A/N: So this is my rewrite of Guardian Angel story, I felt like it needed one, and especially since I've gotten back into the fandom thanks to the 2k12 turtles. They are so ADORABLE, especially Leo, and Mikey. Anyway for those who have read the old one, welcome back! Those who are new, enjoy!
This is a What If of S3E15 Clash of the Mutanimals.
Warnings: Mind-control, rape, and moral questionable healing techniques (in my opinion anyway)
On with the show!
Scratch
Prologue:
There have been days when Splinter wished for nothing more than five minutes of silence from his sons, well, five minutes that didn't end with something or other breaking, or a messy home.
His wish finally came, and he hated it.
His footsteps echo as he silently left his room, and dojo, his twitchy tail and ears the only give away of his otherwise calm posture. He stopped at the kitchen, he opened the freezer to greet Ice-Cream Kitty, the usually happy creature was slumped and her soft meow told of a sadness and heartbreak that was similar to Splinter's. After closing the door, he went about making a lunch, a light meal of soup that was more broth then anything else. With practice ease, he gathered the bowled, and trayed meals, and started his rounds.
His first stop was the lab, mainly because it was closer. He paused just as he was passing the empty, and quiet living room, dubbed pit, dark eyes staring almost pleading for something.
It never came.
Inwardly sighing, he continued on to the lab, his ears perked up when he found it empty. His heart started racing, and his mind began to panic.
Nononononono—"Calm, think."
Hands slightly trembling, he changed his course, and headed to the bedrooms. Using he tail, he was able to get one of the doors open, and quietly made his way inside. The lights were on, and the usual neat if cluttered room, was a mess. And in that mess was Donatello. His first youngest was at his desk, scribbling away on some paper, voice lower as he mumbled to himself. The words were quick, too quick for Splinter to make sense of the ones his ears could catch.
He sighed, relieved.
"Donatello," he said, announcing his presence.
Everything stopped as his son looked at him, "Sensei."
Those unique eyes of red, and brown shined with pain, past tears, and a type of weary fatigue that had nothing to do with a late night project.
"I've brought you something to eat, you were not at breakfast." He said as he came over, with movement that came from years of practice, Splinter placed one of the trays down, taking notice of his son less then healthy complexion.
"Thank you Sensei," Don said, "I didn't realize."
Splinter said nothing, but gave a reassuring smile, the smile slipping away when his son didn't touch the food. Merely went back to his work.
"What are you working on?" He asked.
"The designs for a new toaster," was his answer.
Their current one didn't need to be fix, it was perfectly fine.
His son just didn't want to think.
Splinter left, knowing that when he came back, the food would be cold, and untouched.
Just as before.
His next stop, was his second eldest.
Raphael had taken to hiding in his room, most would have expected his most hot-headed and passionate son to be letting his anger out on either the punching bag, whatever or whoever was unlucky enough to be in his way, or the cause of his anger. And in most cases that was true, however it was harder to fight an enemy when the enemy was you.
He greeted his son curled up on his bed, there was no reply, but he wasn't expecting one. Splinter is careful as he stepped over the messy floor, most of the items he noted, used to be on the now broken shelves. He placed the tray on the available space.
Raphael did not move.
"Please eat my son."
And with that he left, and to his eldest son's room. There wasn't much changed in this room, save for anything sharp, or potential dangerous, a precaution after it.
At least this son eats.
Finally, he went back to his room, where his youngest had taken resident, ever since….that day. Michelangelo was asleep, more than likely finally giving in to the lack of sleep. Letting him sleep, Splinter set the last of the trays down, before kneeling down by his son. He rubbed his son's head, before settling down for mediation. A lost cause, but one he desperately fought for.
~.~
The noise came back, but it was not the one he wished to hear, now, or ever.
Cries of pain, nightmares warped, but real.
It broke his heart.
A muzzled pulled back into a snarl, "Curse you Saki!"
A whimper had him reining in his anger, gentle hands rubbed the shaking carapace, a much beloved lullaby hummed. Eventually the whimpering tampered off, the shaking stopped, but the tears still flowed. After he did all he could for his sons, he settled down in his usual spot in the dojo.
His family was hurting, bonds had been broken with no healing insight.
Maybe not ever.
"…It will not come to that."
He will not lose his sons.
Not to nightmares, not to Saki, not even to themselves.
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