It wasn't often anymore that Splinter had to comfort his sons after nightmares.
Orange tended to rotate; he knew the youngest went to his older brothers just as often as he came to him. Fellowship and comfort were what he craved, and so on bad nights Splinter would don his fuzziest robe and cuddle with him in the living room watching movies full of happy people. It normally didn't take long for him to fall asleep again.
Blue was actually the second most frequent visitor concerning scary dreams. Splinter didn't think he had ever turned to one of his brothers, despite how often he was there for them. He had an image to uphold: an unconcerned, take-things-in-stride unflappability. Splinter never let on how much he understood this struggle; while his appearance may have altered, his good looks certainly hadn't (he insisted to anyone who asked). Blue wanted privacy, and the least Splinter could do was provide a space for his son to let down his guard. The presence of warm drinks tended to help, and so he often put on a kettle of hot tea for the two of them before the young one returned to his room.
As rare as it was for Purple to come to him admitting he had a nightmare, it did happen on occasion. There wasn't much Splinter needed to do: his son always needed to make sense of the nightmare, understand why he had it and what it meant. This normally meant a lot of listening; his boy was bright and usually worked things out for himself, save for some useful prompting in the right direction and pointed questions. The only drawback was that such conversations required Splinter to be a little more awake than he normally was, but he did his best and things usually seemed to work out.
But Red was a different case. There was a time when Red came to him the most out of all of them, when he was much younger. His son had long been plagued by recurring nightmares, and over time had gradually stopped approaching him. Splinter suspected it wasn't just because the nightmares had grown infrequent; he could tell his other sons responded of their own accord whenever there was a flare-up. No, it was embarrassment. Possibly shame, as preposterous as it was to think. While he knew now that it was okay to run to parental figures at any age for comfort, 15-yr-old minds have trouble grasping that. His certainly did. Added to the responsibility Red felt for being the oldest, it was no wonder he tried to keep his anxiety and nightmares 'on the down-low'.
But if Red wouldn't come to Splinter, then Splinter would come to him.
He stepped into the bedroom. "Raphael? Can you hear me?"
He waited until his son responded before moving any closer. The hyperventilation was slowly calming down and he could make out Red's form in the darkness hugging several of his teddy bears. After another moment, he was able to choke out some words. "Y-yeah, Pops."
Splinter moved forward and sat next to him, resting a hand on his arm. "Anatawa hitorijanai," he murmured, low enough he almost couldn't hear it himself. "I am here."
In the next second he found himself being squeezed alongside the teddy bears. He was a world-class ninja, a master of ninjutsu, and yet his son still held the record for fastest snatch-hugs. He tried not to squirm against the crushing grip and patted his elbow – the only part he could reach – affectionately. "Troubled, lately?"
"I don't even know why," Raph said, his breath tickling Splinter's fur. "Things have been normal. Or, as normal as can get for us. Sure, there's some crazy fights and weird adventures, and these BAI guys tracking down mutants, which I just don't trust… but it started happening before all that. I don't even know why," he repeated.
Splinter patted his arm some more as he heard his breath hitch. "Sometimes anxiety has no identifiable root," he said. "And sometimes it heightens precisely because things are going so well… and so it waits for the other shoe to drop."
His son thought about it for a moment and released him. "You think so?"
He stretched out the cricks in his back. Bone-crushing hugs were usually just an expression. "I know so," he answered amidst the popping joints. "I have been around life a time or two. And raise four sons." He hopped back on the bed. "Was it the impossible test again?"
"No." His son stared blankly at the floor. "It was the round room."
Oh.
That nightmare.
Splinter hated this one.
He peered at the teddy bears Raph was cradling and confirmed that Mayor Cuddlecakes was among them. Although raggedy and patched over, the toy had diligently been doing its duty for the past 12 years. Raph hugged it closer as he spoke.
"It's always horrible, but it's been playing just the end more and more. I don't spend as much time wandering around the sewers. The unfamiliar doesn't show up, it's like it's already there. And it ends when the dinosaur sees me and charges…" He shuddered. "Somehow it's still scary."
"Hmm…" Splinter twisted one of his whiskers. "That is interesting. You know, in the beginning, you always said the 'dinosaur' saved you."
"I did?" His son's astonishment stink wafted over him. "It did?"
"Oh yes." He nodded, and pretended he was just getting more comfortable instead of scooching away from the smell. "The dinosaur scooped you up and took you out of the round room. At least, that was how it used to go."
"I don't remember that." Raph looked off in the distance. "But, I guess it does change a little every time."
"Dreams do that, especially as we grow and encounter fresh circumstances." Splinter finally gave up on pretense and hopped off the bed. "The fortunate news is that dreams are not the only ones that can rewrite themselves. We have that power, as well. Your strength is not just physical, my son."
"I guess so." Raph finally smiled. His back straightened. "Then we'll let Raph dictate the ending next time!"
"That's the spirit," Splinter approved. "Mind over matter. Take charge of your own fears."
"Yeah!" Raph abruptly stood up, spilling the teddy bears. "It's like what Donnie says about seizing the day. Carpet Demon! Unfamiliar suit, it's time for some mental smashing!"
"Uhhh, perhaps." He didn't think that's how the expression went, but he was here to positively reinforce his son, not correct him. "Do what you do best. You are a nightmare for nightmares to handle, and do not forget that."
"Awww, thanks, Pop!"
"Of cou-oof!" Several things popped as he was caught in another hug. "Anytime," he wheezed.
Mercifully, the hug was brief and his son's post-nightmare anxiety seemed fully gone. Splinter saluted him as he exited, ready to take on the day, some (suits? Did he hear that right?) and perhaps a real carpet demon, too.
As soon as he was gone, he slumped.
Why was that nightmare back? It had been ages (that he was aware of) since its last occurrence. He had hoped to never deal with it again.
It was only a reminder of his greatest failure.
He was pretty certain by this point that none of the boys remembered it. It was the worst week in his life. Freshly and fully mutated, struggling to set up a semi-recognizable home in the sewers, he had his hands full with survival and the upkeep of four tiny lives. They were growing quickly, they understood nothing, and he himself was massively unprepared for the whole situation.
Red had wandered off. He was missing for six days.
Splinter had searched every inch of the sewers he knew during that time, frantically calling and sniffing for his boy. He even left notes in case Red stumbled across areas he had already covered, even though the young turtle could not yet read. So, while he was a terrible artist, he tried leaving pictures, too. The other three cried constantly, aware that something was amiss. Fearful he would lose them too, and even more afraid of what they would see should he find their brother, he had to quietly lock them up in a makeshift room after they lapsed into an exhausted nap every day while he searched. He himself didn't sleep a wink.
Just as he was about to give up, he found him far out in the sewers by the East River. It was miles from home, and his son was snarling and savage and bit him several times before he was able to calm down. Splinter still had the scars from those bites hidden under his fur. He was just so happy he was alive that he hadn't bothered to treat them at the time.
The nightmares started after they returned home. No longer feral, the toddler had babbled nonsense. Shadows, a scary, white, round room, and a creature he thought was a dinosaur rescuing him. He couldn't stand sleeping alone and cried horrendously when left by himself for any length of time.
It wasn't long after that that Splinter made an excursion to the surface for a first-ever non-survival need. Upon his return, Mayor Cuddlecakes was introduced to the Hamato clan.