The Pain We Hide

"The worst kind of pain is when you're smiling just to stop the tears from falling."


For a week now, he had been hiding his pain behind a smile. Behind the jokes and the fake laughter and the teasing comments. He knew that his brothers didn't believe him for a second, but he didn't care.

He wasn't there when it happened. Wasn't there on the rooftop when Shredder's blade sunk deep into their father's body. Wasn't there when the rat slumped forward, that wise light leaving his eyes forever. But he still heard his brothers' cries of shock and denial and horror.

He still saw their father lying on the ground, crumpled and broken, all traces of life gone.

Papa!

His eyes burned with tears and he bit down hard on his lower lip to keep from crying again. He had cried too much already in the short time since that night.

He was different. They all were, really. But he knew that the change was most noticeable in himself. No longer was he constantly smiling and laughing – a real smile, a real laugh. No longer did he paint or sing or whistle. And why should he, when the guiding light of his existence had disappeared? When that warmth, that eternal wisdom, had vanished?

A strangled noise erupted from his throat and then he was on the floor, bawling, his arms wrapped around himself. You were supposed to be invincible, he thought miserably. No one was supposed to beat you.

For to his young mind, their father had been invincible...and the turtle's own personal superhero.

"My son..."

Slowly, he raised his head. "Papa?" he whispered, something like hope appearing in his tearful gaze.

And there was the old rat, wise as ever. His form shimmered with an ethereal light as he knelt across from the turtle. "Do not cry because your time with me is over, my son. Smile because that time happened."

It didn't really make sense to him, but it didn't matter. All he knew was that his father was there, talking to him. "How?" the turtle whimpered. "It hurts, Sensei. It hurts so much."

"Nothing lasts forever," was the gentle reply. "Not even a family."

"But it was supposed to!" he cried, his tone sharp with denial. "You're...you're Splinter! The master ninja! You-"

"Be calm, my son. It will be all right. It will be all right."

Warmth enveloped the ninja, wrapping around him so much like the arms of his beloved father. He inhaled and closed his eyes, leaning backwards a little. And just for a moment, it seemed as if the aged rat really was holding him close and murmuring to him as he had done when the turtles were but children.

The hurt and anger and sorrow slowly ebbed away, leaving him exhausted. His eyelids drooped as a soft, furry hand ghosted over his forehead.

"I will always be with you, my son."

He yawned, his eyes sliding shut. "I love you, Papa."

"I love you too."

The tired turtle barely felt it when one of his brother's strong, muscled arms slid underneath him and carried him to his bedroom. But for the first time in a week, he slept deeply, without fear, without nightmares.

A smile was on his face the next morning. It was weak, and it was small, but it was there. It was a true smile, for the first time in days. When he thought about the conversation the night before, that same warmth curled around his heart.

That rich, deep voice echoed in his mind every day, prompting him to get up and move. "I will always be with you, my son."

So he kept smiling. And little by little, he began to laugh again. He began to crack jokes, and paint, and whistle again.

He began to live again.

I love you, Papa.