So. Here we are. After twelve years, we've finally reached the last chapter. I'm a little embarrassed that it took me so long to finish, but when I think of everything that's happened during that time, I realize that I could have very easily not finished it at all.

Thanks for all of your patience and support, and sorry again for taking so long. Please read on, and I hope you enjoy the last chapter of Michelangelo.

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Heart

"No beauty shines brighter than that of a good heart."

~ Shanina Shaik

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There were times when Splinter wondered if he'd made the right choice in training his sons to be ninjas. It was not a question of ability, for all of them demonstrated great skill, but rather...

For all of their prowess, they were still so young.

He had trained them in the ways of ninjutsu because he had no delusions of safety, being what they were. As they grew older and became involved with the enemy of his past while gaining a few of their own, he only became more certain that he had done the right thing. Still, there were times- times when his sons would come home battered or with darkened expressions -that he couldn't help a pang of regret and doubt. Couldn't help but wish that they had been allowed to grow up as normally as they could, free from constant threats to their lives and able to pursue their interests to their heart's content.

This sentiment only seemed to double when it came to Michelangelo.

Out of all his sons, Michelangelo was the only one who consistently seemed to not take his training seriously. Splinter knew he could, as he always made sure to focus during times of danger, but it was the rest of the time when the lack of dedication became glaringly obvious. He'd lost track of how many times he'd had to pull him away from something or other in order to train.

He felt that pang of regret again as he remembered flowing words and lovingly crafted drawings hidden in plain sight in various notebooks scattered about in a messy room. Out of all of them, it was Michelangelo who had truly lived up to his namesake. His passion for the arts was as beautiful as it was heartbreaking.

Artists had no place in a battle.

(Would he be better off away from this life?)

Despite that, he would be lying if he said a small part of him didn't think it was a shame because Michelangelo was physically the most suited for their lifestyle. He had a natural speed and grace that his brothers had to work hard to match, and even then Michelangelo still managed to fall just behind Leonardo with only half the effort- and would actually pull ahead in training on those rare instances when he decided to give his full attention to the task. It had been a sore point among his other sons for quite a while, he knew, but as they had never confronted Michelangelo about it he'd left it alone. He had tried to get his youngest to focus- various times, in fact -but he eventually accepted that it would only happen when he deemed it so, not another, and likely never as completely as his brothers.

His son did not have the heart for ninjutsu. Not truly.

"No way! They actually exist?!"

He was momentarily distracted from his musings at the exclamation, and looked over to where Michelangelo was leaning over to look at something Donatello had pulled up on his computer, eyes wide and jaw hanging open in shock. For his part, Donatello looked up from his seat and snickered, auburn eyes bright as he reached up and gently closed it for him.

"Pretty cool, right?"

"Pretty weird is more like it! Though I gotta say, having a white shell like that seems like it would be awesome."

"The rest of you would be white too. That's how albinism works- although there is a condition known as leucism, which could be considered a sort of partial albinism. Technically, I suppose it would be possible to have just a white shell, but the odds of that happening while not affecting any other part of your body are pretty low."

Michelangelo considered that for a moment, then shook his head with a laugh.

"I think I'll stick with my lovely complexion, thanks." He looked back at the screen and his eyes widened again as he pointed to something. "Woah, what's that one called?! The one with the weird-lookin' nose?"

"Hmm? Oh, that's a spiny softshell turtle."

"Bet you're glad we were just the normal pet-store variety kind of turtles, huh Donnie?"

"Actually, it would have been fascinating to study the physical differences in our bodies if we'd been different species. Would the mutation have augmented the more uncommon traits those different species have or would it still have focused on our more humanoid ones? For example, spiny softshells are an aquatic species so..."

Donatello continued, gesticulating almost wildly as his words gained momentum. Michelangelo remained unusually silent as he went to pull up a chair, though Splinter managed to catch the smile that flashed on his face while he did. It was not his typical wide grin but something smaller. Softer. Full of warmth and fond amusement. It was gone by the time he faced Donatello again and settled down beside him, replaced by boisterous laughter and random comments and questions that had his brother either shaking his head or shaking in mirth.

He felt something in him soften in turn at the sight, and when he closed his eyes again it was with a smile of his own.

Their conversation faded into the background as he meditated, although it seemed his thoughts weren't quite as serene as his surroundings as he soon found himself contemplating his youngest once more. He allowed himself to be carried away by them, as it was often when one was not searching for answers that they would find them.

'He has a gentle heart,' the familiar voice of his Master Yoshi echoed within him, pride and sorrow twining and melding into something bittersweet. 'Mercy and understanding flow from him as naturally as the breath in his lungs.'

'Yes,' he agreed, his ears drooping as this only reminded him of his earlier doubts.

While Master Yoshi's teachings encouraged forgiveness to those who had wronged you, they both knew that it was not an easy thing to do. Even he, who strove to follow those teachings as faithfully as he could, struggled with it.

All he had to do was remember a cold-blooded man, a buzz saw that came close- so very, frighteningly close -and the raging, pleading, terrified cries of his boys.

(He would not mind if he failed in this lesson)

Michelangelo, on the other hand, never seemed to hold a grudge. He might dislike or be wary of someone, yes, and was sometimes scared, but he seemed as incompatible with genuine hatred as oil with water. When he grew angry- truly angry, and not simply annoyed or irritated -it was just as intense as Raphael's, but always short-lived. He had only witnessed it a scant few times, as it was actually quite difficult to push him to that point, but it had been enough. As furious as Michelangelo became, or as much as he may have been hurt, he would never allow that to determine anyone's fate.

"Do it! Finish me!"

"I don't think so. My father taught me better than that."

(His sweet, peace-loving Michelangelo. He prayed that the suffering and heartache that tended to follow those who walked that righteous path would spare him.)

He lacked the capability to harden his heart, and while not necessarily a bad thing, if not careful it could very easily lead to a life of pain and regret.

"Owowow! Leggo, Raph!"

"Forget it, Mikey! I warned you I was gonna get payback for that little stunt you pulled!"

The sound of Master Yoshi's laughter slowly faded as he pulled himself out of his meditation to see what new mischief his sons were up to now.

In the time he'd been meditating, Raphael had joined them in the recently established communal area of their new home. He had also somehow managed to pin Michelangelo to the ground and was holding his arms behind his back.

"Which one? Ow! Dooonniieee!" he looked up with pleading eyes as he wriggled around and tried to free himself.

"You're on your own, little brother," Donatello playfully responded. "If Raph's mad enough to get you back when it's been long enough that you can't even remember what you did then you probably deserve it."

"Foul! Nepotism! I demand a fair fight!"

"Nepotism would include you too, you goob," Donatello laughed. "But congratulations on using it more or less correctly."

"I'm surprised he even knows what it means," Raph smirked.

"Yeah, it means you've got a big fat butt- guh!"

"I would suggest trying not to insult the turtle that currently has you at his mercy, Mikey."

"Twinepotism!"

"Not a word, but points for creativity."

"'Sides, Donnie and I ain't twins, bonehead."

"It's true."

"Please, you two totally give off twinergy. Raph is the crazy, hotheaded, overly-obsessed-with-sharp-objects twin and you're the level-headed, smart, whack-you-with-a-stick twin. Two peas in a pod! Peanut butter and chocolate! Yin and yang!"

". . ."

". . ."

"...You know what? Sure. Let's go with that," Raph agreed before looking up at Donatello with a grin. "What do you say, twin o' mine? Should I lay off?"

"Hmm...Nah," Donatello smirked. "Let him suffer a bit more."

"Huh. Maybe he's on ta somethin' with the twin thing after all."

"You're both jerks," Michelangelo huffed, letting his head fall to the ground as he pouted. "As the youngest, I should be treated better."

"Oh, yeah? Says who?"

"I do," Leonardo, who had returned not too long ago but chose to watch from the entrance finally spoke up as he shoved Raphael off with a smirk of his own. "At least for today."

"Leo!" Mikey cried theatrically as he jumped up and clung to him. "My hero! I knew you were my favorite for a reason!"

"Hey!/Oi!"

"Good to know," Leonardo chuckled and rubbed the top of Michelangelo's head before pulling away. "And, to cement my place at the top, I've brought you something."

He gestured to the table where some familiar-looking boxes were steaming invitingly.

"PIZZA!" Michelangelo squealed. "Leo, you're the best! Have I told you how much I love you?!"

"Oh, so now we're resorting to bribing? Way to play dirty, Leo."

"All's fair in sibling war," he retorted. "Not my fault you didn't think of it first."

"All joking aside, is there a reason for this?" Donatello asked. "Some sort of special occasion we should know about?"

"No, nothing like that," he shrugged. "Felt like it, I guess."

"Well, you won't hear me complainin'! Let's dig in before it gets cold!"

Raphael and Donatello started heading toward the table, but just as Michelangelo started to follow, Leonardo held him back.

"Hang on, Mikey."

"Can you make this quick? Raph and Donnie are gonna get all the good slices!"

"Don't worry, it won't take long," Leonardo said. "I just wanted to say...Thank you."

Michelangelo stopped, an expression of confusion settling on his face.

"Huh? For what?"

Leonardo smiled warmly, his eyes shining with gratitude and affection. "For being you."

The words were heavy with something unspoken, and perhaps Michelangelo felt it as well since he did not immediately respond. Instead, he turned to face Leonardo completely and gave him his full attention. After a moment, he seemed to find whatever it was he was looking for and smiled back.

"No need for that, bro," he told him. "I'm just glad you're back."

"And I'm here to stay," Leonardo assured, bringing Michelangelo into a side hug before grinning. "So. Would you say this Padawan has learned the lesson properly, Master Michelangelo?"

"Hmm, yup! But you still have a long way to go before you reach my level of awesome, young kumquat."

Leonardo froze, his head snapping to the side as his eyes widened.

"Who-?! Where did you hear that?!"

"It just came to mind and I thought it sounded funny, but your reaction makes me think this is something I'm gonna want to use a lot more."

"Mikey."

Michelangelo broke away with a cackle of laughter, dodging a playful swipe and darting toward where Raphael and Donatello were waiting for them.

"Mikey, seriously! Where did you hear that?!"

"I've got mystical psychic powers that let me see the future- ahh!"

Leonardo had tackled Michelangelo to the ground where the two began to roughhouse, grinning widely all the while.

"Should we-?"

"And let them remember there's pizza to be eaten? No way."

"An excellent point. Pass me a plate, would you?"

Eventually, they did remember about the pizza (with a cry of outrage towards Raphael and Donatello on Michelangelo's part) and the four settled down.

"Ah, wait! Almost forgot!" Michelangelo cried. He looked over and waved with his almost ever-present grin when he noticed he was no longer meditating. "Master Splinter! Leo brought pizza!"

"I heard," he couldn't help but quip, his whiskers twitching in amusement. "You may go ahead and begin. I shall join you momentarily."

"Don't have to tell me twice- oh, no way! You even brought my favorite! Leo, I love you! I really do!"

"Okay, now I know you're bribing the knucklehead."

"If I am, you'll never know why until it's too late."

"Yeah! Best sleep with your eyes open tonight, Raphie, mwahahaha!"

"Eh. Three outta ten on the evil laugh scale."

"You're next, Donnie."

"Oooh. I'm quaking in my nonexistent boots."

Splinter felt the sound of his sons' laughter wash over him, so carefree and bright that it brought tears to his eyes. Their days had been so dark and uncertain as of late that he had begun to fear he would never again bear witness to them being so content. Seeing it now was like watching the sun rise after a long and terrible night.

(And at the center of that sunrise was Michelangelo.)

He was still turning that comparison around in his head hours later, long after his sons had gone to sleep.

"Master Splinter?"

It was a hushed whisper, so unlike what he was used to that it took him a moment to place who had spoken.

"Michelangelo. Is there something wrong? Why are you awake?"

"I forgot to feed Klunk," Michelangelo admitted sheepishly. "He woke me up cuz he was hungry."

"Ah, I see. I hope this is not a regular occurrence."

"No, no! I would never neglect Klunk like that!"

"I know."

And he did. Michelangelo would sooner forget his own name than willfully neglect anyone he cared about.

"Hey...Are-...are you okay, Master Splinter? You seem kind of...I dunno. Funny."

"I am well, simply thinking."

"About what?"

He debated for a moment, wondering if he should respond, but perhaps the best way to settle his thoughts would be to hear from the very one they concerned.

"You."

"Me? Uh, if this is about the kitchen incident, I swear I wasn't-"

"No," he interrupted. "Although that is good to hear."

"Then what is it?"

"Are you happy?"

It struck him then that this was the unknown question that had been plaguing him all day. The one that his thoughts and meditation had been trying to answer without the words ever being spoken. Now that they had, he was balancing on the edge of clarity, simultaneously eager for and dreading the response.

Michelangelo remained silent.

Splinter felt his heart become heavy, but before he could speak, Michelangelo set Klunk down and gently shooed him away.

"I don't think anyone can be happy all the time," he replied at last, quiet and contemplative. "Even me."

"Michelangelo-"

"I know, I know. That's not what you meant, but it's definitely my answer."

"Please. Explain what you mean, my son."

He sighed and rubbed his face with one hand, something that sounded suspiciously like 'Leo didn't fall far from this tree, did he?' muttered under his breath before he walked over and sat beside him.

"If you meant 'do you like being a ninja?' I'd be lying if I said I hadn't wanted to do other things instead sometimes. If you meant 'are you comfortable with the things we have to do?' I'd also be lying if I said it got any easier. If you meant 'am I happy with the life I have now?'...Yeah. I am."

His brows furrowed. "But-"

"I love playing. I love reading comic books and skateboarding and watching TV. And since I know you've already seen'm, I like writing poetry and drawing things. But, you wanna know what I love more than all of that put together?"

Their eyes locked, and he could see the answer clear as day and resolute even before Michelangelo continued.

"I love my family. You mean the world to me, and not being happy with the life I have now would mean sitting on the sidelines as all of you go headfirst into danger over and over again, unable to do anything but watch. And I can't do that. I think I'd go crazy if I did." He looked down, his hand clenching in his lap. "So even if it doesn't seem like it...Even if I whine or complain or slack off training...You don't ever have to wonder if I'm happy. Because nothing could make me happier than being able to stand at your side."

He felt his heart ache, but it was a pleasant one, free from the insecurities of before.

"My son...Thank you. It brings me peace to know your true feelings on this matter."

"I'm glad I could help."

And that was the crux of it all. Michelangelo was many things, but at his core was a good heart. It might not be one fond of ninjutsu, or with the ability to steel itself when needed, but it was one capable of easing their burdens. Of bringing much-needed light and joy into their lives. Of reminding them to keep to the honorable path.

It was a heart that beat for others. For them.

And they would do their best to keep it safe.

"I am proud of you, Michelangelo," he murmured, pulling him into his arms.

Michelangelo was quick to return the embrace, a happy, but small and almost inaudible chirrup escaping him when he did. "Thanks, Dad."

"And you really should think about getting your poetry published. You truly do have a way with words."

Michelangelo pushed away first, his face flushed. "M-Master Splinter! You totally ruined the moment!"

Finally giving in to the urge, Splinter threw his head back and laughed. Deeply and with full abandon. Michelangelo, although still notably flustered, joined in moments after.

They fell asleep watching television, and when he next woke, Leonardo, Raphael, and Donatello had joined them on the couch- the sight so reminiscent of the way they'd pile up together when they were younger that he decided to let them rest a while longer. It would not harm them to skip practice for one day.

A moment of calm in the storm of their lives.

And it was all thanks to Michelangelo.

Chapter End XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Chapter End

Did you know that Mikey has been canonically known to write poetry? I loved that little bit of trivia when I first found out, and I had to include it here somehow.

Anyway, I have been having a tmnt marathon since Sunday- a turtlethon, if you will. I just finished season three of the 2003 series and have already started season four at the time of posting this chapter. It definitely helped with writing this, that's for sure. Splinter was a bit hard for me to pin down if I have to be honest.

Hope it wasn't too bad.

That aside, I'm so glad I managed to finish this. It was originally planned to be part one of a five-part fic series, but I'm sort of afraid to even think about starting the next one given how long this one took, ahaha. I'll post what I had in mind below, and if enough interest is shown in it, I'll see about writing Donnie's next.

But for now, I'll be continuing my turtlethon.

Thanks for reading! Take care and, to quote my favorite turtle just because, cowabunga!

Outline/Idea for the rest of the series:

Genius- a reflection on Donatello by Michelangelo

Common Sense- a reflection on Donatello by Raphael

Courage- a reflection on Donatello by Leonardo

Kindness- a reflection on Donatello by Splinter

OoOoOoOo

Strength- a reflection on Raphael by Michelangelo

Common Sense- a reflection on Raphael by Donatello

Disobedience- a reflection on Raphael by Leonardo

Action- a reflection on Raphael by Splinter

OoOoOoOo

Perspective- a reflection on Leonardo by Michelangelo

Courage- a reflection on Leonardo by Donatello

Disobedience- a reflection on Leonardo by Raphael

Duty- a reflection on Leonardo by Splinter

OoOoOoOo

Heart- a reflection on Splinter by Michelangelo

Kindness- a reflection on Splinter by Donatello

Action- a reflection on Splinter by Raphael

Duty- a reflection on Splinter by Leonardo