What's in a Name

by Ham Atom

Michelangelo Hamato wasn't always Michelangelo Hamato. Before he was adopted, he was called something else, and something else before that. But he doesn't talk about that. Ever. AU—details inside.

4. Like Son

Act IV

Mikey felt the van come to a stop. They'd put a black hood over his head, mask and all. He would've figured the first thing they'd do was take his mask off. Wasn't that always what the bad guys were trying to do in the comics? De-mask the intrepid, charismatic, undefeatable hero? Find out his secret identity and whatnot? He wasn't really sure what that would gain these goons. But still. If you're gonna be a villain, you should at least go by the book. It was the principle of the thing. And besides, in the comics, right before the bad guy takes the superhero's mask off, something big happens, and there's a big turnaround, and suddenly the good guy's back on top. So if they don't try to take my mask off, how the heck am I gonna know when the big turnaround's supposed to happen? "You know, this whole thing's been pretty much a disappointment from the get-go. First of all, if you guys want to claim space as arch nemesisses—nemeses?— of me and my bros, I gotta get you a manual or something. Your outfits are horrible, I haven't heard one maniacal laugh, and to top it all off, not a single one of you has gone off on a wicked tirade outlining the evil genius of your master plan." He sniffed. "Amateurs. You guys wouldn't make it on Saturday morning cartoons."

"Shut up." The voice came from his right, and the man sounded like he was at the very edge of his patience.

"That's a little bit better. But…about as scary as some of the stuff in the Sunday Funnies. No offense. I'm just saying you should step up your game…"

"I said shut up!"

Mikey sensed the movement to his right, and he flinched, almost with a kind of relief, from the blow he knew was coming. Finally the bad guys start acting like the bad buys… But before the man could land the punch, there was the quiet thud of cloth hitting cloth. Mikey blinked beneath the shroud. What the?

A sharp, even voice came from the man to Mike's left. "You will not harm him." The young Hamato couldn't believe it. The guy had caught the man's fist? Really?

"Kid was practically asking for it!"

"Dude, if I'd known you were in such a giving mood, I would've asked for something more useful. Like ice cream. Or a bazooka. Ooh, or Bazooka gum. Or even possibly Bazooka gum ice cream."

"Someone needs to shut him up," Angry Guy insisted…angrily.

He was answered by that calm, cool voice. "If it is silence you desire, by all means, teach the boy a lesson. For when the master finds this child marked by your hand, you may enjoy a world of stillness, for the very least he will do to you is peel the ears away from your empty skull."

There was a brief moment of silence Michelangelo had to interrupt with a short, "Ew."

A rustle of fabric signaled the release of the man's hand, followed by some unintelligible and probably unrepeatable grumblings.

Michelangelo sat in silence for a moment, possibly two, his mind wandering back to his brothers and then reminding itself not to go there. "So where are we going?" His question was met with silence. "This 'master' guy you were talking about—I'm assuming that's Tatsu, right? The ear thing…that sounds his stile." More silence. This was getting ridiculous. "Um. Anyone up for 'Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall'? Angry Guy, you take the first verse." Not even a grunt of acknowledgment. Mikey sighed. "You guys suck."

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By some miracle, Raphael had managed not to roll his eyes when he saw his father walk into the dojo with the human. You gotta be freakin' kidding me, he thought angrily, running through his warm-ups on autopilot. Splinter settled the kid in, making sure he was comfortable sitting up against the wall by the doorway, with a full view of everything going on. Geeze. I knew the punk had gotten to Donny. Didn't figure on Splinter fallin' into his trap. Not that Raph was heartless. He had a heart. Apparently the human had had it rough. Yeah. That sucked. Raph figured he could identify. But he didn't want this human sticking around his lair a second longer than he absolutely had to, and he had no intention of getting in any way attached. Way he figured it, the sooner the kid realized he wasn't wanted, the sooner he'd get back up topside with the rest of them. Kid didn't belong here. Simple as that. Heck, the kid was a human. 'Nough said.

Splinter walked out of the dojo, going to get cushions or blankets or something. Had to make sure the human was comfortable. It was really starting to grate. Donny hadn't shown up, yet. It was still a little early. Which of course meant Leo was already there and warming up right next to him. "What's Donny's new pet doing in here?" he asked, words soaked with sarcasm. "It's one thing we had to eat with it. This is supposed to be our time."

If he'd been hoping Leo would go along with him, those hopes were pretty much killed. Brutally. "You know, Raph, that's it. What's your problem? You don't have to act like such a jerk. He's sitting right there. He can hear you, you know." The blue-banded turtle had actually stopped moving, stepping up to him, eyes all fierce with Leo-anger. Raph should've known. Leo always was one for a cause.

"Yeah. And?"

"So why don't you quit acting like you've got a stick up your butt before I decide to replace it with my foot?"

Raph nearly raised his eye ridges. Leo must be really annoyed. "Heh. And you say I'm the cranky one. Get a grip, Leo. Ain't like I'm makin' fun of Donny."

"Who's making fun of me?" The purple-clad turtle appeared just then, bo in hand, and moved to stretch out. He saw his little friend behind them. Kid was looking kinda unsure. That annoyed Raph, too. The human had to have heard them talking. He should be mad. But no, he just looked kinda…lost or something. Kid doesn't even react the right way. Donny was already jogging over there, though, grinning like he did whenever he built a new toy. "Hey. Aren't you supposed to be resting and recuperating?"

The human grinned. Raph rolled his eyes. Donny would grin, human would grin. Human would grin, Don would grin. It was like a freaking grinfest every time the two were in the same room. Raph had noticed it at breakfast. "I wanted to watch. Mr. Splinter said I could."

Mr. Splinter. Isn't that adorable. Raph hit a punching bag.

"See? I knew you and him would like each other. You probably haven't seen anything like this before, I bet."

The boy shrugged. "Well, I wouldn't know, right?" Psh. Amnesia. Riiight.

"Well, you're going to love it. We're pretty good. Leo's probably the best of us." Raph took issue to that. "Raph's good, too." Gee. Thanks, Don. "And I'm pretty okay."

"I bet you got your moments," the kid offered in his quiet kind of loyal puppy sort of way.

"Hey, Don. You come in here to yap or to practice?" Raph called over. "You can play with the human later." Raph saw Don's scowl, but he didn't much care. He liked his little brother. He did. But the way the younger turtle was fawning all over the human was really irritating.

Splinter came in then, sure enough, dropping off the cushions and blankets for the outsider. The three turtles lined up oldest to youngest and bowed in. Master Splinter started calling out terms in Japanese, and they did the corresponding moves. Then they would move to katas, then to sparring, Splinter teaching and correcting and commenting along the way. As his heart rate increased and he focused on each move, working on upping his power more than anything else, his mind kept shifting back to the intruder sitting by the door of the dojo, watching him. He tried not to think about it, to ignore the whole thing, but it prickled just under his skin. He didn't want that human here. Not in his home. Not with his family.

Raphael could suddenly feel every muscle in his body. And it was like every muscle in his body had a rubber band ball stuck right in the middle of it. He groaned. Geeze, what, did I fall asleep on the couch again? It was really time for a new couch. First thing after the sun went down, he was grabbing the guys and they were going furniture shopping—garbage dump style. Maybe they'd give April a call. She was a chick. She'd appreciate that kind of thing, right? And if they called April, they could call Casey who would hate it and annoy her enough that she'd send him and Raph away, and he could get out of the whole thing altogether. Nice. But this thing he was lying on now, it had more lumps than a bowl of poorly made Malt-O-Meal. He took a deep breath. Then wished he hadn't. Whoa. Don't remember the couch smelling like that. "Oi," he muttered, trying to pry his eyes open. Why were they so heavy?

He finally managed to push himself up, blinking sluggishly. It took about 1.7 seconds for him to realize he was not home on the couch. He was in an alley. In a pile of trash bags. Raph vaulted up, sputtering, instinctively rubbing at his face and his arms, mind racing to put together where he was and what he was doing there. The pawn shop. He was back behind it. Last thing he remembered…That sting on his neck. Everything going dark. I been freakin' drugged! Which meant they'd been attacked. His brothers. Where were his brothers?

He heard a sudden moan from behind him. He spun around, sais coming out on reflex. In the darkness, he saw Leo's arm flop out from among the garbage bags. "Leo!" he whispered loudly, eyes still checking the area for any would-be attackers. He was immediately at his brother's side, taking him by the arm. "Leo, wake up."

His older brother groaned. "Man, we need a new couch," he mumbled.

"True enough. Leo, get up, man. We ain't at home. Something happened at the pawn shop. They dosed us with something."

And Leo's eyes were open. "The Foot!"

Raph's jaw stiffened. "Of course it was," he mumbled.

"Donny, Mike?"

"Gee, I knew I was forgettin' somebody. This is why we gotta get a roll sheet." Raph pulled Leo to his feet, though they were both a little wobbly. "Don," he called softly into the darkness. "Mikey?"

"I've got Donny over here," Leo called. "He's waking up. Donny, you with me?"

"Mm, Leo? What…?"

"You're supposed to say 'present,'" Raph said from his end of the trash heap as he searched for the last of the foursome. He was getting some serious bad vibes from the whole situation, and he knew the other two could feel it, too. Something was so way wrong. They got freaking drugged by the Foot and just…left outside? They even still had their weapons with them. What the shell? Not to mention, the Foot had known where they were going to be. The whole thing reeked of a setup. As opposed to the garbage which just reeked. Question was, though: a setup for what?

"Mikey," he called as he searched. "Mikey, you better moan or groan or whine or somethin', 'cause if you can hear me and aren't saying nothin' I will personally kick your scrawny ninja butt." Nothing. Raph's unease began to grow. "Leo, I ain't finding him over here."

He could hear his own worries echoed in his brother's voice as Leo called Mikey's name. Don was more fully conscious now, and quick as he was, the purple-banded turtle had put it together, too. He'd started frantically digging in the bags. Raph checked the nearby alley. The three turtles had searched the entire alley and the pawn shop before Donny finally said what the other two couldn't. "He's not here." And Donny sounded scared. And Donny was the logical one. He didn't scare so easy. He shook his head, breathing quick. "He's not here."

"He's gotta be," Raph said lowly, maybe even a little desperately. "Why would they take him and not any of us?"

Leo was standing in the middle of the alley. "They…they…" And the sure one suddenly looked unsure. "I don't know. But just because we don't know the reason doesn't mean…doesn't mean that they wouldn't." Raph's mind put that thought together way too fast. Because if they wouldn't have taken Mikey, it might mean that they didn't have Mikey. And while it was bad enough to think that they might have Mikey, it was way worse to think that maybe they'd…disposed of him? No. That didn't even make any sense.

"Why him? Why him and not us?" Raph demanded.

"I don't know," Leo admitted, frustration and fear clear to anyone who knew him well—which meant both of his brothers. "But this whole thing feels like a trap. And since we're not sure what that trap is, we need to tread really, really carefully."

"Tread carefully?" Raph repeated incredulously. "Those nimrod ninja wannabes make off with our kid brother, and you wanna tread carefully? If you ask me, the time for treading carefully ended when that stinkin' blow dart hit me in the neck! I say we find those goons and get our brother back!"

"And you're right!" Leo yelled back. "That's what we're going to do!" He took a step closer to Raph. "I'm gonna get him back, and he's going to be fine, but in the meantime, I am not gonna risk either of your lives, and I'm gonna make real sure I'm not playing into their hands by leading them back to Splinter. So we're gonna go fast, and we're gonna go careful, and we're gonna hunt down every lead we find, and we're gonna stay together, and if you want to fight me on this Raph, fine, but you can do it after we get Mikey back." Leo's eyes were steel, his whole body rigid and unmovable.

Raph took a deep breath though his nose. It was times like these Leo proved how strong he actually was. Times like these that Raph let himself draw on Leo's strength. Times like these he'd thank his brother for someday. "We'll get him," Raph nodded. He looked at Donny, noted the purple-masked turtle's wide eyes and the tight lines around his mouth. He touched Don's shoulder, repeating the words almost mantra-style. "We'll get him."

Donny nodded back. "We should check every known center of Foot activity. And the Proud Tide territory, too. They've been having some kind of turf war lately, so we might find some Foot there. I'll call in Casey and April. Should I…?" he trailed off.

Raph shook his head. "Let him sleep. He'll just worry all night."

"I'll call him," Leo cut in. He looked at his brothers. "He doesn't sleep till we come home. He'd worry all night anyway. He needs to know." He nodded, resolved. "I'll call him."

Raph watched Leo's shell as they headed out for the nearest payphone. Usually so natural and flowing, Leo's movements were stiff and mechanical. Raph felt a wave of guilt. He knew Leo felt responsible for his brothers just as much as Raph did. Leo carried the burden of leadership on top of that. And now the oldest brother was going to have to call their father in the middle of the night and tell Splinter that he hadn't been able to protect his youngest son. It wasn't a responsibility Raph envied, but it sure as shell felt like his fault. I couldn't protect him, Raph thought furiously.Again.

As morning training ended, Leo watched as Raph more or less stormed out of the dojo. He held in a sigh. He'd be lying if he said he knew what exactly was going on with his hotheaded younger brother. Raph didn't like their guest. That was plain enough. What Leo didn't understand was why. As far as Leo knew, Raph had spent exactly zero time with the youngster, and the child had been there less than a day. Not that Leo had been exactly thrilled with the idea of a human at first, but he wasn't going to be a jerk about it, especially not to some little kid. Besides, Donny really liked the little guy, and Donny spent too much time by himself—working on projects or out skating around in the tunnels and stuff. It was good for him to get out of his room.

Leo caught Master Splinter's eyes. It was obvious the elderly rat had also noticed Raph's behavior. Leo had been trying to decide whether it was worth talking to Raph about or if he should just let it go since the human probably wouldn't be with them much longer anyway. Something in his master's eyes, though, made him feel the need to follow after his brother. He stopped in the doorway first, looking at the human boy who was watching him curiously. Splinter moved past, touching Leo's shoulder as he did, and retreated toward his room. Leo looked at the boy. If he was going to talk to Raph, he should probably try to gather a little intelligence first. He squatted down in front of the boy.

"Hi."

"Hi." The little guy blinked up at him shyly.

"Where'd Donny run off to?"

"He said he had something to show me. He went to go get it."

"Ah. Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Yes."

"My brother Raph…Have you and he…Did you…say something to him?" After all, Leo reasoned, if Raph really had something against the kid, there had to be a reason why.

"Not really. Raphael hates me." Leo blinked. The reply sounded so simple. The little boy didn't seem surprised or even really hurt by this. He'd just stated it like a fact. The earth revolves around the sun. And Raphael hates me. Like that.

"Wha…um. I'm sure it's not that he hates you. He doesn't even know you. You've only been here…a few hours."

The boy's face twisted into a puzzled frown. "You don't gotta know somebody to hate 'em. Usually, you only gotta know one thing that you hate. After that, why would you wanna get to know more things?"

Leo stared a little bit, surprised. "Well, okay. What is it you think Raph knows about you that he hates?"

A tiny shrug. "I'm different."

"You mean because you're human."

"I guess," he shrugged, though this time he did seem a little sad. "But I was different before I came here." He stopped and then amended, "I mean…probably. I don't really remember."

Leo pressed his lips together as he thought about that. Then Donny ran in with his remote control car. "Hey, Leo."

The kid's eyes caught sight of Donny's pride and joy and grew about three sizes. "Whoa," he whispered in the purest kind of awe. "That. Is. Awesome."

Leo stood as an all but beaming Donny took his place. "Thanks. Let me show you how it works. This, obviously, controls the steering. This right here puts it in drive or reverse…" Leo listened to him prattle on about it for a little bit, talking a mile a minute and saying "Well, actually" a lot, which Don always did when he was in excited teacher mode. Leo liked seeing his brother like this. Donny was an academic type, smarter than all of them, and sometimes he got too serious for his own good. Excited Donny was something Leo would be happy to see more often.

"Hey." He nudged the human kid on the head with his knuckle, and guarded blue eyes shot up to look at him. "Different's not always a bad thing, you know?"

The kid looked blankly at him for a second before he got it. He smiled, looking pointedly at the mutant turtle and borrowed one of Don's favorite words. "Obviously."

Leo grinned and left them to it, heading out to search for Raph. Surprise, surprise, when he found the red-masked turtle in his room, the hothead didn't want to talk.

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Michelangelo felt the car pull to a stop before the calm voice said, "We are here."

"Great. You guys go ahead. I'll park the car."

"Come, young one." The hand that took him by the arm and guided him out of the vehicle was firm but carefully gentle. Apparently the guy values his ears. "The master waits."

"Oh. Well. Wouldn't want to keep the master waiting. Wanna tell me what exactly he's waiting for?"

"He wishes to speak with you."

Yeah. There was really no possible way that could be good. "O-kay. But you know, in my experience, good ol' Tatsu's not exactly the conversational type…"

"Tatsu is not my master."

"Oh," Mike said dumbly. So…somebody had beat out the old dragon for the top spot. Fantastic. Nothing like walking blindfolded in to face a new enemy with zero working knowledge on who the heck said enemy was. And on a Monday no less.

He was led up some steps, his captor taking care that he didn't stumble or trip or…break a nail or anything. Inside some kind of building, he heard the sounds of sparring and training come to a sudden stop at his arrival and caught a few muffled whispers like "That's him," and "It's the turtles' pet." Mikey felt his whole body stiffen even as he was led past.

"Training kind of late, aren't you guys?" he asked blindly. No one offered a response, not that he expected them to. This is their headquarters, he realized, stomach tightening with the thought. They brought me to the Foot headquarters! Why? Oh, this can't be good. He was led up a flight of stairs and down a creaky hallway.

"Awesome," he muttered. "Out of the pot and into the…kettle, right? Wait, no, that's not it. Unless…the pot's calling the kettle black, which…doesn't really fit here. Out of the pan and into the lions den? No. Out of…"

"Out of the frying pan, into the fire." The deep voice cut through Mikey's chest like a knife, shaking him to his core. He'd know that voice anywhere. He suddenly felt numb.

"No," he heard himself whisper. "It can't be him."

Without warning, the hood was pulled from his eyes, and any hope he'd had that he might've been hallucinating was brutally ripped away. Before him towered the one beast from his nightmares he'd known he'd never see again. The mutated man stood several yards away, but the distance didn't do anything to make him seem less huge. He had to be like nine feet tall, a modern day Goliath for sure. Without his trademark armor, the Japanese ninja master wasn't any less intimidating, either, his traditional dogi doing little to camouflage the huge muscles bulging beneath it. "The Shredder," Mikey breathed. Then he coughed and forced tense muscles to relax ever so slightly. "So…this is kinda like déjà vu all over again."

The super-sized Shredder was looking at him with the most bizarre expression Mikey had ever seen on his scarred face. The usual hateful rage wasn't there. Neither was that irritating air of superiority. The man looked…reflective or something. It was the most human Mikey had ever seen him look…which was ironic considering the guy was now a total mutant.

"Indeed," Shredder said softly, mouth forming into a grim line as his eyes seemed to look to some faraway place. "More so than you realize, my young ninja."

Mike's eyes widened and he took a mental step back. "Okey doke, my unpleasant weirdness scale has officially been tipped freaking over. If you don't want to see my eyes pop out of my head or something, I'm gonna need some answers, starting with what you did to my brothers and ending with why the shell you're not dead. And if you do want to see my eyes pop out of my head or something…well…good. 'Cause that would seem way more in character coming from you."

The Shredder's sharp command consisted of "Leave us," and it took Mikey a second to figure out the man was talking to the ninja who'd been Mike's escort thus far. The ninja bowed low and slipped silently from the room. Michelangelo kept his eyes on the 400-pound gorilla in the room. For his part, Shredder never took his eyes from Mikey with that same implacable searching expression. It was really unnerving.

"So." Mikey refused to give any ground. "What's your angle, and what do my brothers have to do with it?" A horrible thought suddenly dawned on him, and he swallowed convulsively. "This isn't one of those take-out-the-cute-little-brother-to-break-their-spirits kind of plans is it?" He squirmed against his restraints, knowing as he did how pointless it was. "'Cause I'll tell you straight out that plan sucks. I mean really you'll just tick 'em off, and they fight better when they're mad. And we already kicked your can twice without the extra incentive of me being dead, and…"

Shredder lowered his eyes and stepped across the room to the weapons display, taking up a small ornate dagger without a word. Mikey's voice sped up as he realized, This is really it. He was going to die. Like this. A weapon used to hurt his family.

"…and it's not gonna help you out any. I'm just saying. You should probably just give up now. In fact, if you surrender now, I'll…uh…accept. Don't…"

In a flash, the Shredder lunged, dagger in hand. Mikey barely had time to shut his eyes before…thwick. The zip tie around his wrists fell to the floor. Mikey opened his eyes, breathing hard through his mouth. It took about four seconds for it to really sink in that he was still alive. He tilted his head back, finding his enemy's eyes locked onto his own. "Well." Mikey swallowed. "You move pretty quick for a big guy, don'tcha?"

The Shredder watched him for another moment before turning and walking toward the Shredder-sized chair on the far wall, setting the dagger down on the way. "I did not bring you here to kill you. And my orders were that the turtles not be harmed. They are most likely awakening even as we speak."

Mikey rubbed at his wrists. "Yeah? Well, great. I'm just gonna go run by Starbucks, then. Raph is always really cranky before his first cup of coffee. Especially after he justgot tranqued."

"There was no way to draw you out without involving them."

Mikey paused for just a second, jolted by the fact that he and the Shredder were really having this conversation—having a conversation-with him. "So this really is about me," he realized. What's weird is that made him feel better and worse at the same time.

Shredder nodded once as he sat down. "Yes. I needed to speak with you."

"Me? Why? You've never shown a whole lot of interest in me before. Not that I'm not totally flattered, but dude…" He shook his head. "And don't get me wrong. I'm great at small talk. But once we get past the weather and the Yankees and who you liked for Idol last season, what could there possibly be for you and me to talk about?"

In answer, the man reached into some hidden pocket and retrieved an item that caused Michelangelo's mouth to drop open and any other comment he could've made die in his throat. The locket. "I believe you will find we have much to talk about." The man placed the necklace in the palm of his hand and held it out to the boy in offering. "You see," he said, almost softly, "I believe I know who you really are."

Mikey swallowed, taking step after slow, careful step toward the locket. He took it from the large hand, letting out a deep breath as he felt its familiar weight, his thumb ghosting over the worn pattern etched into the front. Checked the picture inside to make sure it was still there. Yes. He closed his eyes just for a second. Then he looked at the Shredder. "You don't know anything." He didn't expect the Shredder's counter-statement.

"I know the woman whose picture you carry around your neck. Tell me. Is she you mother?"

Mikey blinked and turned angrily away, shaking his head. "You're such a liar. Just do whatever you're going to do to me, but you don't get to pry into…"

Shredder was suddenly standing, and he caught Mikey by the shoulders, spinning him back around to face him. "Tell me! I must know." He stared straight into Mikey's eyes, making the young ninja feel as exposed as if the man had ripped his mask right off his face. "Is she your mother?" Mikey glared back. He hated this guy. Like it really mattered to the Shredder who the heck his mother was. But Michelangelo would never deny having belonged to this woman.

"Yes," he said evenly with as much defiance as he could muster.

Then the Shredder did something Mikey had never heard him do. He sighed. Not a growl or a grunt. A sigh. The hands dropped from Mikey's shoulders, and the man took a step back, looking at Michelangelo with those dark eyes normally so full of hate that they seemed not quite human. Now they just looked so…real. "Then yes," he said slowly. "I know who you are, Oroku Ryoichi." He pulled out an old Polaroid and handed it to Mikey, his voice holding something like sadness. Mikey's eyes widened and his mind spun as he realized what he was looking at. It was her…with him.And in her arms…a baby. Oroku Saki's voice cut through his thoughts. "You are my son."

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Hamato Splinter sat in his room, candles lit, attempting to quiet his mind and knowing how futile those attempts were. His child was missing. His little one. He'd heard the guilt and despair in Leonardo's voice as he relayed what had happened, and the master had done his best to quell that guilt and ease that despair despite his own quickly rising panic. He believed he'd done an effective job of that on the phone with his eldest, but now, alone in his room, he felt the rushing panic—felt like he was drowning in it.

April and Casey were with his three sons, scouring the city for Michelangelo. Splinter knew he must stay in the lair in case his boy returned. April and Casey both had cell phones, and he'd be able to get word to them that Michelangelo was all right. And they'd also be able to reach him. But even so, to sit in the warmth of his own home while his son was missing…it felt so wrong to the father's heart.

Splinter finally gave up on meditating and began doing something that was not in his nature. He began to pace. Back and forth in his room. His mind chided him of the futility and lack of discipline this action represented, but his heart was stronger at the moment, and it won out. When Raphael had been captured by the Foot only a couple of months earlier, he'd felt similar emotions. Indeed, his feet had gotten something of a workout that night, as well. But at that time at least they'd known what had happened. At least they'd known where he was. But now, these events as Leonardo described them…they were submerged in dark mystery. To say Splinter was troubled was a grievous understatement. His heart was in agony.

He loved Michelangelo. The sixteen-year-old had a rebellious spirit that made him both incredibly irritating and remarkably resilient. The old master knew he'd been somewhat more lenient in raising the boy than he had been with his other three. He knew this and made no apology for it. He knew his three older sons did not hold it against him, that truly, they were as guilty of making allowances for the youngest as he was. Not only did Splinter make no apology, he believed wholeheartedly that that eight-year-old child he'd met eight years previous needed every bit of the extra affection to make up for those years he'd chosen never to speak of. Certainly, Splinter had had a lot of tragic conditioning to undo, and the fact that he and his sons had managed to turn that little boy who jumped at every sound into a happy young man who dared to tease his master on a regular basis, was something Splinter held dear to, something he took pride in. And he would not for the world give his fourth son up.

Two more days passed, much as that first. Donatello spent most of his time with his new friend, talking and teaching and laughing and fussing over this and that. Splinter had only ever seen this mother hen side of his youngest son on the rare occasions when Leonardo or Raphael were sick or injured. For his part, Donatello seemed to slide into this self-appointed care-taker role quite naturally. And the little one hardly seemed to know what to do with all the attention. He still flinched from sudden sounds and was far from being able to accept casual affection—a hand on the shoulder or a pat on the head. But he smiled so much more. Laughed. He was even starting to talk more without trailing off uncertainly like he'd been prone to do at first. Every day, he seemed shocked and delighted to be allowed to stay a little longer. Leonardo too, it seemed, had begun to warm up to the child. Raphael, of course, was another story. The middle turtle appeared to avoid the human boy as much as possible, and when impossible to avoid him, Raphael gave no illusion of warmth. Splinter had an idea of the problem, but believed it a better solution to give it more time before confronting the issue.

Late at night, after everyone had gone to bed, Splinter awoke with the vague sense he'd heard something amiss, though everything seemed still and quiet as he sat up in his bed. He leaned forward, sensitive ears straining to pick up whatever out-of-place sound had awakened him. At first, he only heard the usual—dripping water and faraway traffic. Then he heard something else. A voice. Just barely discernible, coming from the dojo. Silently, Splinter rose and left his room, stopping in the shadows of the dojo entryway. At first he frowned at what he saw. Then he smiled.

The little one was there.

His movements were a little slow as he made allowances for his still-healing body, but as the master watched, the boy worked his way through the entire kata he'd been working on with his sons that week. The boy hadn't missed a practice since his arrival, sitting quietly to the side, observing with unreadable eyes. Now his moves were slightly awkward at parts, and his stances were not always precise, but he remembered all the steps. And as he went through it, he talked to his "four invisible attackers," keeping his voice low.

"Oh-hoh, too slow. Sorry, not gonna get another chance at that one. Bam! Yeah, thought so, dude. Where'd you learn to fight, ballet school? 'Cause you forgot your slippers." The boy grinned at his own comments, clearly enjoying himself as he moved through the form. "And, oh, what's this? Ladies and gentlemen, we're down to one on one! And he blocks, moves right, a jab to the throat, takes him down, and I don't believe it! It's over! And the crowd goes wild! Haaaahhhhh!" As he finished the form, he paused for a moment and then kept going, this time making up his own little kata. "Oh, sorry, what was that? Buddy, you picked the wrong guy to mess with today. Yeah." Improvising, his movements seemed much more fluid. Natural. "Uh, dude, that was a nice try, but you'll never win a fight with that attitude. Come on, try again. Nope, that's not it. And now you're down. And how about you, big boy? No looks and no personality? This whole fighting thing's all you got, huh? Ooh, snap. Looks like you got nothin'." Splinter watched for several more moments, his smile growing at the fun and light and joy the little one could bring to the art, the stiffness in his movements gradually fading away as abused muscles warmed to their task. It was a joyful dance, taunting and jabbing and giggling. Finally, the little boy gently dropped to the mat, rolling carefully onto his back, breathing hard, a giant grin splitting his face. It warmed an old master's heart. Splinter briefly considered making his presence known. The boy should be resting, after all. But he dismissed the idea. The little one was having fun.

"Aw, what?" the little boy breathed. "You want some more? Bring it, cheese face. That was just Round 1." And he was up and going again.

Splinter could not go back to bed, rationalizing that he should watch over the young one, should he accidentally hurt himself. So he stood guard for the next several minutes until the little boy had worn himself out, listening as the little warrior had effectively pulverized all his imaginary enemies (to whom he started giving names—Franklert Sponges, Muscles McKnuckles, and Larceny Parsnip to list a few). And the child who seemed to try so hard to be careful what he said around Splinter and the turtles, seemed to run out of steam long before he'd run out of words. So the boy had a secret imagination-one worthy of envy. Splinter knew the child was still less than a hundred percent physically, and could only imagine what the seemingly tireless boy would be like once those vast energy stores of his were fully fueled.

Splinter moved aside, melting into the shadows, as the boy eventually made his way to the door. He watched as the child looked around, seeing that all the doors to bedrooms were still closed before padding out into the common room and his spot on the couch, bare feet making hardly a sound. As the child was settling himself in among the blankets and pillows, Splinter made his stealthy way back to his own room. As the old rat lay back in bed, his mind replayed the scene he had just witnessed. He could be one of us. The thought came unbidden, and Splinter had to mentally shake himself. That was not so. The boy belonged above with his own kind. A sewer was too bleak a place to spend a childhood, and Splinter regretted the necessity of raising his own sons in such an environment. The boy's future would be much brighter out in the sunshine.

It made sense. But as Splinter drifted into sleep, one more thought crossed his mind about the young nighttime ninja. Why is it the boy does not sleep?

In an abandoned subway station beneath the streets of New York City, time passed as it did for the rest of the world. But here, seconds felt like minutes. Minutes were as days. Hours passed more slowly than the changing seasons. And still the father of a lost child—no matter that that child was a skilled ninja warrior—paced about his small room, marking the time by the shortening of his candles. Be safe, my little one.