Change of Perspective

Disclaimer: Splinter and the TMNT are property of Mirage. I don't earn anything by writing this story.

Thanks to Cynlee for beta-reading and corrections, and thanks to everyone who reads this!

Change of Perspectives

Chapter 3

The following night the rat was dreaming. It had dreamt before, but only vague and blurred dreams of eating, sleeping and running, which were gone and forgotten the next morning. This night was different. The pictures in its head had never been that clear and precise. It was in its cage, and again, the evil humans attacked HIM. It was terrified; it knew the outcome but couldn't change it. It knew that it was only sleeping, nevertheless everything felt real, even more real than the time the murder had actually happened. The colors were brighter than in its memory, the sounds louder and some of the words suddenly made sense.

Kill him.

Finish him off.

I will do it myself.

The rat whimpered while sleeping, moving its legs restlessly and disturbing the small animals it had rescued the day before. They were not willing to give up such a warm and cozy comfort, so they snuggled deeper into the rat's fur nevertheless, while the rat was haunted by its nightmares.

Again, it attacked the giant man and remembered his smell, his way to move, the sound of his footsteps- and for the first time, the expression in his face and his facial features. It would never forget him. All of the attackers were burnt in its memory forever.

Again, it fell from the windowsill, down to the street, and-

Shivering the rat awoke, jumped up- and bumped his head at the ceiling. Totally confused, the rat paused motionless. His movement had awakened the small ones as well, which had tumbled out of his fur. But- they were not that small any more. The rat crouched down to the ground, snout to snout with one of them. The animal blinked and crawled in his direction, missing the warm and soft fur. The rat moved his head and twitched his ears. This was interesting. They hadn't behaved like that the day before. Now the little one had reached him, reached out with its paw- and pulled his whiskers. The rat flinched and grimaced. That had hurt! Interesting as well, but nothing he wanted to be repeated. He pressed the scalawag with his paw to the earth and cleaned it by licking, and then he continued with the other ones and ended with himself. He couldn't ignore the strange way his own body was behaving anymore. He had grown, and his paws and legs had changed its form. Even the calming familiar ritual of cleaning himself wasn't that easy anymore, for his body wouldn't move the way he wanted it. He licked his paws, ran them over his ears and head while trying to focus at this strange happening.

He laid down- had brought the animals home- had found them- the accident- searching for food-

Food. His stomach demanded its right. Concentrating on the problem at hand- food, he needed food- he mentally brushed aside any other thoughts that screwed up his mind. At least the search for food was something he could handle. Right now, he had bigger problems than ghostly memories- literally. When he tried to turn around, he noticed that the burrow had become too small for him and his little foundlings. So, after a few uncomfortable moves, he had to leave tail first.

Which lead to another problem: They followed him. The little one from before looked straight in his eyes, its mouth opened and presenting the rat its teeth. Instinctively he ducked to the ground, tensing his muscles, ready for an attack- and the little one bumped into his snout.

"Ngghiff!"

The rat sniffed and rubbed his poor snout. The animals were hard. He wrinkled his nose and nudged the small one, which lay on the floor upside down, pedaling in the air with all four legs, looking miserably. Again the rat nudged it with his snout, demanding an answer for this sudden attack. The poke turned the green one around, and again it presented its teeth, raised a paw- and slapped the rat's nose.

"Weeeee!"

The rat recoiled with a big leap, first whining, then hissing angrily. For a moment the little one hesitated, then it crawled again in his direction. Although every instinct, every memory of his past life told him that this was an attack, that the strange green animal would hit and bite, the rat just couldn't be angry. A part of his newly found power of observation told him that this was a cub which wanted comfort and that the "attacks" had merely been accidents, born out of misunderstandings.

Another one of the green animals tumbled out of his burrow. The rat sighed, and then he carefully clasped the first one with his mouth, putting it back into the burrow, and granted the other one also with this treatment. Now he could finally leave for food.

He only managed to walk a few steps, when he heard a soft "thump" behind him. They still tried to follow him! So he turned around, set the escapee back, and made another attempt to leave. It was futile. Angrily he hissed in the direction of the green ones. They didn't care; instead they tore at his fur. The rat nibbled, frustrated, at the straw, with which he had padded his burrow. What should he do? He was really hungry and…

They would be hungry too. He watched the little ones moving randomly through the straw. One had come to his paws. Absently he started to clean it. The small one wrinkled its face, but let him and snuggled into his fur afterwards. The rat looked at this helpless, small being, sleeping trustfully and peacefully at his side. It took him a while until he noticed that he presented his teeth to it as well.

Hunger. Again this overpowering thought sprang into his mind. The rat hunkered over the small ones, being torn between searching for food and staying with his newfound fosterlings. Nervous, he glanced through the tunnels while the green ones crawled over his body. What to do? Finally he caught sight of a wooden plank. The day before it would had been too bulky and way too heavy, but now…

The rat sprang into the sewage and eyed it suspiciously. He had to try a few times before he found a way to haul it without getting too many splinters in his snout.

Splinter.

The word, and the tone he connected now with it, sounded familiar. For a moment he hesitated, trying to catch this fragile thought, but another "thump" behind him broke his concentration immediately. He let go of the plank, hastened back and put the animal back into safety before it could fall into the wastewater. Again, he cleaned it, and became once more reminded of his hunger by his rebelling stomach. He noticed the small animals feeding on the straw. He needed fresh straw. And fresh food. They would follow him. The plank.

So he went to the plank again, shifted it a short distance and had to recapture the small ones again and again. When he eventually managed to bring the plank to the burrow, he twisted it in the entrance in a way that would allow him to get outside, but not the small ones. Nevertheless, afterwards he was so exhausted that he decided to take a nap before getting food. He watched his little ones, all four of them with their heads raised so as to be able to look in his eyes, and again he noticed he showed them his teeth. But somehow, it didn't feel aggressive, not as it had felt when he did so to other rats.

He curled around the small ones, protecting them with his body and letting them join his body heat. They felt rather cold most of the time. Sighting contentedly, the rat closed his eyes. A last thought occurred his mind: HIM, looking at the rat, showing all of HIS teeth. A sign of affection- and happiness.