Only One
Summary: Splinter began a new life with four sons but the dangers of living in the sewers of New York include sickness, cold and accidents.
Disclaimer: I do not own TMNT. Viacom does.
Two: Cold
It was the coldest New Years night that New York had felt in the last decade and Splinter huddled with his three sons beneath a blanket together trying to keep the biting chill away. The electric blankets Splinter had fished out of the dump at the onset of autumn were now faulty and simply pieces of cloth covered plastic now.
He could hear the sound of his each of his son's teeth chattering as they pressed up against him, trying to get warmer. The three two year old toddlers had managed to find snow that had fallen through some drainage grates while he was out searching for more food for them to eat. They were wet and shivering when Splinter returned and he did not know for how long they had been playing in it. They had all been cold to the touch and were shivering violently from their unsupervised activity and he did his best to dry them off and for the next few hours try to stave off their chill.
Shivering from the cold himself Splinter took some time to rotate a violently trembling Michelangelo inward and move Donatello a bit further out since he had stopped shivering and was letting out a big yawn instead.
"Ssleepy Ssplinter," Donatello mumbled, his drowsy voice was slurring up to him as he awkwardly rolled to his side and pressed lightly next to Splinter's leg.
"Sleep then my son. It will be warmer in the morning when the sun comes up," Splinter assured. Donatello smiled blearily up at him and shifted to move between Splinter's legs, curling close to his knees and Splinter didn't protest since he was cushioned from directly touching the ground by a thin sleeping bag beneath them. Raphael pressed closer to Splinter's right side and Michelangelo did the same on the other side, mirroring each other. Surrounded by his now quiet and slumbering sons Splinter himself began to fall into his own sleep.
The shifting of Raphael and Michelangelo as they began to wake up roused Splinter from his own sleep a few hours later. He sat up slowly, gently dislodging them from his side as he did so, and moved his arm up to shake Donatello awake so they could all eat breakfast together. He was startled to feel that Donatello was no longer cushioned between his legs but was down by his feet instead. For some bizarre reason Donatello had also pushed the blanket off of himself sometime during the night causing him to lay outside of its relative warmth.
"Are you not cold Donatello?" Splinter asked wryly as he patted his still son on his shoulder. His son's flesh felt cold and firm and he suddenly felt a jolt of fear sparking through him like a bolt of lightning. Donatello was definitely much to still and cold for his liking. Splinter hurriedly lifted Donatello into his arms and rushed quickly in order to try and rub some heat and life into the still body. But even after almost an hour of constant pushing on Donatello's plastron and breathing warm air into his still lungs there was nothing he could to to get a spark of breath or the flutter of a heartbeat back into his son.
He once again had lost a son and he wept bitterly while his mind tortuously and mercilessly told him it was his own fault his son had died. How could he not have felt his precious boy shift away from him in the night? How could he have not pulled his son close to him when it was so cold out last night? His son, his precious son, was dead.
He clung to Raphael and Michelangelo as a lifeline on the evening of the New Year as he was forced once more to build a pyre for another of his sons. Seeing their father weeping they cried alongside him, not quite grasping that they had lost their brother, but feeling their father's sadness all the same. The only thing crossing into Splinter's mind was the repeated thought that his son was gone forever and it was all his fault.
I feel as though my heart must stop with pain. I miss you so, the darkness will not pale. My darling child, come to me again.
Two
