'Take me underground, take me all the way.
Bring me to the fire, throw me in the flames.

So show me love,
You've got your hands on the button now
Sure enough,
You've got your hand on the button now

I'd rather die,
I'd rather die,
Than to be with you.' -When I'm Small, Phantogram

Splintered Hope

The door slid open, a whisper of paper slipping along birch. He knew who it was without turning; heart skipping, throat tightening. He composed himself and remained still. Sudden movements could trigger a negative response. As she crept closer, her scent mingled with the air around him perfumed with incense. And though it was altered, more leather than the original woodsy, cherry blossom scent, more feral than domestic, it was still her underneath. Still his daughter.

And so when she approached, he turned and opened his arms to welcome her. When she lay her head against his chest, he encircled her in the embrace, bracing one tear-streaked cheek atop her head, filled with wonder at her appearance, sensing that there was more to this than what it appeared. And when the air changed between them, when the predatory malaise drifted and encircled him, he knew he was right, but he ignored it; the fright he pushed aside, a part of him subconsciously welcoming this oncoming punishment for all he'd done to wrong his daughter; for all the mistakes that had brought him and her to this low, desperate point, another still in denial of the events, believing foolishly, that she'd never been dunked into that chemical. And still, his heart hoped there could be a way to traverse this instinctual urge so recently programmed into his daughter's psyche; to hunt; to kill; to feast.

He leaned back as her luminous eyes gazed up, already changed, pupils narrowed to slits, forked tongue tasting the vibrations of his fear-filled and regretful heart.

"Miwa," he whispered, voice thick with sadness and regret. "Fight it."

There was a purr, a disruption of sound not quite human and not animal. Not a response, but a warning. A subliminal rattle. His daughter reaching out from the divide between who she was and what she'd become. Despite this understanding, Splinter remained; still and trusting. Knowing there was no hope. Not for him; not for her.

"Master Splinter," came the soft, tentative voice just beyond his chamber door. There was a pause and then a sigh. "I made tea. I thought we might . . . discuss what we need to do . . . what the next step should be to bringing home Karai."

He reached out and slid open the door. His eyes searched for a moment before falling to the ground where his master lay, robe rumpled, head askance, eyes closed, but not resting. Mouth open, but not breathing. He was in the room before he realized he'd moved. He knelt before his teacher; father; friend.

"Splinter!"

He searched for the source of his master's pain, immediately focusing on a gaping wound bleeding profusely from the side of his neck. Leonardo's hands pressed against it, trying to stem the flow of life's blood from his father. Beneath his hands, he could feel the gentle, weakening pulse.

"No, Splinter. Wh-What happened to you? H-How?" He twisted to face the entrance. "D-Donnie," he cried hoarsely, then louder, much more forcibly, "Donnie!"

From the corner of his eye, he saw her. His face snapped around. Eyes wide and glassy. Horror replaced the cold terror in his gut. Realization like the snapping of a coffin lid clicked into place.

"You . . . You did this?"

She slithered further from the shadows, her lower body undulating from side to side as she came closer, gray-green eyes roved over him and his fallen father. The snakes' heads at the end of her arms hissed softly, tongues darting. Under one arm, the picture of Splinter when he was human. She writhed and held it awkwardly between the heads before lifting it above her head and slamming it into the flag stone floor beneath them, shattering the glass.

Leonardo flinched back, but kept his hands on his father's wound. Fingers wet with crimson. His bottom lip quivered but he clenched his jaw tightly to make it stop. The trembling evacuated to his extremities and he could do nothing to hide it. His outrage and his sickening horror were too much to process.

"How could you . . . Karai," he choked but struggled on breathless and aghast, "He's your . . . your father. Your family."

"No family," she hissed and spat a load of venom onto the picture. It sizzled and curled black at the edges and Leonardo edged away from it. His father moaned and he turned his attention back to his sensei.

"It's going to be okay, It's okay to be okay, S-Sensei," he promised feebly, doing his best to keep the fear from his wavering voice; blinking at the stinging tears, he turned to face her again, only to see the space she'd just been in devoid of her presence. His breath hitched and hot tears painted his cheeks. For a moment, his mind panicked and he didn't know what to do. Should he go after her? What if she was going to attack his brothers? But he couldn't leave his father in this state? Pinned and immobilized by terror and indecision, he gasped as a sob broke from his throat. Splinter's hand on his arm freed him from his frozen state of terror. He spun to face him, mouth hanging open, tears spilling free. Their eyes met. Splinter showed no fear. No betrayal. Instead . . . he looked . . . happy?

His mouth moved and Leonardo leaned forward, fearing so much; what his father was about to say, should it be his final words, he wasn't sure, he wasn't even sure he wanted to hear this, but he steeled himself and brought the side of his face to his father's mouth.

"Hope . . ."

Leonardo frowned and shook his head. "Don't try and speak, father," he croaked.

Splinter ignored him. He took a shuddering breath and Leo felt his hand tighten, surprising him with the strength of the grip. He shook his head from side to side. Donatello appeared then at the threshold and let out a shout of surprise and fright. Dimly, he could hear his brother ask a volley of questions, then getting no response from him, calling out to his siblings to help.

Shaken, Leonardo concentrated on his father's face as he spoke once more, amber eyes burning, aflame with intensity, "She . . . still there . . . inside. There is . . . still hope. Save her . . . my son. Save her!"

Leonardo felt himself go cold as Donatello followed by Mikey rushed into the room and Donatello moved him from where he knelt, legs tingling with pins and needles, his body trembling, his mind racing with what his sensei just asked. Don immediately went to addressing the wound, talking fast, too fast for him to follow. The room spun as Raph came in with bandages and towels; Raph caught him just before he hit the ground.

"I'm okay," he gasped as Raph righted him, looking from Splinter and back to him with fear clearly etched into his face. "I'm okay," he repeated more firmly, despite the sickening way his stomach curled and his knees knocked together.

He stood up and Raph frowned, face going dark, eyes narrowing in suspicion. He took a step to follow Leo and stopped. "Where the hell are you going?"

"I have to find her," he replied weakly.

"You're just going to leave?" Raph shouted, his voice rising angrily as he indicated Master Splinter with his arms hidden by the towels. "Now!?"

Donatello and Mikey were staring at him with looks of shock and hurt and beyond them, Splinter's pleading gaze was all the motivation he required. His brothers would have to hate him for now, there was no time to lose. Sometimes a leader had to risk the respect of his subordinates in order to do what was right. One day, they might understand. And hopefully forgive him.

A/N: This just happened. I dunno. Well see if it keeps going or I leave it here... XD