For those who saw my previous title, whoops. That was the worst typo I have ever done in my life. Don't judge, dudes. IT WAS A JOKE.

There was sobbing from the opposite room. I was sure of it. No TV noise sounded that realistic and none of my sons would even think of considering of fooling his brothers. The sobbing continued before a hasty sniff followed.

I opened my eyes and stretched out my legs which had been in a lotus meditating position the whole night. I never really slept but I meditated and remained in the spirit world for several hours. Throughout my sons' training, I had tried to teach them the ways of meditation but all of them including Leonardo had lost interest. Leonardo would meditate but wouldn't replace sleeping with meditation.

The sobbing continued and I got to my feet. I assumed it was Michelangelo again from one of his bizarre, supernatural dreams of his favourite superheroes. That had happened quite recently when Michelangelo dreamed of joining the Justice Force and had woken up and cried until he could no more. He had told me about his great disappointment when he had realised it was only a fantasy.

Michelangelo gasped for breath, "And then, and then, you got to eat all the candy and Silver Sentry only liked you and only you could go on the adventure and I was left behind and I had to train and train and train and I was crying but none of you came back!"

"Okay. That was officially the longest sentence I have ever heard." Donatello stated.

"What should we do, Master Splinter?" Leonardo whispered into my ear.

"What do you think we should do, my son?" I asked, hoping that he would soon be able to make his own decisions without me.

Raphael slapped his younger brother, "Pull yourself together!"

Michelangelo began to scream and cry even more. I looked angrily at my hot tempered son who made extremely rash decisions when angry and panicked. He refused to look at me and he stared at the floor before slinking back into the 'naughty corner'. Donatello's idea. Not mine.

A small toy was pushed into Michelangelo's face, being waved around by Leonardo, "Hey, Mikey!" he said with a high pitched voice.

My youngest son's face brightened, "He talks!"

There was one night where Donatello did cry but it had been because his head had hit the edge of his bedside table when Raphael accidentally kicked him out of the bed in his sleep. I couldn't believe that my son's outburst occurred even in peaceful times like these.

Donatello's wailing filled all of our ears and was completely inconsolable. No teddy bear, cupcake, or new periodic table with the elements in the incorrect positions for him to correct could make him smile again.

"Donnie. Hey, it's okay."

"I think I just lost ALL OF MY BRAIN CELLS! I'M LIKE MIKEY NOW! HOW IS THIS OKAY?!"

His wails stopped abruptly and he rubbed his chubby palms over his head making the spot which hit the edge of the table even more red. Raphael had his hands in his mouth, unsure what to do. Michelangelo was running in circles with his arms waving around madly, screaming and panicking.

"Donnie's become like meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" he screamed.

"Raph!" Leonardo barked, turning around so fast that I barely had a chance to react.

"It wasn't my fault!" Raphael retorted.

"Just say sorry!"

"No way!"

Donatello resumed his wailing with buckets of tears streaming down his face.

"Donnie. I - I -"

"Say it already!"

"I'M SORRY!"

Leonardo had cried when Raphael had talked to him about my future death and the family breaking apart. I was extremely disappointed in him and was quite shocked hearing that soon after the - occasion - that Leonardo had immediately forgiven his younger brother. Even Raphael seemed quite shocked.

I found him sobbing in his room, looking down at a photo of us, taken a few days ago.

"Leonardo?" I asked softly, "Whatever is the matter?"

Raphael stepped out of the shadows in his room, into the light where I could see him. He said nothing like he normally did when he did something wrong. Leonardo struggled to his feet and hugged me as I walked in. The low hanging light bulb was swinging uncontrollably, illuminating the streaks of tears running down my son's face.

"He said that I had to learn to work on my own. He said that you would be gone."

"Who said?"

With a shaky hand, he pointed to his younger brother.

"Raphael! Kneel!"

He obediently did as he was asked, plopping onto the floor with no further comments.

Leonardo shook his head, "No, sensei! Don't punish him! It's alright. I'll be fine."

I stroked my beard, "Don't you think he did something wrong?"

He rubbed his eyes, "Well he did…but - I forgive him."

Raphael jolted upright and stared at his brother.

I had cried when they were toddlers. When I looked into their eyes, all I saw was Miwa. Miwa growing up and learning ninjitsu. Miwa growing up in my image. Miwa growing up and wishing to defend and protect her family even if it cost her life. Miwa growing up, asking the most amazing questions about the world that even I could not answer. Miwa growing up and remaining a child.

I missed her dearly.

My son Raphael never cries. At least…I've never seen him cry.

Marching through the lair, I was completely aware of the increase of volume in the crying but I was also aware of the empty rooms which I was passing. What my sons were doing at this late hour, I did not know but I did know that they were going to get a very 'special' talk from their father and sensei.

The sobbing stopped abruptly and I froze. Raphael's door was slightly ajar and I crept forward using the shadows to my advantage. These were the techniques which I continuously tried to teach my sons as well.

"What are you doing here?!" Raphael's voice echoed down the hall.

I pretended to walk past his room but remained standing right outside.

"What do you think we're doing here?" Leonardo asked loudly.

"I don't need you." Raphael sniffled.

"We weren't asking." Donatello huffed.

"Come on, Raph." Michelangelo chided, "What's the matter? Tell us what's wrong!"

I rubbed my eyes. My son, Raphael, of all people, was crying. The sudden crumbling display of Raphael's 'ego' surprised me. Being their father, one would think that I would know them the best. One would think.

The only time I had ever witnessed the second eldest turtle crying was when he had lost a battle against his older brother. Ever since they were little, Raphael knew the Leonardo was the best in his techniques. I regularly commended him for that. However, Raphael didn't take my praises to his older brother too well.

Raphael grinned, "I can do it, sensei!"

He did a flying spin kick and I scratched my chin, "Hold up your hands, my son so you can protect your face. That goes for you too, Michelangelo. Donatello, it is not literally flying. We are not defying gravity and bending the rules of science. We simply in mid-air when we are kicking. Now try."

Michelangelo was in the middle of getting up from the floor. His face was bright red and he was frowning with determination. Donatello was scratching his head, trying to overthrow me with a flurry of science facts. Leonardo did it perfectly and I did not hesitate to bathe him in my pride.

"Well done, my son! You have made your father very proud."

Raphael growled, "There goes Splinter Junior, again."

"It's nothing. Leave me alone." Raphael said firmly.

Leonardo came waddling towards his younger brother with a blanket. Donatello snuggled next to his older brother and Michelangelo did the same on the other side, slipping a teddy bear within his hot tempered brother's grasp. Leonardo wrapped his younger brothers with his own special blanket.

"It's okay, Raphie-boy. It was just a nightmare."