When Sandro turned back onto the graveled driveway of the old O'Neil farmhouse, it was probably close to two in the morning. He killed the engine about halfway down to the house, and then walked the bike the rest of the way. He thought he'd been pretty careful about this whole thing, but then moonlight and heat on the porch revealed that someone was waiting for him. Well. No avoiding that.

Sandro pulled off the bike helmet and continued forward. A faint snake of tobacco smoke wafted out to him, and the rosy light of a lit cigarette butt revealed exactly who'd caught him. Raphael took one last drag on the cigarette, and exhaled smoke as he growled: "How was the joyride?"

Sandro hesitated, but then went to go park that Shellcycle exactly where he'd gotten it from His father's gaze tracked him across the lawn.

"Last I checked," Raphael smothered the remainder of the cigarette stick against the porch bench and stood slowly, "fourteen wasn't the driver's license birthday."

Sandro eased the kickstand into place and took up the helmet. He breathed in deeply, and nodded to himself, and then turned around and approached the porch. He climbed up the stairs, kept his head low, and offered the helmet up to his father with both hands.

Raphael eyed him and then stepped forward to loom over him. "S'been three hours. The hell d'ya have to say for yourself?"

The littlest turtle honestly thought about the question. He thought about the wind,the stars, and the freedom (and the successful journey); and then an insane giddiness surely overtook him, because Sandro started to grin, and once he'd started he found he could not stop: The expression twitched and tickled at his mouth, until finally he had to lower his head more to try and make it as clear as possible that he really was trying to be subservient. "It was really cool," he mentioned, because escaping everything like that, on that bike, had been one of the most amazing and satisfying things he'd ever done.

Raphael stared at him and Sandro was sure things would quickly take a turn for the worst. But then the older turtle stood straighter, and his glare twisted into a matching grin, and it almost seemed like he might laugh. Sandro dared to lift his head, hopeful and still smiling stupidly. "Yeah," his father half-groused, "Yeah I'll bet it was." He reached forward and took the helmet, and touched Sandro's head in the same way humans might tousle hair. "Get inside," he ordered with a roughly affectionate shove in the right direction.

"Hai," Sandro acknowledged, hurrying to do as he'd been told (and still grinning).

"Dis better nevah happen again, by the way," Raphael instructed as he walked with him. "Ever. Ya got me?"

"Hai."

"Right. And dun tell ya mom."

"Hai!"


Visiting Wildcard had worked some kind of magic, and Sandro was able to enjoy his birthday again. Maybe it was because he'd gotten to check up on her and see that she was behaving herself and enjoying her vacation; or maybe it was the comforting way the smell of her clung to his fingers for a few hours afterwards, as he slowly drifted off to sleep; or maybe driving off on that bike had simply been exhilarating and helped him release all the negative energy he'd had pent up inside himself.

Whatever the exact source of the magic was, he woke up with a renewed interest in his presents and an eagerness to hang out with everyone before they had to leave on Monday. Grandpa O'Neil had gotten him a really expensive all-terrain RC Car, which which Shadow wanted to play with because Donnie wouldn't let her fly the helicopter drone (totally understandable, that). Sandro showed her how to work the controls and do all sorts of neat tricks, and then sat back to watch and laugh as the gator girls chased the vehicle around like excitable puppies.

Sandro swore he caught Raphael grinning over at him a few times for no reason at all, almost like he was a little proud of him.

And Sandro sure felt a little proud when he saw it.


Leonardo led his family out of the house on a small procession that evening. They were carrying wrapped slices of cake, fresh fruit, candles, incense, and assorted cheeses.

Donatello waved for Sandro to hurry along, and then slipped a hand around the back of his shell. The boy had probably realized that they were going to pay their respects to Splinter, but he probably wasn't certain why doing so required a little journey. At home, they simply went to the shrine at the back of the dojo.

Their father had been killed on September 22nd, and Sandro had been born one year—to the date!—afterwards. Since visiting the ghosts of your ancestors was a rather somber occasion that sort of ruined Birthday Cheer, and since it was also very bad luck to celebrate life on the same day one was mourning the dead, the family always made sure to move their little memorial services for Splinter one or two days after the actual anniversary.

Raphael had almost refused to participate the first few years because he'd found the idea of 'celebrating a death' depressing, but he'd eventually gone along with it doing so had proved necessarily therapeutic for all of them. It might have helped if they had known their father's actual birth-date, and could gather together on that day instead of this one. As it was, they made due.

Leonardo led them across the farmhouse grounds, to a very old oak tree hidden away on the back of the property. There they found their destination: an old grave at the foot of the tree, with a wooden headstone engraved with 'Father.' They swept and cleared the space about the grave, both to tend to it and to ensure they did not accidentally cause any forest fires They lit their candles, and made their little offerings to his spirit.

"This is where we buried him," he heard Donatello explain to Sandro. "Once we were able, I mean."

"He never got to see this place in person," Raphael mentioned. "He woulda liked it, though. We couldn'ta brought him anywhere but here and had it been right."

"Yo do you guys remember the Cheese Phone?" Mikey sighed fondly, and the sad gathering turned nostalgic and filled with gentle laughter as they traded stories with one another about their father's saintly patience.

Leo thought back to countless lessons in the dojo. Not just lessons of combat, either, but lessons of patience, serenity, brotherhood, and synergy. Splinter had loved them, loved them as his sown sons, and there had never been a day they hadn't felt it. Most of their faith in themselves and in one another had been fundamentally built on that love.

The stories trailed off into wistful quiet, and it came time for them to make their way back to the house to get some sleep that they might enjoy their last day in Northampton. This procession, Leo did not lead. He lagged in last place behind all of his family members, and his stride slowed the father they traveled. Ten yards or so from the old oak tree, he stopped altogether and turned to look back at the little grave and its flickering candles.

Gravity, or something like it, dragged him back to stand before it. He stared through the headstone a long time, and slowly knelt.


The minutes stretched, and the candles burned, and Leo was so distracted he almost didn't hear someone heavy come up behind him. He knew it had to be Raphael, though, even before his brother sat down, turned about, and leaned back into him shell-to-shell. Leo closed his eyes. Some of the tension abated from him.

"You okay?" Raph asked him after around a minute had passed.

"I have been thinking about life, lately," Leo explained.

"In like a philosophical way, or like a mid-life-crisis-y way? Ya got a hankerin' for a shiny blue Ferrari or somethin?"

Leo chuckled. "Not exactly. But I have been thinking of taking a student into the dojo. It is too empty."

Raphael considered that. "Shadow's gettin ta be the right age." And she was as good as their niece.

"I have considered offering to train her, but part of me fears drawing Foot attention to Casey after all these years, after that silly hockey mask ended up doing such a fantastic job of keeping his identity secret. Aside from which, he has not given us any indication he wishes for Shadow to lead this sort of life. I think he hopes she will go to school."

"Yeah," Raph sighed in agreement. "The last thing anyone wants ta do is put him in the same situation April and us are in, always needin ta be on our guard. It'd be even worse for him cause he's got no way to protect Shadow except maybe to board her with us." Probably everyone in their family had lost sleep worrying about what would happen if the Foot ever got their hands on Shadow. "He's probably banking on her growin up ta be a cop."

The two were quiet for a bit, before Leo thought to explain what he'd originally meant. "The Foot have made attempts to mine the youth for fresh recruits many times. I could do likewise."

"What, like just training some street kid? Hnh. Ya said ya wanted ta fill the dojo, and that's a lot different from Foot recruiters goin' and startin martial arts clubs on the streets in old warehouses. Ya got my son livin' with ya, and he's somethin' of our biggest secret."

"I was only thinking of hand-picking one or two," Leo murmured with wave of his fingers to dismiss the topic. "Perhaps you are right and I am just musing idly. Even were I to try, I might not find whatever it is I am looking for. I only wished to answer your question of what was on my mind."

Raphael was quiet for a long moment. "Ya been putting some thought to this for awhile now?"

"It's nothing. If I worried you, I apologize; I would not enact such a scheme without at least trying to seek your blessing."

"You should do it." Raph said.

Leo opened his eyes.

"I'm serious. If something's eatin ya so bad it's even on ya mind at da's grave, then maybe it's somethin ya actually need. Course you're so fucking picky and slow, I dunno how any kid could possibly get on ya damn shortlist, so ya better get busy lookin. Or just settle for workin with Donnie t'see if you two can at least agree some punk kid ain't gonna throw us under a bus. Maybe that way he'd only be half as annoying as you are."

"Then..." Leonardo hesitated.

"Do it," Raph said. "Don't just think about it, ya damn glacier. Look for this 'student' ya want so bad. Hell," he sighed, "if ya actually find one, maybe it'd be good for Sandro, finally havin' company 'bout his own age. Even if he has a stick up his ass same as you."

Raphael was using the pronoun 'he' to refer to his hypothetical student, in the assumption it would be a boy.

After a moment, Leo closed his eyes again.

And smiled.


"Those two," Mother sighed.

Sandro looked behind them to realize his father and eldest uncle were missing. "Where are they?"

"Leo might be having a spot of melancholy," Donnie murmured. "Raph's usually the one who notices first. If he's around, that is."

Sandro's previous working model of the universe had not included any information about his father being empathetic, so now that he was old enough to start bumping into the topic, he was a little uncomfortable trying to decide what to make of it. The first time had definitely made him angry; now he was just sort of estranged.It meant Raphael shared some traits Sandro would have preferred to attribute only to Michelangelo.

"Probably is," April shook her head. "And they'll sit and avoid the topic for about an hour or two and then come back and have a friendly spar. Heaven forbid they actually ever admit to missing each other." She turned and started continuing on their way back to the house.

"Uncle Leo's not the only one who misses him," Sandro almost tried to hint, but instead used far too tough a tone.

"No but it definitely hits him the hardest," Mother quipped a little wryly, as if stating something about the family everyone knew but never really talked about.

I meant me. Not Donnie and Mikey. Sandro stared after her in critical bemusement for a moment and shook his head and shrugged and picked up the pace again. It wasn't entirely her fault that'd gone over her head; he'd sort of pitched it foul.

Donatello glanced back at him knowingly with half a smile, as if saying, 'Whoops, I saw that.' Mikey leaned near to whisper conspiratorially, "Sometimes your mom doesn't notice sticks right in front of her. The amount of times she's tripped while fleeing dinosaurs, aliens, and robot ninja zombies is kinda staggering...!"

"I heard that," April reproached with a laugh. "What are we talking about me for?"


They started packing up Monday at noon, and all of the primary drivers took naps. Grandpa O'Neil and Auntie Robyn both had planes to catch, and April, Raphael, and Casey all had 'work' the next day. And Leo might head out on a brief patrol just as soon as they arrived.

They offered Leatherhead and his girls a ride back to the city, but the large Aligator politely declined and explained that he would be taking his time and allowing the children to enjoy the wilderness for awhile before winter arrived. Upon hearing this they offered to him the continued usage of the farmhouse. He was honored, accepted, and pledged to keep it tidy and well-maintained, and to be out by mid October.

"You should come visit the Turtle Lair!" Mikey said, because he loved Leatherhead and now all the girls as well. "Around November or December? It'd be cool! Plus you guys'd get in out of the cold! It's rough for a reptile out there."

"You should come," Donnie agreed, but while he'd warmed up to Leatherhead over the years, his motive was most probably to give those mutant gator babies a proper medical checkup (and maybe plant GPS trackers on them; Donnie was just paranoid about the proliferation of mutagen like that).

"I would not want to intrude," the alligator deflected politely.

"The invitation is genuine," Leo put in. "Should you and your girls need someplace to hole-up come winter, our home is open to you; and it's certainly open for any visits. The company would even cheer Sandro up, as he seems to have gotten better with small children lately." That was probably a jab at how badly Sandro had once gotten along with Shadow. Sandro smirked.

"I... I shall think about this offer. Thank you."

Twilight Sparkle (tehe, that name!) must indeed have been the Smart One, because amidst all the goodbyes and hugs the Purple Gator Girl suddenly bolted free of her contingent of sisters and came to cling alternately to Sandro and Michelangelo and make small unhappy chirps, as if she had realized that they might all be parting ways. It was very cute, and her sisters eventually decided they'd come over and follow her lead. Sandro and Mikey hugged them all goodbye.


The car ride back home was as long as the ride out to Northampton had been, only this time vehicles left the motorcade instead of joining it. Grandpa and Robyn left in their rental car just as soon as they reached the highway, enroute to the airport. April and Raphael broke off to take an alternative highway back into NewYork, one that kept them from crossing any particularly dangerous bridges while everyone was sleepy-eyed and off their normal schedule.

The Jones' car stayed with them until they were almost at Jersey and then fell behind and went to stop off at a McDonalds for food and drink and to ensure they weren't accidentally seen beside anything that even might have been the Shellraiser-in-disguise. Afterwards the turtles slowly wound about the city to reach their secret garage entryway.

"You a little sad it's over?" Mikey asked him sympathetically.

Sandro yawned and shrugged a little. "It was an awesome birthday," he told them happily. "Never gonna forget it."

"You looked a little out of things Saturday," Donatello mentioned. "Glad you pulled out of it."

Sandro smiled to himself and decided that was one secret he'd like to keep for now, not necessarily because he'd seen Wild, but because he was still privately enjoying his dad's reaction


Joker slipped carefully along the warehouse piping, and crouched before the concrete parapet wall. It was about four-thirty in the evening. He waited, patiently, and sure enough he managed to catch sight of his daughter down amidst the industrial jungle below. She'd thrown up her hands and was pacing back and forward in clear agitation.

"You're late, Buttercup," he murmured to himself. "C'mon now, get underground." She paused, glared at nothing, kicked a loose chip of debris, and went back to pacing. "Sunset's in less than two hours, which means you are late for your rendezvous with Bat Turtle and Sunshine is probably starting to worry something's happened to you..."

Instead, he watched her climb up higher, that she might get a vantage point on the rest of the city. He hunkered down lower.

"Squirt..." he growled into his knuckles. He'd left that climbing gear with her for a reason; Keeping track of whether she took it with her or not let him monitor how crazy she was feeling. "You know I know we both know that you're toying with throwing the towel in and running off to play hooky. But it's Tuesday, and your boyfriend's back, and you want to see him as soon as possible. C'mon, now... get underground."

She dropped down from her perch and went towards the northern edge of her rooftop. North, if she went far enough in that direction, was Foot territory. "Oh now that is going too far," he hissed. "Don't get in trouble with me, too. Turn your scrawny little butt around and walk yourself straight back to-ooh!" He ducked down and peeked.

With an unexpected blur of gray camouflage, a very large mutant turtle materialized out of nowhere and perched upon the edge of her roof By the barely noticeable katana sheathes across his gray-masked shell, this was the Bat Turtle himself.

"My, my." Joker shrank back. "He knew...?" Better to get off the roof then and not be overseen. Better to not risk jeopardizing her chances. He'd double around to the northern side and just make absolutely sure she did not head into trouble town.


"You look indecisive."

Wildcard yelped and nearly overbalanced as she spun about to see the giant ninja who had just crept up beside her. He was squatting upon the air conditioners. "It's not even nighttime yet!" were the first words she managed to fling out there.

"No? Hmm. Then I should be glad you have chosen a difficult roof to be espied from," Leonardo replied calmly. Holy Chalupa! He was only identifiable—visible!—because of that blue bandanna. He looked to be wearing the same catsuit and tabi she'd seen him in the day before, but the color was a mottled and rusty gray instead of black, and his skin and shell had been streaked with something ash-colored. He blended in to his background environment like he'd been painted into it!

"Wh-what are you even doing up here?" she wondered.

"I was concerned for my absent student and came to investigate her whereabouts. Might I ask you the same question? You are late. Do you plan on quitting Ninjitsu lessons?"

She frowned and tucked her chin. " N-no..."

"I see. Then were you perhaps planning to give me plenty of reasons to stop inviting you to them, or somesuch?"

How the hell was he onto her before she'd even worked out her own thoughts!? This was like that weird insight about the Karai question all over again! "It's none of your business!" she blocked defensively.

He frowned. "Sandro seems to enjoy your presence during lessons." And therefore tolerating her was for The Good of Sandro!

"I'm not avoiding him! I was trying to get away with with not having to deal with you!"

Wildcard regretted the words the moment they fell out of her mouth. She couldn't tell if she felt like a suspicious hoodlum or if the butterflies churning in her stomach were guilt for saying something so nasty to him. She started writhing in place and then hugged herself and looked down at nothing. "I didn't think you'd care. Except to write me off. You didn't seem like you cared."

"About you?"

Her brain tripped but she shrugged. "Why should you? You don't know anything about me, I'm not important."

"I know more than you seem to think."

"Yeah well that just makes you a creepy stalker who follows teenager girls around."

"I know you saved my nephew's life the day he met you. I know you rushed to the aid of a complete stranger, and made a decision about who to help based entirely on who looked to be 'the bad guys.'" Her eyes widened at each word, and she looked slowly up towards the turtle in disbelief. "I know you killed three armed Foot, and felt absolutely nothing as you retrieved your knives from their bodies."

"How could you have been there?" she whispered. "You couldn't have. If you'd been there, he wouldn't have been in danger."

"You think so? You think I do not make mistakes?" Leo asked quietly, blue eyes piercing her. "I misjudged. I was too far behind. And I would have ended up carrying the decapitated corpse of my nephew back home to my family that night, and gotten on the phone with my brother to tell him his son was dead owed to my failure, had it not been for the bravery and impulsiveness of one, small, reckless girl."

Wildcard stared up at him like a drowned puppy, with everything in her stomach tingling and frightened, and with a quiver in the tight knot of her arms.

"I know your father is not what he appears to be. That you live in a great deal of fear an uncertainty, and pride yourself in how little it effects you; but, some days, the paranoia crawls up through the cracks of your self, and you are left wondering if you are slowly growing insane, and—if you are—whether you might possibly be enjoying it."

Her fingers slipped into her pocket as she shrank and shrank.

"I know you fiddle with that switchblade you carry whenever you are nervous, but that doing so it not entirely an innocent habit. In every situation you enter and without even trying to, you visualize every point of escape, ever obstacle, and every person you'd have to stab, or startle, or simply explode in order to get past. You think about each way in which you might die or have to kill someone, but the only thing that really scares you is the idea of being caught, restrained, captured, arrested or held down. It is this fear which makes everything from practicing martial arts pins to receiving hugs difficult for you, and has limited your interpersonal contact with other people for years."

She was afraid. She was afraid down to her bones.

"And I know that that when you asked me about Karai, you were testing how much I knew about you. You were asking what I saw, and whether I saw some sort of lost cause or, worse, a predestined monster. But all that I see standing before me is a child. A very brave, and troubled, and very lonely child."

Heat and tears clouded her vision. The switchblade dropped from her fingertips and hit the concrete open and sharp enough to slice lime and stand upright where it had fallen. The ninja moved, and she bristled in terror and wiped frantically at her face–! But all he'd done was extend a small container to her, and as she hesitantly took it she realized it was the jar of marmalade with its insides all streaked in different colors. Her breath caught and then she felt large, three-fingered hands at her face, pushing up the bandanna and wiping away tears. She wasn't certain if she was sobbing or just leaking, but she did slowly manage to look up to where the enormous turtle was crouched over her with an expression of concern upon his face.

"Breath more deeply, lest you hyperventilate. It's okay, child. Everything is okay. Everything is going to be okay. No one wishes harm onto you, and no one is going to take you from Sandro." She sniffled, and nodded. "If you truly do not wish for me to tutor you, I will take no offense."

"It's not that," she blurted. "I-I do." And she did.

Leo nudged her chin up. "Then listen... Before I agree to teach you, I require something in exchange from you, something symbolic of trust, commitment, and authenticity. This is because I have no wish to devote my all into the development of a student who will then turn about and walk away a week later. Heading north, of all directions."

"I don't have anything to give," she mumbled. "What did you want?"

"Your name," Leo said. "Give me your name, and I will trade you a name for yourself in Japanese."

She stared through him a moment, and then at him, and then the many trembling things inside her seemed to still. "Buttercup," she said into the resonant silence.

He studied her face for a moment and then nodded. "Kinpōge," he called her, and then reached up to gently tug the bandanna back into place and to tighten the ties. "From now on, in the dojo, that is your name. Not grasshopper, Wildcard, Anastasia, Mini, or She-Casey; Just Kinpōge."