037. Hero

This is a rough one. No judgment if you wanna skip :/ Takes place September 11th, 2002.

Splinter sat on the sofa, the remote in one hand, the other pressed over his mouth in mute horror as the harsh blue light from the television set replayed images that were already seared into the minds of every New Yorker. He shook his head, slowly. He couldn't believe it had only been a year - it felt like yesterday.

He didn't understand the strange compulsion to keep watching. Part of him said this was a mistake, exploitive, somehow - that he should turn the television off, check on his boys and perhaps meditate, say a prayer for the lost. But another part of him felt that familiar siren song of tragedy that compels one to bear witness, to revisit…that strange, almost primal pull to tiptoe close to the grief, and then draw back again, dancing close to the fire and then away…almost as if to prove that you still can.

So much destruction and loss, from so much anger and hatred. He thought of the way his own young family had been torn apart by anger and hatred when he was still a young man, and his heart ached with sympathy for the thousands of families, now wracked by grief, who, just one short year later, were now beginning to realize that life was never going to go back to "normal"; at least not the normal that they knew. There was only an entirely different "normal," one that would have been unrecognizable to them just one year ago.

He cringed as the news showed clips from that day. Two office workers, seeming so small in the jolty amateur footage - just specks from that distance - took one another's hands, and with the smoke at their backs, stepped out into thin air. Splinter made a noise deep in his throat and squeezed his eyes shut.

"'Tō-san?"

Splinter wheeled around, startled to find Leo standing there, watching the television, his eyes round. He pointed at the screen, and Splinter turned, horrified, to find the image of a man seemingly frozen in space and time, tumbling downwards, head-first -

He scrambled frantically for the remote, fumbling with the buttons as the newscaster commentary relentlessly continued, until finally, mercifully, he pressed the right button and the television shut off. In the dark reflection, he could see Leo standing behind the sofa, his shoulders hunched, little green fingers twisting together uncertainly.

"What happened? Did that man fall?"

Splinter took a deep breath and tried to stave off the inevitable.

"What are you doing out of bed, my son? It is very late for a little turtle to be up. You have training and then school tomorrow."

Leo didn't answer. He was still looking at the television, now dark. He turned his wide, blue eyes to Splinter, and he winced, knowing the questions were coming, as they always did.

"Did the firemen catch him in a net?"

Splinter sighed heavily, and patted the sofa. Leo climbed over the back instead of walking around. Normally he would chide him for it, but Leo curled up on sensei's lap and leaned against his father's furry chest. As he sometimes did when he was seeking comfort, his little fingers gripped the fabric of sensei's kimono, and held the material to his face, nuzzling the smooth material absent-mindedly.

"He did fall. The building was on fire, and he had to jump."

"Did he go to the hospital in a ambulance? Is he okay now?"

Splinter winced.

"No, my son. He passed away."

"What's that?"

"He…died."

"Oh."

There was a pause and again, Splinter braced himself.

"Just him though, right?" Leo asked, looking up into sensei's eyes, "He was the only one, right?"

For a moment, he was so, so very tempted to lie.

"No," he said, his heart breaking a little, "No, many people passed away that day, Leonardo."

"But why?" he asked sadly.

Splinter shook his head, looking off into space. Why? It seemed so cruel and senseless. How on earth was he supposed to make sense of this to a five-year old, let alone a five year old who knew nothing of the outside world?

"Was it bad guys?" Leo whispered, his voice sounding small and somewhat fearful.

"Yes," Splinter sighed, "It was…bad guys."

"But - why didn't the good guys save them?" Leo asked, urgently.

"They did," Splinter said, stroking Leo's head, soothingly, "Many of them. Police, and fire-fighters. Rescue workers, and contractors, and - "

"And Spiderman?" Leo asked, perking up slightly, "Mikey says - "

"No," Splinter said, firmly, "This was not like a comic book. Wakarimasu ka?"

Leo nodded, his eyes huge. "Hai, sensei," he whispered, guiltily.

Splinter sighed, his face and voice softening. "It is alright, Leonardo. It is…hard to understand. Even for grown-ups."

"So…the good guys came…and then everyone was okay?" Leo asked, with dread.

Splinter hugged his little boy tighter, fighting back the stinging in his eyes, trying to keep his voice calm and neutral. His claws traced the patterns of Leo's scutes. He felt so small in his arms.

"No, not everybody. But they tried very, very hard. Some of them…passed away, also. But they were still able to save many people."

Leo said nothing in reply. Splinter sighed, knowing it was not the simple answer Leonardo wanted to hear. He leaned back, and lifted Leonardo's chin with a single claw.

"I am going to tell you something very important, Leonardo. You must always remember this: a hero is just a person. A person who wants to help. Even if it means giving everything they have…even their life. That is what it means to be a hero. There can be no greater honor than service to others. The…'bad guys'…they caused much pain. They caused many people to suffer. But they are few, and they are weak. Good people who want to help - we are many. And we are strong…and like the ninja, we are?…"

"Patient," Leo finished, nodding dutifully.

Splinter nodded. "Good boy."

Leo looked up into his father's eyes with determination.

"I wanna help. So…I could be a hero, too, right? I'm a person, and I wanna help people!"

Splinter's heart swelled with bittersweet pride, and he placed a kiss on Leonardo's head. "And some day, you will. I am sure of it. Now. Sleep, my son."

A/N: I've often wondered before…as native New Yorkers, and given the current timeline (that they're 15 in 2012) the boys were alive when this happened, though they were young. And certainly Splinter was affected by it. I often wonder to what degree this influenced his worldview, and consequently, theirs…And I apologize if this felt disrespectful to anyone. It was not at all intended to be.