(Normally I would put this at the end of the chapter but it has some context about Splinter that might help with this chapter)

Hello everyone! Back with a new chapter! This one is going to be in Master Splinter's perspective. I just couldn't get this idea out of my head, so I decided to make this next chapter with him. I'm hoping that he isn't too out of character. The way I picture Master Splinter is that he is barely into his forties and was barely into his twenties when he first got mutated and adopted the turtles.

(And just some backstory from my mind): The Shredder (human Shredder) and Master Splinter, in this universe, were found by the Ancient One at very young ages. The Shredder/Saki at the age of 7 and Splinter/Yoshi at the age of 5 and raised them together until Saki turned about 21 and then Ch'rell corrupted him and turned him against the Ancient One. Also, Saki married Tang Shen about a year before Ch'rell corrupted him and had Karai in this universe and had been close friends with Yoshi. So, Karai is Yoshi's niece and the boys' cousin.

Don't know how useful this information is for those about to read this chapter or if people will even read this but I just wanted to give some context for this universe's Splinter.

And to everyone still willing to stick with me after I took forever to upload, I appreciate all of you! Thank you for the comments!

Happy reading!

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I have thought to myself many times in the past that I have prepared myself for anything. That I have been through the worst that life can throw at me when I lost my human form and was forced into the shadows for not only the safety of me but of that of my four sons. My four sons who happen to be humanoid turtles. I thought, that when I was searching for a safe haven for my four baby boys that I have witnessed it all. Aliens with machines trying to track us, my own brother having his men hunting me and my family down no matter when I went.

As the years went on, I thought that my sons would only ever live a life in the shadows. Hidden from the world as they silently protect those above ground from the same beings that tried to harm us back in our family's early days. But, then my four foolish, kind-hearted boys brought home a woman with bright red hair who only fainted twice at the sight of us and soon became like the younger sister that I had always dreamed of having when I was a boy. Ms. April O'Neil proved to me that not all humans will have hatred in their heart when they interact with my four boys and has even became very much like an older sister for them. Giving them another older mentor to look up to who has a strong will and spirit.

Then came Mr. Casey Jones. When I learned of just how my second-oldest met this raven-haired male, I was wary and beyond worried. The man was brash and seemingly uncultured. Using very questionable methods to deal with his foes. It took much longer for me to warm up to Mr. Jones than it did Ms. O'Neil, I will admit. Having one hot-headed son was hard enough, adding in another was just too much at the time. But, as time went on, the brash raven-haired male grew on me as well. I think some of my problems with Mr. Jones is the fact that I saw so much of Saki in him. The justified anger. The want to do what was right but not executing it in the best manner. Always resorting to violence. I feared that another Shredder was entering my life. But, Mr. Jones proved me wrong. Not only did he calm down in his antics (for the most part). He has given me a peace of mind knowing that my sons, especially Raphael, will always have a loyal companion with them whenever they go topside. I might not approve of some of the…beverages that he willingly shares with my sons, but at least I know that he never allows them to fight afterwards. (I am not ashamed to say that I followed Raphael after one of his outbursts and he ran off to Mr. Jones's apartment like he does after Leonardo and him have an argument. Raphael, after two cans wanted to go "bash some heads" but Mr. Jones managed to not only talk him down from getting into a fight but also managed to switch him from beer over to water without my more hot blooded son even noticing. My respect for Mr. Jones grew after that night.) I am more than proud to say that Mr. Jones and Ms. O'Neil are part of our family.

And then, our family grew even larger when Michelangelo met Leatherhead and Raphael's pet snapping turtle got into the mutagen and transformed from Spike into Slash. I do not think that I have had as nearly as many heart attacks when my boys were younger and both Michelangelo and Donatello kept trying to put metal objects into places where they should not belong. Or the one time that Michelangelo thought that because my incense smelt good so he tried to eat them while lit.

I, wrongfully, thought that my boys would stop getting into such stress-inducing situations once they turned 15. That the days of them coming home with strays were over. I swear that my brown fur has gotten more grey these past four years because of those four boys. If I was still human, all of my black hair would be white if I had any left from me pulling at it. Because, instead of cute little critters (with the exception of Klunk), my boys have started bringing home other humanoid reptiles! Or humans with super powers! Or alien robots! Or other humans transformed by the mutagen. Our small family has gone from five members, to seven, to now at least 13 total members and I am probably forgetting some. And I cannot even be angry at my boys for revealing themselves to so many people because in doing so, not only has my sons gained more family for them to rely upon but they have provided these other souls with a family who will accept them no matter what.

So, foolishly, as our family expanded, I thought that this was all that life will throw at us. Other members in need of a family and acceptance. This was fine. I could handle this and after Mr. Jones and Ms. O'Neil, I was better prepared. With only a few whiskers getting ruffled when Michelangelo brought in a humanoid crocodile who tried to attack them upon waking.

And then earlier this year happened. A time that was supposed to be joyous, celebrating the return of my eldest son from his 2 year soul searching journey in the jungle and finally having all of my sons back home. I should have known that sending Leonardo away for so long would put a strain on his brothers. Donatello never wanted to role of leader and I know that I am to blame for all the tension between him and Raphael. Being the second oldest, Raphael had just as much of a right to the title as Donatello did. However, with Raphael's brash nature and his tendency to not think things through before leaping, I can understand why Leonardo chose Donatello to stand in as leader. I do believe that Raphael felt betrayed by such an act and that was why he decided to become the Nightwatcher. Without the full team and the clashing between my two middle children, there was just no way that my remaining three sons would have lasted long topside.

And my dear Michelangelo. He tried so hard to keep the soul of the family alive, to keep everyone together. But even I could see his once sunny soul losing its spark with Leonardo's absence and his other two brothers fighting constantly. I am quite proud that Michelangelo tried to elevate some of Donatello's burden by getting a job. (Although I wish he would have chosen a profession where he wouldn't have come home so bruised and injured or given him enough trauma to be terrified of birthday parties. Something he used to adore.) And I know that if it hadn't been for the efforts of my youngest that my middle sons relationship would have been beyond repair even when Leonardo returned home.

And for a moment, I believed that everything would right itself once my four sons got used to having their full team once more.

But then, what Michelangelo dubs the "Winter Incident" happened. And I nearly lost my eldest son to ancient warriors cursed to be stone statues who released monsters upon our world. Thankfully, with our family working together, we were able to rescue my son and the world and in the process, my sons became one cohesive unit once more.

And for the past six months, my sons have returned back to the team that I knew that they could be. My eldest two finally getting along, almost returning to their level of friendship of when they were tots. My third eldest could focus on his machinery and science like he was meant to. And my youngest's smile and spirit was almost as bright and sunny as it once was.

That is, until about 2 weeks ago.

My eyes snap open and my ears flatten against my head as I sigh. This meditation session was supposed to be so that I could clear my thoughts and calm my spirit. But, apparently, my mind wanted my meditation session to go much differently this time around. My lips purse as I stare at the far wall of the dojo. It is not like I am overly surprised by this failed meditation session, merely annoyed by it. My sons need me to be their anchor right now, their mentor that they can turn to if needed and I cannot be that for them if my thoughts continue to jump from one thought to another.

A sigh escapes me as I slowly lift myself up from my mat. I know why I am having such trouble in centering myself but there is not much I can do about it. My heart clenches in my chest and I rest my hand over it.

Michelangelo.

It has been more than three days since we rescued my youngest son from Tiger Claw and Hun's clutches and I have not heard him utter a word since Donatello brought him to the HoverShell. The moment he passed out in the medical bed that Donatello and Ms. O'Neil set out for him, Michelangelo has been running an incredibly high fever. More than once, Donatello has ordered us to bath Michelangelo in lukewarm water to help bring his temperature down. There has been many times that my youngest will wake briefly to vomit up anything that we have tried to nourish him with. And to make matters worse, Michelangelo's chi is so depleted that whenever I go to check on his soul, all I can find is a small ember in place of what is usually such a large and brilliant ball of orange energy.

My jaw sets as the reason why enters my head.

Those fiends. Using MY son's chi in such a way. Forcing him to nearly kill himself from using too much chi to bring back…to bring back…

My walking stick creaks and my fingers ache as I tighten my grip. That man should have stayed in dead in his casket where he belonged.

Because I know that I shall put him back there when our paths cross again, I think darkly before smoothing down my robe and exiting the dojo.

My ears twitch as silence rings out in the lair. Raphael and Leonardo went on a medicine run for Donatello. And my second youngest is… I tilt my head toward Donatello's lab. There is silence. But the longer I listen, the more I noticed muffled voices coming from upstairs. Particularly my youngest's room. Not wanting to startle my two youngest, I quietly walk up the stairs and listen.

My eyes start to mist as Donatello's voice filters in through Michelangelo's damaged door. He's reading to his slumbering younger brother his comic books.

Pressing my hand to my eyes, I slowly count to ten in my mind as I try to keep my breathing regulated. Once I make sure that I won't shed a tear in front of my sons, I straighten and gently knock on the door before opening it. Donatello looks up, a flash of surprise crosses his face before morphing into a gentle, if not slightly embarrassed, smile.

"Oh, uh, hi, Sensei. I wasn't expecting you to be done meditating so soon." Donatello rubs the back of his neck before holding up the comic he was just reading. "I was just reading Mikey one of his comics. He woke up briefly and I got him to take some medicine and water, which he is currently keeping down great right now, and he…well, he didn't really ask but he gestured toward the comics so I kinda assumed he was tired of the silence."

My lips quirk as I nod, walking further into the room, mindful of where I step as my more artist son's floor is trying to become a masterpiece of all its own. (It drives Leonardo crazy that Michelangelo does not clean nearly as often as he should, but I will take Michelangelo's dirty room if it just means that my son will awaken, coherent and hungry with that bright, sunny smile once more.)

"Why don't you show me where you left off, my son, and I shall continue reading for him while you make the two of us some tea."

I raise an eyebrow when Donatello opens his mouth, ready to argue. But I can hear the raspiness in my bo-wielding son's voice and I know for a fact that he has not slept much since bringing Michelangelo home. Whether it be because he was tending to our youngest or because he was checking on Ms. O'Neil, Mr. Jones, and myself. My shoulder twinges a little as a reminder, but I ignore it. Once I am able to meditate better I shall fully heal myself. But for right now, I want my second youngest to take care of himself, if only for a moment.

After a second, Donatello's shoulders sag but his soft smile remains as he nods.

"I left off here," Donatello says, pointing to one of the colorful heroes speech bubbles. I recognize the hero immediately. It's one of Michelangelo's Silver Sentry comics. "Right when Silver Sentry is telling the team that they need to stop the bad guy."

Nodding, I take the comic from my son's hand and watch as he stands, stretching. I barely hold back a wince when I hear his joints pop and crack. He is far too young for that.

"Is there anything you would like me to give Michelangelo should he waken while you are downstairs?" I ask as I take the now empty seat and smooth out the pages in my lap.

"See if he'll drink some more water," Donatello answers as he rubs a knot from his neck. "He's still sweating a lot from his fever, and I want to avoid having to put him on a drip but if he continues to sleep for as long as he is, I might just have to."

My heart breaks as my purple-cladded son sags and runs a hand down his face, appearing much older than he should. The poor boy is not even twenty. He should not be looking this haggard while so young.

Reaching out, I catch Donatello's hand in mine. For the second time today, my son looks at me in surprise.

"You are doing a marvelous job with all of this, my son," I say softly, rubbing my thumb across his knuckles as his chestnut eyes start to mist over. "Do not be afraid to reach out and ask for assistance. We are here for you just as much as we are here for Michelangelo. And we both know that Leatherhead and Dr. Rockwell will not hesitate in coming over here to assist you with the more science, medical knowledge that the rest of us cannot provide you. We will try our best for you should you ask, but you have people who are willing to help you, my son."

Donatello presses his free hand against his eyes, chest stuttering as he tries to regulate his shallow breathing. He squeezes my hand tightly and I do another pass over his knuckles with my thumb.

"There is no shame in crying, my son," I state softly. "We maybe ninjas, but right now, we are merely a family trying to help one ailing member. Family will always come first."

After a moment of silence, Donatello lowers his hand from his face. His eyes are red but his mask and face are tear-free. Placing the comic onto the nightstand, I stand and pull my second youngest to me. His arms instantly wrap around me and Donatello leans down, resting his forehead on my shoulder. My lips quirk as I hum a soft tune.

"You have gotten quite tall, my son," I muse, internally smirking when I feel Donatello giggle against me like I wanted. "I think I now understand the appeal of why Michelangelo makes you grab everything for him."

"That and because I give him more of an advantage when we play chicken in the pool with Leo and Raph," Donatello says, voice muffled by my robe. I squeeze him tightly, which he returns.

"Hmm, that it does, my son."

Leaning back, I take my son's face into my hands and smile at him as I study his face.

"I am very proud of how all of you are handling this," I state softly, smoothing out Donatello's mask with my thumb. "Never forget that. Now, go make some tea and try to relax. Your brother is stable for now and we both know that he would be upset if you made yourself sick taking care of him." Tilting his head down, I kiss the top of his head, pat his cheek and usher him out the door.

Donatello blinks as he turns toward me. I stare at him before he slowly nods and leaps down to the kitchen. Amusement fills me, knowing that most of the time, Donatello is the one who uses the stairs the most. But seeing him do something that mainly Raphael or Michelangelo are known for.

Shaking my head, I leave the door open a crack and return to my seat. I scoot the chair closer, reaching out to brush my knuckles across Michelangelo's head. A sigh escapes me at the sweat and redness on his face. I brush a knuckle near his eye, heart clenching at just how YOUNG Michelangelo appears without his mask. Right now, I would much rather have my son in his child form. At least he would be awake and running around. Sadly it cannot be. Instead, my most active child is lying far too still in his bed, laboring to breath and his body desperately trying to repair his chi after it was drained nearly completely.

"Oh, Michelangelo," I mutter, taking the wash cloth that Leonardo had left before leaving and dipping it into the bowl of water. "You certainly know how to worry your family. Especially your father. You know that I am getting far too old for this type of stress. And it would help your brothers mood if you would wake up some more and keep down some food." I wipe Michelangelo's face with the cloth before just resting it on his forehead. "The lair is far too quiet and dull without your shining aura to fill it. And I believe that I heard Raphael saying that he misses your pranks, so I think you owe it to him to finish healing and pull at least a few pranks on your older brothers." Rubbing Michelangelo's cheek, I reach over and pick up his comic. "So, make sure that you are thinking of your best pranks while I read. This will be the only time that I will turn a blind eye to any prank that you do."

I pause when Michelangelo twitches, muttering something incoherent before settling again. However, that little movement sparks a bout of hope inside of me. The last few days he has not moved so much while sleeping. Smiling, I start reading from the spot Donatello pointed out.

The door creaks as I read aloud, only a few pages from the end, and I glance over to see Leonardo walking across the floor with a tea in hand. My eldest smiles down at me, eyes flickering over to his youngest brother.

"Hello, Sensei," Leonardo says quietly, holding out the cup of tea for me. "Raph and I returned, and I saw Donnie making some tea but he looked ready to fall asleep so I sent him to bed."

Nodding, I take the tea while Leonardo takes the comic as I sip.

"And the two of you were able to collect the medicines that Donatello needed?"

Leonardo nods as he studies the comic before glancing at me.

"Yes, Sensei. Raph put it in Donnie's lab for him after he sleeps a little." Leonardo holds up the comic. "Would you mind if I finished reading for you, Sensei?"

Raising an eyebrow, I lower the cup from my lips.

"Was I not doing the voices correctly?"

Red tinges Leonardo's face but his little smile tells me all I need to know. Chuckling, I nod and stand, gesturing for my eldest to take a seat.

"Very well. We all know that Michelangelo prefers how you read his comics to him over the rest of us." Reaching over, I grab the wash cloth from Michelangelo's forehead and dipping it one more time and wiping his face before replacing it. As I place the cloth down, an idea sparks in my mind. Our heart of the family may be sick, but I know that he would not want us to be so serious. And I need to give my sons something to focus on that will not bring their spirits down further.

Making up my mind, I catch Leonardo by the shoulder when he moves to take the empty seat behind me. Startled, my eldest looks up at me, brown eyes wide and the brief image of a toddler Leonardo staring up at me flashes in my mind.

"Father?"

Chuckling, I shake my head and place a hand on Leonardo's cheek. Leonardo stares at me as I study his face for a moment. Confusion swirls in his gaze and I smile at him.

"You and your brothers are doing well, Leonardo. I am very proud of you four. Thank you."

Leaning forward, I kiss the top of his head and continue out of the room leaving a very baffled Leonardo behind me. I can hear his sputtering as I manage to make it pass the door. Smirking, I stroke my beard as I scan the lair below.

Two baffled sons down. One more to go until my fourth wakens.

My ears twitch and I hear movement in the kitchen. I smile.

As my sons would say: It's ninja time.

Moving as silently as possible, I glide across the floor, listening to my second eldest grumbling to himself as he pours himself a bowl of cereal. I really need to teach my eldest three how to cook. Sliding into the kitchen, I pause behind my more temperamental son. His shoulders are tense as he pours milk into the bowl.

"I hope you are planning to eat more than just cereal, my son."

I bite the inside of my cheek to from smiling as Raphael chokes and coughs up the bits of cereal he just swallowed incorrectly.

"Sen-Sensei! Geez, don't sneak up on meh," Raphael says, coughing as he pounds on his chest. After a moment he finally calms down, Raphael turns toward me, apprehension in his golden eyes. "Is…uh…Is dere somethin' ya need, Sensei?"

Studying my second eldest, I remain silent until he starts to squirm.

"Um, Sensei? Somethin' wrong?"

Remaining silent, I walk up to my son, lamenting that he and I are nearly at eye-level. It's definitely not as bad as Donatello, who is taller than even me, but I must admit, having Michelangelo in his child form definitely made me miss having all of my children being so small where I can just pick them up when I wanted.

"Dad?"

Blinking, I refocus on my son, realizing that I was staring for too long. Smiling, I reach up and place a hand on Raphael's cheek. Raphael's eyes widen a little as he waits for me to speak.

"Sen—"

"I am very proud of you and your brothers. The four of you have been through much these past two weeks and I am very proud of the four of you."

Leaning forward I kiss Raphael's forehead and pat his cheek. Raphael's mouth moves up and down but I merely turn, place my now empty mug of tea onto the counter and exit the kitchen. I pause for a brief second and listen.

"What was dat all about?" I hear Raphael state aloud and he shuffles around. "I think dat dis cereal is bad."

My lips quirk.

Mission accomplished. All right, Michelangelo. I have the mood in motion for you, my son. Now, it is time for you, my son, to get better and wake up. We sorely miss you.