Tuesday June 14, 2022

"I remembered you mention the other day that you were looking for this, so when I saw it at the grocery store yesterday I snagged it for you!" Michelangelo told his friend when she opened the apartment door. Holding up the plastic bag with a grin on his face. "I kept it in the fridge at the garage. Ken asked if I could drop them off on my way home, I think he was afraid he'd forget and accidentally leave them at work."

"That's so sweet, you didn't have to do that!" Mitsu said gratefully as she welcomed Michelangelo into the family's tiny little apartment. She snatched up the bag, and peeked happily inside at the fruit he had brought them. "Yoshi loves these, I wish they were in season all year!" She crossed the small kitchen and put the bag away in the fridge, then grimaced at the cluttered appearance of the apartment. "Sorry for the mess, it's been a little chaotic lately and we've kinda slacked on keeping things in order around here." She cleared the bills and junk mail off of the table, and gestured for him to take a seat. "Would you like something to drink? Tea maybe?"

"Yeah, sure!" He sat down, not at all fazed by the cozy mess, and watched her put the kettle on. "What kind do you have?"

"Lady Grey, Peach, and Desert Tea from my sister's trip to Arizona."

"Oh, what's in that?"

She plucked up the jar, whose contents looked very much like desert sand, and listed off the ingredients. "Let's see…freeze dried oranges, tangerines, limes, apple slices, with some spices and sugar thrown into the mix."

"That sounds pretty fab to me!" Michelangelo said as he got settled. "I can't stay long though, I gotta pick up some more painting supplies on the way home, and the place I like closes early on Tuesdays for some reason."

"No problem!" Mitsu chirped as she dumped a large spoonful of the tea into each of mugs she had pulled out of the cabinet. The kettle was only half full, so it didn't take long to heat up. In no time the delightful citrus, ginger, and apple scents floated throughout the kitchen. "How are things going with your father and sister?"

"Awesome!" The young mutant reported as he accepted his mug and took a sip. Grinning with pleasure as the flavors assaulted his taste buds. "I gotta make me a batch of this, it's wonderful!"

"I knew you'd like it."

"Well, to be fair, it doesn't take much to please me when it comes to food." He laughed, taking another sip as he watched her sit down across from him. "But yeah, things are going good with the fam! In fact, Kitsune has her appointment today to find out what their baby's sex is going to be."

"They don't want it to be a surprise, huh?"

"No, they're both too impatient to find out. Karai's really eager for a boy, you know. She wants to be sure that the Hamato bloodline and name will carry on."

"I'm sure that doesn't really matter to your father." Mitsu remarked, even though she understood why that was so important to her friend's sister. "I bet he's pretty excited about a grandchild, regardless of the genetics."

"You got that right," said Michelangelo, "he's so happy for Karai and Kitsune! He dragged out all of our baby stuff that he kept, and is planning on giving it to the girls at the baby shower. He's been working on this beautiful painting for them too; thus, my need for a supply run." He finished his tea, and got up to rinse his mug off in the sink. "You want me to put this in the dishwasher?"

"Oh, no. Leave it on the counter." Instructed Mitsu with a dismissive wave of her hand as she finished her own mug and got up herself. "The dishes are clean, we just haven't put them away yet." She plopped her mug in the sink, and then led him back to the door and gave him a hug goodbye. "Give your family my well wishes! Hope the art store has everything you're looking for!"

"Thanks! See you at work tomorrow?"

"No, I have to take Yoshi to his yearly physical. I'm working on Thursday though, so I'll probably see you then."

"Okay, cool!" He waved as he walked through the door. "See you then, and good luck tomorrow!"

The art store that Michelangelo and Splinter preferred wasn't far from the apartment, and he was there within the next five minutes. In and out relatively quickly too, thanks to the good luck of finding just what he was looking for right near the front of the building. The sun was beaming brightly in the sky when he went back outside, peeking out at him between the big fluffy clouds he loved so much. He was getting to a point, skill-wise, that he was feeling confident enough to try to paint them by memory now instead of relying on the soothing instruction videos he enjoyed working with.

He glanced down at the bag swinging in his hand, and smiled. He loved painting, and he loved that it was a pastime that he shared with his father. Michelangelo felt that they had gotten a lot closer since they started painting together nearly nine years earlier.

"Huh, the weather today actually kinda reminds me a lot of that day," he thought to himself. Reflecting on his 16th Mutation Day, and how nice it had been. In the distance, like back then, he could hear the sound of a street musician strumming on what sounded like a banjo. Singing a song to the tune, although the young mutant was too far away to decipher the lyrics. Wonderful smells from the street vendors and restaurants he passed also seemed reminiscent of that day, and he suddenly found himself craving egg tarts.

"Splinter won't mind if I make a little detour for some goodies." He remarked out loud as he took a moment to figure out the quickest way to Brooklyn. Whipping out his cell phone as he redirected himself, he called ahead to place the order. Everyone knew that the Xin Fa Bakery had the best egg tarts in New York City, and he didn't want to wait too long if he could avoid it.

A little over forty-five minutes later, he was strolling out of the bakery with a heavy bag and a pleased smile on his face. Now that his side-mission was accomplished, he made his way to the closest route back to the Lair. Opening up Snapchat on his phone, and giggling at the goofy snaps Sara had sent him while he was at work earlier.

"Sensei!" He called out happily when he finally arrived home, bouncing through the turnstiles and doing a backflip down the stairs. "I've got the painting supplies, and some tasty goodies!"

The Lair was surprisingly quiet, leaving Michelangelo to wonder if the soap his father liked watching had been postponed for some reason. Things were too juicy right now with the plot for his father to willingly skip an episode. Then the obvious answer flew into his mind. "Oh, duh! Kitsune must have had her appointment already." He figured his father must have gone out to visit with Karai and see the pictures from the visit.

He pulled out his cellphone and sent a quick text to his sister, 'How did the appointment go? Got cute pics for me to see?', then he carried the painting supplies into the pit of the main room to put down on the table. He was about to head back out the exit, so he could swing by the-soon-to-be parents' apartment and join in on the fun, but he couldn't resist the tempting smells of the egg tarts for a moment longer. Greedily, he popped one into his mouth. "Omph! Hoooot! Too hot, but soooo worth it", he squeaked with a mouthful of the tasty treat. Chewing it quickly and swallowing it just as fast. Fanning his open mouth with his hand in an attempt to cool the burn, he darted across the Lair to seek out a soothing glass of milk.

He was taken by surprise when he entered the kitchen and slipped slightly on a puddle on the floor. "Whoa, what the?" His phone buzzed in his jeans from a text. He assumed it was Karai replying, but ignored it. Stepping back curiously, it took him a moment to identify from its faint smell that the lukewarm liquid was peppermint tea. Then he noticed something in his peripheral vision. Nearby, shattered, was his father's favorite mug. A wave of dread washed over the turtle as he peeked around the island table.

Splinter lay motionless in a crumbled heap on the kitchen floor.

"Sensei!"

Dropping the tarts in his horror, Michelangelo dashed around the island and fell to his knees beside his father. Gently rolling the rat over, as his heart hammered fiercely in his chest with fear. "Sensei, are you okay? Can you hear me? Dad?!" He quickly realized that Splinter wasn't breathing. When he checked for his pulse and then, in his panic over being unable to find one, listened for a heartbeat he was devastated to find nothing. "Oh no. No, no, no, no…"

Hands trembling, Michelangelo pulled out his phone again. Punching Jacob's name on the contacts list, he put the call on speaker and placed the cell on the floor as he began performing CPR on his father.

"Hello?"

"Jay, it's Dad!" Michelangelo sobbed as he began the chest compressions. "I came home and found him on the floor. He's not breathing, and doesn't have a heartbeat. I'm doing CPR now, I need your help. Please!"

"Oh my god," Jacob murmured, "I'm sorry. I-I can't. I'm at a conference in Boston." There were sounds of paper being rustled and a chair being scrapped back against the wooden floor of the boardroom as the doctor excused himself from his present company. "Keep doing CPR," he instructed, "I'll call my father. He'll bring Grandfather over to help you."

Nodding, the young mutant did as he was told and continued to desperately work to save his father's life. A sob of relief burst out of him when Splinter coughed mid-rescue breath and took a weak gasp for air when Michelangelo pulled back to let him breathe on his own. "S-sensei?"

The rat's breaths were shallow, weak, and his eyes remained closed as his head fell back heavily against the cold kitchen floor.

"Sensei?!" Cautiously shaking his father, the turtle was disappointed when he didn't stir again. "Hang on…I got you, Dad, I just need you to hang on for me." Gently picking his father up, Michelangelo cradled him cautiously in his arms and snatched his phone back up. Hitting Jacob's name again, as he dashed out of the kitchen and back to the entrance of the Lair. "I got him breathing again," he explained quickly as he exited the Lair. Making a beeline down the fastest route that went topside. "I can't wait for your grandfather, he needs help now! I'm taking him to the EPF Clinic!"

The next few minutes went by in a panicked blur. He ran across the city, pushing through the crowds, leaping onto and over moving cars if he needed to, and rushed into the building that haunted his nightmares. Everything sounded muffled, like he was underwater, and his vision tunneled. All he could focus on was the limp form he had cradled against his chest as he yelled for help and reluctantly handed his father over to the nurses, medical assistants, and doctors who came rushing forward in response to his plea. He staggered behind them as they rushed the rat to the Emergency Department, ignoring all attempts from the well-meaning staff to stop him.

He had lost his father for a few moments in the kitchen of his home, he sure as hell wasn't leaving his father's side now. Not until Splinter was sitting up in a clinic bed; smiling at him and reassuring him that everything was going to be okay.

In a daze, Michelangelo watched as the men, women, and mutants worked on his father in the room they had carried him into. Alarms were going off, rapid and screaming through the air. He stumbled back, until his shell hit the wall behind him, and watched the medical professionals do everything in their power to try and save Yoshi Hamato's life. The alarms ceased, and the horrific sound of the flatline ripped into him as he stared on in shock. "No, this can't be happening! NO!" They took out paddles; he'd watched enough medical dramas over the years to know everything transpiring before him meant, and did his best to fight the tears he felt threatening to spill down his face.

"CLEAR!"

There was a whine, a strained noise for a moment, and then a thunk.

The sound of the flatline continued to pierce the air, almost mockingly as the medical team tried again.

"CLEAR!"

Another thunk was heard as his father's body flopped back onto the table after the second attempt to restart his heart.

Over and over again they tried; the vicious cycle continued, and the flatline relentlessly screeched out its hateful scream. Then, much to his dismay, the doctor who valiantly tried to revive his father said the words he was desperately praying he'd never have to hear.

"Time of death…"

"N-no, please…not my dad! Please don't give up on him!" He tried to go into the room, to reason with the men and women who stared back at him with genuine remorse on their faces. If they just tried again, if they tried a little harder, they could save him. They had to save him! "Y-you don't understand. He can't die! He can't, not like this! He's too young, he's got a grandchild on the way. He's gone through so much, he can't die! You can't let him die!"

A part of him realized he was screaming at the staff now, and that someone was holding him back. Stopping him from entering the room, and pulling him away. So he didn't have to see the doctor turn off the machines. So he didn't have to watch as they placed the sheet over his father's still body.

The horrific unrealness of it all swept over him.

The safety the building had promised him when he had forced his way in to try and save his father's life faded away. The veil had been lifted. The past ugliness that the building represented to him came slamming back into him with full force. It had claimed his brothers' lives when it was the Kraang's TCRI building, and now it had sealed his father's fate right before his eyes. "Why?...T-this can't be happening…Dad…" He was being pulled along gently, yet forcibly through the hallways. To a stairway. Then he found himself up on the roof.

It was a warm day out, but he couldn't stop shivering as his legs trembled and gave out beneath him. Nausea washed over him, and the egg tart he had selfishly scarfed down earlier came spilling out of him onto the gravel beneath his hunched over form. Whoever it was that had escorted him to the roof had taken a respectable step back. Giving him the space he needed as he got sick and gasped for breath as he cried himself hoarse.

He stayed that way for what felt like a lifetime, with his unknown guide keeping a silent vigil over him out of his line of sight. When he finally found the strength to, he shakily stood up again. Stretching his stiff legs. Turning to look over his shoulder to face the person who had come to his aid. He found himself oddly unsurprised to discover who it was.

"Bishop."

"You suffered quite a shock, and I could tell a panic attack was setting in." The agent explained in his usual emotionless tone. Although, there was a hint of understanding and sympathy in his expression. "You needed to get out, take in some fresh air, and I felt it was best to do so without an audience of civilians on the street gawking at you as you had a breakdown."

"…Thanks." Michelangelo murmured hoarsely, as he numbly made his way to the rooftop's doorway.

"Do you think that's wise?"

"I can't stay up here forever," the mutant replied quietly, "I have to see him…I have to say goodbye."

Bracing himself for the emotional onslaught that he knew would strike him the moment he walked back into the building, Michelangelo opened the door. Descending back down into his own personal hell with Agent Bishop following in his wake. He found his way back to the room where his father lay, mumbling choked apologies to the staff for his earlier conduct as he did so, and stood in the doorway. Staring in disbelief at the lifeless form beneath the white sheet. Hesitant and scared to go in, but knowing that he needed to face this agonizing truth. He couldn't avoid it.

Fresh tears traced the tracks of their earlier predecessors as he slowly stepped into the room. Making his way to the side of the bed, glancing briefly at the equipment in the room before forcing his eyes back onto the mass under the sheet. Reluctantly, he lifted a shaking hand up and slowly pulled back the fabric.

He stood there, staring long and hard at his father's face. Drinking in the details, and memorizing them. The different tones of his fur, which Michelangelo always admired. The lingering smell of peppermint that must have splashed on his robe when he collapsed in the kitchen. How at peace he appeared to be now, almost as if he were merely asleep.

Stifling a sob, Michelangelo stepped closer to the bed. Leaning down, he kissed his father's forehead. "I'm sorry I wasn't home…I love you so much, Dad!"

He didn't know how much time passed after that, but eventually he was escorted out of the room. The doctor who had tried to save Splinter's life was talking to him now. Explaining what had happened. Michelangelo had trouble focusing on what the doctor was telling him, but managed to work out that his father had suffered from a heart attack. That his rat genetics seemed to be to blame, despite his human origins and healthy lifestyle. He wondered if Jacob or his grandfather before him had ever considered that possibility when they did their medical exams. Had Splinter shown any signs before today that could have prevented his death?

Then the doctor asked about how he wanted to handle the body. He visibly flinched. He kept thinking that maybe if he closed his eyes and wished hard enough, maybe he'd wake up to discover this was some horrible dream. But he didn't linger on that delusion for long. He had wished just as desperately for that when he was 15 years old, when he had just lost his brothers, and was met with bitter disappointment.

"I don't mean to be insensitive," the doctor gently said to him, "but is there a funeral home you would like us to transfer the body to while you and your family decide on the funeral arrangements?"

Michelangelo stared back at him, wide-eyed and at a complete loss over what to do.

"I'll contact the funeral home and make the arrangements for the transport on Mr. Hamato's behalf." Interjected Agent Bishop, stepping forward to accept the clipboard and fill out the majority of the information. When he finished, he gently handed it to the alarmed mutant. "I can't do this part for you, Michelangelo. You need to sign and date this line here in order for the staff to do their part to set things in motion."

The turtle accepted it, and stared down at the paper. It looked like a blob of gibberish text to him. Filled with medical and legal terms that even with a calm and rational mind would easily have flown over his head and confused him. He nodded slowly, tracing the text to the bottom of the page where he was expected to sign. Scribbling his signature and the date where it was required of him. Then he handed it back to the doctor, who offered his condolences before heading off to give it to his secretary.

"Do you want me to contact your sister for you?"

Michelangelo blinked, and it took a moment for his overwhelmed mind to catch up. Karai didn't know. "That's very nice of you," he said tightly, "but I need to tell her about this myself." He let the agent guide him to the building's entrance as he slowly retrieved his cell phone from his pocket. Noticing the missed call notifications. Jacob had tried to reach him several times after he had quickly given the family doctor the update that he was going to the EPF clinic and hung up on the man. There was a text notification as well. He had guessed correctly when he had stumbled across the puzzling spill in the kitchen, his sister had responded to his earlier text.

"Not yet, little brother. We're actually on our way to the appointment now. It's not very long, but we're heading out to dinner after to celebrate seeing what the baby looks like. We may see a movie too if Kitsune's not too tired. In case we do, why don't you and Father come over around seven? Love you both, see you then!"

He glanced at the time on his phone. It was a little after six-thirty now, his sister would be expecting them soon. "I-I have to go. I have to tell Karai what happened to Dad." He stepped forward, and then hesitated. Looking back at the man who had been so surprisingly kind and supportive towards him. His past bitterness towards the agent seemed childish now, and he rushed forward to give the man a clingy hug of gratitude. "Thank you, Agent Bishop…"

If the government official was uncomfortable with the emotional embrace, he didn't make it known. He wrapped an arm around the turtle's shell in response. "You're welcome."

Michelangelo pulled away, gave Bishop a grateful look, and then turned back towards the exit. Looking down at the text message from his sister again with a grim expression on his face, he strode forward. It wasn't long before he found himself in the hallway outside of the apartment belonging to his sister and sister-in-law. They weren't home yet when he got there, so he sat down on the floor to wait. Leaning against their door, staring off into space.

He didn't hear their cheerful discussion echoing down the hall when they got off the elevator. He didn't hear the sounds of their high heels padding softly on the carpeted floor as they rounded the corner and walked towards him. He didn't notice them at all in his daze until he heard his sister's voice call out in greeting.

"Mikey, I hope we didn't keep you too long!" Giggled Karai as the couple got closer. Kitsune was beaming, with an arm linked with his sister's and an envelope in her other hand. "Is Father waiting inside?"

Standing up, Michelangelo did his best to stay composed. But their cheerful, expectant expressions shattered his resolve. His felt his lips begin to quiver, his face crumple with emotion, as he tried and failed to find his voice. His throat was tight, he was on the verge of crying again. "Karai…Dad's…"

Her smile faded. She was dumbfounded, and he could tell her mind was reluctant to register what his emotional reaction and stammered words were trying to tell her. Then it fell into place for her when Kitsune realized what happened and sobbed sadly. "No," Karai snapped vehemently. She pulled away from Michelangelo when he reached out to her. "Not him! Not after everything we've been through as a family!"

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He sobbed, reaching out again. Grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her into a strong hug as she shook her head in denial and began to sob herself. "I did everything I could, and so did the doctors, but…but it was too late. They couldn't…"

Her wail of agony rang out through the halls, as the three of them embraced and cried together over the tremendous loss they shared.