not acting like your usual self, Michelangelo. It’s okay to admit if you’re in pain. And you know that Donatello is just going to force you to take something for your head anyways.” A sigh escapes the redhead when I hunch further down. “All right. That’s it. I’m calling your brother. Where is my Turtle Comm?”

“No!” I cry out leaping to my feet only to sway as my vision darkens.

Whoa, total head rush, Dude.

“Michelangelo!” April gasps, grabbing my biceps right before I can fall on my shell again. “Why on earth are you so opposed to me getting your brothers? Did something happen?”

Blinking rapidly, I peer up at the reporter sheepishly as I shuffle in place like a little turtle tot. What a bummer this is turning out to be. I’ve been doing nothing but stressing my friend out. And all for one stupid question.

“Nah, nothing’s wrong,” I state, hoping to defuse April’s worries. “It’s just…my brainy bro is sleeping right now, Dudette. And you know how the dude is. He rarely ever goes to bed this early. It’s like his veins are just full of coffee and his battery never runs out.” My snout twitches as I drop my gaze as a puzzled expression morphs onto my friend’s face. “And…I just wanted to ask you a mini question that’s been bouncing around in my head. I didn’t mean to wake or bother you.”

“Oh, Michelangelo.”

I shrink further down at April’s tired tone only to blink in surprise when I’m pulled into a fluffy, warm hug.

Cautiously, I hug back.

I thought it was a long time for just hugging Sensei. But, well, I can’t remember the last time someone willingly hugged me.

It’s…nice.

Warm hands rub up and down my shell and April rests her cheek on my head.

“You never bother me, Michelangelo,” April mutters. “What is it that you want to ask me?”

Biting my lip, I pull back from the hug and rub my arms. Shell. This was a mega bad idea. It was so stupid and now I’ve just gone and upset April when she doesn’t need to be.

“Now that I’m thinking about it, April, it really isn’t all that important…”

A hand presses against my cheek and I glance up at the redhead. A determined look rests on her face as her eyes scan my face.

“Yeah, no. That’s not going to fly with me, young man. This is what we’re going to do,” she states firmly, helping me sit back down. “I’ll start putting bandages on your head and you ask me your question. Then, once I’ve given you an answer, I want you to promise to go straight to Donatello so he can check your head and shell. Deal?”

Unable to argue with her tone, I start to nod only to wince as the movement jars my head.

“Y-Yeah, sure, April.”

April nods, placing her hands on her hips as she stares me down, a smile forming.

“All right, young man. Start talking. What is it you wanted to ask me?” She winks at me, and I relax a little. “Not often I get to be the interviewee. Normally, I’m the one doing the asking. I’m kinda excited, not gonna lie.”

Giggling, I sit as still as I can as April starts wiping at the blood still bubbling from the cut. She produces a bottle of rubbing alcohol and my snout wrinkles from the smell. A tiny rush of air slips through my teeth as she dabs at the wound on my head.

“Sorry, Michelangelo,” she murmurs. “I know it stings, bu I need to make sure it’s clean before I apply the bandages. But to help distract you from the pain, you can ask me your question.”

She’s really not gonna let me turtle my way out of this, is she? I think warily but a smile still tugs on my lips.

“You’re gonna think it’s mega wacko.”

A soft chuckle escapes the redhead.

“Sometimes those are the best kind of questions.”

She bops my nose as she moves to open a few of the bandaids and tears off a long piece of gauze. Giggling, I sniffle a little as I shimmy in the chair.

“Well, uh, you don’t have to answer if you don’t wanna, Amiga.”

April nods but doesn’t interrupt.

Dragging in a deep breath, I hold it for a second before releasing it slowly, just like Master Splinter taught us.

Here goes nothing.

“What…What’s it like having a ‘dad’?”

My heart hammers as April pauses in her movements, bandage hanging from her fingers as she looks at me. Dropping my gaze, I wring my hands together as my feet swing a little in the chair.

“You…You tots don’t have to answer, Dudette,” I quickly say as the silence stretches on. “I…I was just curious, ya know? And…And you or Casey are the only ones I could think of who might have experience with a ‘dad’ or even a parent in general.” An awkward laugh wheezes from me as I bring my knees up to my chest, folding myself into the chair. “Told ya it was a wack question.”

“Michelangelo. Look at me.”

Keeping my chin tucked, I glance sideways at April. The redhead is watching me, eyebrows furrowed, and a small frown mars her face. She contemplates me for a moment then resumes dealing with the bandages.

“Lean your head forward for me,” April orders softly and I do as I’m told. “Now, as for your question. It’s not silly, Michelangelo. It’s completely fine to be curious about what it’s like to have a parent. I…I’m just surprised you thought to come to me or Casey.” April continues when I frown at her in confusion. “I just mean, you have Master Splinter. He was human once, after all. So, he would have had experience with parents as well.” April tilts her head as she grabs another bandage and applies it next to the other one, holding the strip of gauze in place. “And…well…Master Splinter also raised you, didn’t he? Don’t you consider Master Splinter your father?”

My throat tightens at that question, a pang shooting through me that has nothing to do with my injuries. I glance away, burying my face into my elbow.

“Michelangelo?”

“I…I don’t know?” I whisper into my arms. “I…I never really thought about what Sensei is to me outside of being my teacher, ya know?”

“And what changed that?”

Sighing, I rest my cheek on my knees, hugging my legs close to me.

“You…you remember those other us’s that came here? The dudes that were like way buff and macho?”

April nods.

“One of them asked about my jumpsuit. I think it was their Donatello if I remember correctly.”

I nod, remembering that as well.

“Yeah, them. Well, while we were in their dark and scary abode, we ran into their version of Sensei. He was shorter than the other us’s and grey! He wasn’t covered in brown fur like our Master Splinter is. It was like mega weird. Still had the Japanese accent and that weird air of being able to speak to the void whenever he wants. But like, when we got there, he was like, tots relieved to see his us’s, which I mean, I’m sure our Master Splinter would be too if we just up and vanished. So, like, other us’s rushed over and started hugging him! It was…it was wild! And he returned the hugs and he…”

My heart clenches and I trail off, hugging my legs tighter. A warm hand lands on my head and April kneels in front of me. Concern radiates from my friend, and she gently rubs my aching melon.

“And he what, Michelangelo?”

Swallowing thickly, I rub at my nose as I try not to sniffle as it starts to run slightly.

“When his versions of us were hugging him, he…he called those amigos ‘my sons’ while hugging back and I…” I trail off, unable to continue on or even mention anything about what the smaller versions of us called their Master Splinter*.

April’s mouth forms into an ‘o’, sitting back on her heels. A distant look appears in her eyes, as if thinking. I’ve seen this look appear on Donatello’s face many times when his brain is conjuring up a cool new invention or he learns something new or is just wondering around in his little mind lab that I’m sure he has crafted in that brilliant dome of his.

“And that’s what’s bothering you?” April finally asks, tone cautious but intrigued. “That their Master Splinter called them ‘my sons’? And, I’m assuming, that our Master Splinter has never called you four that?”

I shake my head.

“No. It’s always ‘my student’ or ‘young one’,” I answer, running a finger over my still damp orange knee pad. “Which…which is fine! Like Sensei has always called us that! And… it’s… fine. Totally… fine…”

The sound of a chair scraping on the floor has me lifting my eyes. April plops the chair closer to me before sitting and takes my hand. She offers me a smile when we make eye contact.

“A parent can mean a lot of different things to different people, Michelangelo,” April says, and I tilt my head, confused by the sudden conversation shift. “Some people see somebody older than them who helped raised them, or was merely there when no other adult was, to be their parent. For me, I was lucky enough to have two very caring parents.” April chuckles. “It was actually my dad who encouraged me to pursue the life of a reporter.”

My eyes widened.

“Really?”

April nods, a wide grin forming.

“Yup! My mom wanted me to follow in her footsteps and become an actor.” April winks as my mouth falls open in shock. “I was surrounded by cameras as a child, which is why I’m so comfortable in front of them now. But, well, acting isn’t my thing. Not because I couldn’t but it just didn’t fulfill this need inside of me. And my father saw that. But he also knew I enjoyed being on camera. So, he suggested to me to try and become a reporter. And look at me now! I’m one of the top reporters on the Channel 6 news!” April runs her thumb over my knuckles. “And after a little bit, my mom also came around. Because she knew it’s what made me happy. A parent is willing to set aside what THEY want for you to provide you with the support to pursue what YOU want to do.”

April leans back and grabs my mug of hot chocolate and places it in my hands when I shiver.

“But not everyone is so lucky. Take Irma for example. While she has parents, she has told me many times that she always saw her childhood best friend’s parents as her own. Her own folks were distant and hardly ever around. But, in contrast, her friend’s parents made an effort to go to all of her plays, all of her sporting events, and provided her with advice when she didn’t know what to do. They main not have given birth to her and Irma didn’t live with them, but they still helped raise and shape her into the person she is today.”

April reaches back and grabs her own mug, blowing on it.

“And then take Casey. His dad… His dad was killed when he was very young, leaving his mom to raise him and his siblings. She had to take on a second job to help support them. Which led to Casey spending a lot of time with his grandparents. So, for Casey, he sees his grandparents, and his older sister for the most part, as the people that raised him. Not because his mom was neglectful but because she was trying to make sure they had enough money to live. But that meant she had to sacrifice time with her family.

And Casey doesn’t fault her for that because when he did need her, she was there. But there was a lot of things that she would have taught him had she not needed to take on that second job. So, instead of his mom, it was Casey’s grandfather who taught him how to fish and ride a bike. It was his grandma who taught him how to cook and how to repair an engine. It was his older sister who taught him how to climb trees and how to throw a proper punch. So, you can see how it’s not really a cut and dry answer. Because it all depends on YOUR circumstances.”

April pauses to sip her hot chocolate and I ponder over what she said. I had no idea that Casey was pretty much raised by his grandparents and sister so that his mom could work. Or that Irma’s parents weren’t there for her.

We really need to spend more time getting to know our friends.

“So…” I start slowly, fingers flexing on my mug as April nods me on. “A parent is someone who gives you advice and raises you?”

April nods, smiling behind her mug.

“For the most part, yes. They make you feel heard and safe. Provide you with support and life lessons that you carry with you for the rest of your life.” April leans forward, no longer hiding her smile, her green eyes sparkling. “Sound like someone you know? A certain furry someone in your life who has given you all of that?”

Heat spreads across my cheeks and I duck my head.

“Maybe…”

April chuckles

“See? Just because you don’t call Master Splinter ‘Dad’ or ‘Father’ doesn’t mean he isn’t one to you,” April states, the chair creaking as she shifts.

I nod slowly.

That makes sense. But…if it makes sense then why does my chest still feel like one of Raphael’s training dummies after a bad day? All full of holes and ready to fall apart at the seams?

My jaw works and I force myself to take a large gulp of hot chocolate. Swallowing painfully, I wet my lips nervously.

“But…what if the dude you see as a parent doesn’t see you as one of their kids?” I ask softly, my stomach squirming unpleasantly. “What if it’s only a one-way thing? Does it still count?”

April’s mouth falls open, as if about to speak only to pause. Her fingers tap on her mug, and I clutch mine close to my plastron as my heart pounds. Clutching it like a lifeline to a never-ending pile of cucumber and sausage pizza.

April lifts her gaze to me and her frown deepens.

“You don’t think Master Splinter sees the four of you as his children,” April states and I flinch.

Yikes. So blunt.

My stomach wiggles again and I merely shrug, sipping more liquid as to not actually answer the redhead. Wouldn’t my bros be amazed? The Michelangelo not wanting to talk. Pigs must have flown over Mars.

April leans forward, bewilderment on her face.

“Michelangelo, why on Earth wouldn’t Master Splinter see you as his own? He literally RAISED you and your brothers from baby turtles! He’s taken on the Shredder for you! He obviously cares for you four.”

“I know that he cares, honest!” I defend, sitting up straight as April lifts a single, skeptical red eyebrow. “Honest! That’s not… That isn’t… Ugh… this is a mega mess.” I rub my forehead with the heel of my hand as I sniffle again, a dull throb forming behind my eyes.

“I’m not saying that Sensei doesn’t care about us, dudette. He has to care, if only a little, to deal with all the headaches we put him through. Raphael’s temper, Donatello’s exploding machines, and my stu… and me.” A tired smile tugs on my lips as I stare at my lap. “Leonardo has to be the only one who doesn’t make Sensei want to tear out his fur. So… I know he cares. But… I want… I would like…”

Heat builds behind my eyes and my throat constricts causing me to cough a little to continue.

April remains silent. I lift my gaze up to her eyes, the sad green staring back as I try to keep my smile in place.

“I would like to know… if he cares about us more than us just being his students, ya know? To know that he sees us as HIS KIDS rather than just HIS STUDENTS.” A wet chuckle leaves me, and I press my hand to my aching melon, trying to hide the start of free roaming tears. “Mega dumb right? And, like, tots unfair, huh? I should be happy with the support he gives. And yet, I—"

Words die on my lips when two arms wrap around me, tugging me close. April’s red hair tickles my cheek as she tightens her grip on me.

“It’s not dumb, Michelangelo,” April whispers and my lips tremble as my vision blurs. “You and your brothers have missed out on a lot of ‘normal’ things that many of us got to experience. There’s nothing wrong with wanting a parent-child relationship.”

April pulls back, cupping my face as a few stray tears leak from my eyes. She wipes them away with her thumb, smiling sadly.

“I wish I could give you the answer you want, Sweetie. But… I’m not the one who your heart wants to hear it from. Not to be that person but… I think you need to discuss this with Master Splinter. I know, I know,” April chuckles when I go to duck my head, but her hands keep me in place.

“It’s gonna be awkward and embarrassing. All heartfelt conversations are. But they need to happen. If you don’t talk to Master Splinter about this, it’s just going to fester inside of you and eat away at you until you burst. And, well, it’ll keep you awake.” April gestures around us when my snout wrinkles.

“It IS keeping you awake, Michelangelo. If you venturing out to my apartment at this time of night is anything to go by. In this weather of all things. Which can lead to you getting sick. And it’ll come out eventually just maybe not in the way you wanted it to if you wait for too long. No time is going to be the perfect time to bring something like this up. You just gotta do it, okay?”

Sighing, I nod against her hold.

She’s right. My brain isn’t gonna let this go if I don’t do something about it. I already have a mega hard time going to Snooze Town, my mind constantly racing and demanding attention. Or, when I do sleep, nightmares like to rear their heads. So, adding this weird feeling and want on top of all that is just gonna spell a mega disaster just waiting to happen.

“But… but how do I ask Sensei about any of this?” I ask in a hushed tone, worrying my bottom lip. “What if he gets weirded out by me wanting to see him as my ‘dad’ and kicks me out of the lair?”

“Michelangelo.”

I flinch at April’s sharp tone, unused to the redhead using a tone with me. Usually, Leonardo and Sensei are the only ones to truly use a voice like that on me. She sits up straight, squaring her shoulders as she stares me down.

“I want you to put that thought out of your head right this instant.” April points a finger at me as I blink at her with wide eyes. “Even if Master Splinter doesn’t want to be seen as the ‘father’ type, which I still see no reason why he WOULDN’T want to be seen as such, I know for a FACT that he would not just toss you out of the lair for wanting to see him as a parental figure.” April’s face softens and she grabs my shoulders. “He literally raised you, Michelangelo. If he didn’t want to be seen as a parent, he wouldn’t have gone out of his way to save you and your brothers and then raise you for all these years.”

Sniffling, I rub my nose with the back of my hand as April presses a kiss to my forehead. She then stands and walks over to the cabinet next to the fridge and pulls out a white bottle. She walks back and sits in front of me, opening the bottle and dumping two red and white pills into her hands.

“I hope that helps answer some of your questions, Sweetie. You feeling a little better now?” She asks softly, taking my hand and placing the pills into my palm.

“Yeah,” I answer, sniffing. “You were a mega help, April. Thanks, a mill. But I should probs be heading back. My bros will flip if they find out I’ve gone for a stroll without them.”

“It’s what I’m here for,” April says, gesturing for me to pop the pills even though I told her earlier I didn’t want any. But… after all of that talking and emotional roller coasters, my melon isn’t feeling too hot. Not that I’d admit that out loud after all the fuss I’ve causes.

April continues.

“I wasn’t about to let you leave here, injured and cold, and not answer the question that got you to venture all the way over here.” April’s face clouds a little with concern. “But will you be all right heading back to the lair by yourself? Do you want me to walk you back, just in case? Or, if you want, you can crash here. My couch folds out into a bed.”

Shaking my head, I pop the two tiny pills into my mouth and use the last of my drink to wash them down. I fight back a gag, never enjoying taking pain meds. It’s like two chalky and gross jellybeans that try to choke you. But thankfully, I don’t spit them back up like I usually do.

“I’ll be fine, April. ‘Sides, I kept you up long enough.” I offer her a lopsided smile, already feeling a little lighter in the chest now that I’ve at least talked to someone. Though now I have this twisting pit of impending doom knowing what I’m gonna have to do in the near future. “I don’t wanna be the reason you’re tired at work. Well… more tired since I kinda already cut into your sleepy time.” 

April purses her lips as I make to stand, wobbling slightly as my noggin doesn’t like the change in altitude. The sensation doesn’t last as long as it did the last time I stood so I’ll count that as a win.

April, however, doesn’t looked convinced.

“Are you absolutely certain? I don’t mind you staying here or even helping you get home if you need it.”

Waving a dismissive hand, I bring my mug to the sink. Turning, my eyes land on the bloody towel resting on April’s table. Guilt squirms in my chest but I smile at the reporter.

“Honest, Dudette. I’ll just keep to the shadows and take the first manhole cover I come across. ‘Sides, those meds helped my noggin a lot. Barely hurts now!”

April narrows her eyes as I start toward her bedroom, not wanting to continue intruding on my friend.

“If you’re sure…” April says slowly, following me closely. “I just don’t want you walking around injured, Michelangelo. Do you at least want an umbrella? I think Casey took my large raincoat the last time he was here otherwise I would offer you that.”

I flash her a smile as I slide her window back open, shivering as the damp, cold air rushes into the warm room.

“Nah, thanks though. A little rain ain’t gonna hurt me. And I’m a big turtle, April. A slight knock to the noggin isn’t gonna stop this dude. I’ve taken harder hits from Tin Face, ya know?”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better, young man.”

Giggling, I wink at the redhead before crawling out onto the fire escape. April leans out as I make my way toward the ladder.

“Please call me when you get home, all right? Just to ease my mind? And to let me know what Donatello says about your head?”

“Will do, Amiga! Thanks, a billion, April!”

April waves as I slide down the ladder, taking a moment when I reach the bottom as a tiny wave of dizziness hits me. Breathing through my nose, I blink until my vision clears and cautiously start down the alleyway.

Well, that was both tots enlightening and mega confusing. And I forgot to ask what is okay to call a parent, especially one not blood-related! But I can’t be eating up more of April’s time. The dudette needs to sleep and get ready for work here soonish.

And if I stay out too long, Sensei is gonna look into the void and know I’m not there. And then I’ll get my shell handed to me.

I chew on my bottom lip as I wrap my arms around me as the rain instantly drenches me and a deep part of me regrets not taking up April’s offer for an umbrella. I quickly pull my mask back up, trying to keep the bandages dry as I finally spot a manhole cover. It’s a struggle to lift, being wet and slightly nauseous but after some struggling, I get it open enough to slide through.

My hands are clammy as I lower myself into the hole, shivering hard. I’m kinda wishing I would have kept the towel just for the warmth, but it’s covered in blood and April’s. I don’t wanna take it from her. And it’s not like I won’t be dry as a cucumber soon enough. I’ll just sneak into the bathroom to dry off and head to bed after letting April know I made it back to the lair.

Rubbing my arms, I continue down the dark tunnel, knowing the way back home by heart. I could be half outta my mind and I’d still be able to find my way back. Sensei made sure we would always know how to find the lair no matter which direction we come from.

And that’s what a parent would do, right? I think, sluggishly walking, my shoulder sliding along the brick wall, trying to keep myself up right. Wanting to make sure we could always find our way home, right? But… that is just a guardian thing, right? Not just something a parent does. My lips twitch into a frown. But… But is a guardian a parent? Or is that different? The heel of my hand rubs my forehead as my thoughts circle around each other.

Shell. And here I thought that my talk with April helped clear some things up. Like, Irma seeing her friend’s parents as second parents. But are guardians also parents? Or are all parents’ guardians but not all guardians parents?

A sharp pang shoots through my skull causing me to stumble and wince. Resting against the wall, I hold my head and whimper.

“Guess Raphael is right. Think too hard and I’ll hurt myself.”

A weak laugh leaves me, shivering harder and goosebumps spread across my body. Pushing myself up, my mouth waters unpleasantly but I manage to keep my stomach at bay as I continue forward. Too be fair, I’m not used to thinking this deeply about subjects as most things don’t catch my attention like this. Not if it isn’t pizza. Just ask my big bros. They’d agree. But… But this feels IMPORTANT and my mind won’t let me move on until I’ve figured this out.

And… And I will talk to Sensei but first sleep, I think as the entrance to the lair comes into view. Because I think my brain is gonna melt and Sensei is for sure sleeping by now.

I pause and peer into the main area of the lair.

The space is still dark, and the soft breathing of my bros fills the air. The light in the dojo has dimmed to a flickering soft golden light, telling me that Sensei is now meditating, which he does before bed.

I sag in relief.

Master Splinter hasn’t exited the dojo to freshen up in the bathroom yet, which means my late-night stroll hasn’t been discovered.

Breathing out slowly, I pull my Communicator from my belt and dial up April.

“Hello?” comes a drowsy reply and my guilt from earlier resurfaces when the dark silhouette of April comes into view. Shell. I didn’t mean to wake her again.

“H-Hey, April,” I whisper. “Just letting you know that I’m back at the lair.”

I can faintly see April rub her eyes, but the room is too dark for me to see anything else.

“Oh! Okay, good,” April answers, voice still tired but happy. “Thank… *yawn*… Thank you for letting me know, Michelangelo. You have a good night and I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

I swallow a chuckle as another yawn escapes the redhead, nearly sending me into a yawn myself.

“Sure thing, Dudette. Thanks again. I owe you a large, double cheese and bacon pizza.”

A soft chuckle follows my response.

“Sure thing, Michelangelo. Have a good night until then.”

“Night, April,” I murmur before closing the Comm.

Now to just sneak back inside and go to bed. No problemo.

Swallowing thickly, I tiptoe into the lair, eyeing the dojo warily. I don’t know how long Sensei has been meditating for, so I need to be fast and silent. Depending on how deep Sensei is in his trance, he could be minutes from going to bed to having another twenty or so before slipping off to dreamland.

All I gotta do is dry off and then hit the hay, I think, tensing when one of my bros roll over. And nobody will ever know that I left.

A soft puff of air rushes from me as I slip into the bathroom, not daring to turn the light on or fully close the door. Any sound might alert Master Splinter that one of us is up with his super hearing. Not that we can’t use the bathroom at night but all of us tend to be deep sleepers once we nod off. So, Sensei might think that something is wrong if he catches me. Which, I mean, isn’t all that far off but I really don’t wanna have that convo just yet, ya know? I’ll probably flub it up with just how tired I am now and not say something right.

Sniffling softly, I rub my snout as I grope around for my towel. I was the last to shower before bed so my towel should be the closest to the door. A triumphant grin forms when my fingers finally catch the still slightly damp but fluffy fabric. As quickly as I can, I drag the dull pink towel on my skin, shivering as water from my mask drips down my neck and into my shell.

Gingerly, I tug my mask off and prod at the bandages protecting the gauze. While slightly damp, I’m pleased to feel that they’re much drier than my mask.

They should tots be able to hold until morning, I think, wiping the back of my neck before hanging my towel back up. I step further into the bathroom, wringing my mask out in the sink. No reason to bother Donatello when Dr. April got me all patched up just fine.

Once my mask feels dry enough, I creep out of the bathroom. The dojo is still bright so I move as swiftly and quietly as I can. Part of me shakes a fist at past me for choosing the room closest to the entrance of the lair. But Leonardo had wanted a room close to the dojo and Sensei didn’t want me near the kitchen or Donatello near his lab. Something about not trusting me not to sneak a pizza slice or two and not wanting Donatello to sneak into his lab instead of sleeping.

Not like that has stopped my genius bro, I think as I finally reach my room and slink into the shadows.

Placing my mask onto my desk, I slip into my bed. The mattress sinks under my weight and a content sigh leaves me as I pull my blanket tight around my chilled form. My eyes slide close, and I breathe in deeply once and release it.

Chapter Text

BANG! SLAM!

My eyes snap open with my heart pounding and my head aching as loud noises drift into my room. Confused, I drag myself upright in bed. My fists rub at my grainy and aching eyes, and I clear my dry throat. A frown tugs on my lips when light pours into my room.

Shell. What time is it? I could have sworn I just laid down. There’s no way that it’s morning already! I just closed my eyes! I don’t even think I’ve journeyed to the land of sleep at all.

Definitely doesn’t feel like it.

Pursing my lips, I struggle to roll out of bed as another round of banging fills the lair. Banging that sounds suspiciously like pots and pans.

“Shell, are my bros trying to cook again?” I whisper, coughing slightly as the words catch in my throat. I press my hand to my forehead when a sharp pain zips through my skull at the movement.

Knowing what happened the last time my bros tried cooking anything that isn’t pizza, I stagger out of my room. Only to hiss as the bright lights of the lair burn my eyes. Squinting, I follow the sound of arguing and shuffling around. I do my best to shake out my limbs as they barely cooperate with me as I move across the main area toward the off-tune symphony of bangs. A loud curse has me pausing in the kitchen entrance and I blink in shock.

All three of my bros are moving about the kitchen, each covered in a different amount of flour and suspicious white goop. Leonardo is holding a wooden bowl and spoon, stirring vigorously while Raphael rummages through the cabinets, obviously searching for something. Donatello has a cookbook open at the table and is holding a still intact egg over another bowl. His tongue is sticking out as he reads over the page before him.

My hands fly to my cheeks as I take in the grotesque scene before me.

My…MY KITCHEN!

“Wha-What are you dudes doing?!” I croak out in horror when something white and mushy drips from the ceiling and splats onto the counter. “What have you done to my kitchen?!”

My throat burns as I talk and I clear it again, trying to ease the ache.

Yikes. No talking until I drink something.

All three of my bros freeze, staring at me with wide eyes.

It would almost be funny how my big bros look, like three kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar. But right at this moment? My brain is too foggy from just waking up and I just can’t process what my big bros think they’re doing in MY kitchen. Or what the stuff on the walls and ceiling is supposed to be.

Another large glob falls from the ceiling and, almost like a switch, my bros all start talking at once.

“It was Fearless’s idea—!”

“Was not! We all agreed—!”

“Well, you see, we were hungry, and you were still sleeping—"

Overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of noise, I shrink back and squeeze my eyes shut as I press a hand to my forehead. Too much… Can’t process… Why is everything so loud?

“What is going on out here?!”

Instantly, my bros all stop talking and I crack an eye open to find Master Splinter standing in the entryway of the dojo. A deep frown mars his face as my bros peek their heads out and I move to have my shell against the wall next to the kitchen entrance to allow them room to exit. Guilt radiates from my older bros as Sensei’s eyes narrow, taking in their dirty appearances. I duck my head when he looks over at me and I shuffle in place.

“Would one of you care to explain to me what all that commotion was?” Master Splinter asks, ears twitching as he slowly descends the stairs, unamused. “And why in the world are the three of you covered in batter and yelling at your brother?”

My three bros exchange a look, all shooting me a brief glance before Leonardo sheepishly steps forward. My eyes trail some white glop on his shell as it slides down.

That’s supposed to be batter?!

“W-W-Well,” Leonardo starts, clearing his throat as he glances back at us over his shoulder. Raphael shrugs and Donatello offers him an encouraging thumbs up. “When Michelangelo didn’t wake up to make us breakfast, we, uh, we thought that it would be a nice surprise if we made breakfast instead. And, um, we… we didn’t think making pancakes would be so hard.” Leonardo shrugs helplessly. “Since, you know, we’ve all watched you and Michelangelo make them in the past.” Leonardo rubs the back of his head. “And we weren’t trying to yell at Michelangelo, merely explain what we were doing.” Leonardo shoots me an apologetic smile over his shoulder. “I’m sorry if it felt like we were yelling at you, Little Brother. We didn’t mean to.”

My lips quirk into a smile and I nod while waving a dismissive hand, relieved that I hadn’t done anything to cause the yelling. Leonardo stares at me while I continue to smile, resisting the urge to rub my throat. There is a beat of silence before confusion spreads on Leonardo’s face when the two of us just stand here, staring at each other. When he realizes that I’m not gonna say anything, he looks back at Master Splinter. I glance back at our sensei as well, only to find him also looking in my direction.

For a horrifying moment, more horrifying than being told that all pizza places are closing, I fear that he’s going to ask about my walk last night. But just as fast as I notice him looking at me, he turns his gaze back to my bros.

Master Splinter sighs and shakes his head, a wary but amused look quickly replacing the frown he was just wearing.

“My students,” he starts and my heart squeezes painfully and I force myself not to wince. “While I am sure your brother appreciates you going out of your way to make breakfast so that he could sleep a little longer, I think he would appreciate it even more if you would not destroy the kitchen or waste our food in doing so.”

I force myself to remain mentally present and nod again when Sensei gestures toward me and my bros follow the action. There is another pause, as if everyone is expecting me to add commentary, but my throat is still aching, and I don’t wanna give them the wrong impression if I croak out my words. I just need to drink a nice tall glass of water and I’ll be all good to go.

Sensing that I’m not gonna speak, Master Splinter continues.

“Now, my students. This is what we are going to to do. Since the three of you made the mess, it will be on the three of you to clean up the kitchen. Once that is done, I expect the three of you to wash up for I do not want any of that…” Master Splinter gestures vaguely at my big brothers. “Batter trailed into my dojo. And while you are washing up, Michelangelo and I shall start on breakfast. Once that is all said and done, we may begin training. Understood?”

“Yes, Sensei,” my oldest three bros say in unison, bowing. I bow alongside them before watching as they head back into the kitchen.

“Man, who knew that a little batter could go a long way?” Raphael asks as he wipes some goop off his face. “Looks like we struck out with this one.”

My lips quirk at the twin groans from Leonardo and Donatello. A snicker emits from my red-cladded brother, and he nudges our other brothers as they bat at him.

“Michelangelo?”

Jumping, I turn toward Master Splinter with wide eyes. My heart leaps into my throat as dark eyes study me, eyebrows furrowing.

Oh shell.

He knows I left last night and is tots gonna call me out on it. And then I’m gonna have to discuss why I left because he’ll want a reason but it’s so early in the morning and I’m not ready! My brain is so foggy and I’m so thirsty and I haven’t even thought about what I’m gonna—

“Michelangelo.”

A warm hand touches my cheek and I refocus on my sensei. My snout twitches as Master Splinter narrows his eyes as he watches me.

“Y-Y-Yes?”

His whiskers twitch at my soft reply and he cocks his head.

“You are awfully quiet, young one. Are you feeling alright?” Master Splinter pauses as I offer him a confused look while nodding. “Are you certain? You feel a little warm to me. Do you have a headache? Aches? Pains?”

Warm? I still feel a little cold, honestly.

Seeing my confusion deepen and I shake my head ‘no’, mentally wincing when the bandage pulls with the movement, Sensei’s hand drops from my cheek but his concerned expression remains.

“Well, if you just woke up that is probably why you are feeling warm.” Master Splinter’s lips form a small smile. “If you are absolutely certain that you are feeling alright, my student, then I believe you. Please come to me if you are not feeling well. We do not want you overworking yourself when you are not feeling your best. But if you truly are feeling well, then I suggest you go and finish getting dressed while your brothers finish cleaning. Then we shall meet in the kitchen to make breakfast.

“Dressed?” I ask softly, eye ridges furrowing as I glance down. What is he talking about? I have my belt and pads on.

Master Splinter tilts his head, cocking an eyebrow at me.

“You are missing your mask, young one.”

My hand flies to my face and I wince. Shell! How’d I forget my little amigo?! Hopefully it’s dry by now.

Master Splinter chuckles, shaking his head as my face warms and a sheepish look forms. Without another word, he motions for me to head back to my room before entering the kitchen. A heavy sigh emits from the older mutant, and I can’t help but giggle. It’s not often we hear that particular sigh from Master Splinter. It usually happens when we do something that makes Sensei shake his head and mutter about “youngsters nowadays.”

Do parents also make that same sigh when seeing a mess that their kids made? I think as I work my way back over to my room. I sniffle softly and scratch at my tickling snout. Or do all older people make that noise toward younger people? I could have sworn that April has made the same noise toward us a few times. But she tends to sigh a lot when it comes to us, so sometimes it’s hard to tell them apart.

Frowning, I waddle over to my desk and pick up my mask. My lips twitch as I run my fingers over the fabric. It’s still a little damp but if I give it a few more minutes, I’m sure it’ll be dry. It’ll definitely be dry by the time we have training.

Shrugging, I gingerly wrap the orange fabric around my eyes. I don’t tie it as tightly as I usually do, the goose egg and cut on the back of my head instantly aching at even the light pressure I’ve just applied.

I pause for a second to check myself in the mirror above my dresser. My mask doesn’t look any different than usual, so I offer myself a tired thumbs up.

Sighing, I grab my nunchakus from under my pillow and shove them into my belt. I check myself again, wincing when I realize that I never took my pads off last night. Meaning they were all wet still. Not cool, dude. But it’s not anything new. Wouldn’t be the first and won’t be last. I’ll just have to make sure to wash my sheets later, just in case.

Hopefully my sheets aren’t too damp.

Shaking my head, I exit my room and work my way back over to the kitchen. Poking my head in, relief hits me when the surfaces sparkle back. Oh, thank the pizza chef. My bros managed to clean my entire kitchen.

Sighing happily, I enter the space and head for the sink. Washing my hands, I quickly grab a glass and fill it with water. Sipping the cool liquid, I feel it go all the way down into my gut. My snout wrinkles as my stomach rolls slightly but I shove it away. I’m sure I’m just overly hungry, that’s all. Sometimes when I get too hungry, I get all puky, so I’ll just have to let my stomach make peace with itself before I try putting more than water inside it.

Placing my glass into the sink, I wash my hands one last time before heading to the fridge, thoughts of what to make swirling in my tired mind.

My bros wanted to have pancakes but that’s gonna take too long. They do, however, always enjoy eggs and bacon. And April brought us some fresh fruit earlier this week, so I can put those into a tiny bowl for everyone.

Plucking out the ingredients, I gently close the fridge and start moving about the kitchen. A small part of my brain mentions that I should turn the lights back on so that I can see better but I know the layout of the kitchen like the back of my skateboard.

Grabbing the pans I need, I swiftly start cracking eggs to scramble them. My lips purse when I notice just how many eggs we are now missing due to my bros trying to make breakfast. Taking a deep breath, I reach up and gingerly rub the space between my eyes. A tired smile tugs on my lips. I can’t be too mad. They were just trying to be nice.

“Ah, I see you have already started, Michelangelo.”

Jumping, I turn as Master Splinter re-enters the space. My eyes squint as my master flicks the light on, the sudden shift burning a little. Yikes. Think I’ve been in the dark for too long. Blinking rapidly, I refocus on my sensei as he glides into the kitchen. There is a small smile on his face as he glances at the ingredients I have spread out on the table.

“Scrambled eggs and bacon with fruit.” Master Splinter nods. “Excellent choice, my student.”

My throat tightens and it feels like an arrow piercing through my chest at my sensei’s words. Trying to breathe through the sudden ache, I force a smile and nod as I resume stirring the eggs.

“Michelangelo?”

“Yes?” I call out, happy to hear my voice slightly back to normal. Still a little scratchy but nothing more water won’t fix that.

“What do you need me to start, my student?”

My jaw clenches and I have to mentally remind myself that it isn’t fair to be hurt by that phrase when I haven’t even discussed my problem with my sensei yet.

“Would… would you be willing to start cutting up some of the fruit?” I ask, moving over to grab the bacon to add it to the other pan. “I think we have little bowls near the fridge.”

I keep my eyes on the stove as Master Splinter moves around behind me. I nearly jump out of my skin when he pats my shell as he walks by.

Just keep your cool. You can talk to Sensei after training. No reason to stress him out more after the snaffoo that my big bros just put him through this fine morning.

My eyes flicker to the digital clock over the stove.

I wince.

It’s already 7:30? I didn’t think I slept for that long! No wonder my bros tried to make breakfast! Normally, I have breakfast finished by 7, ready for when Leonardo finishes his early morning meditation and extra training.

“I have finished cutting the fruit, my student,” Master Splinter says, his soft voice pulling me from my thoughts. I barely hold back my flinch when I move my head too quickly as I glance back at him.

My eyes flicker to the neatly cut fruit in five tiny bowls. Forcing a happy look, I look back at Master Splinter.

“That’s mondo awesome, Sensei. Gracias.” I flip the bacon before turning down the heat. I clear my throat as I continue. “Would… would you get me down some plates? The eggs and bacon are pretty much done.”

Master Splinter pauses, his ears twitching as I talk. His eyes narrow and I quickly turn back toward the cooking food, nerves dancing in my chest.

Why is he looking at me like that? Is the void telling him about my late-night stroll? But why? I’ve been like tots good! No reason for him to be suspicious. Like, I’m sure once I talk to Sensei like April said I should he’ll figure it out and I’ll be grounded for like the rest of my life, but he shouldn’t know just yet.

“Michelangelo,” Master Splinter starts softly, my shoulders tensing when he shifts closer, concern filling the air. “Is everything—”

“Yo, Michelangelo,” Raphael’s voice cuts in and I sag at my hotheaded bro’s impeccable timing. “Smells great, bro.”

Raphael enters the kitchen with Donatello just behind him. Both smelling fresh and like our soap with not a single speck of batter left on them. Donatello heads to the coffee machine, which already has coffee in it, and swiftly pours himself a mug.

“And where is Leonardo?” Master Splinter asks as Raphael sits at the table and I mentally cheer that he doesn’t push our previous conversation. Sensei moves and grabs five plates down as Raphael slumps back in his seat.

“Fearless needed to wipe off his belt as some of our failed pancakes decided to take residence there for later.”

“But Leonardo almost had it out by the time the two of us left so he should be joining us here shortly,” Donatello adds, sipping his liquid lifeline, clutching the mug to his chest as he takes a seat.

I turn in time to watch as Sensei sets the plates on to the table. Donatello meets my eye and smiles at me as I approach, pan of eggs in hand. He leans forward, studying the golden fluff with a grin.

“Scrambled eggs? Brilliant choice, bro!”

My chest warms at the praise, and I smile bashfully as I scoop some of the golden fluffy goodness onto his plate. Sensei appears next to me, plating some bacon for my brainiac brother. Afraid that Sensei might try starting our convo over again, I swiftly move onto my hotheaded brother as casually as possible.

My stomach clenches as silence falls over us and I feel three sets of eyes on me. Donatello is probably weirded out by me not saying anything, but I’m scared if I continue talking that the void is gonna spill more of my secrets to Sensei and I can’t let that happen! I need to be the one to talk to Sensei! It might not come off correctly if the void tells him everything. I need to make sure he understands how I’m feeling and that it’s okay if he doesn’t see us as sons. I don’t want him being weirded out by it and thinking my bros also think this way too. So, he needs to know that it’s okay. That… it’s… okay…

“Yo, Knucklehead!”

“Huh?”

Jumping, I shoot Raphael a wide-eyed look, flinching as the movement jars my head. The hothead cocks an eye ridge at me as he reaches up and grabs my wrists, shifting my hands back over the table.

“As much as I love your scrambled eggs, Doofus,” Raphael starts dryly and heat spreads across my face as some eggs splat onto his plate. “I prefer them on a plate. Not my lap.”

“S-Sorry, Dude,” I stammer out quietly with a nervous laugh. “Wasn’t… wasn’t paying attention. Brain went on vacation. Heh.”

“When ISN’T your brain on vacation?” Raphael teases but I can feel him watching me even closer as I finish plating his eggs.

Unnerved, I quickly move onto Leonardo’s plate with the eggs as Master Splinter moves to give Raphael his share of bacon.

“Good morning, Leonardo,” Sensei suddenly says as I shift, and I glance up.

My eldest brother smiles as he enters the kitchen, but I can see a strange look on his face. His brown eyes shift in my direction, and I quickly duck my head as he takes his seat at the table.

“Good morning, Sensei. Long time no see,” Leonardo jokes, glancing at the food on his plate. “Thank you for the food, Michelangelo. Sorry to have left you and Sensei to make breakfast again.”

Shrugging, I plate for Sensei, adding a little bit more than usual as I’m suddenly not very hungry.

“It’s no problemo, Dude.”

Once I have a small mound on my plate, I distribute the fruit as my bros chatter among themselves. Well… more of Raphael and Donatello chat while Leonardo only talks when addressed. I can feel his gaze on my shell as I move to fill up the kettle so that Leonardo and Sensei can have tea. Almost like he’s waiting for something. And it’s like tots unnerving having my eldest brother, who I’m pretty sure Sensei imbued some of his mystical and magical powers onto so he can use it to talk to the void too, staring at me. But why is the void being so uncool? Why is it trying to call me out? I don’t wanna drag my bros into my stupid worries and thoughts.

I’m sure my bros have no worries about what Sensei calls or thinks about us, I think sadly, placing two clean mugs next to the stove and scooping my bro’s and Sensei’s favorite tea into it.

“Michelangelo,” Sensei calls out gently. “Come sit. Leonardo and I can deal with our teas. Let us start eating before your hard work gets cold, my student.”

I bite the inside of my bottom lip as another piece of my heart breaks.

Focus, Michelangelo. Fake the smile until it becomes real. Be mondo uncool of you to ruin breakfast over some silly worries.

Slipping into my seat, I offer everyone at the table a smile. Leonardo eyes me but I skim my eyes over his face as we wait for Sensei’s okay to start eating. He glances at each of us, and I can’t quite meet his gaze either. When I see him nod, I place my hands together like my bros and softly say,

“Itadakimasu.”

“It has been a while since the five of us were able to sit down and have a meal together,” Master Splinter comments, breaking the silence that almost fell over us as I poke at my eggs with my fork.

“Indeed, Sensei,” Leonardo says, scooping up one of his pieces of bacon. “I’m glad we were able to today.”

“Same. Too bad it was because we destroyed breakfast,” Donatello adds, chuckling as he finally puts his mug down to also start eating.

Master Splinter nods, humming as he bites into his bacon. He glances around the table causing me to drop my eyes again. The kettle whistles when he swallows, and Leonardo swiftly stands to start fixing his and Sensei’s tea.

“I do believe we should continue to do this together,” Master Splinter comments, addressing each of us. I duck my head causing the bandages to pull. I abandon my eggs to nibble on one of my bacon pieces when we make eye contact briefly. “I believe it will help strengthen our bond even more. And a good way to begin the morning before training.”

I side eye my sensei.

I mean, that’s a good sign, right? That’s something families do. Having a meal together. Sensei sometimes joins us for supper but making breakfast a normal thing to have together is like a normal family thing, right? So, like, that tots HAS to be a sign that he wants to be a family. Why else would Sensei want to eat with us?

My lips twitch into a frown as I glance down at the bacon, still not feeling overly hungry. And the smell is making my stomach flip.

Am I really that nervous? I think as I place the bacon back down and reach for the fruit, hoping that maybe the strawberries and cantaloupe will settle my stomach. I can’t train on an empty stomach and my bros will be suspicious and know that something is up if I don’t eat.

It’s mondo grando. Sensei and I will chat, and I’ll just eat something later.

I stab a piece of orange cantaloupe and shove it into my mouth.

And almost gag.

I mentally whine when even the fruit feels heavy on my tongue, the usual sweetness nearly too sweet for me at the moment. This is like mega unfair. Cantaloupe is one of my favorite fruits! I specifically asked April to get it for us and here I am, too nervous to even enjoy it.

I tilt my head to the side as I force myself to chew, knowing that if I spit it out my bros are gonna get the wrong idea. The bandages under my mask shift as I move and finally swallow. My skin crawls and the adhesive tugs in a way that doesn’t feel the greatest. My hand moves to the back of my head, my skin itching and needing to relieve the weird sensation. Rubbing at the knot of my mask, my snout wrinkles as the itch doesn’t quite go away.

“Michelangelo?”

Jerking, I glance up at the sound of Leonardo’s voice. We make eye contact briefly when I realize that the entire kitchen is silent. My stomach swoops when I realize EVERYONE at the table is watching me.

“What… What’s up, dudes? Something wrong with the food?” I ask, doing my best to act casual.

The frowns that stare back at me has my stomach sinking and my heart rate spiking. Mega yikes. One would think that I just committed the worst act of them all, denouncing pizza, by how my bros are acting.

“Dudes?”

Donatello leans forward, reaching out for my wrist. Concerned hazel eyes study me as I stare back in confusion.

“Are you feeling all right, Michelangelo?”

Tilting my head, I ignore the way the bandages move as I study my brainy bro.

“Course, Dude! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Maybe it’s ‘cause you haven’t eaten anything, Chucklehead,” Raphael jumps in, eyes narrowing as he gestures toward my plate with his fork.

My mouth dries a little as I follow the movement. He’s right. I’ve barely touched anything. Shell. I was really hoping they wouldn’t notice.

“And considering that you’re usually the first one done, you can see why we’re concerned that you haven’t even started yet, correct? Most of us are already halfway done,” Donatello adds, leaning closer. “Are you feeling sick?”

Unsure what to say, I glance down at my plate and wince. The eggs have only been shifted around my plate except for the one fork full I took earlier.

Uh oh. Okay. Don’t panic, Mikester. All you need to do is think of something believable and your bros will drop it. There is no reason for me to tell them that I’m nervous to talk with Sensei when they don’t even know that I want to talk with him in the first place.

Clearing my throat, I shake my head and do my best to seem as chirper as possible.

“What? Nah. I’m not sick! I’m just… excited for… a new comic book!”

Leonardo frowns as he stares me down, light brown eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“A new comic book?” He echoes back and I quickly nod, hating how the bandages make my skin itch more with each nod but I don’t bother stopping now.

“Totally, Dude! A new comic book I’ve been waiting for is supposed to come out today and April promised to go with me to get it as she wanted to do a story on the launch,” I lie, my stomach squeezing as I stare down at my plate. It’s just a little white lie. It won’t hurt anything. “And… I guess I’m just so stoked that it’s making it hard to eat. I want to start training so that I can meet up with her and get that comic book!”

I cross my toes under the table, hoping beyond hoping that the void doesn’t spill the beans to my bros or Sensei. I’ll admit to Sensei once I can talk to him that what I said was a lie, but I don’t want to discuss this at the table. Not until I can hear from Sensei himself if he’s comfortable being seen as a ‘Dad’ or if he’d be angry if I call him that. And… And if I’m the only one out of all of us that is feeling this way, I don’t wanna deal with my bros teasing. Because, I can deal with them making cracks at my brain, because, well, I’ve earned a lot of those jokes and I’ve grown accustomed to them. But this? This feels too personal. Too important. And I don’t think I’d be able to handle them teasing me about this. Let alone try and be able to explain to them why this is important to ME.

I keep my gaze steady as I glance around the table and after a moment, my bros start to relax. Master Splinter, however, has an unreadable look on his face as he watches me.

Raphael suddenly leans forward, a smirk on his face as he addresses me.

“Then… if you don’t wanna finish your food… I’d be more than happy to finish them eggs and bacon for you. As your favorite brother and all we can’t let your hard work go to waste.”

Before I can even open my mouth, an explosion of noise fills the air as both Leonardo and Donatello venomously deny Raphael’s offer.

“You his favorite brother?! Since when?” Donatello exclaims, turning toward me as I stare on with wide eyes. “Michelangelo, obviously Raphael is just trying to coerce you into giving him your food. Don’t fall for that trap. Besides if anyone is your favorite brother, it’s obviously me as I—”

“Excuse me?” Leonardo cuts in, pointing a fork at our purple-cladded brother. “And why on earth would you be his favorite brother? And don’t you dare try to guilt him into giving you his food by listing all of the things that you’ve fixed for him. That is just a low blow. Michelangelo should be allowed to choose if he wants to even share his food with us or if he wants to save it for later. Because, if he doesn’t eat it now, with his metabolism, he IS going to get hungry later.” Leonardo turns toward me, smiling softly. “Michelangelo, you don’t have to share your food with anyone if you don’t want to. If you want to save it for when you get back from getting your comic book, then that’s fine. I’ll even help you place it into a container.”

“Now hold it right there! You’re just trying to butter him up, Fearless,” Raphael accuses, narrowing his eyes at our eldest brother as a strange feeling starts morphing in my gut the longer they talk. “So, who is trying coerce him now, huh?”

My shoulders hunch up to my nonexistent ears as my bros continue to argue, each claiming to be my favorite brother and giving reasons to have my food. Normally, I would be laughing at just how hard my bros are trying to get me to give them my portion of breakfast. Because it almost never happens as I’m usually the first one done. But right now? All of this noise is just… upsetting. And it’s making this weird pressure in my chest build and my forehead aches whenever the volume escalates in pitch. And it’s just getting to be too mu—

“ENOUGH!”

My heart leaps into my throat as my three bros jump. All of us look over at Master Splinter. His ears are flat against his head and his eyes narrow as he scans my suddenly sheepish older brothers.

“My students,” Master Splinter starts, and I quickly drop my gaze. “All of this arguing is unacceptable and getting out of hand. Instead of arguing over who gets Michelangelo’s portion of breakfast, I think that the three of you should merely ASK your brother who he would like to share his portion with. And that is only IF he is willing to share. He also has every right to save it for later as the four of you do have patrol tonight for a few hours. Now, Michelangelo,” Master Splinter turns his gaze toward me, and my three big brothers follow. “Would you like to provide your portion to your brothers? Or would you like to save it for later?”

Biting my bottom lip, I shift uneasily as everyone’s eyes burn into me. I shoot a look at my uneaten food, the thought of even trying to scarf it down right now turns my stomach and I know that it’ll only stop once I speak to Master Splinter.

And my bros are almost always sharing their food with me when I finish before them…

Making up my mind, I grab my fork and cut up my two pieces of bacon into fourths. I then split my eggs into four equal piles and stand.

“Michelangelo?” Leonardo calls out but I remain silent as I move around the table, giving my family eat equal portions from my plate.

It’s quiet when I return to my seat, plate empty and I pull my bowl of fruit closer to me.

“There,” I state, beaming at everyone as I clear my throat again. “Now everyone got a portion. I’ll save my bowl of fruit for later and all of you can have the eggs and bacon. I’m sure I’ll be mondo distracted later so having to heat up eggs and bacon is just a no go, dudes. But fruit is meant to be cold, so it’s a win-win!”

Silence follows my words and I fight to keep my chirper expression in place. My bros look both confused and flabbergasted that I would just divide my food up like that while Master Splinter has a sparkle in his eyes that I just can’t place. After a beat, embarrassment starts to creep back in and I turn to stare down at the table, clearing my throat again before grabbing my drink and sipping it.

Why won’t this ache go away? I can’t talk to Sensei if I’m croaking all over the place! I think as I try to distract myself from the weirdness falling over my bros. It’s like, mega distracting and tots unnerving. While I enjoy having their attention on me, I like it when I’m looking for it. Not because I was just trying to be nice and stop the arguing.

Master Splinter clears his throat, regaining all of our attention. He peers down at us over his nose.

“I do believe that your brother has made his decision. Now, it is impolite to stare. So, I would suggest the three of you start eating while your brother wraps up his fruit for later.” Master Splinter turns his gaze fully on me, softening a little. “Thank you, young one. This was very kind of you. If you would like, once you are done wrapping your fruit, you may head to the dojo and start stretching. The four of us will meet you there.”

Swallowing thickly, I nod and stand as my bros start eating like starved animals. Acting as though I would take the food back. Which is like a mondo weird. I would never take food away from my bros or sensei. That would just be…wrong.

My snout twitches as I grab tinfoil and wrap the bowl up. My heart pounds as I place the fruit into the fridge.

“Meet you dudes in the dojo!” I chirp, wincing as my voice cracks a little.

Luckily, it doesn’t seem like anyone notices as they continue to eat and make small talk. Sensei sits at the table, sipping his tea, looking as though he is watching my brothers, but I can feel his gaze as I exit the kitchen.

Once in the main area, I sag. That coulda been like mondo bad. I feel kinda guilty about lying to my bros, I just need more time. Get Sensei’s take on all of this “Dad” stuff and then, if it goes well, I’ll tell my bros. If it goes poorly, I keep it all to myself. Easy peasy, lemon-squeezed sausage and ham pizza.

Upon entering the dojo, I walk to the middle of the room and start stretching. My mouth twitches into a frown when my head buzzes as I lean down to touch my toes. Halfway down, I stop and just dangle my arms there. It's not the best stretch job that I’ve ever done, kinda half-shelling it until my bros get in here. Leonardo would have my shell if he saw just how lazy I was being with this, and Donatello would spout about the importance of stretching and not injuring myself. Raphael would probably tell me that it’d be my own fault if I pull something. Which is like mondo fine. I just want to get training over and done with so that I can chat with Sensei. I’m gonna go mega insane if I don’t just get this over and done with.

Voices filtering into the dojo has me putting more effort into my stretching. My head protests the movement, but I push through it as to not draw suspicion toward me as my bros make their way over to me. Raphael nudges me as he sits down and starts stretching as well. I flash him a chirper expression. He doesn’t say anything further as Sensei enters the dojo, an air of calm following him. I keep my head down as Sensei passes to stand before us.

“I shall give the four of you two more minutes of stretching before we shall begin,” Master Splinter states, calmly clasping his hands behind his back. “Today, I think we shall forgo katas today and go straight into sparring before ending with meditation. Since the four of you have had a very busy last few days, I want to keep your training light for now.” A mischievous smirk forms on our teacher’s face. “But do not expect tomorrow’s training to be this light.”

I see pouts form on Donatello and Raphael’s face while Leonardo merely nods, a determined look on his face. I’m not sure how to feel. I know that tomorrow I’ll be beyond sad about having more intensive training but I’m just too distracted. Too many thoughts in my mind right now.

And hopefully I’ll have a longer time in Snoozeville tonight, I think as Sensei signals that training is about to begin.

“Donatello. You and Raphael shall spar first,” Sensei states. A wide smirk forms on my hotheaded brother’s face as he and our brainy bro take the center of the dojo, weapons at the ready.

“Ready to journey into Pound Town, bro?” Raphael asks, pulling his sais from his belt and twirling them. Donatello chuckles as he rotates his bo.

“I think the better question is, are you?”

Leonardo and I kneel off to the side as our bros wait for Sensei’s signal.

“Hajimemasu*!”

I try to keep my focus on my sparring bros as they rush each other. However, the longer they dance around each other, the more my eyes wander over to Master Splinter. He is standing on the other side of Leonardo so I have to be careful, otherwise my older brother will think that I’m some wacko who is just watching him. But I can’t help it! Part of me is trying to gauge Sensei’s mood right now. He was pretty happy during breakfast once the kitchen was clean, and he doesn’t seem to be too upset with how the sparring session is going.

Sensei’s ears suddenly twitch, and he turns my way. I swiftly turn my eyes forward, cheeks burning just as Donatello vaults over Raphael as he tries to tackle the brainiac. Donatello turns as he lands and rushes our hotheaded brother. Raphael rolls out of the way just as our brainy bro brings his bo staff down, the wood bouncing off of the cushioned floor. My fingers press into the padding and the thoughts of April’s plush carpet in her bedroom comes to mind. In my mind’s eye, I can see the tan of the padded floor transform into plush carpet that I would love to just wiggle my toes in.

“Ooof!”

Jumping, I refocus on my two brawling bros just as Raphael hits the floor. Donatello lands on top of him, pinning him down with his body weight as he points the end of his bo in our hotheaded brother’s face. Both are breathing heavily with Raphael glaring up at a smirking Donatello.

“Uncle?” Donatello asks, cocking an eye ridge and Raphael rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah.” Raphael sighs. “Uncle.”

Grinning, Donatello leaps up, triumphantly and extends his hand for our downed bro to take. There is half a beat that I’m afraid that Raphael is gonna be a sour puss, but he takes Donatello’s hand in his and allows himself to be pulled from the floor. He catches Donatello in headlock when he stands, rubbing his knuckles on our bro’s price possession.

“Nice fight, bro.”

Red spreads across our bro’s cheeks at the praise as he laughs, shoving at Raphael’s arm.

“Michelangelo. Leonardo. You are next,” Master Splinter states, nodding toward the floor as Donatello and Raphael walk over us.

Biting my lip, I stand from my spot, wincing as my vision spots a little in the corners. Leonardo beats me to the center of the dojo, drawing his swords as he watches me silently. I do my best to be as bouncy as usual as I pull my nunchakus from my belt. Not gonna lie. I’m mega worried about how my head is gonna handle sparring right now, the head rushes I was experiencing from just stretching and standing just now are a tad concerning.

But it’s Leonardo, I think as I get into position, grinning. He’s not gonna hurt me. Once I’m down he’ll just stop so I got nothing to worry about. All I gotta do is lose here quickly and we can start meditating and then Sensei and I can catch!

“Ready for a mega fun time, bro?” I ask, tilting my head as I wait for Sensei’s signal.

Leonardo frowns, his brown eyes scanning me. My eye ridges furrow at the serious look on my big brother’s face.

“Dude?”

“Are you sure you’re feeling all right, Michelangelo?” Leonardo asks, rotating his wrists causing his katanas to sing through the air. “You’re awfully pale.”

A stone sinks in my stomach but I keep my smile in place. Shaking my head, I bounce on the balls of my feet, trying to look normal. I’m worrying too much and it’s starting to show. C’mon, Sensei! Just start the spar so I can stop worrying my bros.

“Never better, Dude. Might just be the lights playing tricks on your eyes.”

His eyes narrow but Sensei beats him to it as he opens his mouth.

“Hajimemasu!”

Leonardo springs into action and rushes me. I easily sidestep the attack. He pivots and continues his assault as I merely dance away. My lips purse as I twist again, my vision wavering with the fast movement. Shell. Shell. Maybe I should have chatted with Donatello before sparring today. But I was so worried about speaking with Sensei that I just kinda forgot and now I’m mega regretting it.

Ducking under another one of Leonardo’s swipes, I attempt to strike out, just so my bro doesn’t get on my case about just dodging. He’ll know that I’m not at a hundred precent if I don’t at least try attacking once or twice.

Leonardo is so fast, I mentally whine as Leonardo backflips away. But he’ll get mondo angry if I don’t give him a challenge. I’m just so out of juice it ain’t even funny.

I try striking out again when Leonardo slashes down at me, but my eldest brother is a touch faster. He knocks my nunchaku away before landing a solid kick to my plastron. Air rushes from my lungs as Leonardo’s foot connects solidly right above my gut, kicking me away.

“Oof!”

My shell hits the floor and my head bounces on the padding. My vision blackens for a moment and my ears buzz.

Ooh, that was no bueno, Dude, I think, swallowing thickly as my mouth waters unpleasantly.

Wincing, I roll onto my side, pressing a hand to my forehead. A warm hand brushes my arm and I flinch away. Shell. That… is not something I wanna feel again. Blinking, I glance up as my vision slowly clears. Concerned brown eyes come into view and Leonardo leans in.

“—chelangelo? Are you alright?” Leonardo’s eyes flicker around my face. “Are you hurt? I’m so sorry, Bro. I didn’t mean to kick you so hard. Let me help you.”

Swallowing again, I smile up at my older brother and wave him off, touched by how worried he is. Reaching out, I pat the arm that is hovering near me.

“Dude, I’m A-Okay, honest,” I say, moving to stand. “That was a wicked trick, though. Definitely a solid hit.”

Leonardo chuckles as he also stands, mouth opening to respond with what I’m sure is a quirky one liner. That is, until my vision greys at the edges and I sway to the left. Leo’s hands snap out to catch me. Strong, large hands grasp my biceps, steadying me. A frown morphs onto my big bro’s face and he studies me.

“Maybe we should have Donatello check you out, just in case,” he says, voice edging toward his ‘Leader tone’. “I saw your head bounce off the floor.”

Panic surges in my chest and I laugh nervously as I shoot our other brothers a look. Donatello is already on his feet, worry etched on his olive face as he hovers and ready for Big Brother’s signal to come forward if needed. Raphael is also on his feet, eyes narrowed with his arms across his chest as he studies the two of us. Sensei, on the other hand, appears quite calm and collected, as if letting the two of us deal with the situation.

I quickly refocus on Leonardo.

“O-O-Oh! Um, nah, Dude. I’m tots fine. Just that random head rush that always gets ya when ya stand too fast, ya know? But like, Sensei has these floors so padded that a little bonk like that barely even hurt! Just surprised me is all.”

Leonardo’s eyes narrow as I grin at him, his eyes sweeping over me again. His fingers twitch on my arms and I’m half afraid that he’s just going to drag me over to our brainy brother who has turned into our personal medic.

Believe me. Believe me. Believe me, I silently chant in my aching head. It’s not like I won’t be going to our brainy bro here sooner or later, but like, I need chat with Sensei first. And if I go to Donatello and he sees the bandages on the back of my head and then finds out that I didn’t come to him last night when I got home, he’ll throw a fit! And then he’ll ask WHY I left in the first place and ask why I went to April’s, and it’ll be a HUMUNGO mess that I just can’t deal with right now. I NEED to be able to chat with Sensei before I go crazy. And Donatello will go all doctor on me and maybe even order me to bed. And if I refuse, he’ll want to do know why and if I tell him why without talking with Master Splinter, he’ll probably think that the Tin-Can replaced me with a weirdo robot and try to dissect me!

Whoa, where did THAT line of thinking come from? I think as I wait for Leonardo to either believe me or speak to the void and have the void call me out again. Maybe I HAVE been replaced with a robot by the Tin-Can and THAT’S why I’m worried about what Sensei will think about me wanting to see him as a ‘dad’ or a parental figure. I’m going through me ‘I’m becoming sentient, and I just want to feel love’ phase!

A heavy sigh escapes my eldest bro, pulling me from my spiraling thoughts. (Which is fine by me, my head is starting to feel like there are a billion little Raphaels using jackhammers inside of it.)

“If you are absolutely certain,” Leonardo says slowly, relaxing slightly and I mentally do a victory dance. “But the moment you start feeling weird or if you feel any tension in your head, I want you to get Donatello, got it?”

“Loud and clear, Dude!” I chirp back, doing my best to hide a wince when I move my head too quickly. Leonardo nods and leads me over to where our bros and Master Splinter are waiting.

“Michelangelo,” Master Splinter steps forward, brown eyes searching me, and I have to resist the urge to squirm. “Are you all right, my student?”

“My sons! I am so relieved you are all right.”

“My sons! Are any of you hurt? What has happened?”

My heart clenches painfully as the voices of the other Master Splinters’ fill my head. Doing my best to mask, I offer the slightly shorter mutant a smile.

“Course, Sensei! It was just a little tumble onto the floor, no biggie. Shred-head has hit me way harder than that and I’ve come out fine.”

“That’s ‘cause you got so much air up there that your head is like its own cushion,” Raphael teases. “It’s why we call ya ‘Air head’.”

My smile strains a little at my hotheaded brother’s teasing. It’s fine. He is just teasing. He teases all the time. No need to let it affect you this time. He’s just trying to lighten the mood, that’s all.

Master Splinter, however, turns a sharp gaze on my bro, instantly shutting him up. Narrowing his eyes, Sensei takes a step closer and my heart leaps into my throat.

“Head injuries are no joking matter,” Sensei states firmly, grabbing my chin to tilt my head toward him to study my eyes. “And your brother took far too long to stand up for my liking.”

Embarrassment shoots through me as my cheeks burn under my teacher’s gaze. Averting my eyes, I shuffle uncomfortably.

“Honest, Sensei,” I mumble, bashfully. “I feel fine.”

A hum emits from the older mutant, his thumb rubs gently on my cheek. That’s a parent thing, right? Worrying about you and making sure you’re okay, right?

A pressure builds behind my eyes, and I will Sensei to look me over faster. I really need to clear my head before talking with Sensei.

Who am I kidding? Master Splinter is always worried about us when he thinks one of us has gotten hurt. I’m pretty sure it’s just a teacher thing. And the fact that HE would have to deal with any serious injury because he couldn’t exactly bring me or my bros to the hospital.

Or would we go to the vet? But we’re pretty much people, right? Just green, with three fingers, two toes and a shell. But like, we can talk and stuff, so would they even accept us at the vet’s office? Is Donatello considered our vet? Or our doctor?

“Are you absolutely certain you are feeling all right, my student?”

Jolting, I refocus on Master Splinter with wide eyes. Sensei waits from me to answer his question and is wearing a heavy frown now. Flushing, I quickly nod and doing my best to smile through the pain.

“Honest and truly, Sensei! No aching melon here!”

Master Splinter’s whiskers twitch as he stands a little straighter, his eyes gleaming. He hums again as I keep eye contact this time and Sensei rests his hands on top of his walking stick.

“Hmm. If you are absolutely certain, young one. However, I am amending Leonardo’s order. You WILL have Donatello check you over once practice is finished before you leave to meet up with Ms. O’Neil. If you are going to venture above ground, I want you with your full wits about you, my student. We do not know when the Shredder or Kraang shall strike again.”

Raphael snorts from his spot on the floor.

“Then Michelangelo shouldn’t be allowed above ground at all.”

Hurt flashes in my chest but I do my best to shove it down. My hotheaded bro always makes comments like this, no reason to overreact to it. But apparently not fast enough if the way that Master Splinter whips around to glare at Raphael is anything to go by.

“And for such a comment, you have just earned yourself a hundred flips after training today, Raphael.”

My snout twitches as Raphael stammers and his eyes widen but I’m suddenly too tired to really care about the fact that my hotheaded brother just got in trouble. Usually, I’m the one doing the flips, so it’s like tots amusing that my older brother has to do them instead. And normally I would be ready to rag on my bro for having to do them but all I want to do is sit down and let the earth eat me whole.

I just want today to be over.

Master Splinter gestures toward me, his icy gaze on the flustered Raphael.

“Now, apologize to your brother so that we can continue with our training.”

Amber eyes flicker over to me, and I meet them for a moment before I choose a spot on the cushioned floor that is pretty interesting right now.

Raphael clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry, Michelangelo. You know I didn’t mean anything by it.”

I shrug still not bothering to lift my gaze.

“Course, Dude. No hard feelings.”

Silence.

“You sure?”

Blinking at the suspicious tone, I finally look at my immediate older brother. A deep frown mars his emerald face and I mentally whine. Is that all I’m good at today? Putting frowns on people’s faces? What happened to all the smiles from earlier? All the laughter?

Swallowing thickly as my stomach rolls again, I smile at my bro and nod.

“Tots, Dude. It’s in your nature to tease, I ain’t gonna hold that against ya. But appreciate the apology anyways.”

Raphael purses his lips as his eye ridges furrow, but he slowly nods. Skepticism radiates heavily from my cool but rude bro as he continues to stare me down nearly to the point of becoming kinda creepy as Sensei turns back around.

“Now that is settled, let us resume training. Boys, take a seat.”

“Yes, Sensei.”

Master Splinter nods and folds his hands behind his back.

“Leonardo. You and Donatello shall spar next. And, whoever loses this match, shall spar with Raphael.”

Blinking in confusion, I face Sensei when he doesn’t continue.

“And who do I spar with, Sensei?”

Master Splinter side-eyes me, nodding for me to kneel next to him as Donatello and Leonardo take their spots in the middle of the floor and Raphael takes the spot on Sensei’s other side.

“You shall sit the rest of sparring out. While you say that you feel fine, I want to be extra certain, and I do not want to risk you fighting, in practice or during your patrol, until Donatello can give you a proper once over. And I shall not be argued with on this, am I clear?”

My mouth snaps shut, definitely about to argue that I’m perfectly fine. Throat tightening, I nod stiffly and turn my focus back to my two bros as they wait for Sensei’s signal.

“Hajimemasu!”

Well, this absolutely blows! Here I am, trying to avoid going to Donatello until after I speak with Sensei and now I HAVE to talk to him. I just know that Sensei won’t let me speak with him until AFTER Donatello clears me of any concussion stuff. But like, I would tots know if I have a concussion. I’ve gotten enough from falling off my board so I know what it feels like to have one. Sure, I blacked out a little bit after Leonardo’s hit, but I’m sure it was just ‘cause of my head from last night. Nothing major at all.

What if Sensei knows that I don’t have a concussion though.What if the void told him I need to talk with him, and he doesn’t want to have that chat with me?

My stomach sinks and I risk a glance at the person I so desperately want to call my father. My mouth waters unpleasantly as I quickly drop my gaze. My fingers clench on my thighs.

But, what if he doesn’t? What if April is like mondo wrong and Sensei only wants to be seen as our teacher and nothing more? I mean, he didn’t ASK to get mutated. He didn’t ASK to find us. So, like, what if he finds me asking him to be my father like majorly bizarro? And is just wanting to use this as an excuse to not have this convo with me?

My fingernails dig into my palms as nausea rolls in my gut at such a thought.

Would Sensei do that? Would he be so uncomfortable with such a topic that he would avoid it all together? I mean, I don’t exactly remember the last time any of us asked him something so personal before. He’s always been so open about what it was like becoming a mutant and the human world and their customs. But… But this feels different. No. This IS different. This is me, the clown of my brothers, the jokester, wanting permission to see the person who raised me, who taught me, who has kept me safe, as my parent. As my FATHER. My DAD. Is that so wrong? April made it sound like people react like this all the time.

But… But maybe that’s the thing? That’s what makes this all bizarro and wacko for Sensei? Is that he was once human, and he knows that we weren’t? So, like, he doesn’t want a strange turtle person as his son? As his child? Especially not the goofball and one that was the last to learn how to read. Like that’s it, isn’t it? Why would he want someone as dumb as me as his child anyways? Like, if he doesn’t see even Leonardo or Donatello as his sons, who are mega smart and talented, why would he want ME to be part of his family? I would just mess everything up anyways. Raphael does like to say I am a trouble magnet.

Heat burns behind my eyes, but I refuse to let any tears fall. Not where my bros can see. They’d just make fun of me for being too “sensitive” like they always do. And then Sensei would have to get involved and he’s already trying to avoid the convo with me, so like, I can’t do that to him.

“Eep!”

Jerking, I wince as a soft ‘THUD’ echoes around the dojo. But, for some reason, even that soft noise sends a spike of pain across my noggin. Lifting my heavy head, I spot Leonardo pinning down a pouting Donatello. Our brother in blue smiles at our brother in purple.

“Game. Set. Match.”

“It was one spar, Leonardo!” Donatello whines as Sensei signals the end of the match. Leonardo extends a hand for our brainy bro to take and hauls him to his feet. Our eldest brother bops Donatello on the snout causing the brainiac to squawk and smacks at the leaf green hand.

“And?”

“And nothing,” Donatello grumbles while Leonardo shakes his head, an amused smile stretches across his face. Donatello takes his place back at the center of the floor, twirling his bo once before holding it at the ready as Raphael leaps to his feet and joins him.

Donatello grins at him.

“Ready to have your shell handed to you again?”

Raphael twirls his sais and snorts at our second oldest brother.

“I think you got the script wrong, bro. I’m gonna be the victor of this fight.”

“How’s the head?”

My focus snaps from the trash talking turtles to Leonardo as he kneels next to me.

Coughing to cover my jumpiness, I shrug as I reach up to itch the back of my head.

“It feels fine, Bro. Don’t know what everyone is so worried about.”

Leonardo nudges me with his shoulder as Master Splinter shouts:

“Hajimemasu!”

“It’s because we care about you that we’re worried, Silly,” Leonardo states, his brown eyes never leaving our sparring brothers. “You didn’t get up for a solid ten seconds and didn’t respond to me talking to you for just as long. So, of course we’re gonna worry about you having a possible concussion.” Leonardo’s face falls a little as he shoots me a side glance. “Because if you did gain a concussion from that, I’m awfully sorry, little brother. I didn’t mean to kick you that hard. Is your stomach okay?”

Pretty sure if I do have a concussion, it ain’t from you, bro.

I wave a dismissive hand as I keep my focus on our sparring bros.

“Bro, honest. I’m muy bien. Stomach’s living life and my head is totally fine. Besides, I’ve had plenty of concussions to the point that I’m like an expert of them.”

“Not exactly something to be proud of, Michelangelo.”

“And I’m like a billion percent sure I don’t have one,” I state, completely ignoring his comment. “So, stop worrying, Dude. You’ll wrinkle early if you keep worrying like you do. And I think that Sensei is looking this way, dude.”

Leonardo frowns at me and I can feel the force of the frown burning into my skin as he stares me down. However, and much to my surprise, he remains silent. Part of me wants to look but another part of me thinks that Leonardo didn’t respond due to the fact that Sensei is sending us his “Warning” look. And Leonardo NEVER crosses Sensei when he is given THAT look.

Maybe Sensei would prefer for Leonardo to be his son because he always listens, I think, my fingers scratching just above my kneepads as I resist the urge to scratch at the back of my head. I mean, Leonardo is like the ideal son, isn’t he? Smart, obedient, skilled, respectful.WhoWOULDN’T want Leonardo to be their son? And same with Donatello?Who wouldn’t want to brag that their son can take a toaster and turn it into a DNA tracking device? Shell, I bet Sensei would even want Raphael to be his son leagues before he would even think of choosing me. I mean, sure Raphael has an attitude, but he’s like mega funny and super strong. And I’m sure he likes all the things a typical “Dad” likes. Like, sports, wrestling, cars, action movies. He would total get along with any “Dad” that’s out there. And he’s like, super strong, so like, of course Sensei would want him to be his son. He’s a great warrior.

Reaching down, I draw a random invisible shape into the cushion.

I mean, I guess I’m funny sometimes, but that’s about it. I can hardly pay any attention to anything, sports are okay, but I lose interest after a while, same with fighting. I’m an okay fighter. I ain’t a Leonardo or Raphael, so like, what would Sensei see in me? My bros always complain that I’m too sensitive about things and are always making cracks about my brain. I wince as a sharp pain stabs behind my eyes and I squeeze my eyes shut.

Okay, maybe all of this thinking is starting to hurt my head again, I think, clenching and unclenching my fists to keep from massaging my temples.

If Leonardo sees me do that, he’s gonna jump on me and force Donatello to check me over now, and I just can’t let him do that. I really want to talk to Sensei first! But if Sensei is trying to avoid the conversation, then maybe I need to give him some space first? So, like, what if I “go and get my comic” and come back and THEN try talking to Sensei? Then it won’t feel like I’m trying to jump him and all that. Or, like, maybe the void will think that I’ve given up and Sensei will be all relaxed and more receptive to the chat without the void interfering.

I bet the void made Sensei think that I was gonna be all weird about asking him about being my father, I think bitterly and trying to not outwardly pout. And that’s why Sensei doesn’t wanna talk right now. But I don’t wanna be weird about it! I just wanna know if… if we mean the same to him as he means to at least me.

“Shell!”

Flinching, I glance over only to find Donatello, once again, pinning down an irritated looking Raphael. Donatello tilts his head with the largest grin I’ve seen on his face since the day he got his first textbook.

“Pinned ya again!”

“And that movie won’t be released for another few years!” Raphael snaps back, irritation lacing his voice. “Get off me, brainiac. I ain’t a chair.”

Donatello stares down at him in confusion before shrugging it off and climbing off his immediate younger brother. He offers Raphael his hand and, again for the second time today, I think Raphael is going to blow our bro off. Instead, Raphael rolls his eyes and takes the offered hand allowing Donatello to haul him up.

“Very good, my students,” Master Splinter praises as the four of us shift to be kneeling in front of our teacher. “Despite some… accidents,” everyone’s gaze turns toward me. I duck my head sheepishly as I reach up and scratch the back of my head. “I do believe today’s training session went quite smoothly. Now, do not let that go to your heads as the training tomorrow shall be rigorous and intense. So, I want all of you as rested as possible.”

Master Splinter pauses as the four of us nod. Pleased with our response, Master Splinter kneels in front of us.

“We shall now go into our meditation. We shall only do so for about fifteen minutes today. But we shall resume our normal schedule of thirty-minute meditation time tomorrow as well.”

A mental groan drags through my head as we all prepare ourselves for the one thing I dread more than katas or sparring: Meditation. My brain just never turns off and I can’t go as deeply into a trance as I know Master Splinter wants me to.

Another reason on why he wouldn’t want me as his son, I think dejectedly as I close my eyes. I can’t even meditate properly! And like, Sensei LIVES for meditation! How can I be his son when we don’t have anything in common?

My snout twitches and I reach up to scratch at the back of my head as my bandages pull again.

Ugh. These fifteen minutes are gonna drag on FOREVER! I already know that I’m not gonna be able to focus, like, at all. And if I move around too much, Sensei is gonna know that I’m not actually meditating. Then he’s gonna consult with the void again. And if he consults with the void again, he’ll find out about my plan to leave and then come back to talk to him. And if he finds out about THAT plan, then I’m gonna have to figure out a completely DIFFERENT plan and I’m like, running out of plans here.

I’m not Leonardo. I don’t have a whiteboard in my mind with all these different plans that I can turn to if one plan fails. Because why would I? I NEVER think ahead. I just DO. But this isn’t something I can just DO, I gotta plan it out so I don’t scare Sensei away. Because if I scare Sensei away, then he’s gonna kick me out of the lair, DESPITE what April says, and then I’ll be homeless! I mean, I could possibly crash as Mondo’s but, like, I don’t wanna impose on my amigo like that. And my bros aren’t the biggest fan of Mondo anyways, so like, they’ll never come to visit if I live with Mondo. And if I get kicked out, I would still like to at least SEE my bros, ya know? But, I guess, if I’m kicked out of the lair, WOULD they want to see me? Or would they side with Sensei and think that I’m like a total wack job who needs to be locked up? Because like, I’m a turtle who wants an once human to be my dad and to care about me like a son. And, I guess that’s like, super weird. Like, who would want me as their—

“And that is all for today.”

Jumping, my eyes flash open, only for me to wince at the sudden brightness. Whoa, wait. It’s been fifteen minutes already? That can’t be right! But as I glance around, I spot Sensei standing from his kneeling position, brushing his robe off. My heart suddenly pounds in my chest when he looks at all of us and I am quick to stand as well. My vision blackens for a moment, and I feel myself wobble, but I quickly hide it by stretching off to the side.

“The three of you are excused for the day,” Master Splinter states, nodding at me, Leonardo, and Donatello. His eyes narrow when they land on my hotheaded brother. “Raphael, I expect you to start your flips while I continue my meditation in my room. Once you have reached a hundred, you may be dismissed. And do not try fudging the numbers. I WILL know. But, overall, I am quite pleased with how all of you trained today. So, please enjoy the rest of your day until your patrol tonight.”

“Thank you, Sensei.”

I bow automatically when my brothers do, and I watch as Master Splinter walks further into the dojo toward the small room he has claimed for himself in the back. My bros are chatting among themselves as Raphael starts his flips. Wringing my hands together, I slowly start edging my way toward the door.

If I move fast enough, I can sneak out before Donatello tries to stop me.

I manage to make it to the threshold all the while keeping one eye on my bros as I move. Just keep moving. Just a little further. You snuck out last night you can do it again. Suddenly, I see Donatello turn toward where I was originally standing.

Time to go.

“Okay, Michelangelo. Let’s ch—Michelangelo?”

“Michelangelo!”

I’m already out into the main area the moment Donatello says my name again. My shoulders hunch up to my ears when Leonardo’s voice calls my name, his voice edging toward ‘I am Leader, hear me roar’ tone. That’s the tone he always uses when either I’m in trouble or Raphael is in trouble and we’re about to get a lecture of a lifetime.

Sorry, bro, can’t stop now. I gotta trick the void into thinking that I won’t be talking to Sensei! I think as I rush for the lair entrance.

“Michelangelo!” Leonardo snaps just as I round the corner and I can hear his fast-approaching footsteps. “You get back here this INSTANT and let Donatello check you over!”

Guilt rises into my throat as I scoop up my board, but I shove it away.

“Sorry, Dude,” I call back. “No can do! I, uh, I gotta meet April! After, I promise!”

Without waiting for a reply, I toss my board down and kick on the switch as I jump on. Instantly, I’m zooming down the sewer tunnels with only the slight echoes of my bros calling after me bouncing around the walls. Rounding a corner, I slow my board down until I just stop completely. I’m a good distance away that my bros won’t even bother coming after me, thinking me long gone by now. And normally, I would continue on, but the loud engine on my board is eating at my head right now and I just can’t handle it.

Resting my board against the wall, I press my carapace to the bricks and slide down until my butt and tail hit the cold concrete floor. Squeezing my eyes shut, I press my forehead into my knees and wrap my arms around my legs as another wave of nausea hits me. Why does everything hurt? Ugh. I need to get this under control so that I can properly talk with Sensei! Be mondo embarrassing if I vomited while trying to have an actual serious convo with him for once.

Shoving that thought away, I bring my hand up and rub at the bandages.

“And why won’t this stop itching,” I whine quietly, tears working their way into my eyes. “My head hurts. My cut itches. The void told on me to Sensei and now he doesn’t wanna talk with me. My bros are gonna be like tots angry with me once I get home. And I still haven’t figured out if Sensei would be okay with me being his son!” I scrub at my eyes as a few tears leak out. “I can’t help it if I can’t focus right or remember things correctly. I can’t help it that I’m sensitive and would rather pet puppies and kittens all day then fight some goons that want to take over the world. I can’t help that I want Sensei to love us like his own and care for us like how I can care about him. I just can’t and it’s not fair.”

A sob rips from me as I hold my head, pressing my forehead harder against my kneepads as I squeeze my eyes shut, blocking everything out.

Chapter Text

*Meanwhile in the lair*

“Michelangelo!” Leonardo shouts, rushing for the lair entrance. The distant roar of a familiar board has him coming up short and throwing his hands into the air. “Why does he always do this? He NEEDS to have his head checked!”

Donatello sighs and shakes his head, walking up to his immediate older brother and placing a hand on the leader’s shoulder.

“You know how he is when it comes to medical stuff. He avoids it at all costs. He did seem fine earlier, if not a little tired still.” Donatello shrugs. “And if he was able to sneak past us that well, I’m sure he’s fine.”

Leonardo turns an icy stare toward his brainy brother, who merely lifts his hands in surrender and backs away.

“Geez, Fearless, you’re acting like the kid is gonna just keel over and die if Brainiac here doesn’t look him over,” Raphael says as he emerges from the dojo, wiping his brow as he heads for the kitchen. “If you’re really this worked up about Doofus going out to get his comic after a little knock to the head, then why don’t ya just have Brainiac here track his comm?”

Leonardo pauses, his mouth open and a finger raised about to argue when he suddenly turns toward Donatello. The turtle in purple sighs as he walks over to his computer and starts typing on it.

“All right. Give me one second here and I can—oh…”

Leonardo bristles at his brother’s tone and hurries over.

“Oh? What do you mean ‘oh’, Donatello?!”

Donatello’s mouth twitches, slightly concerned for his safety on how he is going to break the news to the already annoyed turtle in blue. Dragging in a deep breath, the purple-cladded turtle takes a step away from his seething older brother and lifts his hands in surrender.

“Okay, but before I tell you, just… don’t kill the messenger, alright?”

“Oh WHAT, Donatello?”

“Michelangelo maaaaaay have forgotten to grab his comm from his bedroom,” Donatello says slowly, eyeing his brother cautiously. “So, it’s still showing him being here in the lair.”

Leonardo’s left eye ridge twitches as he turns toward the computer. Both Raphael and Donatello watch him warily as he scans the reading on the screen. The sharp SHING of two katanas pulled from their sheaths has both the younger brothers moving. Donatello in front of his computer and Raphael in front of his immediate older brother.

“Not my baby!”

“Whoa, Fearless! It ain’t the computer’s fault that Michelangelo was a dummy and forgot his comm! You know how he gets with a new comic! He probably just forgot! He’s gonna be with April so he’s gonna be just fine!”

“Who’s gonna be with me?”

The three brothers blink as a fourth voice floats into the lair. Glancing over, the three watch as a familiar redhead in a yellow jumpsuit enters the main area. A confused look forms on the reporter’s face as she spots Raphael holding Leonardo’s wrists while Donatello is bodily covering his computer.

“What… are the three of you doing?”

The question seems to jolt the three from their trance and they all clear their throats. Leonardo places his katanas back where they belong before turning toward their human friend and offering her a tight smile.

“Oh, uh, nothing. Are you here to meet up with Michelangelo? Because if so, he, unfortunately, just left for the comic bookstore without you.”

Bewilderment flashes in the reporter’s eyes as she scans the three turtles she has dubbed as her “little brothers”.

“Meet up with Michelangelo? I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about, Leonardo. I mean, I did come down to check to see how he’s doing after last night but not to meet up with him.” April tilts her head as her eyebrows furrow, frowning. “And what’s this about the comic bookstore?”

The three older turtles tense as they share a look. Slowly, Leonardo glances back at April, suspicion heavy in his tone.

“What are you talking about? Michelangelo told us that he was meeting up with you at the comic bookstore today because a new comic got released that you were doing a story on.”

April’s eyebrows shoot sky high.

“What? We weren’t meeting up today. I came down here to check on him while I’m out on lunch and see how his head is feeling.”

Panic starts to spread across the three remain turtles’ faces. Donatello steps out from behind Leonardo, frowning.

“How in the world did you know that he hit his head during training today? It literally just happened.”

April’s mouth falls open, horror morphing on her face.

“Training?!” She practically shrieks. “You let him train with that head of his?! Donatello, I thought you knew better! Tell me you at least put stitches into that cut.”

The turtle in purple takes a step back, confused and baffled at the harsh tone of the redhead.

“What are you talking about, April? What cut? All he did was hit his head on the dojo floor.”

There is a brief pause before the dawning of a realization forms in the redhead’s eyes.

“Oh my god. Michelangelo never woke you up when he got home last night, did he?”

Donatello’s eyes ridges furrow, his brown eyes flickering from the reporter toward his little brother’s empty bedroom. He tightens his mask.

“Um, no? Him visiting you last night does explain why we got up before him today. Why would he need to wake me up? Did something happen?”

A groan escapes April as she presses her hand to her forehead.

“I knew it. I KNEW I should have walked him home last night. But I honestly thought he would wake you! He called me and everything.” April crosses her arms, scowling. “Oh, Michelangelo. When I get my hands on you, you and I are going to have some words, young man!”

“Whoa, back up a little bit, April,” Leonardo says, holding a hand up to calm the irritated human. “Why on Earth would you walk him home? And why was he with you? We were all supposed to be sleeping.”

April shakes her head, pursing her lips as she runs a hand through her red bob before shoving her hands into her jumpsuit’s pockets.

“I’m not exactly sure how long Michelangelo was wandering around last night, but he stopped by my apartment. I had just gone to bed when I heard someone knock on the window. At first, I thought it was my imagination with all the rain, but I decided to check just in case. I poked my head out and I spotted Michelangelo climbing down the fire escape.” Upset gleams in her green eyes as she glances at the three ninjas, rubbing her neck. “I didn’t mean to startle him, but I guess he didn’t actually expect for me to answer. So, when I called out to him, he must have slipped due to the rain, and he fell off the ladder.”

Horror flashes through the brothers’ faces. Their little brother fell from the ladder leading to April’s? She lives on the second floor! While they’ve jumped down from higher heights, it’s always controlled, not an accidental drop.

Most of the time.

“Was he okay?” Donatello asks frantically while Leonardo narrows his eyes in thought.

April winces as she wrings her hands.

“I—For the most part? But there was so much blood. I-I didn’t see it right away while we were outside because of the heavy rain but he was quite slow on getting up and very off-balanced. I originally thought he was just a little off-balance due to him being cold and shaken.” The reporter sags as she fiddles with her yellow sleeves. “It wasn’t until I saw him from behind in the living room and there was this massive red spot on my white towel that I realized he was hurt far more than I originally thought. I just… I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t think it was that serious. I did my best to patch him up but all I had was some gauze and huge bandaids.” April groans, face scrunching up. “He told me that he would wake you when he got home, Donatello. I honestly thought that he would.”

The three brothers are tense as they listen to their friend talk. Their little brother not only snuck out last night without anyone knowing but also came home injured and didn’t say a thing. To any of them! Why would he hide that information from them? Out of all of them, Michelangelo is the most willing to approach Donatello with his injuries or when he’s feeling ill.

Anger bubbles in Leonardo’s chest as he thinks back to Michelangelo’s behavior this morning. Overly quiet, wincing at loud noises, jerky movements, not eating. How could they have just brushed off all the signs? Why didn’t they press him more when he said he was okay?

Leonardo’s hands clench and unclench at his sides, part of him wanting to draw his blades and just slice something. While another part of him wants to go find his youngest brother and shake the living daylights out of him after Donatello confirms that he doesn’t have a concussion. How could Michelangelo keep this from them?!

This must be how Raphael feels when he gets angry, Leonardo thinks as he works to keep his anger in check.

A horrified gasp leaves Donatello.

“Oh my god. He hit his head during his sparring session with Leonardo.” Donatello turns toward April, his shoulders tense as his mind races, clutching at the sides of his head. “Why on earth didn’t you just contact me, April? You know that I have my comm on or near me at all times! I would have come by and patched him up before bringing him home.”

A heavy sigh slips from the reporter as she crosses her arms, regret marring her features and her eyes misting a little.

“I tried. But Michelangelo begged me not to. And—And how can I argue with him when his head is bleeding and he’s on the verge of crying? That’s like kicking a wounded puppy.” April drags a hand down her face as the brothers’ faces fall. Their little brother was about to cry? “I really was going to call you, Donatello, but Michelangelo wanted to speak with me privately and he was afraid that if I called and woke you that he wouldn’t get the chance to.”

Something unsettling squirms in the older turtles’ guts. Not only did their little brother sneak out, but he also snuck out and was afraid that they would interfere with him talking with their friend? Their little brother almost NEVER sneaks out, not unless he is super upset. Like when he was having nightmares about Mondo. But why did he seek out their friend? Why not come to one of them?

Hurt bubbles in Donatello’s chest. His youngest brother almost ALWAYS comes to him when he needs to talk things out that are upsetting him. So, why did he not approach the genius turtle this time? And why fight the reporter so hard on contacting him? Had he done something to make Michelangelo afraid to approach him?

“And what did our precious little brother need to talk to you about that caused him to pull a Dark Knight and sneak out?” Raphael questions, crossing his arms and trying hard to appear unbothered by his only little brother’s late-night adventure. But anyone who knows him can see that his blood is boiling under his skin. His little brother went out and got himself injured and then LIED to them about how he was feeling. Lied about why he was so quiet.  

The hothead shoots his eldest brother a look as he waits for the reporter to answer. Their fearless leader is wearing a neutral expression now as he stands as still as a statue and a smirk forms on Raphael’s face. Oh, their little brother is going to have his shell handed to him the MOMENT Leonardo gets his hands on him and Raphael can’t WAIT to watch as it happens. After thumping the little menace for all the worry he has caused.

April bites her bottom lip, drumming her fingers on her forearms as she wars with herself. On one hand, Michelangelo’s brothers have a right to know what happened last night due to Michelangelo getting so injured and then hiding it. But, on the other hand, what she and Michelangelo talked about last night felt so private. It felt like Michelangelo was laying himself bare to her like only a little brother would to an older sibling, believing she would keep it confidential. Just between them.

She glances at the seething brothers before her. As she makes up her mind, there is just one thing that she needs to know.

“Has Michelangelo talked to Master Splinter yet?”

“That would depend on how you are using the word ‘talked’, Ms. O’Neil.”

The redhead jumps as a fifth voice enters the room. Nervousness dances in her stomach as the rat master joins the four of them, curiosity gleaming in his wise brown eyes. His ears twitch minutely as he glances over at his wards, his lips slipping into a tiny frown at the anger, hurt, and confusion radiating from the three teenagers. Their spirits rapidly switching between the three emotions in a way that he has never seen from them before. Concerned, the ninjitsu master refocuses on the reporter.

“Ms. O’Neil? What was it that Michelangelo wanted to speak with me about?”

April tenses as she’s addressed before shooting Master Splinter a contrite look. She’s almost 30! Why on earth does this ninja master make her feel like a child whenever they interact? And why does she feel like a little girl who just got caught with her hand in the cookie jar right at this moment?

Master Splinter lifts a single eyebrow when the seconds tick by. He glances around, frowning when he realizes that his youngest’s spirit is completely missing from the lair.

“Where is Michelangelo? Where is your brother?”

Wise brown eyes land on his eldest when Leonardo steps forward.

“He ran out of the lair the moment training finished.”

Concern builds in the older mutant’s chest, glancing at Donatello.

“And were you able to examine his head, Donatello?”

The purple-cladded turtle twitches and he scowls while throwing his hands into the air.

“No! Michelangelo fled before I could corner him to do the examination,” Donatello exclaims, growling. “And April just informed me that he was injured BEFORE practice and didn’t come to me like he promised he would!”

Master Splinter’s eyebrows shoot skyward as his second oldest all but yells, something that almost never occurs. Donatello is known to get quite worked up when it comes to his brothers’ safety and health but there is a deep hurt behind his words, as if he is taking it personally that his youngest brother did not come to him last night.

Master Splinter’s eyes narrow, his stomach twisting at the thought of his youngest being hurt and not saying anything.

“What is this about Michelangelo being injured before practice?” His head snaps to the redhead when his three students glance her way. The human shifts uneasily, her spirit radiating guilt in waves. Master Splinter squares his shoulders and stands straighter, fingers tightening on his walking stick and looking every bit intimidating despite his much shorter stature than the reporter. “What. Happened?”

April fiddles with her fingers as she meets the once-human’s gaze.

“Michelangelo came to visit me last night and I might have startled him while he was climbing down the ladder from my apartment and he sorta fell and sliced his head open.”

Master Splinter’s eyes widen, and his grip tightens on his walking stick.

How in the world did he miss the fact that his youngest had such an injury? Irritation at himself spikes when he thinks back to his interactions with his youngest. How quiet the young, usually carefree turtle was. How he was cooking in the dark and flinched when the lights turned on. His lack of appetite at breakfast. His harsh reaction to loud noises and his visible upset at his brothers all talking at him at once.

The ninjutsu master’s tail flickers behind him.

“And why was my youngest visiting you when he should have been in bed?”

April pauses, running another hand through her hair as Master Splinter stares her down. Thank goodness she has a brush in the van.

“Has… has Michelangelo pulled you aside to speak with you yet, Master Splinter?”

The once-human frowns and his brown eyes become mere slits.

“He has not. Why is that relevant?”

“It’s… it’s relevant because what Michelangelo and I spoke about last night meant a lot to him and—” April trails off, scanning the four mutants that have become her family over the small amount of time that they’ve known each other. “And what we spoke about needs to come from MICHELANGELO, not me. Because it’s not my place to say and you deserve to hear what he has to say directly from him, for both of your sakes.” April steps closer to the upset family before her. The small family that she cares and adores more than anything. “And I know that all of you are irritated at him, I am too. But…But Michelangelo was very upset last night and needed to ask me a personal question. So… don’t be too hard on the little guy, okay? I have a feeling that some of his actions have to do with what we spoke about and him having that head injury.”

The three teens exchange a look. Right at this moment, the three of them are ready to clobber their baby brother for keeping his injuries to himself. But deep down, they know that April is probably right. Michelangelo always had a strange logic for why he does things and they all know that Michelangelo does his best to not burden them with things that he thinks he can handle on his own.

“I think we need to have a discussion with Michelangelo about the types of injuries that he should and shouldn’t tell us about,” Leonardo states stiffly. “Because I’m starting to think that he doesn’t know.”

“And who votes that we move his room away from the door so that he can’t sneak out again?” The hothead growls, rubbing at his face.

Donatello crosses his arms as he glances at the seething Raphael.

“I was thinking of adding a door to his room with a lock on the OUTSIDE.”

“Yame.”

The three teens fall silent as Master Splinter shoots them a hard look. He secretly is contemplating asking Donatello to add a door to ALL of their rooms with a lock on the outside. However he also can’t help but be impressed by his youngest. He had absolutely no idea that Michelangelo even snuck out last night and that is something that the master prides himself on. Always knowing where his wards are, especially when they’re supposed to be sleeping. It had helped him many a time when his youngest would sleepwalk and try to exit the lair. Master Splinter’s ears twitch. Apparently, he will need to be more vigilant. Especially since he also didn’t even notice when Michelangelo returned.

Now if only he would apply such stealth to his training, Master Splinter thinks with a mental sigh. He folds his hands behind his back to hide how tightly he is clutching his walking stick. There is a feeling inside his chest telling him that something is not right, but he needs answers.

“I do believe once we hear what Michelangelo has to say, he will not do this again.” Master Splinter glances at April. “So, I take it that Michelangelo’s story about him meeting you at the comic bookstore was not true?”

The reporter shakes her head sadly before outwardly sighing this time.

Master Splinter closes his eyes.

“Very well. Then your brother must still be nearby. If he needed to speak with me, he would know that I would meditate after training. So, he must have gone skating until I free.”

Leonardo shares a look with his brothers.

“Possibly, Sensei. But he does have a nasty habit of hiding when it comes to him being injured.”

Master Splinter nods, reopening his eyes. He does know that his youngest tends to find little nooks to conceal himself when it comes to that type of attention. For being the most social of his sons, his youngest tends to do the most hiding when his family WANTS to provide him with attention.

“Indeed he does. He and I shall discuss that once he and I have spoken on what he went to Ms. O’Neil about last night. Now, let us go retrieve your brother.”

Donatello shuffles in place as he shoots the older mutant a sheepish look.

“We really do need to go. Knowing that he’s running around with a possible open head wound in the sewers doesn’t sit well with me. Except,” Donatello winces as Master Splinter turns toward him. “We don’t have a way to track him, Sensei. Michelangelo didn’t take his comm with him. And out of all of us, Michelangelo knows the best places to hide in the sewers. It could take us AGES to find him.” Donatello rubs at his head. “And by then, who KNOWS what kind of condition we’ll find him in.”

A chuckle emits from the once human as he turns toward his upset second oldest.

“That is true and yet there is one variable that you are leaving out, Donatello.”

The purple-cladded turtle looks at him in confusion.

“And what’s that, Sensei?”

Master Splinter smiles.

“I raised the four of you. You are my children. We hold a very deep connection between all of us and no matter where you go, I shall always be able to find you.”

A soft sound emits around the room causing the four mutants to glance over at the reporter. Her eyes are glassy, and her hand covers her mouth, but there is a tiny gleam in her eye that tells them that she isn’t quite upset.

“I told him. I told him and he didn’t believe me,” April mumbles behind her hand.

Leonardo steps closer, frowning.

“Told who what?”

April shakes her head, taking in a deep breath and releasing it slowly as she fans at her eyes, as if trying to calm herself.

“I take it that also has to deal with Michelangelo,” Master Splinter states and a sheepish look crosses the redhead’s face, but she doesn’t say anything. The ninja master chuckles. “Very well. Let us go retrieve your brother and speak with him. Would you like to accompany us, Ms. O’Neil?”

An upset expression crosses the reporter’s face, and she glances down at her watch.

“I would love to, if only to make sure Michelangelo is alright and also give him a piece of my mind for not going to Donatello like he said he would.” April’s face falls more. “But my lunch is almost over, and I can’t risk having the boss on me more than he already is. So, if you would comm me and let me know exactly how he is doing, I would really appreciate that.”

Master Splinter nods and April relaxes minutely.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” He turns toward the youngest three in the room. “Come. Let us find your brother and bring him home.”

Raphael, Leonardo, and Donatello nod and follow their sensei out into the tunnels.

Chapter Text

*Michelangelo*

Soft sniffles escape me as I rub my cheek on my kneepads tiredly. Most of my tears have dried up after a few minutes of heavy crying, leaving me with a stuffy nose that is running worse than a runaway pizza guy. My eyes also feel goopy from all the crying and my cheeks burn from the salt and I can no longer hold my head up very well. The crying also didn’t help the pulling feeling of my bandages.

My snout wrinkles as I sniffle again, and I reach back and roughly rub at the hidden bandage. Shell. I can’t wait to take this stupid thing off. Maybe I’m allergic to the adhesive or something but it’s making it so hard to think and focus.

A whimper escapes me when a sharp pain shoots through my skull right behind my eyes. My eyes start to burn again with unshed tears as I clutch my aching noggin, burying my face further into my knees.

Man, this blows.

How am I supposed to approach Sensei if I’m looking worse than Shred-head after we kick his shell? And why does my head still feel like it wants to split in two? I can’t think, can’t concentrate, can’t come up with how I’m gonna approach Sensei when I—

“Michelangelo?”

Twitching, I fight to lift my head as a few more tears slip down my cheeks. Four blurry images shift and morph in front of me and it takes a moment for my vision to clear. My eyes widen as Master Splinter and my big brothers come into focus before me, all four peering down at me with various degrees of concern. My master’s ears are back, and an upset look crosses his face as he steps closer. My vision blurring this time has nothing to do with lifting my head but because more tears well in my eyes as he kneels next to me, resting his walking stick gently on the ground and places his cool hands on my cheek.

“Oh, Michelangelo,” Master Splinter breathes out as he wipes at some of my tears. “Talk to me, young one. What is going on? How much pain are you in?”

Hiccuping, I swallow thickly as I soak in the safety and security radiating from the older mutant, the very mutant that has done nothing but provide for me and keep me and my brothers safe. Suddenly a heavy wave of emotions hit me once more and another sob rips from me.

“I don’t…I can’t…I want to…” I stammer, scrubbing at my face with the backs of my hands. “Hurts.” Hic. “Hurts so much.”

Warm arms tug me closer, and I bury my face in the nook of Master Splinter’s shoulder. He hums quietly as he rubs my shell and I just allow myself to let go for a moment, my dam breaking as I cry. To just let out all the emotions that I’ve been warring with but no longer have the energy to fight or hold back.

*Splinter/Bros*

Splinter’s heart breaks as his youngest’s tears soak his robes, feeling how the young turtle trembles and hiccups against him. The distress and confusion radiating from the young mutant has Splinter wondering if he should have pushed the reporter harder on knowing what exactly his youngest went to her for. Because the last time he saw Michelangelo in such a state was when he found a cat down in the sewers and couldn’t understand why the poor thing wouldn’t wake up.

Ever the sweet and tender-hearted child.

Splinter rests his cheek on top of Michelangelo’s overly warm head as he rocks them both, feeling the distress from his eldest three standing behind them. The three of them wanting to approach but unsure if they will just make the situation worse. As angry as they were earlier, those feelings can’t help but die down after finding their baby brother crying out here in the sewers, face pale yet flushed.

“Talk to us, Michelangelo,” Splinter mutters against the burning seafoam green head. “Tell us what hurts, and we shall fix it.”

Michelangelo doesn’t verbally respond, still sobbing into the once-human’s shoulder. However, he does weakly lift his left hand and alternate between pointing to his head, then his chest.

Concerned, Splinter reaches up and gently starts running his hand over Michelangelo’s burning head. Their redheaded friend had mentioned him slicing his head open and only able to put a bandage with some gauze over it. When his fingers skirt around the knot of Michelangelo’s mask, the orange-cladded turtle flinches away and buries his face further into the wise rat mutant’s shoulder, whimpering. Splinter instantly redirects his touching down the younger mutant’s neck, murmuring an apology and nuzzling Michelangelo’s temple. The ninjutsu master pauses when he brushes something warm and wet with the tips of his fingers. A sensation that the older mutant is unfortunately familiar with but something he never wants to feel on any of his children. He can only hope that he is wrong.

Tensing, Splinter leans closer and sniffs his youngest, doing his best to block out the stench of the sewer around them.

The heavy scent of copper hits his nose and Splinter forces himself not to panic as his heart leaps into his throat. Keeping one hand on Michelangelo, Splinter pulls his exploring hand back and his stomach drops to the cold stone beneath him. Bright red liquid covers his claws and fingertips.

Breathe. Remain calm. Panicking will help no one. Michelangelo needs you.

Splinter releases a slow, breath through his nose as if hoping to push the scent of copper away from him. But now that he has caught wind of his youngest’s blood, there is nothing he can do but fight to not let the scent overwhelm him.

“Donatello,” Splinter calls out, doing his best to keep his tone calm. “I need you to come here please.”

The three older turtles exchange a look as Donatello cautiously approaches his master and youngest brother. The genius’s heart crumbles as another soft sob escapes his usually happy-go-lucky brother before he turns upset brown eyes toward the once-human holding his baby brother close. Gently, he reaches out and rests his hand on Michelangelo’s shoulder, his anxiety spiking higher at just how warm his brother is.

Oh, Michelangelo, Donatello thinks sadly, his thumb rubbing a soothing circle into his brother’s skin. What have you gotten yourself into, Little Brother? Why let yourself get this bad instead of coming to one of us? Instead of coming to me?

“Donatello?”

“Yes, Sensei?”

Without saying a word, Splinter shifts his hand toward his purple-cladded child, making sure that only the genius can see it. Warm brown eyes follow the movement before widening as he takes in all of the blood covering his sensei’s fingers. Keeping his hand on his brother, Donatello shifts so that he can see the back of his little brother’s head.

He sucks in a sharp breath.

A steady stream of crimson liquid is rolling down the back of Michelangelo’s head and down into his shell. The knot of his mask is already stained red, and the stain appears to only be getting bigger. Donatello’s stomach squeezes unpleasantly and he gulps as he leans forward, massaging his little brother’s shoulder to try and gain his attention.

“Michelangelo?” He calls out softly, waiting until the seafoam head tilts in his direction. “I-I need to remove your mask, is that okay?”

Nobody moves, holding their breath as everyone’s eyes lock onto the youngest. Michelangelo squirms around in Splinter’s arms until a small portion of his face is no longer hidden away. Unfocused bloodshot blue eyes peer out at his second eldest brother, but Donatello can’t tell if Michelangelo is even processing anything in front of him right now.

Donatello holds his breath, not wanting to rush the younger turtle. After a beat, Michelangelo finally nods before burying his face back into Splinter’s shoulder.

Swallowing thickly, Donatello shoots his other two brothers a look before sharing a glance with their sensei. Splinter nods minutely then turns his attention back to the younger mutant, whispering to him gently in Japanese.

Donatello’s fingers tremble slightly as he undoes the bloodstained knot. His stomach rolls at the dampness and warmth radiating from the fabric. After a tense moment, he manages to slip the knot free and, as gently as possible, tugs the fabric from his brother’s face. Pursing his lips, the genius turtle holds out the dirtied fabric for Leonardo to take, mentally noting to clean it later. Donatello reaches out, grasping the back of his little brother’s head and tilting it gently toward him, hushing Michelangelo when the smaller turtle whines.

“I’m sorry, Little Brother, but I need to check the back of your head.”

Donatello purses his lips.

The two bandages that April had placed last night are now discolored with blood and leaking out through the bottom. Reaching out, Donatello cautiously pulls the soaked bandages from his little brother’s head. The adhesive gives easily, almost too easily for the genius’s liking. The once white gauze is now heavily crimson, and Donatello can see where it used to be stuck to Michelangelo’s cut.

The genius turtle’s eyes narrow as he studies the irritated cut and raw area around it.

His little brother must have been rubbing at the cut, not letting the scab completely take. Donatello’s snout wrinkles at the stench of copper radiating from his brother, a scent that shouldn’t be there. Michelangelo should smell like his favorite pizza and summertime, not blood!

Donatello purses his lips.

Now that he’s noticed it, it’s hard to ignore. Shell! With all the blood, the smell is just so strong that it’s nearly nauseating. How did he and his family not notice the scent of copper before on the youngest? It’s not like their lair is all that big! They should have noticed!

I should have noticed.

“Donatello?”

Jumping, the purple-cladded turtle glances over at the older mutant. Concern gleams in Splinter’s wise brown eyes and his eyes flicker down to Donatello’s fingers. Donatello follows the movement only to frown when he spots the red smearing his six fingertips.

Shell.

Mouthwatering, Donatello feels as though he is going to be sick. Breathing out slowly, Donatello closes his eyes to center himself before reaching into his belt and pulling out some of his emergency gauze that he always has on him.

“I’m all right, Sensei. Let’s get him bandaged up.”

Michelangelo whines as Donatello presses the fresh gauze against his bleeding head. Splinter hushes him gently as his youngest tries to shift away, tightening his hold on the youngest.

“No, Michelangelo. Donatello needs to keep that against your head otherwise the bleeding will not stop.” When the orange-cladded turtle calms, Splinter lifts his gaze to his second oldest. “Donatello?”

The brainy turtle sighs shakily as he leans back, rubbing his little brother’s shell.

“He’s obviously been rubbing at the cut. The excess blood was probably making his skin itch.” Donatello uses a finger to point at some irritated skin as Leonardo and Raphael And I can see where the adhesive has been irritating his skin as well, leaving bright red marks behind. Stitches are going to be the best bet for him right now.” Donatello frowns as he runs a hand over his little brother’s dome. “But what’s making me nervous is how warm he is. He’s far hotter than he should be and he’s not sweating.”

Splinter nods, his lips pursing as he glances down at his youngest. Michelangelo whimpers and burrows further into his chest, fingers holding fast to the worn maroon fabric. Splinter can’t help but be even more concerned. Donatello is right. The entire time that his youngest has been clinging to his robe, the only wetness he has felt from the little turtle is from his tears and the blood on the back of his head.

And the ninjutsu master knows that his wards can sweat.

Reaching down, Splinter pulls at the tie of his robe. Michelangelo whines and clings tighter as the ninja master moves but he hushes him and nuzzles at the burning temple.

“Shh, I am not leaving you, young one. I am merely grabbing something to help your brother keep the gauze on your head.”

Splinter’s heart splinters even more when Michelangelo hiccups and scrubs at his flushed face. The image of a five-year-old Michelangelo doing something every similar after a bad dream or when he wasn’t feeling well comes to mind as he hands off his tie to Donatello. The purple-cladded turtle takes the fabric and as gently as possible, winds it around his little brother’s head. Once fastened, Splinter glances over his shoulder at his remaining two children.

“Leonardo. Raphael. I will need one of you to carry your brother back to the lair so that Donatello can prep any items he needs to close the wound on your brother’s head.” The rat mutant’s gaze softens as he stares down at the seafoam green head resting against his chest, stroking the warm flesh tenderly. “I would do so, but I think I need to have a quick chat with Ms. O’Neil about what happened last night since it appears that I am somehow involved. Whatever is going on is causing your brother great distress.” Splinter closes his eyes for a moment, hating the fact that he somehow is responsible for the situation that his youngest is currently in. “Donatello, would you prefer him to brought to your lab or directly to his room?”

Donatello wrings his hands together, hating how his little brother’s blood is quickly drying onto his skin and it’s already starting to flake. The sensation is making his skin crawl.

“I… I think that we need to get his temperature down first, so we should aim for the bathroom and then we can move him to his room since I know Michelangelo will be more comfortable there. While he’s in the bathroom, I can clean and stitch up his head and check him for more injuries since April did say that he fell from the second story.”

Splinter nods, running his hand along the top of Michelangelo’s head one last time. He glances down as the young mutant grips his robe tighter, as if the older mutant will vanish if he’s released.

At least he is not crying as hard, Splinter thinks, using his thumb to wipe at the still falling tears. “Michelangelo? Would you mind going with your brothers for a moment? Shh, I know. I know,” Splinter hushes when the young turtle whimpers. “I know you are hurting and do not feel well, Little One. But your brothers are going to take good care of you until I return.”

The grip on his robe tightens and the young turtle shifts. Splinter’s ears twitch when Michelangelo mutters something into his chest. Leaning down, Splinter coaxes the seafoam green face out of the maroon fabric, and he stares down at the flushed face and unfocused blue eyes.

“I was not able to hear what you said, Young One. Would you mind repeating that for me?”

Michelangelo sniffles, rubbing his face with the back of his wrist guard. Troubled blue eyes meet concerned brown.

“Michelangelo?”

“I-I don’t want you to go,” Michelangelo whispers hoarsely, panting as a few more tears slide down his cheeks. “I n-n-need to talk to you, Sen-Sensei. It’s important.” Splinter’s ears droop as his youngest talks, voice weak and raw from crying and the older mutant can hear a slight wheeze and rattle in the young mutant’s chest as Michelangelo continues. “And I CAN’T talk to you if you’re not there. I know the void keeps telling you stuff but… but you need to hear it from ME. I don’t wanna make things weird and the void is making it weird. And I just want you to know that it’s not and it’s tots fine if you feel differently and I won’t hold it against you and—”

“Michelangelo,” Splinter cuts in softly, shooting a look at the eldest three turtles, slightly confused about what his youngest is rambled about. The void? Is Michelangelo talking about the Astral Plane? The oldest three each shrug, looking just as lost and confused as their master feels. Splinter refocuses on the ill one in his arms. “I…I can say…that the void and I have…have not conversed today, so I am not entirely sure what it is you are referring to. However, I promise once I get back, the two of us will be able to talk. Just the two of us. And we shall discuss whatever it is that you would like to discuss with me. All right?”

Large watery eyes the color of the open sky stare up at the ninja master and Splinter briefly has the thought of just talking to April tomorrow. But as quickly as that thought enters his mind, Splinter shoves it away as two stray tears slip from those sky-blue eyes. No. He needs to know what they spoke about last night. It has caused his youngest to run off while sick, injured, and confused. He needs to know so that he can help Michelangelo through it. A warm hand lands on the ninja master’s shoulder and he glances up to meet the chestnut brown eyes wrapped in blue of his eldest.

“Leonardo?”

The katana-wielder smiles gently at his master as he kneels down.

“I can take him,” Leonardo says softly before dropping his gaze to his little brother. “Michelangelo? Sensei has an errand to run, so why don’t you come to me, and we’ll get you back home to the lair where it’s nice and warm.” Leonardo rests his hand on Michelangelo’s shoulder, stopping himself from wincing visibly at the heat radiating from him and yet he’s not sweating. Not a good sign. “And once we get you all patched up, Sensei will be home and the two of you can talk, okay? But we gotta get you home and cleaned first.”

Leonardo glances to his left when the presence of his third youngest brother appears. The hothead shoots him a solemn gaze before dropping his amber eyes to his immediate younger brother.

“Listen to Fearless, Knucklehead,” Raphael gruffs. “Because you know that Leonardo isn’t going to take ‘No’ for an answer. Besides,” the red-cladded turtle smirks at his little brother. “You’ll get a free ride out of this. Can’t pass up a free turtle back ride, can you?” Raphael leans forward, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer good ol’ Raphael to carry you?”

Leonardo bites the inside of his cheek to keep from chuckling at the spark of horror that flashes in otherwise dull sky-blue eyes and Michelangelo shifts to sit up.

“No,” the jokester says drowsily as he lethargically reaches out for his eldest brother. “That’s… that’s okay, D-Dude. Be rude,” wheeze. “Be rude to decline Le-Leonardo’s offer.”

The leader automatically grasps his little brother’s arms, helping the smaller turtle as he exchanges a glance with the rest of the family, concerned at just how out of it Michelangelo sounds.

“Easy, Michelangelo, easy. We’ve got you,” Leonardo soothes as Splinter helps guide the youngest into the eldest’s awaiting arms.

It feels as though everyone is holding their breath as Michelangelo is shift, unsure how the youngest is going to react. A tiny whimper leaves the usually fun-loving turtle as his head is jostled. It’s when Leonardo slips his arms under his little brother’s knees and lifts. Michelangelo’s head lolls and rests in the crook of his eldest brother’s neck. Leonardo’s lips purse as he fights the urge to wince from just how hot his baby brother is. The stench of blood is strong this close and the smell is enough to make his stomach turn. Leonardo glances up at the rest of his family.

“Should we get going?”

Donatello releases a shaky breath before nodding and also standing, fingers twitching. He knows his fingers are still covered with his little brother’s blood, something that he’s never enjoyed feeling but having grown to accept as a way of their life now that they’re allowed to go above ground.

The genius jumps when Raphael suddenly dumps him, dragging him from his thoughts. Clearing his throat, Donatello nods again.

“Ye-Yes, we need to get him clean and get his temperature down as quickly as possible.”

Leonardo nods.

“All right, then why don’t you go ahead and get the bathroom ready for him. Raphael and I will get him there as quickly as we can.” Leonardo shakes his head when Donatello goes to argue. “Donatello, you’re the only one who knows what the correct temperature is supposed to be at and what other objects you might need to help him. Raphael and I don’t. However, what we can do is make sure that we get Michelangelo there in one piece as you get everything ready.”

“And we’ll have our comms on us,” Raphael states, pulling his from his belt. “If something happens with the Knucklehead, we’ll call you immediately.”

Donatello opens his mouth to argue before closing it again, sighing in defeat. He glances up when a warm hand lands on his shoulder and he looks over at Splinter. The older mutant offers his young charge a small smile.

“Your brothers are able to handle Michelangelo, my Student. Please, go get everything ready for when they arrive.”

“Hai, Sensei.”

Donatello shoots his brothers one last look, eyes lingering on the curled form in his eldest brother’s arms. Pulling in a deep breath, the genius forces himself to turn away and sprint back into the sewers, the only thoughts running through his head are what supplies he needs for his brother and what the best procedures would be to help the young turtle.

Leonardo and Raphael exchange a glance as they watch Donatello sprint back toward their lair. They turn their attention back to their sensei as he readjusts his robe around him.

“Sensei?”

Splinter glances over at his remaining students. His heart breaks at the slightly lost looks on the young teens’ faces. The once-human walks up to them and cups each of their cheeks, a bit amused by the startled looks on their faces but he keeps his amusement to himself. Now is not the time for that. Splinter does, however, offer the two a reassuring smile.

“Everything is going to be just fine, my Students. The three of you are strong and capable in helping your brother.” He uses his thumb to gently stroke at their cheeks. “I shall be back as soon I can. I have my comm if you absolutely need me but I trust that the three of you will be able to take care of your brother until I return.”

Leonardo nods solemnly and both he and Raphael watch as their sensei turns and disappears into the shadows of the sewers. Leonardo releases a wary sigh before smiling weakly down at his littlest brother, holding him close.

“Oh, Michelangelo, what are we going to do with you?”

“Kick his shell when he’s better is what we’re gonna do,” Raphael grumbles, resting a hand on his brother in blue’s shoulder. “But first we gotta get the knucklehead healthy. Brainiac has probably started his bath by now and is running around the lair like a chicken with its head cut off.”

Leonardo nods, motioning for Raphael to start walking at the same time he does.

“You’re right and we don’t want to keep Donatello waiting any longer.” Leonardo spares his little brother another glance when Michelangelo coughs and shivers. “Don’t worry, Little one. We’ll get you all taken care of and then you tell us what’s wrong so we can help you.”

Michelangelo doesn’t respond more than turning to hide his face into Leonardo’s shoulder with a soft whine. The leader in blue and the cool but rude turtles exchange one last look before hurrying back home, thoughts swirling and concern heavy on their hearts. Hopefully their sensei can gain some answers from their redheaded friend.

Chapter Text

The streets are bustling with people, their voices talking over one another as groups walk by. Brown eyes watch the groups go by from the shadows, scanning and waiting for the perfect moment to move. Normally Splinter would have waited for night to fall or came better prepared but his youngest is hurting deeper than he has ever seen. A hurt that he can’t believe he left to fester for so long. 

How did I miss the signs? 

Splinter shakes his head as he slips back further into the shadows. Wallowing in his guilt will do nothing but slow him down and distract him, which in turn will leave his youngest to suffer longer and for his brothers to be filled with anxiety. 

I will help you, my child, Splinter thinks as he rushes through the shadows, silent and swift like the wind. 

His eyes land on a long jacket hanging out to dry, someone who must have worn it last night during the rain and taking advantage of the sun today to dry their wet laundry. 

As Splinter rushes by, he snatches up the jacket alongside a hat, shawl, and some gloves. Holding those items in his arms, he sends a silent apology to the original owners as he continues toward the Channel 6 news station. He slips the items on, using the shawl to wrap around his mouth like a scarf as the hat covers the rest of his head. The jacket, while the length he needs to cover his body is a touch too big but it allows him to wrap his tail around his body to keep it from dragging behind him. Splinter hums as he flips the collar of the jacket up for more protection. The ninja master’s eyes narrow. He still needs to hide his feet. 

Splinter pauses by a dumpster, eyes scanning around. His ears flick as he spots the wooden fence before him. Voices. Whiskers twitch as he slinks closer. 

“Yeah, yeah, I hear ya, Babe,” a deep, gruff masculine voice calls out as a muffled higher pitched feminine voice calls back. “Promise I didn’t get mud on yer floor, honest. My new boots haven’t even been worn yet! I just got home from work. Just gonna toss dese out here fer da sun ta back da mud off.” 

Splinter crouches low as he waits for the voices to disappear and the sound of the door shutting. Waiting a beat, Splinter crouches and flips over the fence, landing silently on the other side. The ninja master remains in a crouch and he swiftly zips over to the boots. His snout wrinkles at the smell coming from the boots but he puts his disgust aside for the moment as he scoops the items up. He shoots one last look over his shoulder, silently sending the family an apology. Normally, he would never do something so blatant but knowing that the man has a new pair of boots helps elevate some of his guilt. The ninja master does his best to not steal when he can help it but he has no income or someone to turn to. Or did. 

Splinter leaps over the fence once more and once more in the shadows, slips the boots on. 

He couldn’t be more thankful for April and Casey coming into their lives and also giving him that human interaction that he hasn’t gotten in a long while. Splinter had been ready to live his life in solitude in the sewers after running from the dojo that he grew up in. That is, until his little turtles appeared in his life, having been washed down into the sewers. He found them being harassed by some of the meaner rats in the sewers and had to chase them off. And then his little turtles were mutated just like him and became like human children. And that left him thinking that he would at least have them to speak to though they would never understand the world he left behind because Splinter knows that the world would never accept them as they are. 

Then April entered their life and it was the first human interaction that Splinter had in YEARS and it left him craving more. Nothing sexual or weird. April O’Neil has become to him what his young turtles have become. He cares for her deeply but understood her fear upon their first meeting. It warmed his heart that she gradually grew used to them and seems to enjoy seeing them, many times coming down to the sewers of her own volition. Splinter truly thought that once she helped them, she would never want to see them again. Especially after her first apartment building collapsed due to the mouser attack. 

But she didn’t. 

A small smile forms on the older mutant’s face as he slips through the shadows once more, barely making any sound even with the clunky soles. 

That reporter is so resilient and such a hard worker. April has always had that spark and was already brave and unafraid to go after the truth behind her story. It’s admirable but also a bit concerning with how many dangerous situations she gets herself into. 

Not that Splinter can talk. The young turtles under his care are almost just as bad. Especially his youngest. 

Oh, Michelangelo, Splinter thinks with a soft huff through his nose. His whiskers twitch as the phantom metallic scent tries to enter his senses again. The ninja master quickly shoves his snout more into the scarf that smells like perfume and detergent. Please hold on a little while longer, my child. We shall figure out what is upsetting you. 

Splinter’s eyes narrow as he reaches the end of the alleyway and the Channel 6 building looms high in the sky just across the street. The ninja master waits for a loll of bodies in the street before hurrying toward the building. Taxis and cars honk at one another as he moves, his ears twitching at the random loud noise, picking up people throwing insults at one another. Part of him misses this. It had been such an experience when he first arrived here,  using the last of his savings to fly all the way to a city so large that there should have been no way that Saki found him. 

Or at least he thought he was safe. 

Splinter’s lips purse as he tugs the scarf further up to hide his snout. He still has no idea how Saki found him or why he poured that green goo onto them. Had he thought it toxic? That it would burn him alive? Or had he truly meant to mutate him so that he could never rejoin the human world ever again? 

The ninja master shakes his head to clear those thoughts as he pulls open the doors to the news station and heads for the reception desk. A security guard sits there sipping a coffee as he reads a newspaper. 

“How can I help ya?”

“Good afternoon, sir,” Splinter greets politely when the guard looks at him. “I am here to see my niece, April O’Neil. It is a family emergency so I would deeply appreciate if you could call for her?”

The guard raises a bushy black eyebrow but slowly nods. 

“Right… And can I get a name, sir?” The guard asks as he plucks up the phone and jabs in some numbers. 

“Yoshi,” Splinter says calmly, the name almost feeling strange on his tongue. “Yoshi Hamato.” His mouth twitches as he says his name the American way, knowing that the guard would look at him weirdly if he said his name properly. He knows he looks like a sight so he needs to be as cooperative and less, in Michelangelo’s words, creepy the better. 

The guard takes another sip of his coffee as the phone rings, the aroma tickling Splinter’s nose even through the scarf. His ears twitch when a soft voice responds on the other end of the phone.

“Afternoon, Ms. O’Neil,” the guard states politely. “I got a guy here claimin’ ta be yer uncle. Said his name is ‘Yoshi Hamato’?” The guard pauses as the voice response and he nods slowly. “Righty. I’ll let him know, Ms. O’Neil. Ya have a good day.” The guard hangs up, brushing his black hair from his face. “Right. Ms. O’Neil said she’ll be down as soon as she can, Mr. Hamato. Please have a seat over dere.” He nods toward some chairs in a waiting area. “She just needs ta pass her project ta her boss and she’ll be right down.”

“Wonderful, thank you,” Splinter says, inclining his head that the guard returns before he slowly walking over to the seats to wait. 

He sits cautiously as to not sit on his tail and making sure that the jacket does not ride up and expose his furry legs. Don’t need the guard thinking he’s bare naked under this piece of clothe. Splinter keeps his hands hidden in his sleeves as he watches a few more reporters and some of the crew enter the building, obviously here for the evening shift if the amount of coffee one of the crew members was carry was anything to go by. 

Splinter’s ears twitch when he hears hurried footsteps and a familiar voice apologizing as she nearly collides with the entering bodies. Cautiously, Splinter stands from his seat and turns in time to watch April nearly sprinting toward him. 

“Spl-Uncle Yoshi!” April stammers out, panting as she stops before him and just remembering that there is still the guard in the lobby. “Is everything alright? Were you and the boys able to find Michelangelo? Is he okay? How is his head?” 

Splinter gently takes April’s hand before she can reach up and run it through her hair and ruining the style she has it in. 

“Easy,” Splinter says gently as April watches him anxiously. “We did find him but it appears that he has a fever and the injury to his head started bleeding again due to him itching it.” 

“Oh, Michelangelo,” April sighs, her face crumbling as Splinter speaks, just barely keeping her voice low. “This is why I wanted him to go to Donatello!” The reporter drags in a deep breath and squeezes Splinter’s hand. “I’m so happy you four found him. But…. If you don’t mind me asking… Uncle…. If you found him, why are you here? Shouldn’t you be there with him?”

Splinter nods, watching the redhead closely as she speaks. 

“I actually came because I desperately need to speak with you,” Splinter states, his tone tender and soft. “I know you already told us that you did not wish to speak on Michelangelo’s behalf about what was said between you both last night but I fear I must ask again that you tell me.” Splinter holds up his free hand when April moves to argue. “I understand your feelings on the matter, my dear, but Michelangelo is incredibly ill and with some of the things he is saying while in his feverish state, I fear it will only get worse and ruin what he has been trying to tell me. I also cannot know if what he says while in this state is how he truly feels or merely what his fevered mind is making him feel or see. If I at least have an idea of what is going on, I can better prepare for when he is healthy and we can move forward together to combat what is ever plaguing his mind. So, please, April, may we discuss this?” 

Splinter waits as he studies April, the redhead staring back with large green eyes and he can see her processing his words. He can tell she is weighing the pros and cons of telling him what happened and his gut twists unpleasantly. Had he done something so terrible without realizing it to Michelangelo that he only trusted the redhead with this information? That he didn’t dare say something to his brothers in fear that they would disagree or he would overhear? 

A shaky sigh cuts through Splinter’s thoughts and April squeezes his hand. 

“Alright,” the redhead agrees quietly, her green eyes shining bright. “Alright. We can talk about it. Especially since it seems that it’s bothering Michelangelo so much more than I thought it was after we spoke. Let me grab my keys and purse and we can head back to my apartment and talk.” April then squeezes Splinter’s hand once again. “But, I hope you know that it’s not because of anything you did, Spl-Uncle Yoshi. So please, don’t think that, okay? We’ll get this all cleared up.” 

Splinter blinks in surprise, staring up at April. How in the world did she know that was how he was feeling? Splinter nods stiffly and pats April hand. 

“Thank you, my dear. I will certainly keep that in mind.” 

April’s green eyes flicker around as if trying to read his face before she nods, a determined look replacing the unshed tears. 

“Alright, good.” A small smile forms on her face. “So wait here and we’ll leave. Luckily, I’m done for the rest of the day so I don’t have to worry about getting in trouble for leaving.” The redhead winks at the ninja master making him chuckle quietly.

“That is indeed good, my dear. I shall wait here for your return.” 

April nods and gives his hand one last squeeze before she heads for the elevator again.

“Everything okay, Ms. O’Neil?” The guard asks, his tone colored with worry. “Cousin sick?”

“Yeah,” Splinter hears April state as she hurries on. “But we’re gonna take care of him so I might not be in tomorrow, Jerry. So don’t you worry.”

So don’t you worry…

Splinter releases a shaky sigh and he sinks back into one of the chairs. 

That’s easier said than done.