Disclaimer – Sadly, I don't own them, so don't sue. Thanks to all who read and those who reviewed, big hugs and warm cookies from me. These selfless caring folks are – Reluctant Dragon, Leo Oneal, Mewfew, Mikaela's Spade, Katana Babe, Chibi Rose Angel, Ramica, Jessiey Landroz, and Lunar Ninja.

And, yes, it does seem that I am updating rather quickly with this story, especially compared to how long I had been away, until recently. It's the way the muses work, but one thing I believe helped me get back on track. I blocked out each chapter to the end when I found myself clueless with how to go about getting there. It helps, folks, so if you're straggling along, then block out your chapters. You might end up with more chapters that what you block, as ideas come and go, but blocking the story gets the mind back on focus again. All I can say, is to try it.

Oh, and this is for all you Raph fanatics out there, you shameless fan girls! LOL

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Chapter 22 – Inner Turmoil

He made sure that everyone had retired to their rooms before heading off to bed, but as he looked towards the end of the line of sub cars and gazed pensively at what was Raphael's bedroom, Splinter sighed. He knew that his tempestuous son would come out eventually, well after everyone else had drifted off to sleep. Yet, it wasn't Raphael's hunger that worried the rat. It was his heart.

Sighing deeply once more, and with his walking cane in hand, the old master made up his mind and padded slowly over to the door in question. The tap of his cane softly echoed within the lair as he made his way to his petulant son's room. When he reached it, he placed his walking stick in front of him, leaning onto it with both paws firmly grasping the head. Then, Splinter softly called out, "Raphael, I wish to speak with you." He waited…and then he waited some more. The rat knew that his son was awake and hoping that his father would ignore him.

However, this night, Splinter wasn't in any mood for such things. "I will not retire this evening until I have spoken with you, Raphael."

Years of living with the tenacious ninja master had taught Raphal one important lesson; his father always meant what he said. After a moment, the door slowly opened, almost silently - except for the soft scrap of aged wood within wood, as it slipped into its pocket, revealing a somewhat grumpy mutant turtle on the other side.

"Yeah, Sensei?" he asked dryly. Raphael had his mask on, which was quite unusual since there wasn't any need for it. Only outside the lair was it necessary, although he and his brothers usually continued wearing them until they withdrew to their rooms for the night.

Nevertheless, it was obvious to Splinter that one of two things was true. Either Raphael had every intention of going topside for a night of patrolling – and, more than likely, some 'head butting', as he liked to call it – or he was hiding something. As it was, Splinter suspected both, although he felt the latter speculation probably held more truth than not.

"Are you not going to invite me in?" the rat asked simply.

"Ya need an invitation?" the turtle remarked quickly, almost snapping the words. In the next instant – after seeing the one raised eyebrow from his father, he realized his disrespect and countered his rudeness. With a less caustic voice, the turtle entreated, "Sorry, Sensei, yeah…I…ah, guess ya can come'n." Raph stepped aside and waited, watching his father watch him and realizing that the rat would not tolerate any smart remark. He heard Master Splinter snort softly in mild irritation before stepping gingerly inside the car. The aged ninja then looked around Raphael's room.

The bed, tucked into the right-hand corner, had its covers rumpled about, as if someone had tossed and turned on them. The desk, a simple construction consisting of a wooden plank lain across two sawhorses, sat shoved up against the wall just left of the bed. The cluttered top had several, partially eaten apple cores, banana peels, empty bags of snacks, several aluminum soda cans strewn about it that the rat assumed to be empty, and a few equally empty beer bottles as well. Splinter worried a great deal over Raphael's beer consumption. Although his son had yet to drink any more than a six-pack a week, knowing what he dealt with internally was a powder keg waiting to blow. The rat feared that this recent turn of events between Beth and Leonardo would be just the fuse to light such a volatile situation.

Yet, instead of focusing on the obvious, the rat gently remarked, "It looks as if you have a healthy supply of recyclables, my son. I am sure they will fetch a decent return." Splinter smiled inwardly as he noticed Raph wipe a hand nervously across the top of his head, sensing the underlying meaning behind his master's words.

"Here, Sensei," Raph finally offered, going over to his bed to sweep it clear of the crumpled linen, "ya can sit here. I – ah – changed th'sheets las' week, they're rel'tively fresh – I –ah – think." He looked back at his father, the subtle almost indistinguishable hint of anxiety edging his expression.

"I am not so old that I cannot stand, my son," Splinter smiled, "But, I wish for you to sit."

Raph looked around the room anxiously and nodded, swallowing as he replied, "Yeah, sure, ah…guess I will," and sat down on the edge of the mattress. He then looked at his father. Having Splinter in his room, standing, and with himself not sitting on the floor at the rat's feet, seemed – weird. He knew that when Splinter called for any of them, those invited were required to sit in front of the rat, either in a lotus position or on their knees. The fact that Splinter insisted on standing, while Raphael sat on the bed - and not in one of the two traditional positions - had made the turtle nervous. He knew that whatever his father was going to say was serious.

"Raphael," Splinter said, turning his gaze away from the eclectic collection on the desk to that of his son, "please explain to me your behavior from earlier."

"My – behav'yer?" Raph swallowed, and then remembered, "Oh, yeah, that – ah, my…behavior." He looked away and heaved a sigh, "Kind a' hard t'explain, Master Splintah."

"Try me," the rat said simply, bowing his head a little non-threateningly.

Raphael looked back at his father and smirked, saying as he did, "Might not be what ya want t'hear."

"So far, Raphael," the rat replied dryly, "this evening has provided me with many things that I did not want to hear, or see, for that matter, but what is done, is done." He smiled a little, "I doubt very much that I will be surprised with anything you might tell me."

Raph studied his father, saw the earnest expression of a concerned and worried parent, and recognized one important fact. He was alone with him. There wasn't any Mikey, or Donnie, there sure was sure as shell no Leonardo, and Beth…well…he hoped that Beth was asleep. He couldn't risk her overhearing him. He could care less if Leo did, or even his other brothers, but for Beth to overhear what was on his heart would be the worse thing to happen. "Okay," he finally said, his voice unusually quiet, "guess yer sort a'been med'tating on this, eh?"

"No amount of meditation can make up for parental intuition, my son. Your distress was as noticeable as a neon sign," the rat chuckled lightly, "yet distressed you are, and I would like to help you if I can."

"No off'nse, Sensei, but ya can't help me w'this one," Raph challenged benignly, straightening up on the edge of the bed, as he swallowed back his frustration.

"Hmm…is that so," his father replied, "Then, maybe it is not I who should be standing here, but maybe it should be – Beth?" He looked compassionately to his son and saw an immediate change in Raphael's coloring, a new kind of tenseness forming along his facial features. It was then that he spied the damp condition of the eyeholes of Raphael's mask. It was obvious to the rat, then, that his son had been crying.

Raphael's fists clenched and his facial muscles tensed. "It's not about her," he said defensively through clenched his teeth. There was a subtle catch in his words, as well, as if he bit back a sudden rise of emotions.

Splinter stood there, silent, and waiting, looking at his son with compassionate eyes.

Raphael hated that expression most of all and the way his father would react whenever he knew the answer to any of his son's problems. Whenever he would hit it dead center, Splinter would then wait, silent, as he was doing now, and for as long a time as was necessary.

Consequently, despite his denial to the contrary, the red-banded turtle couldn't convince even himself that Beth was not the problem.

"What am I t'do, Sensei?" he asked, hanging his head as he caved under his father's loving stare, his voice nearly cracking under his pent-up rage. He looked back up to his father with pained eyes, "I mean, how often…fer that mattah, how likely…is it for anyone from topside t'love any of us?"

"Not often, or likely, Raphael," the rat replied calmly and honestly.

"Leo's not even hisself, ya know; what if he 'wakes up' all of'a sudden, becomes his old self, what then?" Raph ranted quietly, now slipping off the bed to stand, beginning to pace his room, as his arms gestured about. "If he evah gets back t'normal, again, he's gonna hurt Beth, hurt'er heart." He realized that he had spoken too loudly, causing him to look anxiously towards the barrier that separated his room from Mikey's.

"And you won't?" the wise master asked.

Raph stopped his pacing and stood in shock before his father, "Why'd ya say that? I – wouldn't hurt her, not like that. I'd be committed to'er, not t'some 'patrol duty' the way Leo was, before he started rebellin', well, not that patrol isn't important, but there has t'be a balance somewheres; don't ya always talk about finding balance, Sensei?"

"Yes, I do, but I'm wondering if you know yourself as well as you should, Raphael?" Splinter asked. When he saw his son just stare at him, oblivious to his meaning, the rat continued, "You have always had a problem with your temper. You throw things, you storm about, you use profanity and derogatory remarks, and intimidate your brothers whenever they 'bother' you."

"Okay, but they deserve it at times, but I won't do that, not t'my wife…ah…well, if I had one, that is," Raph replied defensively, trying to keep his voice low.

"How we react when we are with our family, Raphael, is how we will be towards those that we are to love," Splinter said, "the fact that you treat your brothers as you do, will only be manifested in the one you share your life – and your bed – with. For they will be closer to you both physically as well as spiritually, privy to your shortcomings and your strengths, as you will be to theirs." The rat took a deep breath, as if to muster up strength, and remarked, "You have deeply affected Miss Beth ever since she arrived in our lair, and not for the better. She could never see you the way you want her to, because you have treated her as you have everyone else in your family. Instead of being angry with your brother – and with her, in finding love, you should be happy for them."

Chastised and resigned, Raphael knew that his father was right; he always was. He looked at his mentor, his master, and the faintest tremble began along his bottom lip. He took a deep breath to push back the undulating emotions brewing just under the surface, but as he was about to challenge his father, Splinter shared one final thought, "You need to make amends to Miss Beth, Raphael." He saw his son's eyes go slightly wide, "Whether or not Leonard regains his memory, Miss Beth will always remember you. To let her go back to her apartment knowing you the way you have allowed her to see you, is a travesty for this clan. She is only a woman, a girl, and if she cares for your brother, that is her choice." He smiled a little, then, "Besides, you can always use this opportunity to practice the charm that I know resides within you, if only you would be brave enough to use it."

Raphael's challenge melted away, for he knew – once again – that his father was correct. He had acted inappropriately, if not immaturely. It wasn't that he hadn't been aware of it, it was only because of what Leonardo had gained in kissing Beth that bothered him the most. Yet, he had to realize, as well, that for even one of them to earn the attention and the affection of someone from topside, was nothing short of a miracle.

"When she leavin' fer home, Sensei?" Raph finally asked in a voice less volatile, his head bowed in defeat. His angry mood dissipated quickly as he thought about not having the right moment to make amends with the girl.

"If Donatello deems her fit and she is on the mend tomorrow and without any threat of infection, then by evening of the same day," the rat replied. "If you want, I can arrange for Michelangelo and Donatello to take Leonardo on a training run through the sewers. That way, you can be more relaxed with out your brothers as witness, when you rectify this rift between you and Miss Beth."

"That, would be nice, Sensei, I'd like that." Raphael looked up at his father, knowing that the offer would only give him enough time to express his apologies, beg her forgiveness – and hopeful silence on the fact. After all, he did have a reputation to uphold. Yet, considering Leonardo's own injuries, the run would not be long. Nevertheless, his father's offer was a generous one and for that, Raphael was grateful. However, knowing Splinter's position on relationships, he couldn't resist asking, "So, what changed yer mind about Leo likin' Beth?"

Splinter chuckled a little as he looked slyly over at his son, "Raphael, there are some things that, no matter what a parent wants, their child will have regardless. If you found someone that you loved and who loved you back, and I told you to end the relationship – would you?"

Raphael quirked an eye-ridge and a smile, asking, "Is that what Don calls a rhetorical question?"

Laughing a little, the rat nodded, "Then you understand that asking Leonardo to forget Beth when he has already accepted how he feels about her would be a waste of time." Splinter sighed, "As much as it worries me, I would rather my sons find love while they are living here me, than to run away in pursuit of it." Shaking his head, he lamented softly, "I was foolish to think that I could control any of your hearts on this matter."

Raph stepped over and hugged his father, "Yer not foolish, Mastah Splintah, just human…well, almost, anyway."

"Indeed!" the rat simple said, giving his son a hug in return, and chuckling a little.

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