Author's Note:
To the Guest: Thank you!
To the Guest: See how not abandoned this story is! Let's hope I'll have more time to write it in the weeks to come.
Opportunity?
If Donnie could have stopped time right here and now, he would have. He could have stayed for all eternity in the warm embrace of his family, listening to his father tell them how much they were loved. It made him happy, even though he was crying like everybody else; and thus it took him several seconds to register Raph's words.
But then these words shattered Donnie's cocoon, bringing him back into the world–the real, ugly world.
Because Donnie didn't understand what Raph had said. The words taken separately had a meaning that he knew, of course–but together?
This was disturbing him in a familiar way; this was a puzzle, a mystery to solve, and the cogs in his brain had started their unstoppable dance.
Raph had said that he was sorry. What for?
This required a chart. Donnie would have drawn it at once, but this meant leaving Splinter and his brothers, and he didn't want that. Donnie wanted to bask in their love forever and ever and ever, not just for one minute and forty-five seconds. Forty-six. Forty-seven.
But the mystery of Raph's words remained, and the urge to get his hypothesis out of his head was becoming harder and harder to ignore, and Donnie had to move, and he leaned on his injured foot, and he couldn't help hissing.
And then Mikey and Leo were watching him in concern, and even Raph was raising a teary-eyed face towards him.
"Donnie?" Mikey looked down, and frowned when he took in the bandage on Donnie's foot. "What happened to your foot?"
"It was an accident." Donnie shifted uneasily, as if this could lift the weight of his brothers' worry. "I was surprised when I…" He glanced at Splinter. "I, uh, wasn't expecting..."
"You weren't expecting me," Splinter said softly.
The kitchen filled with awkward silence, broken at regular intervals by Raph's sniffling, and Donnie felt like he had ruined the moment for them all.
Leo wiped his tears as he took a few steps back. In the end, he hadn't made the conscious decision to throw himself into Splinter's arms and cry; his body–his heart– had decided for him.
Like his heart was telling him now that Raph desperately needed some alone time with their father, before the guilt he carried crushed him.
Leo hadn't realized Raph was harboring that much guilt. But then, Leo hadn't been on the rooftop with Raph and April and Casey and Slash.
Maybe if he had…
No. Such thoughts wouldn't lead him any place he was willing to go.
Leo tried to lock eyes with Donnie and Mikey, to see if they had come to the same conclusion as he had. Donnie nodded, giving Leo his silent support, and he teared himself off Splinter, limping a little as he favored his injured foot.
But Mikey was refusing to meet Leo's gaze, and Leo's heart sank. How could he ask his brother that? By what right would he deny him even a second of their father's presence?
He waited and waited, unwilling to make the decision, and Raph's half-repressed sobs made no sign of calming down.
There was no way out.
Mikey knew exactly what he had to do, but he didn't want to do it. Even when he felt Leo's slight touch on his forearm.
He shook his head, no no no. He didn't want to leave Splinter, even for a few minutes.
No.
"Mikey," Leo whispered.
And Leo's voice was so heartbroken that Mikey forgot to be mad at him. Yes, he could see that Raph needed to talk to Splinter. Or to listen to Splinter. And Mikey knew the feeling, because he was talking to Splinter every day, and Splinter never answered because he was dead and death worked this way, but now Splinter was not dead and he could actually answer, and there were so many things Mikey wanted to tell him as soon as he would find his voice again.
But Raph was still crying, so maybe it was better if he talked to Splinter first.
Fine. He would do it. For Raph.
Mikey let go of Splinter's body and sneaked in Leo's arms. He might move away from his father for the moment, but there was no way he would trade his presence for the emptiness and loneliness of cold air.
Splinter didn't miss the way Leonardo was herding Donatello and Michelangelo out of the kitchen so he could talk to Raphael in private.
He smiled his appreciation to his three sons while he tightened his embrace on the fourth.
Raphael hadn't moved away from him, but he still wasn't looking at him. He was hiding in his robe like he hid under blankets when he was younger and didn't know what to do with his intense emotions. Before Splinter allowed his sons to leave the lair and Raphael chose physical exertion instead.
Splinter let his eye wander over the room. It was as familiar as ever. Still, Splinter would have rather had this talk in the dojo, but maybe the kitchen was a better place. Less formal.
The last thing he wanted was for Raphael to feel like he was being lectured.
"Raphael," he said in his softer, most obviously loving parental voice. "You don't need to apologize to me."
Raph realized too late what his brothers, these traitors, had been doing. Now he was trapped in the kitchen with Splinter, and he couldn't run away without making his father even more suspicious than he already was that something was wrong with Raph.
Not that his whole being wanted to. He was torn between the part of him that wanted to be anywhere but here, and the part of him who was latching on Splinter like there was no tomorrow.
Raph made a mental note to get back at his brothers later and tried to focus on what Splinter was saying. Because Splinter was talking, and he might expect Raph to answer.
Splinter was saying that Raph didn't need to apologize. But Raph did, of course he did! He had been there when Splinter had been killed, and he hadn't been able to save him, even though he had trained so hard for so many years to make sure he could always protect his family and in the end…
"Hblmblm," Raph said, in an attempt to explain this to his father.
His voice was muffled because his head was buried in Splinter's robe. Maybe he should try to raise his head and look at his fa–and look at the fridge behind his father.
Yes. That would do.
"I tried, Sensei," he whispered to the fridge. "I tried so hard. And it wasn't enough."
Splinter's arms were grounding him, so it was only a bit like the words were knifes in his mouth.
"It's always enough when you give it your all, my son," Splinter answered.
And Raph frowned, because he didn't want any stupid wisdom like that. He wanted Splinter to understand. He wanted him to know.
"I was there!" he yelled to the fridge. "I was there, and I… I couldn't..."
Was Splinter rocking him? It wasn't bad. It helped. A little.
"I couldn't… do anything. I couldn't stop him. I was so close and I thought we had won, and all I did was watch when you..."
He choked on his next words.
I'm so sorry.
"My beloved son," Splinter whispered, his voice hoarse. "I'm the one who should be sorry here. I don't know what happened, but I know I would never want you to carry such a burden. I would never hold you responsible for my own choices."
Splinter paused.
"I would never, ever, think that you didn't do enough for me and for your family."
Raph wanted to believe that so, so much. He needed to believe that. He was ready to believe that, if it was Splinter talking, and maybe his brothers had known and maybe this was why they had left him alone with Splinter but he was still going to get back at them and anyway he was sure they were eavesdropping.
He would have, in their place.
He stopped looking at the fridge to meet his father's gaze.
"Sensei, when you're on the rooftop and you think it's over, don't turn your back to the edge," he said, trying to gather his thoughts. "Or even better, don't leave the lair. Or..."
Raph took a sharp breath as he began describing the events prior to Splinter's death the best he could, and he pretended not to notice when his brothers came back into the kitchen.
Maybe they could still save Splinter. Maybe that was why he was here, so they could warn him and he didn't die. Because the universe had realized how wrong it was.