A/N: Splinter's battle with the computer was inspired by my own mother's recent attempts to conquer the internet. So I'm dedicating this chappy to Mom.
Be sure to hug your Mom. And for those whose Moms are not with them, remember them fondly, and virtual hugs to you. Like fathers, "all mothers love their children."
Happy Mother's Day, all.
Chapter 10 -Google-
Splinter stared at the computer screen, wondering how the machine could give him the information he needed. He pushed a button, and the machine whirred, the screen flickering, but the images flashing across the box made no sense to Splinter. What on earth was a credit score, and why would he want three of them? Splinter shook his head.
Humans, he thought with a sigh. Why must they make things so complex?
"What're you doing, Sensei?" Donatello's voice startled the old rat. He turned to his son, his tail twitching.
"Why are you out of bed so early, Donatello?" Splinter asked gently.
"I couldn't sleep." Donatello came closer and leaned against his father's side. "What're you doing with the computer?"
"I need to find some information, my son. But I cannot seem to find the place to ask my question."
"Oh. You need to google it."
Splinter looked down at his son, his eyebrows rising. "Google?"
"Yes, Sensei, it's a search engine. You type in what you want there," Donatello pointed. "And click, and it will give you a list of websites." He glanced up at the very confused rat, and sighed.
"Let me do it, Sensei. What do you need to find?"
"A woman's name. Jackie Flanagan."
"Can you spell it for me?" Donatello's fingers flew over the keys as Splinter spelled out the name letter by letter.
"Huh. She came up in the listing for the D… Depar… Department of… Wast… Waste Water. What's that?"
"I am not sure, Donatello. Can we find where the woman lives?"
"Sure. I'll just click here, for that... See, there's her phone number and address. Why do you want to know where she lives?"
"I have found her identification badge in the tunnels, Donatello, and I wish to return it to her."
"Isn't that dangerous? You can't go topside, Sensei!" Donatello stared up at his father with wide, pleading eyes. "We already lost Mikey. I don't want to lose you, too!" He buried his face in his father's warm robe. Splinter patted the turtle's shell.
"No, my son. I will be cautious, do not worry. Now, go back to bed. It has been a long night for all of us, and today I must resume the search for your brother."
Donatello sniffed. "Where do you think Mikey's slept last night?" he whispered.
"I do not know, my son," replied Splinter. "But Michelangelo knows his brothers love him, and he knows his family will find him. He is a strong turtle. You all are."
"I want Mikey to come home."
"As do I, my son. As do I. Now, go to bed."
"Hai, Sensei." Donatello crawled down from Splinter's lap. Splinter felt as though a thousand pins were poking his leg. His sons were growing too large for sitting in their father's lap!
Miss Flanagan lives on the second floor at the corner of… Tenth and Stewart. Hmm.
Splinter stared at the address flickering tantalizingly on the screen. Did he dare visit the human's home, in hopes of finding Michelangelo there? Did he dare reveal himself to this human woman?
But what other choice do I have? She is the only clue to Michelangelo's whereabouts. He heard movements in the den. His other sons were beginning to get up. Splinter quickly memorized the address, and pushed the button that turned off the monitor. He did not want to worry his older sons.
"I want Capta'n Crunch," Raphael's voice grumbled.
"I think there's some in the cupboard, Raph." Leo sounded so tired, so defeated. "Donny, you want Capta'n Crunch, or Frosted Flakes?"
"Isn't there any Lucky Charms?"
"I don't think so, Don."
"Oh. Well, Frosted Flakes, then."
"Ok."
"Aren't ya gonna eat, Leo?"
"I'm not hungry."
Splinter got up and made his way slowly into the kitchen. His oldest son turned away as he came into the room, busying himself with putting on a pan of water to heat.
"Your tea will be ready soon, Master," said Leonardo, his voice so soft Splinter could barely make it out.
"Thank you, Leonardo," said the old rat mildly.
Leonardo stood at the stove, staring into the pot of tea. Donatello and Raphael were sitting at the table. Neither of them were eating the bowls of cereal in front of them though. All three little turtles seemed lost and disinterested.
"My sons." Raphael and Donatello looked up at Splinter. Tears stood in Donatello's eyes. Raphael's gaze was dry, but troubled. "My sons, what is wrong?" asked Splinter. Leonardo still didn't turn around.
"We miss Mikey, Master," said Donatello, barely keeping a whimper out of his voice.
"Yeah. We want ta go find 'im," said Raphael. Splinter met his gaze sternly, and Raphael looked down.
"You three are not to leave this den, is that clear?" Splinter said in his most firm tone.
"But Master! It's my fault Mikey's missing." Leonardo finally turned to face his father. "I should be the one looking for him!" He turned pleading eyes up to the old rat.
"No, Leonardo." Splinter deliberately gentled his tone. "You may not leave the den. I will go out today and resume searching for your brother. You three will remain here and practice your katas. You will also clean every inch of the den, as punishment for your foolish actions yesterday."
"Yes, Master." Three voices chorused, and three very abashed sets of eyes were fastened to the floor.
"I… I'm sorry, Master," Leonardo choked out.
"Leonardo." Splinter crossed the kitchen. His eldest son flinched when his paw touched his shoulder. Splinter frowned. He had never been one to strike his sons in anger, and Leonardo had nothing to fear from his touch.
It was obvious that his eldest son had taken the responsibility for Michelangelo's disappearance on himself, and Splinter knew such shame could become a damaging burden, if left to fester.
Especially if Michelangelo does not return to us, he thought, and immediately tried to push the thought away. He couldn't imagine life in the den without Michelangelo's constant smile and easy laugh, didn't want to imagine it. He wanted his son home safe and sound.
"Leonardo." Splinter spoke softly, but still Leonardo would not look up at him. The old rat knelt down. He touched his son's chin, raising his face so that he could not avoid his gaze. Leonardo's dark eyes were stormy with guilt and fear. Splinter touched his cheek with a gentle paw.
"My son. This is not your fault," he said. He could see the denial in Leonardo's eyes.
"But, Sensei…"
"Leonardo. Listen to me. Michelangelo chose to wander off. He disobeyed me, as you did yesterday. His choice was not your fault. I do not blame you, my son."
"I know, Sensei," whispered Leonardo. "But I… I blame myself." Tears soaked the blue silk band around Leonardo's eyes. Splinter gathered his son into his arms, and held him close.
"Leonardo, you carry a burden for your brothers. You wish to protect them, to guide and lead them and keep them safe, and that is admirable, but my son," he took Leonardo's shoulders and held him away, looking into his eyes. "My son, you cannot take on the burden for all their choices. It is not yours to bear."
"I should have stopped him, Sensei! I should have known he wouldn't listen. I should have played with him, instead of tryin' to be all bossy."
"My son. Perhaps you should spend more time playing with your brother. But that is because you are a child. You should spend time enjoying the pursuits of childhood," said Splinter gravely. "Leonardo, I am your father. It is my responsibility, for now, while you and your brothers are young and inexperienced in the ways of the world, to protect you."
"Yeah, Leo," Raphael broke in. He climbed down from his chair and came over, putting his hand on Leonardo's shell. "It ain't yer fault Mikey took off." Raphael frowned, an unfamiliar expression of shame crossing his features. "I coulda, you know, played wit' Mikey, too, insteada bein' all busy wit' video games and stuff."
"Raph's right," said Donatello, joining his brothers. "I could have let Mikey play a game with me on the computer, or played Legos with him or something. We were all kinda ignoring him. It's not your fault."
Splinter watched as Leonardo's eyes searched Donatello's face, then Raphael's. He could see the burden being lifted in the slight smoothing of the wrinkles in his son's brow, and the relief that shone in his dark eyes. The three turtles embraced, a little circle of shells and green limbs, tangled together.
"Thanks, guys." Leonardo's voice was muffled. Splinter smiled.
Amazing, he thought. Where I cannot reach my son, his brothers can convince him.
Splinter stood up. "My sons," he said. The group hug broke up, and three expectant pairs of eyes were on him. "I would like you to eat your breakfast, and begin practicing your katas. I must prepare myself."
"You'll be careful, won't you, Sensei?" asked Leonardo. He drew a shaky breath. "I mean, you'll…" his voice faded to a whisper. "You'll come back, won't you?"
"Of course, Leonardo."