Raphael had broken a bone in his foot when he was twelve. It had hurt to break and hurt to reset, but the worst part of the whole experience was the smirk on Leonardo's face as he watched Raph get up off the operating (kitchen) table sniffling. "Wanna lollipop? What a brave boy," he'd teased, ruffling Raphael's nonexistent hair. "It's going to be all better."

Michelangelo and Donatello had laughed too. Raphael had been completely mortified and had promised himself he would never cry again. Three years later, that promise still held…

Now he watched Shredder sleep, jealous as hell of the way he had taken his stitches without a murmur. He didn't scream once, Raphael admitted to himself, Not when he got hurt and not when Splinter fixed it. Lucky old creep. He hadn't had any serious injuries himself since that stupid broken foot, and he was just itching for a chance to prove how much he'd grown up since then. Let them break his foot. Let them break his head, slice off his tail and poke out his eyes, he wouldn't say a word.

But no, oh no, now that he'd finally had a chance to be a man about it and go down fighting and come home respectably bloodied up, the stupid old can-head had managed to ruin it for him. "When you wake up I'm going to pound you," he growled out loud.

Oops. Shredder stirred and open his eyes, then jerked upright in bed. "Whu-? Who's there? You. Turtle…" he shook his head.

"S-Sorry," Raphael stammered. "I was just…checking on you. Like to see if…see if you're aright." He watched hungrily for the slightest wince or grimace, but Shredder only lay down slowly again.

"See if I'm all right? Of course I am – I was only sliced to ribbons. Why wouldn't I be all right?"

Oh, and he could joke about it, too. Raphael watched him for a few more minutes, unable to decide whether he wanted to be him or just kill him.

Leonardo, on the other hand, never had such questions. He knew what he wanted to do with Shredder, and he knew he wanted it done as soon as possible. Days had passed, though, and Splinter still showed no signs of wanting to be rid of his guest. Instead, he treated him with infuriating politeness and silenced all of Leonardo's attempts to argue the issue.

Leonardo decided it was time for his daily effort to sway his sensei. He entered Splinter's room and closed the door behind him. "I know what you're here for, Leonardo."

"Master Splinter, he's clearly not dying, and it's been practically a week. Can we please-"

This time Splinter didn't even let him finish. "He is unarmed, my son, and hardly in a condition to do you harm. I have already told you that when I feel it is time for Shredder to go, I will send him. In the meantime, you must learn to govern your emotions."

"Govern my…what?" Leonardo echoed. "Is that what this is about? Me learning to control myself?"

Splinter rapped his stick on the ground. "Not everything is about you! For heaven's sake, Leonardo, will you please try to think the way I have taught you? What does Shredder gain by staying here?"

"Um…" Leonardo racked his brains. "Nothing?"

"Good. And what does he lose?"

Ah. He hadn't thought of that one. "Well, Krang won't be too happy with him, will he? And…and while he's here he can't help train any more foot soldiers…and he can't get any training in himself."

"And most importantly," Splinter added, "by living in close quarters with your enemy you begin to know him. Although clever, Shredder is inflexible and so what you learn about his mind now will always be useful. I want you to use this opportunity to become familiar with him, because there is none of you who can see into the mind of an evil one the way I can…and I may be gone before too long." He sighed. "I wanted to raise you in safety, but it seems I sheltered you too well. In particular I worry about Michelangelo – he has no conception of what it means to-"

Leonardo hated to interrupt his father, but this could not go on. "You're not going anywhere, Master Splinter," he said firmly. "Don't be morbid." After a moment he added, "And now I understand why we are keeping Shredder. I'll make something up so he doesn't get suspicious. And I won't question your decision again." He bowed and went out.

"Good," Splinter muttered once he had gone. His eyes darted for a moment towards his closet, where Shredder's bloody armor lay neatly stacked on the floor. He shivered. The sooner his sons understood his objective and achieved it, the sooner he could eject the houseguest who was, despite all the appearances to the contrary, grating on his nerves more and more each day.

In Splinter's presence Shredder remained cold and aloof, every inch the captive Ninja master patiently awaiting a chance to escape. But each time the rat left the room, he and Michelangelo argued like children. Every day.

Until eventually Michelangelo pushed too far. "Leave me alone, chrome-breath. We all know you're jealous. We remember the time you were brainwashed and you were down here trying to surf the sewers on my scooter. Dude, you know you wanna be me."

"Be you?" Shredder echoed scornfully. "Whatever for? I am superior to you in every conceivable way and I can't imagine a single advantage to becoming you for one tiny instant."

Michelangelo took out his chucks and performed some fancy twirling. "Can't do that like me."

"I could, but your rat took all my weapons."

"Can't sewer-surf like me."

"Of course I could – if your rat weren't determined to keep me indoors."

"Can't scarf pizza like me."

"Oh, no?" Shredder's eyes narrowed.

There was a tense silence. Raphael broke it with a loud laugh. "Well, I'll call the delivery boy."

"Prepare to be humiliated," Shredder rumbled.

TBC…

Yes, this chapter was a bit silly, and yes, the next chapter will contain a bit of silliness too (it's TMNT, after all!). But I swear, the story is going somewhere. Thank you for your suggestions thus far. Keep 'em coming!