"Oh, why you look so sad? Tears are in your eyes.

Come on and come to me now. Don't be ashamed to cry.

Let me see you through, 'cause I've seen the dark side, too.

When the night falls on you – you don't know what to do –

Nothing you confess . . .

could make me love you less." –I'll Stand by You, by The Pretenders

Chapter 21 – The World Tilts and We Feel it Not

six months later

. . .

Sitting alone in the quiet respite of his bedroom, he examined the souvenirs of his battle with the black rat six months ago. Splinter's fingertip gingerly swept down the length of one long scar. The flesh was a raised welt of jagged pink. It ran from the center of his sternum to the middle of his stomach. It was two inches wide, more narrow at the ends. He glanced at his reflection. Several of the scars from Scrag's attack had faded and others vanished completed under the layers of his gray fur. But a few that were larger still stood out, marking his abdomen in a striped pattern. His eyes rove up to the tattered remains of his left ear. While his hearing was still impeccable, the flap was a ruined mess, leaving a stump of flesh that was ugly to gaze upon. With a grimace, he roughly brought together the edges of his robe and tied the belt with a sigh. He shook himself out from his melancholy mood. His outward appearance was inconsequential. No, it did not matter in the least. The most important thing was that he had survived. And his children were safe.

A shout followed by a loud crash snapped his head around. He stood up from where he'd been kneeling on his mat and crossed the room, muttering under his breath, already knowing what he'd find. He slid the door open and cast about for the source of the noise. He set his mouth into a firm line of disapproval.

"You little fucker!" Raph snarled and brought his fist down; aiming for his stomach but Michelangelo swiftly spun where he lay. Raph's blow landed squarely on his shell. He pulled it back and howled in pain; shaking it out and gripping it close to his chest. "Argh! Dammit!"

Mikey scrambled out from under Raph. He turned on his bottom to taunt him, "Ha ha! That's what you get you snot slurper!" He stuck his tongue out at him.

"I'm gonna pull that out and shove it up your –"

"Enough of this!" Splinter crossed into the room; furious. The boys froze in their tracks.

The two rambunctious boys were constantly tearing up the house and wrestling violently with each other every chance they got. Splinter put his hands on his hips and surveyed the mess. The coffee table was on its side, broken candles scattered along the carpet and the cushions of the couch were strewn everywhere. Leo emerged from the kitchen, a pencil in his hand.

"I told them to stop but they ignored me," he said with a glare at Raph.

Raph looked murderous as he scowled at his older brother. Mikey had jumped to his feet and was hastily gathering up cushions in his arms.

Splinter took a step back and a deep breath through his nose and out his mouth. He blinked slowly and said, "Foul language will not be tolerated in this home." His eyes jumped from Mikey, holding one cushion protectively in front of him to Raph who dropped his head, looking remorseful. Splinter rolled back his annoyance along with his shoulders. He still walked on egg shells around the children when it came to disciplining them but things were beginning to get out of hand. He said more gently, "Raph-chan, please assist your brother in picking up this," he indicated the room with his hands. Raph got up and started righting the coffee table. Then Splinter looked around to Leo who kept his wary gaze focused firmly on him. It was the same whenever he needed to discipline the child's brothers. It was no secret that the boy did not wholly trust him not to hurt him or them, even after all these weeks. Whereas with the youngest and with Raph, the transition came much more smoothly. Splinter understood it would take more time with Leo, due to what he'd suffered, but he often wished there was something he could do to win the boy over completely. The boy would visibly stiffen if he came too close and touching him at all was completely out of the question. Whereas with Mikey and Raph, they seemed to thrive on physical contact. Donnie was the same as Leo, but even more distant and even more strongly mistrusting. At least Leo would speak to him.

"Where is your brother?"

Leo fidgeted with the pencil and looked over his shoulder. "Uh, Donnie's upstairs, in our room." The look on the boy's face suggested: where else would he be?

Splinter moved to the staircase and started up the stairs towards the bedrooms. He glanced over his shoulder to see Leo following him, the worry and fear clearly written in his eyes. Behind them, he heard a scuffle and the soft grunts and curses growled under their breath as the other two reengaged in fighting. He distinctly heard the soft crash as a body was being tackled and new sounds of protests and swearing. He hesitated with one foot posed between steps but then closed his eyes and shook his head. Splinter chose to simply ignore them for now. He twisted around to look down at Leo. The boy dropped his eyes and twirled the pencil between the fingers of both his hands.

"I am only going to check on him, Leo-chan. I would like to see if he would join you in your writing and reading lessons."

It had come to his attention that the boys had no education to speak of. None of them could read or write. Splinter had decided to teach them. Starting immediately. Despite understanding that they may never leave the underground world, Splinter wanted to prepare them for any eventuality. He wouldn't be around forever and his children may one day strike out on their own. He could at the very least, give them the skills they'd need to stay safe and secure. Besides that, it was an excellent way to take their minds off the trauma of the past few months: leaving their home and their pseudo parent being taken by the human men.

Leo had taken to the lessons with a determined focus that was impressive. That he struggled to learn was no secret, but he worked relentlessly at everything that he was tasked with. He had a strong urge to excel and thrived on the praise that his achievements brought. He made excellent progress with each passing week. The same focus was sorely lacking in his younger siblings. Mikey would often doodle all over the paper instead of concentrating on forming the letters. He had natural artistic talent, but Splinter needed him to rein in his creative energies a little and learn the basics of lettering and sentences. Raph tried. But he struggled even more than his older brother. Every accomplishment Leo earned set a fire of steely determination into the boy. He put intense effort into each lesson. But it did not come smoothly to him at all. And he would get so frustrated at his failures that he often pressed the tip of the pencil into the paper so hard it either tore at the material or the tip snapped. He would then crumple the paper into a tight ball and become sullen and ill-tempered the rest of the day. Taking his frustrations out on any of his brothers that had the misfortune of coming across his path. Particularly being hateful towards Leo.

"Donnie doesn't need to practice," Leo said with some admiration. "He can read and write. He used to practice whenever he could . . . only sometimes da-" he faltered then. He went on in a lowered voice, "Sometimes he'd get into trouble for it. So, he mostly did it when we went up." Leo pointed to the ceiling indicating the outside world.

Splinter nodded. "Is that so," he murmured.

Donnie was a mystery. He would not leave the bedroom unless to use the bathroom or eat; no matter how Splinter tried to coax him. He'd stay in the corner with his rusted metal toolbox until bedtime. And though Splinter was loathe to be aggressive, he knew if they didn't come to an understanding soon, he may be forced to be more firm. His reclusive behavior was unhealthy. It was in the child's best interest to be educated. But this new information that Leo had just given him about the boy was further proof to something Splinter had wondered about. The boy was indeed incredibly intelligent for the black rat not only would not have taught them anything, but discouraged any type of learning. And yet, what Leo had said . . . that meant the boy had taught himself to read and write. Had hidden it from his parent for fear of reprisal.

Splinter turned back towards the room. He wanted to check on the withdrawn child. He was determined to reach him. Behind him, he heard Leo following. Splinter turned his head.

"Leo-chan, go back to your studies. I wish to talk to your brother alone."

He turned his face away because he didn't want to see how the child struggled between obeying the order and protecting his sibling from imagined harm. But Splinter needed Leo to start trusting him and he was losing patience playing this mental tug-of-war with the boy. He waited a moment then continued upstairs. His eyes darted to the side and he saw with some relief, Leo walking slowly back towards the kitchen. He was extremely obedient. It was impressive. But it also saddened Splinter as he considered how that obedience was most likely used against the boy. Squaring his shoulders, he pushed the thought away. He needed a clear head when he approached Donnie.

Over the weeks, he had meditated on a proper solution to channel the children's high energies and undisciplined and isolating behavior and had finally come to one conclusion. The only conclusion that seemed to make sense to the old rat. But he knew it would only succeed if all of the children participated. He had not doubt that the three downstairs could be persuaded. He raised his head as he approached the closed door.

But this one - he was suffering in a protective and impenetrable cocoon of silence and Splinter was having trouble reaching him. His only hope was that he'd connect and form even a slight bond with the boy. Then he'd use Leo to help urge him to participate in what he'd planned for the children. It would not be easy, though. The smallest of the group, though not by age, was introverted, shy and quiet. Splinter could only guess at the torment that he endured at the hands of the black rat based on what he had only glimpsed in that tunnel all those months ago. The boy had been in a melancholy depressed state since he brought him into his home.

But he did have a curious nature that would surface from time to time and often Splinter caught him staring with open interest at him from the corner of his eye. Particularly whenever Splinter was engaged with repairing something around the house. Though Splinter had tried to engage him in conversations, he hardly ever spoke and most of the time was lost in his own world. The other children spoke highly of the child and often told him how intelligent he was and how capable he was a fixing things. When the young turtle did hazard to meet his eyes, Splinter saw keen intelligence within the dark brown orbs. And had guessed soon after bringing him home that the boy was much more than he seemed.

Splinter stopped in the doorway. He used his knuckle and tapped at the frame before stepping inside. Donnie was seated in the far corner, his shell to the doorway. He peered over his shoulder at the sound of the knock, but did not raise his eyes to see who was entering the room. His oversized toolbox sat next to him on the floor.

"Donnie-chan," Splinter started. Don dropped his head and turned back to the corner. Tucking himself tighter into the space. He mumbled something and Splinter's eyes perked up. He had said something! He crept closer and crouched near the boy, still keeping his distance. "Did you say something, Donnie-chan?" he asked gently.

Donatello looked at him before quickly dropping his eyes. He shook his head. His fingers dug into the sides of his arms and his toes curled over the top of his opposite foot. Splinter's eyes fell to the toolbox, he was surprised to find it empty. When did the boy rid himself of his tools? He swallowed as he considered why Donnie might have disposed of the implements. The black rat had a bloody screwdriver in his fist; had been driving it into the child's flesh. Splinter suppressed a shudder. No. Stay focused. Stay clear-headed and neutral. Splinter was determined to reach him. He wasn't sure if it was the right thing to ask, but he went with his instinct.

"Where are your tools?"

Splinter saw his face pitch further away from him as he turned it slightly. The boy remained silent. Splinter looked again into the metal box. What is this? It was not completely empty. He reached inside and gathered four strips of yellowed paper. To each was affixed a thin ribbon of faded colors. Red, purple, blue and orange. From the corner of his vision, he noticed that Donnie was watching him. Pretending that he hadn't noticed the boy's shift in attention, he carefully held the papers in his palm and turned them over one at a time. He blinked in surprise to find writing on them. He squinted and peered closer. Not writing, exactly. But one word on each slip. Splinter continued to frown at the paper as Donnie's face moved from his palm to his face and back again.

"That's us," he said quietly. Splinter held his breath and counted to five before commenting; keeping his eyes locked in front of him.

"Oh?"

"I mean, those are our names."

Splinter tilted his head slightly. "Dono . . . Donatrel . . . R-Ruffo . . ." he purposely struggled to pronounce the writing before him.

"Donatello, Raphael, Leonardo and Michelangelo," he said and his voice grew stronger.

Splinter bobbed his head and allowed himself a smile. His eyes were sad as a forgotten memory like a remembered dream floated to the surface of his mind. The pet shop. On the way to and from work, he'd pass it. Chancing a glance inside, always to find with great pleasure the sole employee cleaning out tanks or sweeping the floor. She was the owner, a young woman with brown hair and blue eyes. So pretty and friendly. A bright, happy burst of laughter would come from her when he'd attempt to joke. She liked his accent.

The days went by and he ventured inside more and more often. Spoke to her more frequently. She was a widow – like him - even at her young age. Her husband killed in Iraq. It was her father's shop she had explained one day to him as he was choosing between brands of fish food. Though he owned no fish. Weeks went by and slowly he built his confidence up. He decided he would ask her to dinner. But had panicked and ended up somehow purchasing the four turtles from the table display in front of the store. She did not want to have them separated and so, to make her happy, he had purchased them all. He asked about dinner. She said yes. They were to have gone out twelve years ago. And though he hadn't thought of her in the span of over a dozen years, her name rose out from the mysterious depths of his memory, as if he'd only just heard it; cutting into the tender flesh of his lonely heart: Rebecca Brenner.

Tears suddenly formed at the corners of his eyes. For what was lost, for what was gained. For the years stolen by his loneliness, the years now given by his new children.

"Ah, now I see. Yes," he said thickly, clearing his throat. The writing on the slips. Rebecca's careful lettering. She'd mentioned wanting to go to art school, once. Wanting to be a painter. He understood clearly with a bittersweet pang. "You're names. They are the shortened version of what was written here. Raph for Raphael, Mikey for Michelangelo, Leo for Leonardo and Donnie for Donatello." He looked up to see the boy watching him with interest. "They are fine names."

"I never told them. I-I thought that . . . he . . . wouldn't like it."

Splinter nodded again. Then inspiration struck. "Donatello," the boy's deep eyes snapped up at the use of his proper name, "I was wondering if you could assist your brothers with their lessons. They are having some trouble and I . . . I just don't know how to go about teaching them."

There was a flash of something like excitement and interest in the boy's eyes. But to Splinter's great disappointment, he saw it fade, leaving the gaze empty and blank, before dropping to the side.

"I couldn't," he whispered.

"Why is that?" Splinter asked, desperate to keep the fragile lines of this conversation going, to keep the connection that had formed between them with the discovery of the children's given names.

"I-I . . . I'm too stupid." Splinter blinked in surprise and hurt. "I-I'm useless," his bottom lip quivered as he breathed the last word.

So, the black rat hammered into this child that he was useless and stupid. Besides physically abusing him. The back of Splinter's neck bristled as his jaw clenched. His fist closed in around the slips of paper. The boiling rage rose up and nearly engulfed him.

"I do not believe that." He barely was able to keep his voice steady as he choked out the statement. Donnie shook his head in denial. "I don't believe you really think that." When he got no response he decided to try something bold. He never brought up the events of the day he rescued them for fear of upsetting them. But he had to keep this connection with Donatello. He licked his bottom lip and plunged in, "And your friend? The girl who was with you?" Donnie's face snapped up. "I don't think she thought that of you, either."

Donnie gazed up at him, mouth open slightly in surprise. "A-April?" Donnie's eyes grew distant and the ghost of what could have been a smile spread across the child's face. Splinter mentally did a back flip with joy. But the victorious sensation died a flaming death as Donatello's smile fell away before it actually came to exist. He shrugged and picked at the edge of the toolbox. "It doesn't matter."

Splinter pressed his lips together. Another idea hit him. With his joints creaking. He stood up.

"I would like to show you something." The boy's sharp look of suspicion hurt him, but he brushed it away, determined to not take it personally. "Please?" Splinter's heart pounded as the seconds passed with Donnie not moving. When he finally climbed to his feet and moved to follow, Splinter's head was light with giddy excitement. He was making progress. Real progress!

Donnie followed Master Splinter out of the room and down the stairs. The living room remained in a wrecked state of chaos. Raph and Mikey jumped up; disentangling themselves. One was bleeding from a fat lip. Immediately, they resumed cleaning up the mess they had created. Splinter pointedly ignored their lapse in obedience as he moved across the room to the dojo. Donnie quietly moved like a shadow behind him. Mikey waved and Donnie shot him a soft smile.

Master Splinter slid open the door and moved inside. He strode across the room and stopped near the far wall. He turned, clasping his hands together in front of his body. Donnie kept his eyes lowered to the mats. Master Splinter cleared his throat. Donatello raised his eyes and slowly they grew to round circles and a gasp escaped from between his lips. Behind Master Splinter was a built in bookcase. Five long shelves were stacked with books. Donnie stumbled forward before catching himself. His eyes darted from the books to Splinter and back again.

"Donatello, I understand you already know how to read. Am I correct?"

Donnie nodded numbly.

"Then, please. Anytime you wish for reading material. You may help yourself."

He could not help but smile at the expression on the boy's face.

Donnie shook his head. "N-No, I couldn't," he murmured even as his eyes roved over the stacks of books with a hungry look of a starving man that had just stumbled upon a Thanksgiving Day feast laid out for his enjoyment.

Splinter nonchalantly waved a hand; dismissing the boy's protest and moved around him to leave. Over his shoulder he said, "Of course you can. You have my express permission to read whatever you'd like. Anytime you wish."

He paused just outside the door and gave a quick glance over his shoulder to see the child reach up with a trembling hand and pull a book from one shelf. He dropped silently to the floor and opened it on his lap. Splinter felt a rush of relief and joy that made him light-headed with a triumphant happiness he'd never experienced before.

Later that evening, still riding the victory of reaching Donatello and connecting with him. Splinter decided that he would bring up his idea to the eldest boy. Michelangelo and Raphael were laying on their stomachs on the large throw rug. They were playing at drawing mazes; passing the large pad of paper between each other; each one adding more layers, until the maze took up the entire page, then they took turns trying to solve it. Egging one another on with whispered insults and biting comments that left them both giggling gleefully.

Donatello was on the couch, curled up with a massive volume on the architectural history of New York City, lost to the world. He was immersed in it with an intensity and focus that both impressed and slightly intimidated Master Splinter. At his age, Splinter had been only interested in reading manga and watching anime with giant robots fighting gorilla aliens from space on television. The boy was not only intelligent. He was gifted. Of that, Splinter was sure. He would need to pay special attention to keep the boy engaged and challenged while teaching him.

Leonardo was sitting quietly in the kitchen. A sheet of paper was in front of him. Splinter glanced down. He was practicing writing his name and his brother's names in rigid, shaky lettering, over and over again.

"Very good, Leonardo." Splinter glanced up at the clock. "You do know that your lessons ended hours ago?"

Immediately, Leonardo set the pencil down. He flexed his hand as he dropped it onto his lap.

"I-I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize." He paused. "While the house is quiet, I was hoping to speak to you about something. Alone."

Leo rolled his gaze up to meet Master Splinter's eyes. "Okay," he said, his throat caught a little on the end of the word.

Splinter turned and indicated his room with one hand. Leo stiffened. "Please, I only wish to hear what you think of a proposal I have for you."

With rigid movements, Leo slid his chair back and stood up. A pool of unease swirled inside him, but he did his best to ignore it. Splinter moved towards his room with Leonardo following. His dark eyes bounced around the room to his brothers as he went. No one paid them any heed, so wrapped up in their own endeavors that they didn't even notice he was following the rat . . . alone . . . into his bedroom. His legs grew heavy as if he were walking through mud and he had to concentrate to push his feet forward, the closer they came to the door.

Leo felt his throat begin to tighten as his mouth grew dry. He moved inside the room and Splinter quietly closed the door shut behind him. He started to tremble and brought his arms up to hug himself, rubbing his upper arms lightly, trying to banish the gooseflesh that rose up on them. His heart pounded uncomfortably.

He wouldn't hurt me. He said he'd never . . . not like that. He promised.

Candles flickered around the space. Their yellow and orange flames danced and jumped. Shadows writhed along the walls and shelves. Though he didn't want to look, Leonardo's eyes fell upon the neatly made cot at one end of the room as well as the large cushions set on the floor next to the bed. Master Splinter moved around him and knelt down on one of the oversized cushions. He adjusted his belt on his robe and grunted as he rubbed his knees.

"Please, sit down, Leonardo," Splinter said indicating a flatter cushion in front of him and Leo thought he heard a sinister tone in the command.

Leo remained where he was. He was a fool to ever think he was safe. He started to shake. Oh no. Please no. He considered running from the room at that instant. His stomach sank into his knees. No, he couldn't flee. If he ran, Sensei would turn to one of his brothers, he was sure of it. It was the reason he didn't run away from home. He thought of taking his brothers and making a break for it. His mind raced, trying to think where they could hide. No. There was no where he could go. Nowhere safe. The humans had taken his dad away. If they were caught . . . he remembered what Scrag had told him. The nightmares that he'd had of Mikey or Raph or Donnie being found and taken. And now they had Scrag and they were probably taking him apart. A mix of emotions ran through Leonardo and he felt faint and sick all at once.

He turned his attention back to the mat and the gray rat waiting patiently for him to come closer with a bemused expression on his face. Oh, he knew this was coming. Despite what Sensei had said to him. Despite the continued promises of meaning him and his brothers no harm. This was why he'd taken them. Leonardo always suspected the motivation behind their kidnapping had something to do with this. He just knew it. Somehow he always knew.

With stiff movements, Leonardo managed to approach the mat and kneel before him. He pinched his shaking hands between his knees to make them stay still. But why now? Then it hit him with a sinking realization. Splinter had just given him time. Time to become whole again. He didn't want him when he was broken and raw. Leonardo swallowed and closed his eyes, feeling sick. He should be grateful for that, at least. Maybe Sensei wouldn't hurt him as much as Scrag did. Maybe he didn't like it when he was in pain, like his dad had.

He couldn't be afraid, though. He had to face the facts of the situation. If not him, then it would be one of his little brothers here in his place. And as much as he wanted to be spared from this fate, he would never trade places with one of them. Never. He just had to be brave again. Braver than he'd ever been before. He could not let this happen to any of his brothers. He would not let this happen to them. No matter what the rat wanted to do to him, the most important thing was he had to convince Sensei that he alone would be enough. He needed to prove that he could satisfy all his needs and convince Splinter to leave his brothers alone. He would have to show him that he could take it. And he could take a lot when he had to. He had been trained for nearly three years for this at the cruel hands of his father. Besides, no matter how hard he struggled and tried: at writing, at learning to read - this was all he was really good for.

Fighting back the terror and digging deeply for the elusive courage hidden away at the bottom of his soul, he opened his eyes. Slowly, carefully, he fell to his hands and knees. He crawled forward, eyes downcast.

Splinter had just begun to speak and immediately fell silent. He stiffened and shook his head uncomprehendingly as Leo inched forward. With his head ducked between his hunched shoulders, Leonardo lifted his hands up between Splinter's legs and gingerly began to untie the belt around his waist. Splinter's hands shot out and gripped Leonardo tightly by his wrists. The boy cringed back, eyes clamped shut and mouth open in a silent cry of pain.

He made a startled, choking noise through his nose, "Leo-, what are you . . ."

"I'm sorry! I-I thought . . ."

Splinter abruptly dropped his hold on the boy's wrists. He was at a loss for words. His mind scattered. What is this? What does he think? He couldn't mean to believe that he'd been brought into the room to . . . to . . . Splinter couldn't even finish the awful thought.

With a look of unimaginable pain, Leonardo curled in on himself and slowly turned around. He lowered his face to the cool floor, gripping the edge of the mat in both his fists. His bottom raised towards Splinter. He stayed that way trembling furiously for a second before Splinter, in horror, watched the small, crooked tail uncurl and slid to one side, exposing himself fully to him.

"I . . . I'll be good . . ." the boy said the words breathlessly, remembering the vow that Scrag had him repeat before being taken. A nearly inaudible whimper of fright squeezed free.

Splinter lurched back and away as if a coiled viper lay in front of him. Horrified, disgusted, he turned his face away as he leaped to his feet.

"Leonardo! Stop this at once. Get up." Agitated, Splinter paced in a circle. He ran a hand over his face. When Leonardo didn't move he snarled at him, "I said get up!"

Leo rolled to his bottom. One arm posed over his chest as if to block a blow. Chest heaving, he blurted, "I-I'm sorry! I-I don't know what to . . . what you want."

Splinter spun, his eyes flashing. "I have told you, boy. I do not want . . . I would never . . . how many times must I . . . GAH!"

Leo flinched and Splinter saw the tears standing out in his deep eyes full of confusion and fear and hurt. He threw his hands in the air and continued to pace. Frustration and embarrassment warred within him, he knew he was not being calm. He was the complete opposite of calm right now. He was letting his emotions carry him and most likely was terrifying the child. He ran a shaking hand over his face and rolled it up over his head until he rubbed the back of his neck. He took in a deep breath. Then another. It was not the boy's fault. His fears were justified. He gave them no reason to think he'd want them for such nefarious purposes, but he must not take this personally.

"Leonardo," he began again. "Son, I swear to you, I will never, ever ask you . . . or your brothers . . . for any kind of . . . I would never make you do anything . . ." This was impossible. He gave up. Shoulders slumping, he moved and sat on the edge of his cot. He raised mournful eyes up at Leonardo who was watching him while breathing fast and shallow, no doubt, fighting those tears that were building and giving his blue eyes a wild, glassy look. "I only wished to ask if you think you would be interested in learning martial arts." Leonardo froze and blinked hard, once. "I would like to offer to teach you and your brothers."

Leonardo brought his arms down. His eyes dropped as his face flushed a dark red as humiliation swept over his features. He looked as if he were about to vomit. Splinter felt horrible for making the boy go through this, but he had no idea the child would have misinterpreted his motivations so horrendously. Choosing to ignore the awkwardness, much as he handled Donatello, Splinter plunged forward, pretending that what had just taken place had not actually happened at all. He cleared his throat.

"I believe it would be beneficial for you and your brothers. Practicing martial arts brings discipline and balance. It brings peace and harmony between your mind and body. I would be honored if you grant me permission to truly be your sensei. Your teacher."

Face still a brilliant crimson, Leonardo raised his chin. His voice betrayed the emotions sweeping through him as his breath caught. But he managed to croak a reply, "Yes." He cleared his throat and said, "I would like that. Please."

Splinter released a breath and smiled as he did. "Very good. We shall begin tomorrow morning."

Leonardo stood up. He stayed for a moment, uncertain and off balance, slightly curled hands posed in front of his chest, finally he turned to leave.

Splinter spoke up, "My son." Leo stopped; turned.

"It will get better. I can't promise that it will happen soon . . . or that it will be easy . . . but know this: I will be here to help you in any way you need." He paused, "You are a very courageous young man." Leonardo blinked at the compliment, looking unsure. "I will say what needs not be spoken, but you set a fine example for your brothers. You have a fierce determination in your heart and are a natural leader. You will rise to accomplish great things. I know this as I know my own heart."

Leonardo stared at him for a moment, then standing a little straighter, he said, voice thick with emotion, "Thank you, Sensei," and quietly left the room, mind racing along with his heart.

Master Splinter watched him go. He sighed deeply. The road ahead was full of obstacles and set-backs, but he knew that they could face each challenge and triumph; if they supported each other and learned to trust, not only in one another, but in him as well. Maybe one day, that trust would turn to something even deeper. Perhaps one day, the children might come to love him as he already loved them.

A/N: Epilogue is next!

A HUMONGOUS THANK YOU goes out to all of my readers who took the time to leave me a review. Large or small, all of them are cherished and appreciated! Some I read and reread and how can I even tell you? You make me brave. You help me believe. You really want quality, you want to be entertained with fleshed out characters and roller coaster plot lines . . . so you push me to be better. I am constantly learning and only want to continue to write at the level you demand and deserve. I love you guys.

Oh yeah, and! it helps me when that evil little voice of self-doubt starts whispering in my head that I suck =P you know that voice. DIE VOICE, DIE! XD okay, too much coffee this morning, I think.

I will have the epilogue up in a day or so . . . with a surprise and a little something else in the A/N...you'll see! mwhahahah