A/N: Thanks for all the wonderful reviews. I'm almost at 30 reviews! How exciting! Here's the chapter!


Chapter 7: Comforts

"Raphael! Do not pick it!"

Splinter lightly slapped the little green hand away. The little turtle, however, was a stubbornly persistent one. Every few minutes, Splinter would catch Raphael trying to rip off his bandages or snake his fingers under it to pick at the scabs. The first few attempts resulted in the successful undressing of the wound and relentless scratching to the point of bleeding. Splinter has since learned that turtles possess surprisingly sharp claws. Consequentially, the areas where the gash had cut deeper were taking much longer to heal than it should have been. However, it seemed the more vigilant Splinter was the more determined the turtle became.

Smack!

Raphael growled out his protest and menacingly stared down the rat. Eye ridges furrowed in defiant determination as he once again lifted his hand for his shoulder. Smack!

"Iie!" Splinter wagged a warning finger in Raphael's face. "You will infect it."

Shutting his eyes as tightly as possible, Raphael opened his mouth and unleashed the shrillest scream his little lungs could muster. Five days this war had waged. Who knew turtles could be so loud? In fact, one week ago Splinter had thought of turtles as quiet, sluggish, docile creatures that made for perfectly calm pets. One week was all it took to shatter those preconceptions. Perhaps the green ooze was the culprit but in the last week Splinter had observed the turtles possessing far more human qualities than he would have imagined. How much of it was natural turtle behavior versus genetic rewriting? - it was impossible to know. In their one week together the four turtles had displayed a wide range of emotions: joy, anger, frustration, jealousy, sadness, and fear. One week of observations exposed four unique personalities – each turtle was as much of an individual as any person.

This made name day a bit easier. As Hamato Yoshi had done after his daughter's birth, Splinter upheld the old Japanese tradition of waiting seven days before naming the turtles. This allowed him to acquaint himself with each turtle though he never expected to learn so much about them. At least he already had a starting point – to name them after Renaissance artists, in honor of their own rebirth.

Michelangelo was the easiest turtle to name. Not a day went by that the little turtle didn't smile – be it joyful or sheepish. His baby blue eyes sparkled and danced about even when seemingly lost in his own world. Not that the turtle spaced out necessarily. Rather he seemed to have built a world around him in which he socialized with unseen friends. This helped to occupy his time when not playing with his brothers. Like his namesake, who was known for his eccentric personality, the turtle possessed an energetic creativity although Splinter was at a loss of what the turtle constantly babbled about.

The strong-willed Raphael was quite the opposite of the artist he was named after. While the artist did indeed battle a long illness, he had succumbed to the disease at a young age. The turtle, however, was a fighter who will recover from his wound – that is if he doesn't infect it from constantly aggravating it. Splinter felt for the turtle though for it certainly must have itched fiercely. Still he did not want the turtle's condition to worsen. Instinct had Splinter trying to reason with him – force of habit most likely – but none of the turtles showed understanding of human language. Body language however was well perceived. Thus he paired tones and gestures with his words in hopes to train the turtles much like one would with a dog. So far the one word they responded to was "food." The turtles loved meal time. In fact, their growing bodies had insatiable appetites. Meals became more frequent as Splinter's scavenging and hunting skills improved though food was scarce on some days. Note – one should scavenge enough for two days the night before garbage pick-up day. When only a few worms or maggots were on the menu, Raphael's competitive nature surfaced. The little one was indeed the smallest of the turtles – the runt of the litter. Yet somehow his stomach was the hungriest of the bunch. It took a few meals and a whiny Michelangelo for Splinter to realize that Raphael was stealing from his brother's share. Once Michelangelo started sitting with Splinter at mealtime, Raphael set his eyes on a new target – Leonardo.

Unlike Michelangelo, Leonardo knew how to hold his own. Leonardo's sapphire blue eyes always held a caring kindness, but when threatened a fierce determination ignited his fighting spirit. While he normally engaged in friendly wrestling matches with the other turtles, Raphael's instigations brought out a fire from within him. Raphael has yet to successfully steal from Leonardo. Even if Raphael did manage to lay his hand on a treat, Leonardo would tackle his brother to the ground, which was quickly followed by remorse for hitting Raphael's wound. Yet Raphael had not learned his lesson as the boys continued their battle for dominance on a daily basis. If all species contained an alpha male, Leonardo certainly fit the profile – he was the head lion of his pride.

Lastly, there was Donatello – the quiet, reserved one – named purely on the fact the artist was part of Splinter's top four favorites. The little turtle was a bit of a mystery - an unmolded piece of clay – who kept to himself. Donatello avoided the high energy brawls his brothers thrived under. As his trust in his new guardian grew, Donatello had taken a keen interest in observing Splinter's handiwork be it changing diapers, tending to scrapes and cuts, or designing traps for their next meal. In addition to an insatiable appetite, the little one's brain seemed to thirst for knowledge, or so Splinter assumed. How his brain processed all of that information was lost on the rat for the turtle did little else but watched the world around him. At the moment, Donatello was watching the showdown between Splinter and Raphael, absorbing each reprimand and tantrum. It was a battle Raphael was starting to lose. Every time the tiny tot expanded energy he was one step closer to surrendering to exhaustion. Eyelids struggled to stay open. Raphael's hand half-heartedly reached for the bandages before giving up and flopping into his lap. A defeated sigh grew into a large yawn at which Splinter smiled warmly.

"Looks like it is naptime."

Much like human infants, the turtles also required frequent rest, and now that they had settled into a permanent home the ability to schedule a routine, naps were now commonplace. This allowed Splinter to carry out his chores without fear of the turtles scrambling away during his absence.

Splinter gathered Raphael up and set him on one of the several large pillows that Splinter had mostly rescued from the dumpster with two being what he brought from his own apartment. The rat had counted his blessings that as he thought of new necessities, he was able to retrieve them from his old home. Apparently, Hamato Yoshi's quiet solitary life has made his disappearance gone unnoticed by his neighbors. This allowed him free passage to come and go as he pleased.

After settling all four turtles down, Splinter prepared his pack and a few Tupperware containers. He switched on a flashlight, which briefly illuminated the room before flickering and dying out. He smacked the device against his palm, hoping to reestablish the internal connections, but the effort proved futile. While Splinter's eyes saw quite well in the dark, there were benefits that only light could offer. He would not have dreamed of treating Raphael's wounds in pitch black darkness. Also, the shadows that light cast alerted him to intruders – mostly other rats – or potential prey as various beetles scurried for cover when the light found them.

I wonder if I have batteries at the apartment. I should have time to swing by before the turtles awaken.

He threaded his arms through the pack's straps and tiptoed toward the "doorway." He had only taken a few steps when a sudden round of chirps, however, halted him dead in his tracks. A groan reverberated through his throat as he turned to face the source.

"Keeping watch again, Leonardo?"

Leonardo offered no response. With a straight back, Leonardo sat silently at attention.

"I'll be back soon. Watch over your brothers, okay?"

Still as a statue he sat. This was now Leonardo's habit. No matter how quietly Splinter moved, Leonardo seemed to possess a sixth sense for detecting Splinter's departure – never sleeping until he returned. Perhaps Splinter was still growing accustomed to his larger, clumsier body. Some days were easier than others, but he definitely felt far removed from his ninja training. His skills in stealth was definitely not what it used to be. At least Leonardo could be trusted not to stray from home.

Splinter reassured Leonardo a final time that he would not be long and began his journey to the surface. After one week of traveling the same route, the path was now fully imprinted on his memory. No longer was it necessary to leave a scent trail to find his way through these familiar tunnels. While he called these corridors his home, the term lacked the comforts he once enjoyed: coming home to a loving family, warm home cooked meals, and joyous laughter. Everything about his new life was about concealing himself and the turtles from the outside world and surviving.

Once reaching the surface, Splinter kept to the abandoned buildings and less traveled alleys. He had only traversed during the daylight hours once but quickly learned a route that allowed movement without detection. His ninja upbringing did not fail him that day. While he preferred the darkness of night Splinter made sure he was prepared for daytime emergency runs. Best to be prepared.

Reaching the last rooftop, Splinter smirked with pride that he may have ran a personal best on this journey. Leaning over the edge, he surveyed the surrounding before preparing to scale down the building. As he sat and swung his legs over the edge, his eyes suddenly caught a shadow pass by his apartment's window. He froze! His heart pounded hard against his chest! Quickly he planted his feet back on the rooftop and crouched down, only allowing his eyes to peer over. He watched and waited. There was the shadow again – no, shadows! A figure pulled the curtains wide open. Splinter's eyes grew wide as saucers, and he cursed under his breath.

"Kuso!"


A/N: Ok, so before anyone tries to debate with me, yes I know in the show Raph is not the shortest turtle but I need you to trust my logic for this fic. Hope you enjoyed! PS, the updates will start slowing down but do not fear – it is not a sign that I have lost interest or stopped writing. My job keeps me busy but makes up for it with a long summer break.