Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT

A/N: Here is the second chappie! I would like to thank rockpaperscissor for beta reading it for me. I hope that you guys like it well enough and think that it still fits into the contexts of Splinter's character.

Chapter 2

Preparation

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I tied the last thong, glad that the board was there so that his head did not loll. The thought of that still made me shudder.

A warm hand was on my shoulder. It did not seem to be there, my skin was numb and refused to acknowledge it. So I did nothing. A tense moment went by, but sure enough, the hand slid off.

Before, I would have been appalled at being so cold to someone, especially when they're trying to comfort me at this time. Before, I would have handled things differently.

Before, I would have been the one to comfort the others.

But this wasn't before - it was after. And now that it happened, and it no longer was an absent thought, I did not think it odd at all. It wasn't rude or perhaps it was, but in any case I did not care.

Better that they not get involved.

My sons were dead. Dead!

I slowly started to lift the first one. Immediately hands appeared and came to my aid, helping me lift the body of my son onto the pile. I did not say a word. I did not even acknowledge their presence. There was no need - there was no reason, no thought to that action.

They assisted me in carrying the other three bodies to the pile. There I arranged them with care, neatly lying side by side and wrapped in the canvas bags that I had sewn for them.

The bodies had been cleaned by my own hands with painstaking care. I had fashioned a special board for Leonardo to lie on, securely tying both his head and his body so that he would go to peace intact - I had at first considered sewing him and his disjointed head together, but quickly discovered that I had neither the stomach nor the heart for the task.

Then I wrapped them, and only then did I call Ms. O'Neil and Mr. Jones.

I did not tell them what they would find when they came. The words would not come out yet, although I did manage to convey some sense of urgency. Perhaps it was wrong, perhaps it was cruel, but once again, I simply did not care enough.

Their shock was considerable, but they hid it well, trying to be strong for me, I suppose. It was considerate of them. My eyes, swollen with tears, and the blood I had still not washed from my paws must have been all too apparent.

Ms. O'Neil could not hide her tears, though. She kept a straight face but nonetheless could not hide how they ran down her cheeks. After a mumbled excuse no one really listened to, Mr. Jones left the room for quite some time. But I understood - when he came back, his face was red, eyes swollen, and his knuckles bleeding.

They were going to be burned. Their spirits, rising to the heavens.

Donatello's friends at the floating junkyard were happy to oblige an area where we could be alone. They shook my bloody hand. Offered their condolences.

I do not care for condolences.

The others quickly sensed my mood and made no other move to comfort me. Just as well. I needed the pent-up emotion; I needed the bottled sorrow and anger. They alone would be my driving force for my next action.

I had brought all of my incense with me to the burial. I had quite a lot. Some years back my sons had managed to 'acquire' quite a bit of a spicy wooden incense that I particularly enjoyed. I think they had stolen an entire tree and splintered it, just for my use.

All gone. I covered their bodies and the edges of the wooden pile with this as well.

In their shrouds they were to be burned with everything on them - their masks, their belts, their little communication devices, everything.

That is, except for their weapons. I would need those, to disperse the grief within my soul.

Silently I wondered if I would have the courage to do so when the time came. The one weapon that I could not keep was Leonardo's katana. Only one, that I could not bear to touch.

The one that those ingrates had used to cut his head off.

But in the end, duty was greater than my dismay. I could hardly bring myself to touch it, but could hardly let him leave this world without the wretched thing. So I put that in the shroud with him, as a testament of what I should do for him - no, of what I will do for him.

Without saying a word to any of the humans present, I slowly walked over to the torch and took it from the homeless human professor. It was already lit. I looked him squarely in the eye, letting him know that I wanted to do this. Something about my stare must have frightened him, for he took a few steps back before bowing his head and giving it to me.

I considered putting the flame out and relighting it myself but I decided against it. There would be no use in such a gesture. No use at all.

Slowly I walked over to the pile where the four covered remains of my sons were. With the same timed slowness I lowered the burning
torch to the wood. The shrouds, splattered with lighter fluid courtesy of Mr. Jones, immediately lit in a blaze. The tongues
of fire licked their bodies, covering what was left of my sons with a keen, blistering head of flame. It lit the surrounding wood as well.

I stepped back. The entire top was lit in flame now. I could hardly make out the bodies of my sons through the reds, oranges and yellows.

At first I had wanted to set them out to sea in this fashion, but once again prudence intervened. I felt a burning hatred at the humans,
that I was not even allowed to have a funeral for my sons as I wished it simply because we were different from them. Instead I had to have them burned on a filthy garbage barge.

Insolent humans. True, the humans we knew had been kind enough to clean out the area of the trash surrounding it, but I could still smell the filthy garbage.

My fists tightened around my walking stick. Their blood was still on my paws.

I heard Ms. O'Neil break into a sob behind me. I spared them a glance. She was leaning on Mr. Jones shoulder, keening. Her shoulders shook violently.

His eyes were not clear either. I could see tears welling in his blue eyes and coursing down his cheeks as he looked silently upon
the burning bodies. The light of the flames reflected off of their human skin as if in some sick dance.

The other humans that my sons knew were there as well. The child, Angel was there. She was sitting on the floor, hugging her knees and sobbing furiously into her arms. All the humans that owned the barge were there of course, not a
single one of them with a dry eye.

For a moment my heart felt somewhat lighter at the thought of all these friends. This wasn't all of them, either. There simply had not been time to call them. I'm sure, for instance, that Usagi would like to come, but unfortunately the problem of my species interferes with it again.

I have no access to original burial practices. There would be no embalming. No preserving of the bodies with professional care. No pretty casket. As much as I hated thinking about it, my sons would start to decompose within a few days. As
much as I would want all their friends to be there, waiting was out of the question.

I would want to have them put to rest in this manner in any case. It is more traditional for me. And this way there would be no way that their bodies could be subject to any sort of experimentation. The mere thought of it curdled the blood in my veins.

Selfish bastards.

Finally I turned to look at the flames myself. I could feel the heat of the fire from where I was standing. I simply stared at it, at the tongues of flame twisting and dancing upon the bodies of my sons so joyfully, it was like almost as if they were mocking my grief.

The smoke rose and filled my senses. I could detect the smell of burning flesh, wood and my incense all in one breath. I could hear the crackling of the flames, the cackling of wood and flesh, crisping grotesquely in the night air. It was like a bad dream.

My heart felt empty and full at the same time. It was devoid of any emotion, yet contained so much of it that I felt as though it were about to burst. That might be an odd description, but regardless of strangeness it was true nevertheless.

Above all, it hurt. It hurt like nothing that I've ever felt before.

It hurt.

I could feel the lump in my throat ready to choke me, the tears awaiting to come so desperately they burned holes into my eyes, the shuddering of my muscles, threatening to give way at any moment.

But I wouldn't succumb to any of those temptations. No. I could not. Once again I tried to look forward to the time ahead, to the seppuku. I would go with honor and leave my body lying amongst the refuse. There was no reason to go on anymore. No reason but the one burning in my head. The one that I must carry out to regain my honor. To keep my sons’ honor. That is all that matters.

Yes, all that matters.

I sighed heavily and leaned on my walking stick. I would likely have to leave it behind for this one. No matter. None at all. What must be done will be done.

I have not told any of the others of my plans - there is no need, no reason to do so. It does not matter. Once they leave I will be alone in any case. It doesn't matter how large of a crowd that I am in, I will always be alone.

That is also an odd way of putting it. Alone in a crowd. I believe that it has been used before.

The flames slowly started to spread to the wood piling below their bodies. The flames climbed higher, burned brighter, hotter. I began to feel the heat on my face.

I pictured my sons as I always do, as my innocent children. My babies. They hardly ever heard me talk of that. I called them sons many many times, but children? Babies? I had figured that they wouldn't like it -they are stubborn teenagers, after all.

Were.

Suddenly a thought stabbed at my mind like a stake in the heart. When was the last time that I had told them? When did I last tell them that I loved them? Frantically I searched my thoughts.

It wasn't before I left. The previous night they chose to stay up watching a movie and I was so exhausted I simply fell into my bed asleep. Was it that morning? Perhaps the previous one? I don't believe so, they are usually grouchy in the morning. Not too much closeness at that time. I pull and search at my thoughts like a thing possessed. When was the last time? The further and further I had to reach back into time the heavier and heavier that my heart had gotten. Do I really tell them so little? Share those words only for specific times?

What is wrong with me? What kind of father was I, that I did not tell them of my love for them more often?

Finally I found it. Three days ago, after giving them a stern lecture followed by something a bit more uplifting. I remember it clearly,
praising each of them in turn and telling them "I love you all, my sons." I whispered the words over and over through my dried lips, staring
mesmerized into the flames that were now burning their corpses. "I love you all, my sons."

A chink formed in my protective wall and the first tear appeared. It welled on my lower lid, blurring my vision of the flames. Angrily I
blinked it away but it wouldn't go. Another one accompanied it immediately afterwards. I sank my teeth into my bottom lip, welcoming the pain, tasting the blood upon my tongue hoping that these tears, these last vestiges of my armor would go away but they didn't. Instead they welled and finally spilled down my cheeks.

I am dishonored. To lose my children, my sons, my students in such a way that I was not there to defend them. I was not there to die
righteously by their side, I was not there... Instead I had been off reveling in my 'alone time', never realizing that some evil force was fighting with my sons to the death while I frolicked in the sewers.

What kind of father am I, that I would not tell them that I love them each and every day? What is so wrong with me that I actually have to sit down and think of the last time that I had told them?

The last thing that I had told them, I remember, was to behave. They had been rambunctious that morning. That was the last word they heard. Behave.

Blinking, I realized that more time had passed than I had originally thought. I could no longer see the bodies of my sons, wrapped in their
burial shrouds. The fire was more than half gone and was now a giant bonfire, lighting the sky and showing their souls the way to the stars. That is what I had always told them, that the stars are the fires of all the honorable samurai and ninja that have ever served and that one day they would join their ranks. Of course I had thought that I would be up there before them.

Before them.

No father should outlive his sons.

I would look for their stars in the midnight sky every chance that I got, until my deed was done. Yet I planned to do it soon, so it was likely that I would not have time to look. No matter. I will find them and tell them I love
them when I join them within the next few days.

At home I thought of the things that I had prepared. The spare kimono that I had, one not as worn which had been made by my own sons for a Christmas present. It was patchy but the scraps of material had been scrounged for years before they were sewn together. It was a fine kimono, one to commemorate their memory in. Their weapons were lying in my room, just as they had left them; bloodstained and worn. I wouldn't have it any other way. I left some incense burning as I left, to spice the air.

And finally the tanto, the one that had once belonged to my Master Yoshi. It was with this tanto that I would commit the act of seppuku if time allowed. If the task that I had ahead did not interfere too much with it. I did not suspect it would.

Naturally I knew how it was done, cut yourself from left to right across the abdomen, then drag the blade upwards to allow the disembowelment to be complete. There was no one to cut off my head for me but I expected that I must make do with what I have.

No matter what happened from here on, I was determined to join my sons on the other side.

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A/N: Ooooh. What will happen next do you ask? You will simply have to tune into chapter 3 to find out! Tell me what you guys think of this installment. I also have it posted on SS so if you're there feel free to tune in as well. Let me know any predictions, thoughts, or wishes. I have no problem with long reviews, in fact I love them so don't be afraid to ramble!

Toodles!