She pushed the door open slightly. "Splinter?"
The light was out, the room pitch black. April held her breath, listening intently for the sound of Splinter's breath. An innocuous noise to most, but a vital barometer to his sons and to April. If he were asleep, he would be silent. Splinter had learned a breathing technique that allowed him to sleep without ever snoring. If he were meditating, his breath would be audible.
She heard a long, slow exhale, and she felt relief. He was awake.
She tiptoed in, tatami creaking ever so gently. She stopped short, four paces from the door. She knelt quietly, her polyester pants making an unfortunately loud rustle. She waited patiently for Splinter to finish whatever exercise he was doing.
"You are back." He remarked. Splinter's voice was soft, with an accent so familiar and comforting to her ears that she felt her fretting heart fall quiet.
"Yeah." She held out the last Go-Gurt to him. "I know you like the cheesecake one better, but the store just had blueberry and strawberry-banana this time."
She didn't see it, but felt it when it was removed from her outstretched hand. A gesture of politeness. Even with his arthritis, Splinter's touch was so light and subtle that one would only feel it if he wished it. She heard the crinkle of the plastic, and the delicate slurp of the saccharine-sweet snack.
"You must have some reason to knock on my door with such urgency."
"Well…" April's face wouldn't have been seen by Splinter, even with his incredible nightvision. He still needed some light, even something as dim as a spark. Her worried and troubled face wore its cares in secret. "I'm in some trouble, up topside. I got a subpoena to show up in court for that thing that happened last week. I gotta tell them at least some of the truth. But I can't tell them too much, and they can't catch me lying to cover you guys."
"Hmm…"
April waited, somewhat impatiently, for his answer. When it didn't come, she asked again. "Well? I gotta tell 'em something!"
"You described the police woman as an unusual woman. Keen-eyed and unyielding. A dedicated individual."
"She's a cop." April huffed. "It's her job to be nosy and obnoxious."
"The teapot calls the kettle black."
"Journalism is different!" April exclaimed. "And I'm not talking about her, I'm asking about what I'm supposed to tell this judge! I'm supposed to come into the court to sign a witness statement for the prosecutor next week. What do you think I should tell them?"
"The truth they need, and no more."
"How is that helpful?!" April balked. "What am I supposed to do, say that fairies whisked me away?"
"No," Splinter said evenly. "Plead the Fifth Amendment. Your words cannot be used to incriminate yourself or others without your ascent."
April was quiet. "I'm an idiot, aren't I?"
"No, you are frightened. Rightfully so." There was the hiss of a striking match, a flame flickering to life. Its tiny glowing shape stood upright on two tiny orange legs on its wooden perch, its little pointed head bobbing to and fro beneath his face.
Splinter's face was not long, but it was quite pointed. His gaunt cheekbones were obscured by a thin layer of scraggly brown fur. His brow and chin bore long, thin white brows and a long, thin white beard. He had one ragged ear, drooping whiskers, and wore an old brown yukata that was patched and stained in a few places. His long tail was extended away from his body to keep his balance.
It was not Splinter's appearance that frightened April. It was the pose he had taken.
"What the hell are you doing?"
One of Splinter's elbows rested on the floor, the crown of his head nested in his hand to support him. His legs stood straight up in the air, his robe knotted around his knees to protect his modesty. His tail waved slightly as he held up the lighted match with his one free hand. He smiled. "Salamba sirsasana. It helps with my hips."
April blinked. "O… kay? But why do it in the dark?"
Splinter didn't answer. He only chuckled. He lowered himself slowly, tucking his head under and rolling into a somersault. He stood up, the match still burning in his hand, as he lit a small scented candle. The room was filled with the smell of artificial pine.
Now that there was a little more light, it was easier to see. It would be easy to assume what an elderly man's room would look like, but Splinter was full of surprises. Next to a long scroll with an intricate watercolor tree and spidery black calligraphy, there was an autographed poster of Dolly Parton wearing a white cowboy hat and a pink frilled jacket. On the opposite wall, carefully displayed, was a wide range of knicknacks. Old swords from every country and era, a cracked '#1 Dad' mug, a cracked glass canister, old photographs of a smiling young Japanese man with various people, several books, and even a few Beatles records propped up on metal wire stands. A bonsai tree curled its branches next to a burbling fish tank with a single white and golden-orange koi. The little koi's gilded fins fluttered as it wove through the plants in its generous enclosure, the water clear and spotless.
Splinter carried the candle with him, setting it down to retrieve a can of fish flakes. "The law is a leviathan beast. Slow, ponderous, ceaseless. But, with cunning and patience, one that can be evaded. It is not the blind mediator it wishes to be. The more you hide, the faster it pursues you."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means 'get a lawyer'." Splinter smirked, whiskers twitching. He tapped a few flakes into the fish tank, the koi gratefully nibbling at the brown little floaties. "You are asking an old ninja for legal advice. I suggest you seek answers from one who can give you a clear path."
"Splints, I am fifteen. Where am I supposed to get a lawyer?"
"Your father."
The shadows around the room danced and flickered in the light of the green candle. April scowled, looking down at her slippers. "I… I can't tell him about this."
"You must."
"Please, c'mon!" April protested. "There's gotta be another way! My dad'd never agree to this. Hell, if he finds out I'm in real trouble, he might…" She drifted off.
Splinter turned, can of fish flakes still in hand. "You worry that he may remove your freedom from you. That he will forbid you from seeing us. Is that right?"
April couldn't meet his eyes. "Yeah."
She felt Splinter's hand on her shoulder. She looked up. His black, beady eyes were gentle and kind. "Near or far, you are still a part of our family. Whether he forbids it or not, that shall not change. I cannot protect you from this. You must be brave, April, and do what is right."
April gnawed on her lip. She didn't say anything.
"I know that you are not close. But, he is still your father. By law and by rights, he must provide for you. That means providing a means for you to find legal counsel."
"How can he provide for me," April's lip twitched with a quiet snarl. "When he hasn't even been in the same country as me since last year?"
Splinter gently pulled April into a hug. She put her arms around him, giving him a very gentle squeeze. Even with his short build and wiry stature, he was as solid as a tree. She could feel the knots in his muscles. The tenseness, the stiffness in his back and his shoulders. He smelled warm, familiar. A bit like an old fur coat. It was a smell that was embedded deep into her childhood memories.
It struck her, for a moment, that she couldn't remember what her real father smelled like. She had trouble even remembering his face, sometimes. Pale, red-haired, with horn-rimmed glasses. But it was a blurry memory, faded like a photo that had been soaked by rain. When she thought of her father, she found herself thinking of Splinter.
She let go of him. "I mean… it's, what, 8 PM here? Six hours ahead, that's 2 AM in Marseille. I can't call him right now, he won't even answer."
"I think it would be better to try. Your father would be very unhappy if you delayed in telling him any longer."
April gave this some thought. "Fine. I'll try and ring him."
Splinter urged her out of his room, sitting down on a stool next to her as she picked up the receiver of their landline phone. She curled her fingers in the spiral cord, stumbling over her words as she asked the operator to place a collect call to her father's hotel phone number in France. She reached the hotel, and in very broken French, she asked to be connected to his room.
The wait made her stomach feel like she'd swallowed ice. She felt cold, tiny icicles of fear slipping through her veins. She tapped her finger on the handset nervously as she waited for him to pick up.
"Hello?" Was the bleary reply.
April's heart quivered, pulse leaping for a moment when she heard her father's voice. "H-hey, Dad."
"April, it's 2 AM. Why are you calling me this late?" She heard her father yawn on the end of the line. "This better be important. You know calls like this are expensive. I have a meeting with a buyer tomorrow, and I really need my sleep."
"Dad?" The shake in April's hands spread up her body. She felt her mouth trying to form words, her heart shivered in her chest. The closer she tried to approach the sentence, the more she felt like she wanted to hang up and run away. Like a deer staring at a forest fire, refusing to move closer for fear of being burned. "Dad, I'm… I'm in trouble."
She heard a long, drawn-out sigh. There was the rustle of bedsheets on the other end of the line and another yawn. "What kind of trouble? Explain in detail."
April looked to Splinter for support. He nodded, gesturing for her to go on.
She had spent her life lying to people. Not that she enjoyed it. In fact, she hated it. If she could bring her friends, her family, out into the sunlight and introduce them to New York, give up the deceit for good, she'd do it in a heartbeat.
But there was always going to be something especially terrifying about lying to her father.
She told him everything she could, minus the parts that involved people who weren't human. She got most of the way through the story before he interrupted her.
"April." Mr. O'Neil's voice was low. "I said that if you were in danger like this without me there, then our arrangement was going to have to end. You do realize that after what happened to the store last May, that was your last chance. I can't leave you unattended anymore."
"Mrs. Ortiz still comes by every day!" She blurted out. "You can ask her, I've been good, I–"
"Enough, April." He cut her off. "Mrs. Ortiz is a fine cleaning lady. But she isn't a supervising adult. I trusted you to be mature enough to handle living on your own, and it's clear that it isn't working out. I'm going to see what I can do to straighten this out. But after this? We're going to have to talk about sending you to boarding school again."
April's face fell. "Dad, I–"
"No, April." His voice was cold. "This is final. I'm going to call an old friend in the morning. He's an attorney, and he is going to come by the house to talk to you about what's going to happen next. He will be sending me his notes and his assessments, and if you lie to him about this phone call, I will know about it. Do you understand, young lady?"
"..."
"Do we have an understanding?"
"Yes, Dad."
"Good. I'm going to hang up, and I'm calling Mrs. Ortiz. She'll be checking in on you four times a day from now on instead of just once. I will call you again in the morning. If you aren't there when Mrs. Ortiz and Mr. Powell are at the door, I'm going to be very angry with you."
"I… I understand."
"Good night, April." The line clicked, and all she heard was a dial tone.
She hung up the phone. She sunk to the floor, head hung low. She put her hands over her mouth, and tried to stifle her sobbing. Splinter's arm found her shoulder, and patted her on the back as she cried.
Leonardo peered around the corner, green brows furrowed with concern. He padded across the Lair, kneeling down next to her. A painter's drop sheet, splattered with orange paint, shifted to reveal Mikey standing in the doorway to his bedroom. He took two tentative steps forward.
April didn't see them through her tears. But she heard and she felt five pairs of arms enveloping her as she let the tears out, mourning what they all knew was coming one day.
April's father was going to take her away from them.