Splinter stepped into the dojo - still dark and musty-smelling from neglect.
Gently, he placed the shattered and re-glued fish bowl that had once held his children on the shelf, in its place of honor. Had they ever really been that tiny? It seemed impossible now, thinking of the brave, strong young men they had become, each a source of pride in their own way.
Michaelangelo, his "youngest." That youthful energy could prove a distraction, but it also granted him speed, dexterity, and a relentless optimism, a refusal to give in that not only served him in battle, but buoyed their small family with kindness and light.
Donatello, with his brilliant, curious mind…but it was not only his formidable intellect, but his heart, his gentle disposition and genuine desire to be of service to others that made him special. Whereas Leonardo's perfectionism had honed him to a sharp blade, however, the same perfectionism blunted Donatello - unable to see his accomplishments, his own worst detractor…he hoped his son would come to learn his own worth, but feared he might be pinning too much of it to the sleeve of a certain redhead.
Then Raphael, his brave, strong warrior - loyal and fierce…and tempestuous. There was fire in his son's belly, that was certain. Yet he was proud of the growth he had displayed this year. If anything positive had come of Leonardo's terrible injuries, it was that Raphael had learned more than ever the value of teamwork - the value of family. Perhaps he was learning to let that flame fuel him, rather than consume him.
And of course, his Leonardo…the hardest-working of his sons, so driven, so focused - so eager to please. Who shouldered such a heavy, unfair burden, who had asked for it, and bore it without complaint or fatigue. His selfless son who dreamed of greatness, never suspecting it was already within him.
Who still liked to sit too close to the television and watch Space Heroes.
Who used to have trouble with his R's…who asked for "Fwosted Fwakes" for breakfast until he was five.
Splinter meant to smile, but the feeling got twisted up with a pang of loss, somehow, as he lovingly adjusted the pink plastic palm tree so it rested just so.
How had they grown up so quickly? Time seemed to move so slowly when they were little ones, but now it seemed to be accelerating, faster and faster into the future…and up until very recently, that future had seemed all too uncertain.
And he couldn't help but be reminded of a childhood he had missed entirely - that had been cruelly torn from him, irreplaceable, lost forever to time and distance, and a future that seemed even more uncertain.
With a heavy heart, he reached into the folds of his kimono and withdrew the black-and-white photo…he, his wife, and his daughter stared impassively back at him, like ghosts from another life. Tang Shen…
Miwa.
He murmured her name as he set the photo tenderly on the shelf, like a shrine to one already gone. He feared it to be true…she had not been sighted since Leo had last found her at Coney Island, and she had said that she felt her mind slipping. He had to acknowledge the possibility that it was already too late…that whatever remained of his daughter was already lost, consumed by the serpent.
They were home again - the Kraang were gone - his sons were safe. And yet, it was not complete. And the physical devastation and decay throughout the lair was only a visual testament to the devastation and decay of the past year. It would take much more than mops and buckets to set things right.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and reached silently out into the universe for his missing daughter, praying for her safety, praying fate would be kind enough to reunite them once more. Then, he turned his focus closer to home, tried to sense where his sons were.
Making his decision, he set out for the lab. Leo and Raph were hard at work cleaning, and Michaelangelo, as usual, was eating (though eating what, he shuddered to guess). But his gentle, intelligent son's melancholy seeped out of his lab like a looming cloud of fog…he had been heartbroken to see the ransacked state of his laboratory.
A little perspective, a little encouragement, and a helping paw would go a long way to improving his mood.
And selfishly, he wanted to offer his love, his comfort, and his wisdom to his son, while he was still young enough to wish it.
A/N: Yeah. I didn't really dig this ep. :/ From the title it sounded like it was going to be EPIC and…it was just…good. Y'know? Solid, but…eh. I spent most of the time being annoyed at Casey (he is SO lucky to be breathing right now) and being annoyed at the turtles for not realizing that their words were hurtful and pushing him out the door into a dangerous situation. Seems to me that they all need to learn in general that words hurt…they pull the same treatment on Mikey, too, and it makes me mad. It's going to catch up to them one day, if they're not careful. It's a bad habit to speak carelessly and unkindly, and can be downright dangerous. Also, is it just me, or does it seem slightly out of character that he's more concerned with beating up Hun than finding his Dad and little sister? :/ Anybody? Bueller?
That little fishbowl and the pink plastic palm tree gave me FEELS though. XD
