I've been working on this little piece ever since Shredder's Revenge came out and I've been in love it with not only that game but getting to know the 1987 version of the turtles. And there was something that was bothering me when I started diving into the show after having grown up with the 2003, 2007, and 2012 version of the turtles and even the Mutants in Manhattan turtles. I noticed that Splinter in the 87 almost never called his turtles "My Sons" but exclusively "My students". (With the exception of the very first episode). And I started thinking, how would the 87 turtles, specifically Michelangelo, react to seeing other versions of him and his brothers getting called "My sons" by their Splinters but having never experienced such a thing themselves? I am taking a bit of a liberty with how some of the scenarios went down in the crossover episodes, partially to help the narrative and also because it's been a while since I've seen Turtles Forever and the 2012 episode where the turtles meet each other. So, I apologize if somethings don't really line up but I really liked this concept and wanted to dive deeper into it
Anywho!
Happy reading!
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The lair is almost quiet as I roll around in my bed. I wince as my springs squeak, cutting into the quiet that has fallen over the lair, save for the snoring (it's not heavy breathing, Bro, it just isn't) from Raphael and soft murmurs from Donatello. Leonardo almost never makes a sound and I'm convinced Master Splinter never sleeps.
Master Splinter…
I bite my lip at the thought of my master.
Actually, my mega sleeplessness problem is currently revolving around my sensei. Not in a bad way! Or at least… Not because of something Sensei did but more of what he HASN'T done.
The last few days have been absolutely positive-tut-ly radical. Like, one minute we're fighting Metal-face and the next?
BAM!
Wacko versions of us are appearing in front of us! It was all so wack. And then we traveled to their world, and we looked so crazy and fuller like someone stuffed us full of a billion jellybean and sausage pizzas.
It was a super sensationalistic experience and tots reminded me of that time years ago when Shred-head kidnapped us and brought us to that darker and mondo scarier version of New York where those buffer us helped save not only us but our entire existence from that crazy wacko Kraang-like Shredder. Something I haven't given much thought to since it all went down. That is, until those smaller us's came. And they sparked some hefty memories in this noggin of mine.
And something about both versions has been bothering me like a lot.
"My sons! You are okay!"
"Oh, thank goodness. My sons, I was worried about you."
My sons…
My eye ridges furrow.
Both Splinters from the other worlds called their us's "My sons" and hugged them. Our Master Splinter calls us "My students" and didn't hug us when we returned. Which… has never bothered me before. And our master isn't the overly touchy-feely type really. Shell, even my bros aren't overly touchy-feely. Sure, Raphael will wrap an arm around our shoulders and Leonardo and Donatello will give ya a pat on the shell when needed. But Master Splinter?
When was the last time Sensei hugged us? Or any of us hug him?
I fiddle with my blanket in between my pointer finger and thumb as I curl into a smaller ball, burying my chin into quilt.
I honestly can't remember the last time any of us hugged Master Splinter or vice versa. Now that I'm thinking about, I don't think I ever thought of it as a thing we could do now that we're not turtle tots anymore. But seeing those other versions of us hugging their masters has me now thinking:
"We can do that?"
My stomach swoops as I stare blankly at the dark wall in my room.
And I swear I heard one of the other us's call their Master Splinter "Father".
Father….
I press my face into my pillow as my throat constricts, becoming oddly choked up as that word bounces around my head.
Why do my insides feel weird and wiggly whenever I think of those other Master Splinters calling the not-us "My sons"? And why does my stomach drop like 10 pounds of pizzas when our master addresses us as "My students"? Something he's always done, and it has never had me gung-ho like it is now.
"This is like a total bummer, Dude," I mumble, voice muffled by my pillow as I restlessly bury my face more into the fluffy lump.
Sighing, I throw my blanket off, shivering a little as the cool night air hitting my skin and creep out of my room. I shoot my bros a look but none of them twitch as I creep further out into the main area. My eyes drift over to Master Splinter's room.
Soft golden light flickers from the doorway and I tense. Master Splinter tends to do late night meditation and training for himself once we're in bed. Most of it's because he knows that he'll be uninterrupted but it's also how he always knew if one of us was up or tried to sneak out when we were kids. But now that we're older?
Would he let me go? Or can I make it without gettin' caught?
Fiddling with my belt, I glance over at the lair's entrance.
A little walk through the sewers never hurt any turtle, I think creeping across the lair. And I'll be back before the dudes even know I'm gone.
Reaching the mouth of the lair, I pause again as thuds echoes from the dojo/Master Splinter's room. When none of my bros twitch, I nearly sag in relief. I tense when a rhythmic thudding starts up, I realize that Master is merely using one of the training dummies.
I don't dare grab my board, the sound would tots echo around and wake my bros. And holy baloney wouldn't THAT be a doozy? Because then Leonardo would go all mega mother hen, Raphael would crack some wise-guy joke, and Donatello would try to make a machine that would force me to sleep.
And worst of all? They'd ask what's wrong, I think, tucking my thumbs into my belt and kicking a rock. The tiny rock skips on the stone before stopping at the base of the ladder out of the sewers. Pausing, I lean against the metal rungs.
"What does it matter what Master Splinter calls us?" I say aloud, peering up at a storm drain at a glowing streetlamp as water drips down. "He obviously cares. So, like, why should Sensei not calling us "sons" bother me? Never has before…"
A flash of the smaller us's hugging their much taller master and him returning it with just as much vigor fills my mind. I flinch and quickly shove that memory away. Shaking my head, I push away from the wall and walk over to peer down into the water flowing by. My large blue eyes stare back, and I drop to my knees.
"F-F-Father?" I stammer out, frowning at how muddled I made that word sound. Yeesh. Raphael would have called me a newborn trying to talk if he heard me going on like that.
My snout wrinkles. A second try never hurts, right? When at first you don't succeed, try and try again. Or something like that.
"Fa-Father. Fa-AH-ther? Faaaaaather?" I repeat staring down at my reflection. "Fatherrrrrr. Oh, sewer apples. Why's a single word so important anyways?" Huffing, I slide into a sitting position, resting my elbow on my knee and placing my chin in my hand. "Betcha Raphael wouldn't call Master Splinter 'Father'. Nah, he's too cool for that. That feels more like a Leonardo or Donatello thing. But Raphael? Nah. Betcha he'd use words like 'Pops' or 'Dad'." I smile with a chuckle. "Yeah, that's tots more up Raphael's alley. 'Father' is too stuffy." My finger taps against my chin. "But 'Father' doesn't feel right on the tongue for me either. Like a seven-day old coconut extreme pizza left in the sun. Yuck." I shudder. "And 'Pops' just ain't my thing." I tilt my head. "'Dad' is a smidge better. Shorter too. But...still not quite right."
Biting my lip, I glance over my shoulder at the ladder leading out of the sewers. The spark of an idea slowly forms in my head. I might not understand why all of this is bothering me or why certain versions of 'Father' or 'Dad' work or don't work for me, but….
"But there's a certain redheaded journalist who might be able to answer it for me," I mutter, shooting my reflection a look. "Like, who's a better person to ask than a journalist whose job is to dig up answers?" Standing, I make my way over to the ladder. "And, like, April has a dad or knows people who do, so maybe she can tell me more about what a 'Dad' is and what a dude is supposed to call them."
Pushing the manhole cover up, I glance around. Luckily, it appears that most people have decided to remain in doors tonight which doesn't happen often. Large, cold droplets of rain hit my snout and I glare up at the cloudy sky as it rumbles softly. Welp, that would explain why the streets barely have any people on them.
I drum my fingers on the ground. For a moment, I debate going back to the lair and grabbing one of our trench coats. But as soon as that thought comes to mind, I toss it out like moldy pizza. If I go back to the lair, I run the risk of either waking one of my bros or Master Splinter catching me out of bed. And that's the last thing I want.
"Besides," I mutter, climbing out of the hole, shivering slightly as large droplets hit me. "I won't be out here for very long. The dudes won't even know I'm gone." I replace the manhole cover. "And a little water never hurt a turtle."
Wiping water from my face, I slink into the shadows and work my way toward April's apartment. Usually, with the streets empty like they are, I'd take advantage of being able to walk around freely with no disguise. But, well, I might not be the brainiest of turtles but even I know that isn't a mondo good idea to try right now. Not when nobody knows that I'm out here. The last thing I need is to do is give Shred-head and Blob Boy a reason to jump me. Despite all of the quips that my bros make about my brain, I'm not that stupid.
Turning down another alleyway, I shiver harshly when some water from the roof above me drip into my shell. Pressing my shoulder harder against the wall, I turn another corner as I try to get some cover from the downpour. Relief swirls in me and I grin when the fire escape leading up to April's apartment comes into view.
"And here I thought I was gonna have to ask for a commercial break," I joke as I climb up the slippery metal, my numb fingers barely feeling the rungs. Reaching April's window, I gently knock on the glass. "April? Hey, dudette? You there?"
Worry bubbles in my chest as silence follows my knocking. Shell. Maybe I got the wrong window? Or maybe April's as heavy of a sleeper as Raphael is. I don't really wanna peek inside as this window should lead to her bedroom and I'm no creepo. But…who else can I ask if April is out of the question?
Crossing my arms, I tilt my head in thought.
I guess I could try to make it to Casey's place. But that dude lives on the other side of town and there are always Purple Dragons lurking around his homely abode.
I guess… as long as I have my trusty nunchakus, I should be fine-
My fingers reach down to tap on my nunchakus, only for my fingers to tap on nothing. Blinking, I glance down and groan.
"Shell shocked, Dude! How could I forget my two little compadres?" A pout forms on my lips. "Welp, so much for goin' to Casey's. No way I can make it there without my 'chucks. Leonardo would have my shell if I even TRIED."
Dejected, I shoot April's window one last look before sighing. Guess I'm gonna have to return to the sewers and maybe try again tomorrow. And hope that I catch her on a break from work or maybe even after work.
Sniffling, I wipe my nose on the back of my wrist guard as I sadly make my way over to the ladder and cautiously start climbing down sluggishly.
But what am I gonna do now? I think as I shoot April's window one last look before making my way further down the ladder. There's just no way that my melon is gonna let me sleep. Not with all these questions still bouncing around in my—
"Mi-Michelangelo?" A sleepy voice calls out.
Jumping, a yelp escapes me when my hands suddenly slip from the wet rungs. My stomach rushes up to say hi to my mouth as I become airborne. Air is punched from my lungs when my shell connects with the ground, water splashing up around me and a sharp pain ripples through my skull.
Water droplets hit my face as I dazedly stare up at the sky. What the shell just happened? What year is it? Glancing around, I blink blearily before whimpering as the pain shifts through my skull.
"Owie," I whine, coughing a little before groaning as spots dance in my eyes. "Attendant, can I have off this ride please?"
"Michelangelo! Oh my god! Are you alright?!"
Warm hands grasp my shoulders as I gingerly sit up, holding my aching melon as my vision fades in and out. Concerned green eyes meet my blue as I squint up, the alleyway lights burning my eyes.
Horror and concern are written all over April's face as she frantically scans me for injuries, but I flinch away when she reaches for the back of my head.
"I'm so sorry, Michelangelo!" She gasps as I smile at her, waving feebly. "What on earth are you doing out here climbing up a wet fire escape? That's dangerous!"
Chuckling weakly, I wobble to my feet with a wince as April grasps my biceps in a warm hold to keep me from falling backwards.
"Uh, hiya, April. Didn't mean to drop in on you like this."
Fondness softens April's gaze as she holds me close to her side and I instantly feel mega bad. She's out here in her yellow pajamas and no shoes, getting absolutely drenched like I already am. Most likely having jumped from her window when I decided to take skydiving lessons with no parachute. Her red hair is already sticking to her face, completely flat against her head. I just know that she must be mega cold just as I am, if not worse.
"I think you've been hanging out with Raphael too much," April teases, leading us back over to the fire escape. "But that doesn't answer my question of why you're out here, young man. Especially in this freezing rain! Yuck! And you feel as cold as death!"
Embarrassment floods into my gut and I glance down as she nudges me to start climbing the ladder, but I don't move.
"Thought ya said it wasn't safe," I quip, totally not trying to avoid answering her question. "We might just fall right off again and then we'll both be flat pancakes."
Green eyes narrow at me as I don't quite meet the reporter's gaze. My bros like to tell me just what an open book I can be with my feelings and I'm suddenly getting some serious cold feet right now. Like, what if April thinks my question is mondo wacko and just shoos me back home?
My four toes wiggle in the large puddle I'm standing in.
Maybe I shoulda just waited for morning and bummed it out in my room, I think sadly, realizing that my question really didn't warrant such a late-night visit to my very active and busy friend.
A warm hand lands on top of my head gaining my attention. I hiss as April's fingers brush the top of a growing goose egg on the back of my noggin. She quickly pulls her hand way.
"Sorry!" April apologizes, her concern returning full force. "I'll have to take a peek at your head when we get inside. But unfortunately, this is the only way we can get back into my apartment. My keys are by my front door and without them, we can't even get into the lobby."
Flinching, I move to rub my neck, hating how wet and slippery the rain is making my skin feel at the moment. Aren't turtles supposed to like water? So why does this feel so bizzarro and gross? Whenever my bros and I go swimming it doesn't feel like this.
Scrunching my snout, I wipe my hand on my leg.
"Right. Sorry, April. Didn't mean to force you to come out here and be all wet, cold, and keyless."
April shakes her head as she slowly starts climbing back up the ladder when she realizes that I'm not budging anytime soon.
"Don't worry about it, Michelangelo. I wanted to make sure you were all right. A little rain isn't going to hurt anyone, and my window is still open so we can still get inside." April glances at me over her shoulder, a small smile forming in the dim light. "And once we get all nice and dry, you can tell me why you were knocking on my window at a little past midnight."
Another tidal wave of guilt crashes into me nearly causing me to droop. Instead, I nod as the redhead resumes climbing. Shell. I didn't even realize how late it was. And obviously April is going to have to work early in the morning. Of all the brainless ideas I've had, this sure takes the pizza pie. And for what? Just to ask April what it's like to have a 'Dad'? And what one would call said 'Dad'?
Sighing, I climb the ladder very slowly behind April. Not wanting to tumble off again and also not wanting to rush my friend and cause HER to fall.
Luckily, we reach April's window in no time and with no more flying lessons. She slips back through easily, reaching out for my hands to help me. I breathe out softly as the warm air of her apartment surrounds me and the cushy carpet sinks a little under my feet. Wiggling my toes, the brief thought of how awesome it would be if the lair had such plush carpet like this enters in my mind before I look up just as April shifts around her room.
"Sorry about sogging up your carpet, April," I apologize, smiling sheepishly at the redhead as she grabs something from her bathroom before re-emerging.
She shakes her head as she hands me a fluffy white towel.
"It's all right, Michelangelo. I'm also getting them all wet." April rubs her own towel over her hair causing it to stick up. "But I don't want you getting sick. So, once you've dried off, meet me in the kitchen and we can have some hot chocolate while you tell me why you've stopped by. I'm also going to change."
Biting my bottom lip, I nod again as she grabs some fresh clothes from her dresser before heading back into her bathroom.
Shell. Some amigo I am. Not only did I wake April up, but now her pjs are ruined and yet she's still willing to treat me to some hot chocolate.
Slumping, I slowly start drying myself off. I hiss as I wipe at the back of my head, frowning as I feel more water dripping down the back of my head. Shell. My mask must be really waterlogged if it's deciding to continue pouring like Niagara Falls.
Gingerly, I reach back and undo the ties. Once loose enough, the soggy fabric falls and hangs around my neck as I go to wipe my head again. A harsh shiver has me pausing with the towel draped over my head, almost like my own personal hood. Clutching the fluffy and slightly damp fabric to myself, I deem myself dry enough and cautiously make my way out of April's bedroom and into her kitchen.
My footsteps barely make a sound on the soft carpet and I absentmindedly glance at the photos hanging on the walls. Many are of us with her when we traveled around, and others are of the many awards her stories have won her. I spot a few with just April and Irma right when I make it to the split before the kitchen and living room.
Glancing to my right, I spot two armchairs, a couch, a TV on a TV stand and a fake fireplace. On the mantle of the fake fireplace sits even more photos. Curiosity fills me and I quietly pad over, clutching the white towel tightly as it frames my face like a hood.
These photos are much older than the ones that are hanging on the walls. I can easily spot April in almost all of them, much younger than she is now, except for one. The photo in the middle only has two people in it, a young woman and a young man. The woman has light brown hair and bright green eyes while the young man has bright orange hair and a shade darker green eyes. Neither one looks exactly like April, but there are certain features in their faces that I can definitely in April.
Are…are these April's parents? I think, glancing around briefly to make sure no one is watching before gently picking up the picture frame.
Tilting my head, I stare down at the happy couple, a strange pit forming in my gut the longer I stare at them. Now that I think about it. April doesn't talk about her parents all that much. But, to be fair, me and my bros haven't exactly asked her about them either. Or anything else about her childhood. Swallowing thickly, I grasp the two ends of the towel with my free hand, pulling it tightly against the top of my head.
"Some friends we are," I mumble, hunching in on myself.
Like, shouldn't true friends be willing to sit down mono y mono and talk about past stuff like that? I mean, April knows about our past and how we came to be and how Master Splinter found us. How come we haven't given her the chance to do the same?
I shuffle in place, lifting the ends of the towel up to my mouth and rubbing it against my snout in distress. I mean, April doesn't have to share if she doesn't want to, but we haven't even asked!
My eyes flicker back down at the photo in my other hand.
"All right, Michelangelo! Let's get some—Michelangelo!"
Jumping, I fumble with the photo, dropping it as the towel falls from my head.
"Sh-Shell!" I squeak as I frantically scoop the frame back up, scanning it for damage before placing the photo back where it belongs. "I…I was just looking! I didn't mean to drop it!" I start turning around, hunching in on myself as April storms up to me. "Honest, April! It's not even broke. But…But I'll make you any pizza you—"
"Turn around!" April orders, her hands landing on my shoulders and spinning me.
"Wha—?" I start, a wave of dizziness hitting me at the rough treatment. "April?"
April hisses.
"You've cut your head open!" April says sharply, reaching down and yanking the towel from its place on the floor.
A yelp escapes me when she presses it against the back of my head as she continues.
"You must have sliced your head when you slipped from the ladder. How do you feel? How does your head feel? Do you feel dizzy at all?" April hisses and cuts me off when I open my mouth to answer. "Shoot. You're bleeding all over the place. We need to call Donatello. I don't have the proper first aid here to deal with this." I stare at her with wide eyes as she starts looking around. "Where's my Comm? Never mind. Do you have yours on you? Let me borrow it."
"No! Wait!" I cry out as April starts patting my belt.
Concerned wide green eyes meet my own panicked blue. My heart pounds in my chest as I catch April's hand and hold it in both of mine, eyes burning.
"Please don't call my bro, April. Please! He's in snooze land right now and I don't wanna take that from him. He finally went to bed early for once and it wouldn't be fair to wake him."
And if you wake him, I won't be able to ask you my question!
April's mouth falls open and she reaches up to apply more pressure to the towel against my head causing me to flinch.
"Michelangelo, sweetie," she starts softly, eyes scanning my face as she stares down at me. "I don't have the proper items up here to treat your head. We have to call Donatello. Everything you need is down in his lab." She presses a hand to my cheek as I blink rapidly to keep my vision clear. "Michelangelo? What's going on? You're awfully worked up."
Dropping my head, I stare down at our joined hands as burning embarrassment and guilt fills me. Man, if this ain't mondo embarrassing. All I wanted to do was ask April one simple question and I've gone and flubbed it up.
This is going worse than the last time I tried skating blindfolded after a storm and totally wiped out.
April tugs her hand free from my grasp, pulling me from my thoughts. Surprise fills me when she brushes her knuckles against my cheek, smearing something warm and wet across my skin.
"Oh, Michelangelo," April says soft, her brows furrowing. "I didn't mean to make you cry. You know I can't stand the sight of you being sad." She kisses my forehead. "Why don't we go sit down at the table and we can calm down for a second? That way I can get also get a closer look at your head, okay?"
"Yeah, okay, Dudette," I say sadly, sniffling as my friend wraps an arm around my shoulders.
As we enter the kitchen, April flips the light on causing me to squint and guides me over to her table. Pulling out the first chair, she points to it, and I get the hint. Slipping into the chair, I watch silently as the report swiftly moves about her kitchen.
"Make sure you keep pressure on that towel, Michelangelo," April orders, pulling mugs down from her cabinet and adding milk to them both before popping them into the microwave. "Head wounds bleed more."
Not wanting to upset the redhead further, I do as I'm told as she moves to grab the chocolate sauce. Keeping my hand on the back of my head, I tiredly take in the new pajamas that April has switched to. She is now wearing a thick, fuzzy red robe and I can see a white t-shirt peeking out at the top and black pants peeking out at the bottom. Part of me wishes that I had a large fuzzy robe right now. Something warm that I can use to hide my embarrassment in.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
I wince as the microwave goes off, the loud noise sending a sharp pain through my skull, and I slump against the table, using both hands to hold the towel to my head. I barely lift my eyes as a mug is placed in front of me and April places the other one at the seat directly across from me. Concern is written all over her face as she watches me, shifting closer.
"How much pain are you in, Michelangelo? Do you want me to turn off the lights?"
"Nah," I mumble. "April said let there be light, after all. Can't take that away."
April hums, placing a warm hand on my shoulder. Her fingers squeeze comfortingly.
"If you're sure. But if you need me to turn them off, I will. I don't mind sitting at the table in the dark. Now, let me see your head." A gentle tug on my hands has me dropping them to the table surface as April gently removes the towel. She tsks. "That's quite the gash, Michelangelo. I'm no medical expert but if we don't get this to stop bleeding, you're gonna need stitches."
My eyes widen at that. St-Stitches?! I hate stitches! They always make my skin itch and pull grossly. Totally not mondo grando at all.
"Can…can you stop the bleeding?" I ask weakly as April moves toward the sink and reaches underneath it.
"I…I can try," April replies pulling out two large boxes of bandages. "But, like I said before, head wounds bleed. A LOT. And I don't have the proper first aid supplies here if we can't get it to stop. All I have are these massive bandaids and gauze. Which…might work but…" April trails off as she turns toward me, frowning. "I would feel much better having Donatello checking you over, Michelangelo. You might have a concussion and I haven't even checked to make sure that your shell isn't cracked from the way that you fell."
Slumping further down, I stare down at the table. I was afraid she was going to say that.
April walks back over, placing the large boxes down as she reaches for the towel again. Dropping my hands, I allow her to pull the fabric away, hissing a little as she gently pokes and prods at the tender area before something warm starts trickling down the back of my neck again. April quickly presses the towel back into place. She gently grabs both of my hands and uses it to keep the towel right where she wants it once more.
"What a mess. I knew head wounds bled more but I never thought it would be this bad." April leans forward, pressing a hand to my cheek. "How's your head holding, Sweetie? Do you want to try some pain killers?" She frowns when I mumble a 'no' at her. "Are you sure? Because you're not acting like your usual self, Michelangelo. It's okay to admit if you're in pain. And you know that Donatello is just going to force you to take something for your head anyways." A sigh escapes the redhead when I hunch further down. "All right. That's it. I'm calling your brother. Where is my Turtle Comm?"
"No!" I cry out leaping to my feet only to sway as my vision darkens.
Whoa, total head rush, Dude.
"Michelangelo!" April gasps, grabbing my biceps right before I can fall on my shell again. "Why on earth are you so opposed to me getting your brothers? Did something happen?"
Blinking rapidly, I peer up at the reporter sheepishly as I shuffle in place like a little turtle tot. What a bummer this is turning out to be. I've been doing nothing but stressing my friend out. And all for one stupid question.
"Nah, nothing's wrong," I state, hoping to defuse April's worries. "It's just…my brainy bro is sleeping right now, Dudette. And you know how the dude is. He rarely ever goes to bed this early. It's like his veins are just full of coffee and his battery never runs out." My snout twitches as I drop my gaze as a puzzled expression morphs onto my friend's face. "And…I just wanted to ask you a mini question that's been bouncing around in my head. I didn't mean to wake or bother you."
"Oh, Michelangelo."
I shrink further down at April's tired tone only to blink in surprise when I'm pulled into a fluffy, warm hug.
Cautiously, I hug back.
I thought it was a long time for just hugging Sensei. But, well, I can't remember the last time someone willingly hugged me.
It's…nice.
Warm hands rub up and down my shell and April rests her cheek on my head.
"You never bother me, Michelangelo," April mutters. "What is it that you want to ask me?"
Biting my lip, I pull back from the hug and rub my arms. Shell. This was a mega bad idea. It was so stupid and now I've just gone and upset April when she doesn't need to be.
"Now that I'm thinking about it, April, it really isn't all that important…"
A hand presses against my cheek and I glance up at the redhead. A determined look rests on her face as her eyes scan my face.
"Yeah, no. That's not going to fly with me, young man. This is what we're going to do," she states firmly, helping me sit back down. "I'll start putting bandages on your head and you ask me your question. Then, once I've given you an answer, I want you to promise to go straight to Donatello so he can check your head and shell. Deal?"
Unable to argue with her tone, I start to nod only to wince as the movement jars my head.
"Y-Yeah, sure, April."
April nods, placing her hands on her hips as she stares me down, a smile forming.
"All right, young man. Start talking. What is it you wanted to ask me?" She winks at me, and I relax a little. "Not often I get to be the interviewee. Normally, I'm the one doing the asking. I'm kinda excited, not gonna lie."
Giggling, I sit as still as I can as April starts wiping at the blood still bubbling from the cut. She produces a bottle of rubbing alcohol and my snout wrinkles from the smell. A tiny rush of air slips through my teeth as she dabs at the wound on my head.
"Sorry, Michelangelo," she murmurs. "I know it stings, bu I need to make sure it's clean before I apply the bandages. But to help distract you from the pain, you can ask me your question."
She's really not gonna let me turtle my way out of this, is she? I think warily but a smile still tugs on my lips.
"You're gonna think it's mega wacko."
A soft chuckle escapes the redhead.
"Sometimes those are the best kind of questions."
She bops my nose as she moves to open a few of the bandaids and tears off a long piece of gauze. Giggling, I sniffle a little as I shimmy in the chair.
"Well, uh, you don't have to answer if you don't wanna, Amiga."
April nods but doesn't interrupt.
Dragging in a deep breath, I hold it for a second before releasing it slowly, just like Master Splinter taught us.
Here goes nothing.
"What…What's it like having a 'dad'?"
My heart hammers as April pauses in her movements, bandage hanging from her fingers as she looks at me. Dropping my gaze, I wring my hands together as my feet swing a little in the chair.
"You…You tots don't have to answer, Dudette," I quickly say as the silence stretches on. "I…I was just curious, ya know? And…And you or Casey are the only ones I could think of who might have experience with a 'dad' or even a parent in general." An awkward laugh wheezes from me as I bring my knees up to my chest, folding myself into the chair. "Told ya it was a wack question."
"Michelangelo. Look at me."
Keeping my chin tucked, I glance sideways at April. The redhead is watching me, eyebrows furrowed, and a small frown mars her face. She contemplates me for a moment then resumes dealing with the bandages.
"Lean your head forward for me," April orders softly and I do as I'm told. "Now, as for your question. It's not silly, Michelangelo. It's completely fine to be curious about what it's like to have a parent. I…I'm just surprised you thought to come to me or Casey." April continues when I frown at her in confusion. "I just mean, you have Master Splinter. He was human once, after all. So, he would have had experience with parents as well." April tilts her head as she grabs another bandage and applies it next to the other one, holding the strip of gauze in place. "And…well…Master Splinter also raised you, didn't he? Don't you consider Master Splinter your father?"
My throat tightens at that question, a pang shooting through me that has nothing to do with my injuries. I glance away, burying my face into my elbow.
"Michelangelo?"
"I…I don't know?" I whisper into my arms. "I…I never really thought about what Sensei is to me outside of being my teacher, ya know?"
"And what changed that?"
Sighing, I rest my cheek on my knees, hugging my legs close to me.
"You…you remember those other us's that came here? The dudes that were like way buff and macho?"
April nods.
"One of them asked about my jumpsuit. I think it was their Donatello if I remember correctly."
I nod, remembering that as well.
"Yeah, them. Well, while we were in their dark and scary abode, we ran into their version of Sensei. He was shorter than the other us's and grey! He wasn't covered in brown fur like our Master Splinter is. It was like mega weird. Still had the Japanese accent and that weird air of being able to speak to the void whenever he wants. But like, when we got there, he was like, tots relieved to see his us's, which I mean, I'm sure our Master Splinter would be too if we just up and vanished. So, like, other us's rushed over and started hugging him! It was…it was wild! And he returned the hugs and he…"
My heart clenches and I trail off, hugging my legs tighter. A warm hand lands on my head and April kneels in front of me. Concern radiates from my friend, and she gently rubs my aching melon.
"And he what, Michelangelo?"
Swallowing thickly, I rub at my nose as I try not to sniffle as it starts to run slightly.
"When his versions of us were hugging him, he…he called those amigos 'my sons' while hugging back and I…" I trail off, unable to continue on or even mention anything about what the smaller versions of us called their Master Splinter*.
April's mouth forms into an 'o', sitting back on her heels. A distant look appears in her eyes, as if thinking. I've seen this look appear on Donatello's face many times when his brain is conjuring up a cool new invention or he learns something new or is just wondering around in his little mind lab that I'm sure he has crafted in that brilliant dome of his.
"And that's what's bothering you?" April finally asks, tone cautious but intrigued. "That their Master Splinter called them 'my sons'? And, I'm assuming, that our Master Splinter has never called you four that?"
I shake my head.
"No. It's always 'my student' or 'young one'," I answer, running a finger over my still damp orange knee pad. "Which…which is fine! Like Sensei has always called us that! And… it's… fine. Totally… fine…"
The sound of a chair scraping on the floor has me lifting my eyes. April plops the chair closer to me before sitting and takes my hand. She offers me a smile when we make eye contact.
"A parent can mean a lot of different things to different people, Michelangelo," April says, and I tilt my head, confused by the sudden conversation shift. "Some people see somebody older than them who helped raised them, or was merely there when no other adult was, to be their parent. For me, I was lucky enough to have two very caring parents." April chuckles. "It was actually my dad who encouraged me to pursue the life of a reporter."
My eyes widened.
"Really?"
April nods, a wide grin forming.
"Yup! My mom wanted me to follow in her footsteps and become an actor." April winks as my mouth falls open in shock. "I was surrounded by cameras as a child, which is why I'm so comfortable in front of them now. But, well, acting isn't my thing. Not because I couldn't but it just didn't fulfill this need inside of me. And my father saw that. But he also knew I enjoyed being on camera. So, he suggested to me to try and become a reporter. And look at me now! I'm one of the top reporters on the channel 6 news!" April runs her thumb over my knuckles. "And after a little bit, my mom also came around. Because she knew it's what made me happy. A parent is willing to set aside what THEY want for you to provide you with the support to pursue what YOU want to do."
April leans back and grabs my mug of hot chocolate and places it in my hands when I shiver.
"But not everyone is so lucky. Take Irma for example. While she has parents, she has told me many times that she always saw her childhood best friend's parents as her own. Her own folks were distant and hardly ever around. But, in contrast, her friend's parents made an effort to go to all of her plays, all of her sporting events, and provided her with advice when she didn't know what to do. They main not have given birth to her and Irma didn't live with them, but they still helped raise and shape her into the person she is today."
April reaches back and grabs her own mug, blowing on it.
"And then take Casey. His dad… His dad was killed when he was very young, leaving his mom to raise him and his siblings. She had to take on a second job to help support them. Which led to Casey spending a lot of time with his grandparents. So, for Casey, sees his grandparents, and his older sister for the most part, as the people that raised him. Not because his mom was neglectful but because she was trying to make sure they had enough money to live. But that meant she had to sacrifice time with her family.
And Casey doesn't fault her for that because when he did need her, she was there. But there was a lot of things that she would have taught him had she not needed to take on that second job. So, instead of his mom, it was Casey's grandfather who taught him how to fish and ride a bike. It was his grandma who taught him how to cook and how to repair an engine. It was his older sister who taught him how to climb trees and how to throw a proper punch. So, you can see how it's not really a cut and dry answer. Because it all depends on YOUR circumstances."
April pauses to sip her hot chocolate and I ponder over what she said. I had no idea that Casey was pretty much raised by his grandparents and sister so that his mom could work. Or that Irma's parents weren't there for her.
We really need to spend more time getting to know our friends.
"So…" I start slowly, fingers flexing on my mug as April nods me on. "A parent is someone who gives you advice and raises you?"
April nods, smiling behind her mug.
"For the most part, yes. They make you feel heard and safe. Provide you with support and life lessons that you carry with you for the rest of your life." April leans forward, no longer hiding her smile, her green eyes sparkling. "Sound like someone you know? A certain furry someone in your life who has given you all of that?"
Heat spreads across my cheeks and I duck my head.
"Maybe…"
April chuckles
"See? Just because you don't call Master Splinter 'Dad' or 'Father' doesn't mean he isn't one to you," April states, the chair creaking as she shifts.
I nod slowly.
That makes sense. But…if it makes sense then why does my chest still feel like one of Raphael's training dummies after a bad day? All full of holes and ready to fall apart at the seams?
My jaw works and I force myself to take a large gulp of hot chocolate. Swallowing painfully, I wet my lips nervously.
"But…what if the dude you see as a parent doesn't see you as one of their kids?" I ask softly, my stomach squirming unpleasantly. "What if it's only a one-way thing? Does it still count?"
April's mouth falls open, as if about to speak only to pause. Her fingers tap on her mug, and I clutch mine close to my plastron as my heart pounds. Clutching it like a lifeline to a never-ending pile of cucumber and sausage pizza.
April lifts her gaze to me and her frown deepens.
"You don't think Master Splinter sees the four of you as his children," April states and I flinch.
Yikes. So blunt.
My stomach wiggles again and I merely shrug, sipping more liquid as to not actually answer the redhead. Wouldn't my bros be amazed? The Michelangelo not wanting to talk. Pigs must have flown over Mars.
April leans forward, bewilderment on her face.
"Michelangelo, why on earth wouldn't Master Splinter see you as his own? He literally RAISED you and your brothers from baby turtles! He's taken on the Shredder for you! He obviously cares for you four."
"I know that he cares, honest!" I defend, sitting up straight as April lifts a single, skeptical red eyebrow. "Honest! That's not… That isn't… Ugh… this is a mega mess." I rub my forehead with the heel of my hand as I sniffle again, a dull throb forming behind my eyes.
"I'm not saying that Sensei doesn't care about us, dudette. He has to care, if only a little, to deal with all the headaches we put him through. Raphael's temper, Donatello's exploding machines, and my stu… and me." A tired smile tugs on my lips as I stare at my lap. "Leonardo has to be the only one who doesn't make Sensei want to tear out his fur. So… I know he cares. But… I want… I would like…"
Heat builds behind my eyes and my throat constricts causing me to cough a little to continue.
April remains silent. I lift my gaze up to her eyes, the sad green staring back as I try to keep my smile in place.
"I would like to know… if he cares about us more than us just being his students, ya know? To know that he sees us as HIS KIDS rather than just HIS STUDENTS." A wet chuckle leaves me, and I press my hand to my aching melon, trying to hide the start of free roaming tears. "Mega dumb right? And, like, tots unfair, huh? I should be happy with the support he gives. And yet, I—"
Words die on my lips when two arms wrap around me, tugging me close. April's red hair tickles my cheek as she tightens her grip on me.
"It's not dumb, Michelangelo," April whispers and my lips tremble as my vision blurs. "You and your brothers have missed out on a lot of 'normal' things that many of us got to experience. There's nothing wrong with wanting a parent-child relationship."
April pulls back, cupping my face as a few stray tears leak from my eyes. She wipes them away with her thumb, smiling sadly.
"I wish I could give you the answer you want, Sweetie. But… I'm not the one who your heart wants to hear it from. Not to be that person but… I think you need to discuss this with Master Splinter. I know, I know," April chuckles when I go to duck my head, but her hands keep me in place.
"It's gonna be awkward and embarrassing. All heartfelt conversations are. But they need to happen. If you don't talk to Master Splinter about this, it's just going to fester inside of you and eat away at you until you burst. And, well, it'll keep you awake." April gestures around us when my snout wrinkles.
"It IS keeping you awake, Michelangelo. If you venturing out to my apartment at this time of night is anything to go by. In this weather of all things. Which can lead to you getting sick. And it'll come out eventually just maybe not in the way you wanted it to if you wait for too long. No time is going to be the perfect time to bring something like this up. You just gotta do it, okay?"
Sighing, I nod against her hold. She's right. My brain isn't gonna let this go if I don't do something about it. I already have a mega hard time going to snooze town, my mind constantly racing and demanding attention. Or, when I do sleep, nightmares like to rear their heads. So, adding this weird feeling and want on top of all that is just gonna spell a mega disaster just waiting to happen.
"But… but how do I ask Sensei about any of this?" I ask in a hushed tone, worrying my bottom lip. "What if he gets weirded out by me wanting to see him as my 'dad' and kicks me out of the lair?"
"Michelangelo."
I flinch at April's sharp tone, unused to the redhead using a tone with me. Usually, Leonardo and Sensei are the only ones to truly use a voice like that on me. She sits up straight, squaring her shoulders as she stares me down.
"I want you to put that thought out of your head right this instant." April points a finger at me as I blink at her with wide eyes. "Even if Master Splinter doesn't want to be seen as the 'father' type, which I still see no reason why he WOULDN'T want to be seen as such. I know for a FACT that he would not just toss you out of the lair for wanting to see him as a parental figure." April's face softens and she grabs my shoulders. "He literally raised you, Michelangelo. If he didn't want to be seen as a parent, he wouldn't have gone out of his way to save you and your brothers and then raise you for all these years."
Sniffling, I rub my nose with the back of my hand as April presses a kiss to my forehead. She then stands and walks over to the cabinet next to the fridge and pulls out a white bottle. She walks back and sits in front of me, opening the bottle and dumping two red and white pills into her hands.
"I hope that helps answer some of your questions, Sweetie. You feeling a little better now?" She asks softly, taking my hand and placing the pills into my palm.
"Yeah," I answer, sniffing. "You were a mega help, April. Thanks, a mill. But I should probs be heading back. My bros will flip if they find out I've gone for a stroll without them."
"It's what I'm here for," April says, gesturing for me to pop the pills even though I told her earlier I didn't want any. But… after all of that talking and emotional roller coasters, my melon isn't feeling too hot. Not that I'd admit that out loud after all the fuss I've causes.
April continues.
"I wasn't about to let you leave here, injured and cold, and not answer the question that got you to venture all the way over here." April's face clouds a little with concern. "But will you be all right heading back to the lair by yourself? Do you want me to walk you back, just in case? Or, if you want, you can crash here. My couch folds out into a bed."
Shaking my head, I pop the two tiny pills into my mouth and use the last of my drink to wash them down. I fight back a gag, never enjoying taking pain meds. It's like two chalky and gross jellybeans that try to choke you. But thankfully, I don't spit them back up like I usually do.
"I'll be fine, April. 'Sides, I kept you up long enough." I offer her a lopsided smile, already feeling a little lighter in the chest now that I've at least talked to someone. Though now I have this twisting pit of impending doom knowing what I'm gonna have to do in the near future. "I don't wanna be the reason you're tired at work. Well… more tired since I kinda already cut into your sleepy time."
April purses her lips as I make to stand, wobbling slightly as my noggin doesn't like the change in altitude. The sensation doesn't last as long as it did the last time I stood so I'll count that as a win.
April, however, doesn't looked convinced.
"Are you absolutely certain? I don't mind you staying here or even helping you get home if you need it."
Waving a dismissive hand, I bring my mug to the sink. Turning, my eyes land on the bloody towel resting on April's table. Guilt squirms in my chest but I smile at the reporter.
"Honest, Dudette. I'll just keep to the shadows and take the first manhole cover I come across. 'Sides, those meds helped my noggin a lot. Barely hurts now!"
April narrows her eyes as I start toward her bedroom, not wanting to continue intruding on my friend.
"If you're sure…" April says slowly, following me closely. "I just don't want you walking around injured, Michelangelo. Do you at least want an umbrella? I think Casey took my large raincoat the last time he was here otherwise I would offer you that."
I flash her a smile as I slide her window back open, shivering as the damp, cold air rushes into the warm room.
"Nah, thanks though. A little rain ain't gonna hurt me. And I'm a big turtle, April. A slight knock to the noggin isn't gonna stop this dude. I've taken harder hits from Tin Face, ya know?"
"That doesn't make me feel any better, young man."
Giggling, I wink at the redhead before crawling out onto the fire escape. April leans out as I make my way toward the ladder.
"Please call me when you get home, all right? Just to ease my mind? And to let me know what Donatello says about your head?"
"Will do, Amiga! Thanks, a billion, April!"
April waves as I slide down the ladder, taking a moment when I reach the bottom as a tiny wave of dizziness hits me. Breathing through my nose, I blink until my vision clears and cautiously start down the alleyway.
Well, that was both tots enlightening and mega confusing. And I forgot to ask what is okay to call a parent, especially one not blood-related! But I can't be eating up more of April's time. The dudette needs to sleep and get ready for work here soonish.
And if I stay out too long, Sensei is gonna look into the void and know I'm not there. And then I'll get my shell handed to me.
I chew on my bottom lip as I wrap my arms around me as the rain instantly drenches me and a deep part of me regrets not taking up April's offer for an umbrella. I quickly pull my mask back up, trying to keep the bandages dry as I finally spot a manhole cover. It's a struggle to lift, being wet and slightly nauseous but after some struggling, I get it open enough to slide through.
My hands are clammy as I lower myself into the hole, shivering hard. I'm kinda wishing I would have kept the towel just for the warmth, but it's covered in blood and April's. I don't wanna take it from her. And it's not like I won't be dry as a cucumber soon enough. I'll just sneak into the bathroom to dry off and head to bed after letting April know I made it back to the lair.
Rubbing my arms, I continue down the dark tunnel, knowing the way back home by heart. I could be half outta my mind and I'd still be able to find my way back. Sensei made sure we would always know how to find the lair no matter which direction we come from.
And that's what a parent would do, right? I think, sluggishly walking, my shoulder sliding along the brick wall, trying to keep myself up right. Wanting to make sure we could always find our way home, right? But… that is just a guardian thing, right? Not just something a parent does. My lips twitch into a frown. But… But is a guardian a parent? Or is that different? The heel of my hand rubs my forehead as my thoughts circle around each other.
Shell. And here I thought that my talk with April helped clear some things up. Like, Irma seeing her friend's parents as second parents. But are guardians also parents? Or are all parents' guardians but not all guardians parents?
A sharp pang shoots through my skull causing me to stumble and wince. Resting against the wall, I hold my head and whimper.
"Guess Raphael is right. Think too hard and I'll hurt myself."
A weak laugh leaves me, shivering harder and goosebumps spread across my body. Pushing myself up, my mouth waters unpleasantly but I manage to keep my stomach at bay as I continue forward. Too be fair, I'm not used to thinking this deeply about subjects as most things don't catch my attention like this. Not if it isn't pizza. Just ask my big bros. They'd agree. But… But this feels IMPORTANT and my mind won't let me move on until I've figured this out.
And… And I will talk to Sensei but first sleep, I think as the entrance to the lair comes into view. Because I think my brain is gonna melt and Sensei is for sure sleeping by now.
I pause and peer into the main area of the lair.
The space is still dark, and the soft breathing of my bros fills the air. The light in the dojo has dimmed to a flickering soft golden light, telling me that Sensei is now meditating, which he does before bed.
I sag in relief.
Master Splinter hasn't exited the dojo to freshen up in the bathroom yet, which means my late-night stroll hasn't been discovered.
Breathing out slowly, I pull my Communicator from my belt and dial up April.
"Hello?" comes a drowsy reply and my guilt from earlier resurfaces when the dark silhouette of April comes into view. Shell. I didn't mean to wake her again.
"H-Hey, April," I whisper. "Just letting you know that I'm back at the lair."
I can faintly see April rub her eyes, but the room is too dark for me to see anything else.
"Oh! Okay, good," April answers, voice still tired but happy. "Thank… *yawn*… Thank you for letting me know, Michelangelo. You have a good night and I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"
I swallow a chuckle as another yawn escapes the redhead, nearly sending me into a yawn myself.
"Sure thing, Dudette. Thanks again. I owe you a large, double cheese and bacon pizza."
A soft chuckle follows my response.
"Sure thing, Michelangelo. Have a good night until then."
"Night, April," I murmur before closing the Comm.
Now to just sneak back inside and go to bed. No problemo.
Swallowing thickly, I tiptoe into the lair, eyeing the dojo warily. I don't know how long Sensei has been meditating for, so I need to be fast and silent. Depending on how deep Sensei is in his trance, he could be minutes from going to bed to having another twenty or so before slipping off to dreamland.
All I gotta do is dry off and then hit the hay, I think, tensing when one of my bros roll over. And nobody will ever know that I left.
A soft puff of air rushes from me as I slip into the bathroom, not daring to turn the light on or fully close the door. Any sound might alert Master Splinter that one of us is up with his super hearing. Not that we can't use the bathroom at night but all of us tend to be deep sleepers once we nod off. So, Sensei might think that something is wrong if he catches me. Which, I mean, isn't all that far off but I really don't wanna have that convo just yet, ya know? I'll probably flub it up with just how tired I am now and not say something right.
Sniffling softly, I rub my snout as I grope around for my towel. I was the last to shower before bed so my towel should be the closest to the door. A triumphant grin forms when my fingers finally catch the still slightly damp but fluffy fabric. As quickly as I can, I drag the dull pink towel on my skin, shivering as water from my mask drips down my neck and into my shell.
Gingerly, I tug my mask off and prod at the bandages protecting the gauze. While slightly damp, I'm pleased to feel that they're much drier than my mask.
They should tots be able to hold until morning, I think, wiping the back of my neck before hanging my towel back up. I step further into the bathroom, wringing my mask out in the sink. No reason to bother Donatello when Dr. April got me all patched up just fine.
Once my mask feels dry enough, I creep out of the bathroom. The dojo is still bright so I move as swiftly and quietly as I can. Part of me shakes a fist at past me for choosing the room closest to the entrance of the lair. But Leonardo had wanted a room close to the dojo and Sensei didn't want me near the kitchen or Donatello near his lab. Something about not trusting me not to sneak a pizza slice or two and not wanting Donatello to sneak into his lab instead of sleeping.
Not like that has stopped my genius bro, I think as I finally reach my room and slink into the shadows.
Placing my mask onto my desk, I slip into my bed. The mattress sinks under my weight and a content sigh leaves me as I pull my blanket tight around my chilled form. My eyes slide close, and I breathe in deeply once and release it.