Entering the bedroom, with the tray balanced in my hand, I made sure to close the door behind me.
I could hear his dry coughing from the doorway, and I worried, for his illness had struck harder than I thought.
Stepping into the room, I walked towards his bedding, maneuvering my way through his softly lit bedroom. Tiredly, once his coughing fit had subsided, his slumped body uncurled from its tight-ball position, while tucked under layers of heavy winter blankets.
He had caught a terrible flu the past week, all because of a chase with a thief, during a cold, wind bustling night. He had landed on the thief, struggling to subdue him, and that struggle had, unfortunately, taken place in a puddle of cold, icy waters. Once home, he seemed fine, just complaining about a slight chill, and hoping that a warm bath will help him get better.
No more than a few hours later, the illness had rendered him helpless with a hot fever, a coughing fit and a soar throat. He could not lift a finger, or speak a word without groaning or arching in pain, he was much too exhausted to even stay awake.
But that was then, when he seemed so terribly ill, and now he's better, and I can say he's out of the danger zone.
Now setting the tray on the nearest desk, it contained a kettle with the needed warm, medical herbal drink, a small canister, and a small snack, incase he had the appetite. I paused where I stood at his table for a moment, wondering if I should offer the medical drink. His stomach had been quite rebellious, refusing to keep anything in for more than a few minutes, and it worried me, for it was making him grow weaker by the minute.
Pushing away some items from his messy, cluttered tabletop, setting down the tray, I picked up the cup, filled it from the kettle, and then made way towards his bed. Pulling a chair I have retrieved earlier this week from the kitchen closer, I smiled a bit as he shifted.
Watching him breathe more normally, though with a faint churning sound, because of his illness, I awaited for him to wake up, once sensing my presence. As expected, merely a minute had passed, before he peered his head from under the sheets, looking over his shoulder, seeing I was facing his shell, and slowly, he turned around to face me.
His bloodshot eyes and runny nose were a clear signs that his terrible flu had not subsided; it seemed as if it was simply getting worse, but his small smile told me it was merely parental worry that nagged at me.
He blinked, now looking at me with a weak smile, "Hi dad." He croaked, almost a whisper.
I smiled at him in reply, "Good evening, my son," I replied gently, "Are you feeling better?" I cooed, as if he were a child once again.
He closed his eyes for a moment, slowly nodding, "Kinda better than yesterday." He informed.
"That's good." I smiled, and then offered the cup, "Here, drink this, it'll warm you up."
"Aww, do I have to?" he whined, in his ill, croaking and muffled voice, knowing fully how terrible the drink had tasted from past experience.
"It should help your lungs and throat heal and get better." I smiled, encouraging him to drink.
Tired, he closed his eyes for a moment, before opening them, and then looking disappointed, as if wishing it would disappear when he did so, before eyeing the cup again, "I don't feel like it." he whined, tired.
I smiled still, "I understand, my son. But you need to keep up your strength." I offered the cup again.
With a sniffle, he slowly pushed up a little, twisting in bed and turning to his side. He timidly accepted the cup with a shaky hand. Then, due to the fact that his sense of smell had been completely disabled, because of his terrible flu, he was unable to discern the smell of the drink, which was probably a good thing.
Grimacing nonetheless, he spared me a weak, grateful smile, before he took a slow sip, wrinkling his face in distaste, "Ugh! I still wonder, just what on earth is in this thing?" he grumbled, looking at me.
I tried not to chuckle at his reaction, "Well, it is a mixture of old herbal ingredients, as well as an age old concoction, that you would probably prefer not to know." I reasoned with a knowing smile.
His face blanked for a moment, if only trying to acknowledge what I had meant to say, and then sighed, deciding not to think about it. Pushing off the bed, balancing himself as it swung a bit at his movement, sitting upright, he took a few more sips, face wrinkling with disgust, before bracing himself and swallowing all whatever was left in one go.
His face twisted into an even more disgusted grimace, as if he were choking on it, as and he turned his face away to stick out his tongue, to emphasize his disgust, while returning the now empty cup to me. "Ew! This stuff is so awful!" he grouched, shuddering, before reaching his hands back to latch on to the blanket, laying back slowly, tugging it over himself, as he snuggled back in bed.
Accepting the cup, I smiled, and then watched him as he buried his face in the pillow, but his eyes remained open, if only a mere slit, a little more awake than before; he glanced at me for a moment, before he looked away, as if trying to hide something, and for that I worried.
I furrowed in concern, I looked at him, "Is something the matter, my son?" I asked curiously.
He eyed me with a hint of exhaustion, before he forced a small smile, "No, I'm fine." he answered at first, before he sighed with a hint of frustration, "It's just- I've been tossing and turning all night, but I just cant sleep." he growled, irritated a bit more at his illness, than his inability to rest.
My whiskers twitched, and I smiled, "You need to clear your mind, my son. You're simply too tense." I got off the chair and walked back to his cluttered desk, setting back the cup, I gave his room a look, huffing a bit at the mess. Then again, he hadn't been able to move around as often as he used to, for a good few days now, so I do not blame him for the mess that was scattered across it.
Back to the chair, I eyed him once more.
His eyes were blurry with exhaustion, yet his gaze seemed a bit sharp with irritation. Smiling, I caressed his cheek, and he glanced up at me, first at start, being pulled from his thoughts, before smiling weakly, closing his eyes and relaxing with my touch. Slowly, one hand released the thick blanket to cup my hand, that cupped his cheek, nuzzling it a little, and we shred a small smile.
I caressed his cheek again, feeling my hand so small and humble compared to his own. Somehow, I found it funny, in a strange way; to think that long ago, my hand was twice bigger than theirs, and I could easily wrap my fingers around their palm, incasing it securely. Now, it's the other way around, and their hands are three times larger than mine.
They have out grown me in size, yet, they are still my children.
"Now, it is getting late, try to get some rest, alright?" I told gently.
His smile fell a bit, and I could see a hint of longing in his eyes, as if he did not want me to leave, but he nodded, "Okay."
Reluctant to leave just yet, I picked up the damp rag that laid aside his pillow, and dipped it in a small bowl of cold water that I had set nearby earlier. Soaking it well, I squeezed it a little, before setting it back on his temple.
He shuddered at the chill for a moment, before giving me a grateful smile, "Thanks, dad."
I smiled, caressing his cheek again, but he made no move to cup my hand again; he was probably too tired to do so, "Now, before I go, do you need anything?" I offered, not wanting to leave his side yet.
After a moment or silence, he gave a negative shake, but I could tell hew as not being honest, "I'm good."
I watched him for a moment longer, before my brows knotted in concern, "My son, is something the matter?"
He glanced at me, through tired eyes, but smiled faintly, "No, not really." he croaked weakly, "It's just- well..." he hesitated.
I sensed- shyness? Was he shying off from his father? I couldn't help but smile at the thought; among my sons, he had always found it hard to express himself, for anyone, especially me, "My son, you can tell me, can't you?" I urged kindly, wanting to know.
He fidgeted a bit, and if his face weren't so tired and pale, I would have sworn his cheeks had changed color. After a moment longer, he reluctantly glanced up at me, eyes closed, "Well, it- makes me feel silly asking this but," he hesitated once more, before opening his eyes, looking at me, "I was- wondering. Could you, if you have time, tell me a story?"
I felt my furry brows arch high; 'A story? As in; a bedtime story?' I wondered.
"It's not like- a bedtime story or anything, you know? It's more like retelling some of the-" he hastened to speak, but then his voice got muffled the faster he spoke, and was interrupted with a coughing fit.
After several more minutes of coughing, his breathing settled down, but he was left gasping a bit, tears forming at the corners of his eyes, and unable to breathe through his nose. Leaving my seat, I hurried to the tray I had brought earlier, and picked up the small canister. It contained a strong smelling substance, like massaging cream, and I dipped my fingers in it, smearing and rubbing the substance over his throat and plastron. The cream has medical properties. It contains a few spicy herbs like mint and chili peppers, and the warmth of the cream will help his lungs clear out anything that clogs it.
He complained at first, not wanting any of the 'slime' on him, but his complaints were ignored as he felt it's heat spread through him. After a few moments, his labored breath sounded more natural, except, of course, for the raspy touch in his voice.
"Thanks dad." he smiled again, more relaxed, now placing a hand on his throat, "Man, it itches so badly." He then whined weakly.
"Then you need to speak less, my son, in order to allow your throat to heal." I said wisely.
Now, returning to the cluttered table; -he really needs to get the place cleaned up!- I put down the canister and held the kettle, now pouring him another drink. I could tell his lungs are still weary, and since he did not look ill after the first drink, I assume it is safe for him to have another. But, of course, at the sound of the warm liquid being poured, I tried not to smile as he groaned, already grumbling about its awful taste.
Taking the cup with me, I did not offer it to him yet, because I knew he'd want to wriggle his way out of another drink, just like his brothers. "Now, you were saying something about a bedtime story?" I smiled teasingly, keeping the cup in my hands, enjoying it's warmth for the moment.
His eyes widened, bloodshot and all, but then he furrowed in unease and smiled nervously, his cheeks changing color, "Well, no, not a bedtime story! I'm too old for that!" he grouched, complaining weakly, "I just meant- well, just- ah..." he closed his eyes and tugged the blanket over his head, as if hiding, his voice now muffled under the thick cover, "Just forget it, it doesn't matter." he groaned, flustered and embarrassed.
I chuckled, and that only made him cringe and curl up even more, whining weakly, asking me to stop laughing, and it only made my smile widen. "Ah, my son, I don't mean to cause you any discomfort," I tried not to chuckle, putting a hand where I guessed his shoulder was, "but was there something you specifically wanted to hear?" I offered, hoping it would sooth him for tonight.
With a slightly frustrated sigh, he pushed up a bit, now pulling the blankets a bit off his head to peer up at me coyly, "Well, not exactly," he drawled, croaking a little, not yet daring eye contact, he was avoiding my gaze. Pausing to clear his throat for a moment, he continued, "I was just- wondering, ya know?" his voice rasped, so he had to clear his throat once again.
I offered him the cup, but he grimaced and gave a negative shake; he started rubbing his throat. I took the hint and took back the offer, but held on to the cup. "Wondering about what?" I asked, urging him to explain.
His gaze shifted, as if he was trying to find something to distract himself with, but failed. "Well, I was- kinda wondering; usually at this time of year, we all get ready for the Battle Nexus, right?" he peered up at me, looking a bit miserable, "Not like I'd win or anything, I mean Mike won three times in a row, and I'd hate to see him win this year, too." he grouched, then cleared his throat again.
"Uh, Anyway, that's aside the point." he sighed, now eyeing me with an expression associated more with exhaustion and defeat than anything else, "I was wondering, if you won the championship once, and master Yoshi won the championship before; how did Master Yoshi know about the Battle Nexus in the first place?" he wrinkled his snout, confused.
I furrowed, a bit confused at his question, "What do you mean?"
He licked his lips, now pushing a little up and leaning against his stack of pillows for leverage, but still laid to his side, "Well, when master Yoshi entered the Battle Nexus, how did he survive, being human and all?" he explained, now sinking more into his pillows for comfort, "I mean, during the few times we've went there, we've never actually come across any humans, just creatures from other worlds an dimensions, not once did we face off against a human."
I nodded, having a better idea what he meant, "Yes, most humans tend to be bystanders and simply join and watch the matches, than to have to jump into the heat of battle. On rare occasions, some humans do participate, but they do not usually win more than a match or two, for the most skilled warriors from the other dimensions, are far too strong for the humans to withhold against." I nodded, now offering him the cooling drink.
He grimaced, but accepted it, now sitting a little more upright, leaning back against his stack of pillows, he slowly started sipping on it, as I continued the tale, and he tried not to pay attention to the awful taste of the medicine.
"But, you must understand, my son, that master Yoshi was not an average human." I smiled, whiskers twitching, "He was gifted in the arts of ninjutsu, and that allowed him the ability to disarm the most dangerous of warriors and claim victory."
"Did he win the first time?" he paused from his drink to clear his throat, and then to question, "I mean, all due respect, sensei, but I doubt master Yoshi was able to battle his way through and win from the first try." He paused, "Then again, I still can't believe how Mike managed to do it three times in a row, though."
I nodded, "Yes, regarding master Yoshi, it is the truth, actually." I tilted my head a bit, quietly watching him return to his drink.
"You see, my son, when master Yoshi first joined the Battle Nexus, he was a fresh recruit to the Guardians at the time, and he was introduced to the Daimyo through the Utrom, who were invited to join." I told, explaining how my beloved master had known about the Nexus in the first place, and he gave an 'Ah, I see.' expression, before reluctantly returning to his drink, so I continued, "But because he was merely humans, and in need of more training, he passed the initiation match, but lost on his second primary match."
"Ouch, I bet it stung, huh?" he muttered, half way through his drink; I felt that my son was talking more out of his 'personal' experience than anything, and I felt a little more concerned.
You see, the day before yesterday was supposedly the day the five of us, my sons and I, go to the Battle Nexus to participate in the event; seeing it takes place every three years. It lasts for a whole day, which equals three days on earth. But due to my son's illness, which had struck him two days prior our departure, he and I have withdrawn from participating; him for being ill, and me for wanting to be by his side, as his three brothers left to join the Nexus.
Of course, from the first time they had joined until now, it had been a good ten years, and my sons are now much older, about in their mid twenties. Ah, how time flies...
He wanted to join in spite of his illness, but even he knew he could not pull it off with his willfulness alone, for he could barely stand upright, therefore, he could not join in the event. He was greatly disappointed as well. It had already been two days, since his brothers had left, meaning the competition is almost over, and yet, his illness remains a heavy weight on his body, keeping him bedridden and weary.
I worry, for it seems that he will still remain in bed for another week.
Also, there is the fact that he had been preparing for this event for the past month, more mentally than physically, but being ripped away from the chance of battling against his brothers, had been greatly discouraging. He had been very excited, while preparing for the event, actually; he kept bumping heads with his brothers, betting and competing of who would win.
Finishing the drink, he gave a small breath, a mix between a muffled sigh and a yawn.
"Perhaps you should rest, my son." I gestured for him to lie back, in which he tiredly complied.
"I wish I was there with them," he muttered, referring to his brothers; snuggling into his sheets, eyeing me sleepily. "Dad?"
I smiled, for not too often do any of my sons call me 'dad' so frequently, "Yes, my son?"
"If you don't mind me asking, what was it like? The first time you joined the Battle Nexus?" he grinned a bit.
I gave a small chuckle, "The first time, I lost prior the match, before the last match. That landed me somewhere around third place, I figure. "I admitted, recalling my first participation at the Nexus, "On my second try, I won the championship, after I defeated Drako." I then added.
"Yeah, you kicked his tail and won fair and square, broken leg and all." my son smirked, gaining back a small spark of his mischievous nature, "That's when you met Usagi, right?"
I nodded, "Yes, it was. Usagi-san had been a close friend of mine since. He and Leonardo were so much alike; I found it appealing to let them spar against each other during the Nexus."
"Yeah, Leo might be ninja, and Usagi might be a samurai," he cleared his throat, and then inhaled a bit, "but- there is no doubt about it; they're the best swordsmen I've ever laid eyes on." he croaked half way through his sentence, then started another short coughing fit.
I picked the damp rag, and used it to stroke his cheeks and neck, barely wiping away the cream I have applied earlier. It was made more of oils thus the rag did not wipe it away. After he stopped for a breath, I dipped it in the bowl of cold water, soaking it again, and placed it on his forehead.
"This stinks." he muttered, upset and frustrated, "I hate being sick."
Stroking his face, I caressed his cheek, "My son, illness is merely a sign that one cannot fight against everything." I said wisely, and smiled warmly when he sleepily peered at me, "Yes it might 'stink' as it spoils the chance of being elsewhere, where it is fun, but you need to remember that during illness, it gives you the chance to reflect and be grateful when you are healthy and fine."
"Also, it's a chance to try harder not to get hurt or sick." he murmured with a small smile, "I know, but that doesn't change the fact that it stinks." he pouted.
I smiled wider and gave a negative shake, "Well, it should motivate you to be more aware of your surroundings as well." I said wisely.
He nodded, closing his eyes for a moment and yawning, before clearing his throat one more time, "Dad?"
"Yes?" I tenderly replied.
"Could you tell me about your time at the Battle Nexus?" he requested, "I mean, when you went there for the first time, what was it like?"
Musing about those memories, I smiled, "Well, I remember a few events, from when I had went with master Yoshi, when I were still a mere rat." I told him at first, "Going there a second time, but alone, felt so very different; the market place was not there when master Yoshi was alive, so I pretty much got myself lost, with all the scents and people crowding the area."
"You got lost?" he quirked a humored brow, "Man, must've been during rush hour, huh?" he teased.
I chuckled, more for the fact that I lost my way around, despite my acute sense of smell, than his playful jibbing, "Yes, quite honestly, I was very confused, it disturbed me greatly when I could not find my way," I sighed, recalling how irritated I was during that little mishap, "and the people were just too busy to help me find my way around." I gave a negative shake.
"Of course, the first time I joined the Nexus, you four were still preteens," I told telling him of the first time I had left them, "and I was growing anxious, wondering if I should just forget the match and go home."
"Oh yeah, I remember that time, you were gone for three days." he smiled sheepishly, then zoned away for a moment, as if recalling a distant memory, "Honestly, I wish you did come home." he admitted, almost a whisper, more to himself then to me.
"Why do you say that?" I questioned innocently, wondering if they had missed me too much. After all, when I had left them the first time, I assumed that the day at the Nexus was also a day on earth, I did not know there was a time difference.
Like a deer in headlights, his eyes widened considerably, as he smiled sheepishly, and I suspected that something had happened when I were away during that time, "Um, nothing." was his croaked reply, trying to sound innocent, before he cleared his throat for the umpteenth time, "Anyway, uh- how did you find your way around?" he questioned.
I furrowed, suspicious, but he only smiled at me more innocently, so I decided to prod about this much later; after all, he is ill and I do not want to trouble his throat, he's talking more than he needs to anyway. Deciding to change the subject, I took note how sleepy and tired he looked, so I pushed off the chair and tucked him in, kissing his temple.
"Dad!" he whined weakly in embarrassment, unintentionally glaring at me through bloodshot eyes, "I'm not a little kid anymore." he argued; his cheeks colored faintly as he squared his shoulders a little.
I chuckled once more, tail and whiskers twitching, "I know, my son, but it is late, and you need your rest, your throat will not get better if you keep straining it with too much talking." I explained softly, tucking him until I was sure he was nice and snug, and then making sure he can breathe under so many blankets, "I will tell you about my time at the Nexus at another time."
He gave a small raspy whine, but then smiled, a little shyly, "As silly as it may sound," he murmured more to himself then to me, and then glanced at me with hopeful eyes, "promise?" he pleaded.
Smiling with a chuckle, I nodded, "Yes, I promise." I caressed his cheek, "Now, get some sleep." I kissed his temple again, "Goodnight, my son."
"Goodnight, dad." he smiled, answering quietly.
Picking up the now empty cup and tray, I gave him a glance in which he replied with another equal smile, and so, I took my leave. After opening the bedroom door, I took a few steps before his voice called, just as I was about to close the door.
"Dad?" he croaked, and then cleared his throat, as he gained my attention.
I eyed him, "Yes?" I questioned, wondering what he wanted.
He shifted a bit in bed, as if hesitating, before flashed a small, shy smile, "I love you." he said timidly, almost a whisper.
I stood there for a moment, as tingling warmth spread inside of me, and I chuckled once more, "I love you as well."
Sharing a moment of understanding, we smiled at each other, and I watched him sink back into his bedding, closing his eyes, and drifting off into a comfortable slumber. Grinning lightly to myself, I closed the door quietly, made my way to the kitchen, and made sure the cup he had drank from had been thoroughly cleaned, before setting it aside, just to make sure none of his brothers drinks from it, and get infected by his illness by mistake.
Once making sure the lair was quiet, I decided to head to my room for awhile, before I check on my ill son, and then I call it a night, but just as I was about to head to my room, a portal opened over the nearby catwalk, and my three sons, happily chattering, walked through it, arriving home. In the arms of one of them, was a sparkling trophy.
"Master Splinter!" they all cheered and hurried to me with their prized possession.
"Sensei, look! I won!" one of my sons cried excitedly, flashing the giant crystallized item before me.
With my chest swelling with pride, I nodded and touched his hand as it held the trophy, "Congratulations, my son."
"You should have seen him, Sensei! He drove the crowed wild!" my eldest son exclaimed excitedly, "They were screaming the shouting and-!"
"Aw, it was a lucky shot!" his youngest brother pouts, interrupting, crossing his arms, "But a pretty darn good shoot, though." He then added.
"Aw, you're just upset you didn't win for a forth time in a row." his victorious brother jibbed.
"Yeah, well Don earned it. He fought pretty well back there." my eldest grinned, paused and then looked at me, "Though I wish Raph was there, Don practically wiped the floor with Mikey." he grinned mischievously at his youngest brother.
"He Did Not!" my youngest argued, whining.
Just as they started squabbling about the events of the heated battle, I spared Donatello and his trophy a glance, wondering if it was so hard to defeat his brother, in which he replied with a shrug, not certainly knowing the answer to such a question, so I chuckled.
"My sons! Please!" I said aloud, and they gradually silenced, "Raphael is still ill and will need more rest, so please, keep it quiet." I chided.
Michelangelo glanced at his two brothers and then back at me, a little worried, "Um, how is he?"
"Better, much better." I assure with a smile, and at their relived sighs, I continued, "But he will still need a few more days to recover, before he is allowed out of his room." I told, and at their disappointed faces, I continued, "You all can see him tomorrow, I think it is safe to be with him without the risk of being infected." At that, they smiled.
"But as for now, it's time for bed." I gestured for them to leave. They groaned, complaining only a little wanting to see their brother, but then they gave up at my reasoning, that they all needed rest.
When Leonardo and Donatello jibbed Michelangelo, claiming to inform Raphael of how his smart brother 'pawned' the previous Nexus champion, their youngest brother hastened to whine and complain, claiming that the reason he lost, was merely because of a lucky shot, and that he would have won, for the forth time in a row, if his brainy brother had not been so lucky.
Well, lucky or not, I am sure it will not be a problem for long. After all, to this family, one's victory is the family's victory. No matter who won or lost, it will not change the fact that we are family.
"Well, look at the bright side." I heard Leonardo laugh, playfully slapping his younger brother's shoulder, "At least now, Don has the bragging rights for a change."
I chuckled, for thankfully, that is something we can all live with.
I am fortunate to have this family, and for that I am grateful.
That's all that matters to me.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
A/N: just wanted to write something that was Splinter centric. We need more Splinter/Son fluff, seriously! More so in the show than in the fanfics, too! And Btw, my stupid word program switched everything into Arabic, which screwed up a few lines, while I was getting it ready for uploading, (it happened after the beta reading, Cyn) so if there are any screwed up lines, blame my computer.