Chapter 3

Six months earlier, August 28th; 2:47 a.m.

Pneumonia can be a scary thing. With a young, healthy person it should pass on its own. But when attacking a smaller child or an old man, like my father, the outcome can be dire. And it can happen so fast. Much too fast for those around to grasp. One moment they would get sick, and then as the next one comes... they'd be dying.

The nights were always the hardest. He'd wake up constantly, choking on his own mucus. And the few quiet moments he didn't cough his lungs up, I would sit there and stare at him, trying to see if he was breathing or not.

I hated those dark nights. And lately I'd been fearing there would come one he wouldn't live through. I feared one of those nights would take him away from me and start the new day without him.

We took turns in watching him, my brothers and I. And so as I sat there on his bedside, in the darkened subcar, Raphael sat on a chair across from me, watching over him from the other side of the bed. The room was filled with sickness. Sickness, fear and bitter thoughts. A morbid atmosphere hung in the air, hovering over us like a thick fog. Too thick for any of us to break through. And as the disease progressed, the dull fog slowly spread itself across the rest of lair, until there wasn't a single room that wasn't covered with it.

I caught Raph staring at me, the one lit candle in the room lightening up parts of his face, while most of it was kept hidden in the shadows. Much like he kept his feelings - hidden. He had his arms crossed on his chest, a very common image of him, as he looked at me from across the bed. His gaze was steady, solid. And his eyes had a look I was yet to mirror - acceptance.

The only sound between us was Splinter's wheezing, his sweaty chest rising with each struggled breath; draining him on more energy. And so we sat there, staring at each other, none of us speaking a word, or even making the slightest effort to do so.

I felt like he was trying to wear me down with his eyes, forcing me to accept what he already had. We weren't there to care for our father, at least not the way I wanted us to. Because in my mind, we were there to heal him and help him back to the life he led before. But Raphael's bitter look told me he thought otherwise. He knew why the two of us sat there, why we stayed awake - night after night. We were simply there to help him and keep him as comfortable as the situation would let us.

If nothing else, we were there to support him, even if it was the only thing we could offer in the end.

Our eye contact was suddenly broken as Sensei stirred in his sleep, his body cramping in pain. Our attention was immediately directed to him, and it didn't take long for me to get up from my chair. I leaned over him, affectionately caressing him on his furry, sweaty forehead, fear building up inside of me when I realized how much warmer his touch felt underneath my hand.

His fever was out of control.

I sent Raph a critic glance to let him know how serious the situation had turned, before I reached for the bowl of water on the nightstand beside me. I picked up the soaked cloth and wrung it with my hands, the tepid water pressing out between my fingers.

"It's lukewarm," I said as I tenderly applied the cloth to his burning forehead. "You've gotta go and get some new water," I ordered, holding out the glass bowl for Raph to take.

He wordlessly accepted it and hurried out from the subcar, leaving the two of us alone.

I turned back to my father, studying his features as they twisted in pain. For a moment, I wondered how much he understood. Was the fever too far gone or did he know that he was dying?

I froze at the thought, my hand clutching the towel in fear.

It was the first time I admitted to myself that he wasn't going to make it, that he really was dying. Up until that moment, I had never even allowed myself to think it, as if it might come true if I did.

He suddenly started coughing, his body convulsing during the attack. Sometimes, he would get the attacks in his sleep, too tired to even wake up from them. But this one was really bad. He woke up from the lack of air, terror visible in his worn, runny eyes.

Perhaps he does know, I thought, suppressing the thought as fast as it appeared. There was no time for thoughts. He needed help. I could always worry later.

I lifted him up into a seated position, his body cramping in my embrace as I held onto him. The only thing I could hear was the rattling sound in his chest, his phlegm stuck in his trachea, keeping him from taking a proper breath of air into his aching lungs. His slender fingers gripped onto my upper arms, the nails cutting into my skin. It would've hurt, had I been in any other situation. But as the tragic moment swallowed me whole - it didn't.

The sound of his coughing echoed in my ear, where he rested his head. But I didn't care, because I was relieved to hear the phlegm in his windpipe break free, some of it coming up in his mouth. I held him closer to me, one of my hands gently caressing him on his sweaty back.

"It's okay, Sensei," I hushed, hoping my touch was comforting him in some way. "You're okay."

I felt his warm, rugged breath against my neck, some of it blowing in my ear. But even if the attack was over, his body remained tense. Because he was still scared, just like I was.

I heard Raph's footsteps coming from outside and as I looked up, my father's head leaning against my shoulder for support, I saw him appear in the doorway with the glass bowl in his hands. It was obvious he had heard the coughing from the kitchen. Because I noticed a dreaded look in his eyes, one that quickly transformed into relief when he realized our father was able to breathe again.

I motioned with my eyes towards the bedside table next to me, still keeping my arms around Splinter. So Raph hurried into the subcar and circled the foot of the bed, coming up behind me where he set the bowl down.

I adjusted the sweaty pillows with one hand, still holding onto Sensei with the other, before I gently leaned him against the pillows. Even as I laid him on the bed he clung to me, as though he was fearing the worst if he were to let go.

"It's okay," I whispered, my face a few inches from his as I looked him straight in the eyes. "I'm here."

I noticed his features relax a little, his eyelids dropping slightly as he released me, putting his hands on the covers, which I began to adjust. But then I thought the better of it; we needed to get his temperature down. He had to cool off. So I loosed the sheets, making sure he wasn't tucked in all the way up to his chest.

"Where's the...?" Raphael asked from behind me. As I turned my head around to look at him I realized he was talking about the cloth.

"I dunno.." I mumbled, turning back to search the bed. "I had it a few seconds ago..." My hands frantically fumbled over the sheets, trying to find the towel in the darkness. Panic often came afterwards in a situation like this, when there was time for it.

"Wait," Raph said and bent down towards the floor. When he got back up he held the cloth in his hands. It must've gotten tossed to the floor during Splinter's attack. He dipped it in the bowl, soaking it in cold water and wringed it; allowing the drops of water to land upon the smooth water surface in the glass bowl; creating rings of water that slowly expanded in the bowl.

I moved aside to let him attend to our sick master, observing him as he gently dabbed the towel on his forehead, Splinter closing his eyes at the touch. I realized then, as I watched Raphael caring for our father, that there was a lot more to him than he would let onto. Underneath that hard shell of his, a gentle person hid. It was a real shame he only surfaced in situations like these.

Raph glanced at me when he turned around to soak the towel and, for some reason, I felt like I was barging in on his privacy. Like I had done something wrong. So I stepped around the bed and sat down in the chair Raph had used earlier, scooting it closer to Sensei.

My red clad brother placed the cloth on Splinter's forehead, leaving it there in hopes that the cold water would ease his fever. Sensei was still breathing heavily, every single muscle in his body tired from the attack. I gently reached out my hand for his, taking his warm paw in mine. I felt him squeeze my hand a little, as if telling me he appreciated the gesture, but his eyes remained closed.

I looked up at Raph, our eyes meeting swiftly in the darkness, before he broke away to sit down in the chair I occupied a few minutes ago. Then, when gently using my thumb to stroke the hair on my father's hand, I caught Raphael staring at me again - his gaze as solid as before. A part of him looked sad, yet, another part of him looked like he accepted that, as though he had been living with the feeling for a long time.

It's one of the scarier things about him. Whether you're ready or not, you always see the truth when you look into his eyes. He has always been the one that comes to terms with things sooner than the rest of us. I guess that's why he appears to be so pessimistic, because he never sugarcoats the truth.

He just accepts it for what it is.

The moment was suddenly interrupted as I felt Sensei squeeze my hand, and when I turned to look at him, so did Raph.

His eyes were half open, a thick liquid having soaked the fur around them. He tiredly panted for air, but his chest barely rose with the rhythm, as if he was fighting for each breath he took. He weakly clicked his tongue, preparing to speak, and that single action alone caused the both of us to focus our every sense on him, like he was about to unveil the sacred meaning of life to us.

"Raphael.." he wheezed, slightly turning his head to look at the son in question.

Raph carefully leaned closer, his eyes asking Splinter to continue. I think our old father could've asked him of anything in that moment, because no matter what he said, Raph wouldn't have been able to deny him.

Splinter took a few strained breaths, keeping his dull gaze fixated on Raph until he found the strength to talk, "I need you to.. fetch.. your brothers," he breathed, gasping for air in-between words.

Raphael mutely nodded, well aware of why Splinter felt the need to have all of his sons present. So after sending me a swift glance, Raph rose from his chair and exited the room to wake up our siblings. Left in the carriage, with the fatal announcement hanging over us, were Splinter and myself; sensei and student; rat and turtle... father and son.

I wanted to stop the night from ending, keep the morning from coming. And I felt like I wanted to cry. But for some reason there came no tears.

I was numb.

He then turned his head around, tiredly rolling over on the pillow, and searched my frozen eyes for contact. When I felt his paw weekly squeeze at my hand for attention, I instantly turned to look at him, feeling slightly guilty that I wasn't a hundred percent present, like I had promised myself I would. I suppose in situations like these, you can't control your reactions to the fullest. You can merely deal with them as they come.

"Leonardo.." he panted, his eyes blinking in slow motion, much like every other move of his that night. "..my son."

I cupped his paw with both my hands, trying to comfort him with my eyes to the best I could. "Sensei, I'm here.." I whispered, slowly rubbing my thumb against his furry knuckles. "Try and relax. They'll be here any minute."

His chest rose at the fight for air, his lungs collapsing within him. "I apologize," he mumbled, his eyes welling up with tears.

"You have nothing to apologize for," I told him, figuring it was his fever and fear talking.

He weakly shook his head in disagreement, trying to get me to understand . Whatever it was that he was trying to tell me, it was obviously troubling him. "Before your brothers return.." he breathed, lifting his other hand to cup it over mine, "..there is something you must know."

"Okay." I nodded faintly, moving one of my hands to caress the one he held on top of mine; giving him my full attention.

"I've been... I've lied to you," he said, keeping his eyes locked on mine, guilt reflecting in them. "You must know.." he trailed off, having used up the most of the air he stored in his lungs. He closed his eyes in defeat, drawing back his ears.

"It's okay.." I whispered as he fought to catch his breath, to once again regain control over himself. "Take your time:" I tried to calm him with my hands, continuously stroking his.

He soon opened his eyes, still very focused on breathing. Then he caught me with his teary stare, "There was another one," he said, blinking slowly as he held my gaze. "When I found you.. there was another one.."

"Another what?" I gently asked him, trying to put together what seemed like random words to me. I assumed it was his fever talking, because he didn't make any sense. Then again - nothing had for days.

"There were five of you," he revealed, clicking his tongue in his mouth, his thick saliva sticking his lips together for a short moment.

I narrowed my eyes in confusion, trying to understand what he was trying so hard to tell me. It didn't make any sense.

He must've noticed my confusion, because he placed one of his hands on top of mine, keeping me from stroking him and earning my attention. He urgently bore his eyes into mine, needing me to understand, until he finally opened his mouth to speak again, "Five turtles," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

His message finally hit me, causing my eyes to widen in shock. Five? I asked myself, my mind trying to grasp the news. But how could that be? And how come he waited all this time to tell me about it?

I was at loss for words.

"I'm sorry, Leonardo," he whispered, squeezing his hand on top of mine. "I do apologize, but..." He faintly broke his stare - if only for a second looking up at the ceiling - before his eyes returned to mine. "You must know this."

"What do you mean, Sensei?" I asked, a little surprised I was able to say anything at all. I still wasn't sure I understood him correctly. It just didn't make any sense. How could there be five of us? And if there were... why would he keep such a thing from us? Why wait all this time to tell me?

"After I found you.." Splinter continued, his every word a struggle for air, using up the last amount of strength inside of him. "Before you got your names.. It was so hard," he murmured, his tears beginning to flood his eyes. "I had nothing.. You depended on me t-to feed you and I... I had nothing."

I held his hands tighter, my heart aching when I saw him like this; crying, fighting against time.

"You became skinny..." he said, the fur beneath his eyes wet from his tears, "underfed, and I.." he trailed off, closing his eyes in agony. "My best wasn't enough for you."

I felt my heart beating faster, my pulse racing inside of me. I couldn't move or speak. I couldn't do anything - except listen. I was so drawn in by his frail, emotional words. In that moment, nothing else existed.

"You got sick, and I..." he trailed off, opening his eyes slowly, his eyelids still heavy. "I had to make a decision.." he wheezed, his body tensing as he started coughing again.

I moved in closer, putting my left hand behind his neck to support him and clear his windpipe. I felt his body shake in my embrace, his hands gripping mine in panic. He felt so warm.

Dangerously warm.

Luckily this attack didn't last very long, but it still left him panting for air, trying to find his voice to speak again.

"You have to rest," I told him, leaning him back down again, making sure he wasn't wearing any covers.

"No," he refused, firmly locking his eyes on mine, not backing down even the slightest. "You must listen," he breathed. "You must know this."

"Okay," I mouthed, unable to make a sound. I sat back down in the chair, scooting it as close to the bed as I possible could, taking both of his hands in mine. Once the two of us found eye contact again, he continued with his confession,

"One of you.." he began, trying to catch his breath. "One was smaller than the rest.. frailer.." He swallowed hard, squeezing his hand in mine, which I tenderly squeezed back, removing one of my hands to fetch the cloth that landed on the covers when he sat up to cough.

"I had to.." he murmured, closing his eyes at the memory, looking as if he could break into to sobs right then and there.

"It's okay," I whispered, putting the moist towel back on his forehead, just above his eyes.

Splinter tiredly shook his head, opening his eyes after a few seconds, aiming them at me. "In order to save some of you.. to keep you alive.." his voice broke off, the tears beginning to have their affect on his vocal cords. He took a ragged breath to compose himself, boring his tired, black eyes into mine before he bitterly whispered, "I had to starve him."

My heart stopped inside my chest, even if it only was for a mere second. Had I heard him right? Did he actually just tell me that he starved one of us to death? One of my siblings? It was just so hard to picture it. My master - my father - doing something like that to a defenceless baby, even tough I understood why he did. But to make such a choice...

He must have noticed the change in me, because he suddenly started to explain himself, "I had to. You must understand, my son," he pleaded, his eyes wavering back and forth in desperation. "I had to focus on those with the greatest chance of survival. You must understand the circumstances. He was too frail.. so small."

"Why?" I asked, a little harsher than I had intended. Because even if I understood his choice, a part of me despised him for it. It was a strange feeling, one I had never felt towards my father before.

He looked at me with horrified eyes, as if it had been the reaction he had feared.

"Why're you telling me this now?" I wondered, still holding onto his hands, images of what might have been flashing in my head. "Why me?"

"Because," he breathed, boring his guilt-ridden eyes into mine, "it is you, Leonardo, I chose to be their leader. You have to look out for them when I'm gone."

I furrowed my eye ridges in confusion. "I don't understand.. Why are you telling me this? Why not Raph? Why not the others?" I shook my head in disbelief, trying to rid my mind of the horrible images that played out themselves. Images of a starving sibling among us, a fading creature that the rest of us pecked on - like animals. Like birds.

I felt him faintly squeeze my hand, the action causing me to focus all me senses on him again. He tiredly licked his lips, breathing heavily as he opened his mouth to explain, "As their leader, you will be forced to make hard decisions," he said. "Unfair decisions."

I didn't like the direction this was going.

"I pray such a situation will never show itself," he continued, blinking slowly; weakly. "But should it happen, you might have to chose between your brothers."

"What?" I cried, my voice getting caught in my throat at the shock. "Master, I couldn't-"

"You can," he insisted, encouraging me by squeezing my hands as he looked into my eyes. "You might have to."

I shook my head, disgusted with both him and myself that he could even bring it up.

"In battle," he wheezed, moving his face a little closer to me, "you might not always have the chance to help all of your brothers. You may have to sacrifice one.. in order to save two."

A shiver went down my spine at the cruel word. Sacrifice. How could I possibly sacrifice one of my brothers? Even if it was to save two of them?

"You must know this," Splinter continued, noticing I wasn't as perceptive to his words anymore. "As a leader, you must be prepared for this, should such a situation arise."

"I can't," I murmured, a lump beginning to build up in my throat, tears starting to sting my eyes. It was all too much to take. The news of a dead sibling, the fear of myself letting it happen to another. I could never do what he did. I just couldn't. And who was I to decide who should or shouldn't live? What made me worthy?

"I am sorry, my son," he whispered, tears soaking his fur as he looked at me. "The leader must always carry the heaviest burden." He paused for a moment. "I hope you understand that.. that I did what I had to do. I might have lost you all."

I met his remorseful gaze through blurry eyes, my tears about to fall.

Then, without any sings warning me, he burst into fits of coughs, his entire body cramping from the immense power.

I quickly reached over to help him, supporting his back to sit him up. He desperately clung to my shoulders as he searched for a chance to breathe, gasping in-between coughs. I fearfully embraced him, my arms easily reaching around his frail body. Soon I heard footsteps behind me, Mikey's voice calling out for our father,

"Master Splinter?" Worry, sadness and fear oozed off of it.

"Give him to me," Don said, stepping up beside me and reaching out for our old Sensei. I mutely stepped aside, figuring he handled this better than I did. He held him in a sitting position, pressing his ear to his back, listening to his lungs. "They're clogged," he said, fear dripping off of his voice. "He can't breathe."

Splinter desperately tried to inhale, the fierce coughing only causing him to choke on his breath before it even had a chance to reach his lungs. Tears practically shot from his black eyes.

"Sensei!" Mike screamed, pushing himself past me to reach him.

"Stay back," Raph said, grabbing Mikey's arms from behind, pulling him back to him. "Donnie knows what he's doin'." He supportively held onto Mike, both pair of eyes fixated on our choking father, whom Donatello desperately tried to help.

Michelangelo's face was the pure look of fear, barely breathing himself as the rattling sound echoed in the dark, crowded subcar. But then, as I turned to look at Raphael, I saw something completely different. Even though he too displayed fear, his fingers clutching Mikey's arms to the point of stopping his blood circulation, his eyes had the same look as before.

Acceptance.