The lab was eerily silent.

Splinter lingered in the doorway, observing the dark, quiet room. Usually, the place was filled with the humming of electronics, but since Mei's hospitalization, it had been quiet – everything was turned off except for the algae tank heaters, and they barely made any noise.

He flipped on the lights. The silence was interrupted by the hum of fluorescent tubes flickering on. He ventured in, looking to see if his un-mutated son was hiding in here anywhere. He hadn't seen the little turtle anywhere else this morning, and even without his sentience, the Donatello still seemed to prefer the lab.

Splinter allowed himself a moment of reminiscence. How many times had he walked in here to find Donatello neck deep in some ridiculous experiment? He barely understood half of his son's activities, but as he scanned the metalworking station, he felt a surge of affection.

Donatello had certainly taken his metallurgy to an entirely new level, but Splinter remembered setting up the very first basic station together. He needed to find a way to fix dents and bends in the weapons as they occurred, and naturally, his son had taken an interest in helping.

"Whatcha gonna do next?" Donatello had asked, watching as Splinter placed Leonardo's katana in the bed of hot coals.

"I will straighten it with this hammer," Splinter had replied.

"So first you get it reeeeal hot, and then you smack it?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"Where'd you get all this stuff, anyway?"

"You would be shocked at what this city discards."

"Yeah, but that funny foldy thing? It's awesome! Who would throw that away?"

"It's called a 'bellows.'"

"Oh yeah. I knew that, I just forgot for a minute. How does the 'bellows' work?"

Splinter wondered how Donatello did not forget more, considering how much information swam around in that head of his. "I told you already. Fire needs air to become very hot; the bellows pumps air into the fire."

"Ohhh…why?"

Splinter pulled the blade out of the fire. "Watch out, Donatello – the blade is extremely hot."

"Leo!" Donnie bellowed. "Get in here! Master Splinter's gonna smack your hot katana!"

Splinter was never a person who laughed very much, but he remembered nearly doubling over with laughter at the remark. He had almost dropped the katana.

"What's so funny?" Donatello had asked, his face wrinkled in confusion.

"Oh, Donnie-bo," Splinter had said, still chuckling. "Never mind. Just – never mind."

Donnie-bo.

Splinter's heart twisted at the thought. With Donatello gone, it would be his responsibility to fix damaged weaponry now. It would only be a matter of time – perhaps only a few training sessions – before something would need repair.

He was not sure he would be able to do it. Not with the pain so fresh.

He walked farther into the lab, looking for his son. "Donatello?"

There was a slight shuffling in response to Splinter's call; it seemed to be coming from the bookshelf. Splinter walked over to find Donatello perched on top of one of the books there – an extremely tattered copy of The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire.

He choked back an outburst. "I see you still like that book, Donatello."

Oh, Donnie-bo.

He remembered coming home with the discarded library copy of the book. He had been greeted an extremely excited 5-year-old Donatello. "Master Splinter! You got me another book?"

"Yes. It's a bit big, though, and some of the words might be tricky for you."

"Nah. I'm a big boy now, and I already finished reading that book of words you gave me last week."

Splinter had been dumbfounded. "The dictionary?"

"Yeah! I really loved it. Do they make one for Japanese, too?"

"Yes, but that might be a bit harder to find here in America."

"'S okay. I'll wait." He snatched the huge book from Splinter's hands and made a slight oomph noise as he took it. "I'm gonna read this now. Arigatō gozaimasu, Splinter-san!" With that, he had run to the other room as fast as his little legs could take him.

Donatello had always been so intelligent, so passionate about learning.

And now he was reduced to a mindless animal.

Splinter held back tears. Tears were a distraction; they inhibited the ninja's ability to be ready at all times, to maintain awareness at all times. How often had he told his sons to suppress tears? He prided himself on his ability to "keep it together," as Leonardo might say. But lately, he felt like he was falling apart. Months ago, when he had met Mei, he hadn't been able to hold in his grief – the worst parts of his past were dredged up for him, all of the self-blame and sorrow. Michelangelo had almost died, and the thought of losing his little Mikey-bo was too much to bear. He had almost lost control when April tried to kill herself, but he managed to hold it in for the sake of his sons.

But Donatello – to actually lose his son – he hadn't felt grief so profound since losing his wife and daughter. Now that there was a glimmer of hope, he was able to pull himself back together, able to forge on. After all, he had forged on when there was no hope – certainly he could do it now.

And just as he had his sons to help him with that grief, he still had three of his sons to help him now – sons that would make any man glad, ninjas worthy enough to make any sensei proud.

"Enjoy your book, Donnie-bo," Splinter whispered, letting Donatello return to whatever it was he was doing. He couldn't bear to stay and watch anymore.

He returned to the dojo to meditate; it was still only a little past four, and training wouldn't be for another hour or so. How he had let the boys convince him to push to morning training session from five to five-thirty was a mystery. Perhaps recent events had made him soft.

As he assumed the lotus position, he silently focused on the mantra Acknowledge; let flow. They were the words that had gotten him through much grief. Acknowledge the pain. Let it flow back into the energy of the universe. Do not fight it – simply let it be, and release it.

He felt himself becoming more at peace, more and more peaceful, peaceful and at one with the universe, drawing from its energy, drawing power and strength…

"Sensei?"

Abruptly, he snapped back into the present. He always hated it when his sons interrupted him; it made him feel like he was a diver surfacing too quickly. He opened his eyes and looked at Raphael. "You're up early, my son. Training is not for another hour or so."

"I couldn't sleep," Raphael said. He scratched the back of his neck. "And besides, my sai is kind of messed up. It's all out of balance. I was wondering if you could take a look at it before training gets started, so that I'll be on my best game."

Splinter stood up from the floor and took the offending sai from Raphael, cringing at the thought of having to repair the weapon without Donatello at his side. He spun it around several times and inspected the spire to be sure it was straight; he found its center of balance and held it on one finger.

There was absolutely nothing wrong with it.

"You are sure that this was the defective sai?" Splinter asked, looking sideways at his son.

There were bags under Raphael's eyes. He frowned. "Is there nothing wrong with it?" He pulled out the other sai and traded it for the one that Splinter had.

Splinter ran the same check; this sai was in perfect condition, except for a few scratches in the metal. He looked carefully at Raphael. "You are correct. There is a balance problem."

"I knew it. So how do I fix it?"

"Perhaps through meditation."

Raphael raised his eyebrows. "I'm no expert, but I don't think that's how it works."

"You mistake me." Splinter handed the sai back to Raphael. "The balance problem is not with the sai, but within you."

Predictably, anger exploded across Raphael's face. "I don't have a balance problem – maybe you're the one with the balance problem!"

"You have not been sleeping well, you eat much less than normally, and your training has suffered. It is obvious that you are out of balance."

Raphael bit his lip for a moment. With a snarl, he flung his sai across the room; they clattered to the floor. "How the heck am I not supposed to have a balance problem? Everything is out of balance – everything! You expect me to just turn off and not care, like you do?"

Splinter's own temper rose – unlike Raphael, however, he had learned to keep it in check. "Do you think I do not care, Raphael?" His own voice sounded dangerous to him, like a whetted knife ready to strike. He forced himself to reel in his anger: acknowledge, let flow…

"You sure don't act like it! You're all Mr. Peace and Focus, and you don't care that everything around you is falling apart!"

"This is where your trouble with balance is, Raphael. If you look closely, you will see that things are not falling apart, but coming together. It is only inside of you that things are 'falling apart.'"

"Gaah!" Raphael rushed Splinter, raising a fist to strike.

Splinter deflected it and flipped Raphael onto the floor. Raphael lay there, face down, his breathing ragged and full of rage. He started beating his fists on the floorboards.

Splinter remained quiet, vaguely reminded of Raphael's spectacular three-year-old temper tantrums. Now, as then, he waited until Raphael had exhausted himself. Fortunately, this only lasted a few minutes as opposed to an hour or more.

When Raphael was finally still, Splinter knelt next to him.

"It's not fair, Master Splinter," Raphael whispered.

"No, it is not." Splinter made his voice purposefully tender. "It is terribly unjust. But it is the reality of the situation. Sit up."

Raphael sat up. "How do you do it? How do you stay – balanced?"

"Meditation, though that is only part of it. The other part is that I redirect my focus. I think not about what I have lost, but about what I have. I try to think instead about my other sons – think of the joy that they bring me – the joy that you bring me, Raphael."

"I'm sorry," Raphael said hoarsely. "For saying you don't care. I – I've never been good at meditating. Not like Leo is."

"Leonardo still struggles to master it as well. He is not as good as you think."

A small smile crossed Raphael's face. "Really?"

"Really."

"Will you help me get better at it?"

Splinter put a hand on Raphael's shoulder. "Do you really need to ask such a question? Here. We will work on it now."

They both assumed the lotus position. Splinter was about guide Raphael through centering himself when Leonardo burst into the dojo.

"It's Karai. She has bad news."

Splinter sighed. Balance would have to wait.