Chapter 6: Echoes from the Past

Casey winces as pain pulses through his ribs with each inhale, every accidental jostle in the crowded hallway amplifying the ache. He groans, wishing he were home instead of at school. Adjusting his bookbag, he uses his free arm to guard his bruised ribs against further abuse. After the incident with Kevin McAllister, he's skating on thin ice with the principal. Another absence would undoubtedly result in a call to his dad, and Casey can't bear the thought of facing his wrath again. The memory of the beating he received for whacking McAllister with his hockey stick still haunts him. A blossoming bruise across his torso serves as a painful reminder.

First period, Casey brushed off the soreness, however, by the end of second period he struggles to ignore the tightening pain as he leans against the hallway wall. The door to the A/V room opens beside him as a student comes out carrying a box of chargers. As the student disappears down the hall, Casey sticks his foot out to keep the door from closing and locking. Sliding inside the room he breathes slowly trying to relax the spasms pulsing across his ribs. The room is a small closet with various sized boxes stacked randomly against the walls. He leans against an overhead projector cart. There's no way he can make it through the rest of the day like this but he can't hide out all day in the A/V closet either. Pulling his phone from his back pocket, his thumb hesitates as it hovers over the last person he wants to text right now. With a sigh, he single-handedly taps rapidly at his screen.

Casey: need help. Come to AV?

Simone: wth* is AV?

Casey: the closet with electronics

Simone: u mean the lip locker?

Casey: omg can u just come?

Simone: uh, no.

Casey: SOS

Simone: …

Simone: …

Simone: boy band concealer?

Casey: no… ribs

Simone: btim*

Casey: k

Casey isn't sure what's more painful, asking Simone for help again or trying to breathe. When pain slices through each inhale like a razor blade, he swallows his pride and decides Simone isn't so bad after all. His attention snaps to the door at the soft knocking.

"Who's there?" Casey asks without thinking and immediately calls himself a dummy under his breath. Who else would it be?

"Open the door, moron," Simone's sarcastic tone is quick to call him out on his stupidity as well. Turning the knob for her, Casey takes a step back as Simone quickly slips into the small space. There's the usual frown of annoyance on Simone's face when he's in her presence but Casey catches a hint of something softer in her eyes. "How bad is it?" she asks quietly in a way that opposes her loud and obnoxious nature.

"I think... I cracked one of them," Casey breathes around the pain.

Wordlessly, Simone drops her bookbag on a stack of boxes and pulls out a pair of tights. "Let me see." Casey obliges, carefully lifting his shirt and hoodie. A small gasp slips past Simone's lips.

"I've… I've had worse in… hockey," Casey smirks as he tries to play off the injury when Simone's brows rise with worry before she frowns once again. "Tights? I thought you had cramp pills or something."

"Shut up," Simone snaps as she takes her tights and starts snuggly wrapping above his ribs. "Your whole chest looks like an ink blot! What? Do you just stand there and let him use you like a punching bag?!" Simone doesn't bite back her anger. She never has. But when she pulls a little too hard while wrapping his ribs, Casey grunts back a shout of pain as he instinctively bends at the waist. Simone's eyes instantly soften as she steadies him, her hands rest on his shoulders. "Sorry." The previous anger in her voice dissolves into concern. "You should have told someone," she murmurs as she ties off the end of the makeshift wrappings.

"Do you tell anyone when it happens to you?" he says more defensively then he means to but Simone doesn't seem offended as she pulls a joint and a lighter from her pocket.

"Our situations are totally different." Casey gives her a look as she lights the joint and takes a drag before continuing. "Dude, I've heard you talk about the epic-sized get-togethers with your fam. You could crash at a different house every day of the week if you wanted to. When things get rough with my mom, I only have my brother and he's… not always available. So it's off to some crummy foster home for me." Simone extends the joint to Casey. He hesitates. "It'll help."

"I'll pass. The last time I puffed and passed with you, I was covered in glitter and found my pants in a microwave."

Simone shrugs. "Your loss, your pain."

Casey eyes the joint with anxiety. Even with Simone's tights somewhat stabilizing his ribs, he had to get through the rest of they day. Before Simone could take another puff, Casey takes it from her, placing the joint between his lips before inhaling, and exhaling slowly as not to disturb his injured ribs.

"It's not that easy," Casey tries to explain, a lump forming in his throat as he struggles to find the words. "I... I don't want to cause any more stress for my family. I want my mom to be happy, drama-free. To… to leave here without any doubts that we're okay."

"But you're not okay."

"I don't think it'll be much longer," Casey's voice drops as a different kind of ache settles in his chest. "I can hold out until then."

Simone nods, understanding the implication. She moves from in front of Casey, hopping on top of a box beside the cart he is leaning on. Swinging her legs she looks at the floor. "I was ten when my dad was killed. The police said he died pretty quick, probably didn't have time to feel any pain. I'm sorry your mom is suffering. When it… happens, I hope she doesn't feel anything."

The sharp pain in Casey's ribs eases into an uncomfortable ache as he listens to the girl beside him. Simone never talks about her past, at least not to him. Usually their conversations never went beyond insults and annoying one another. This softer, less abrasive side of Simone was weird but not unpleasant. He feels something other than aggravation toward her, something akin to sympathy but he dare not call it that. It sucked that her dad was taken from her so soon. At least he has 17 years with his mom.

"I'm sorry about your dad. Wish you had more time with him." He offers a quiet condolence.

"Hey, Casey?"

"Yeah?" He closes his eyes, letting a blanket of calm numb his senses.

"Puff and pass, dude. That's my good weed," she says without missing a beat as she snaps her fingers at him, waiting for him to give up the piece.

Casey chuckles and winces. The pain is still there but manageable. Maybe Simone was on to something. As he passes the joint, their fingers brush against each other, guiding their eyes to meet. A silent understanding is bridged between them. In that moment, the air around them seems to levitate with the weight of unspoken emotions.

Casey's heart pounds in his chest, making his ribs ache with anticipation. Wait, what is he anticipating? A punch in the arm? A crude remark?

What he doesn't anticipate is Simone's round, brown eyes being soft pools of compassion that draw him close. She must feel it too as she leans forward, closing the gap between them. Maybe it's just the fog of marijuana around them but there is a current of emotions that drifts lazily around them like a slow cyclone, and at the center a pull that neither teen expects and neither of them disapproves.

And so, without thinking, without hesitating, Casey leans in, his lips meeting Simone's in a soft, tentative kiss. Time freezes as he allows himself to get lost in the moment. But then, just as quickly as it started, the moment is over, reality crashing back in with a sizzling jolt.

"Crap!" Casey bats at the smoke on his jeans as a hole starts to burn. Apparently, in their 'heated' moment, the joint had dropped between them landing on his thigh.

"Butterfingers," Simone chuckles. Casey frowns in short-lived annoyance as laughter sputters from his lips.

"You're such a pain, literally." Casey holds his arm over his ribs as he subdues his mirth but can't seem to stop staring at the warmth behind Simone's smirk.

The tender affection floating in Casey's head quickly sinks into sticky awkwardness. Did he just kiss Simone?

Oh, God. I just kissed Simone. Sweet thoughts turn uncomfortably sour as he realizes his mistake because kissing Simone was definitely a mistake. Some of his friends joked that the A/V closet was called the lip locker because lips were bound to lock and lead to second base in here. Chris had Lindsay's thong as proof. Was it really the curse of previous teenage hormones in the closet that caused him and Simone to kiss? Nah. Casey's pretty sure it was the weed.

"Um… I gotta get to class." Simone is the first to break eye contact as she quickly scoots off her box and scrambles for her bookbag. She's out the door before Casey can close his gaping mouth.

A million thoughts race through April's mind as she power-walks down the hall. She thought burying herself in school work would help alleviate the anxiety pulsing in her skull, but school only seemed to add to her daily worry for Donatello. They still have no idea where he is, if he's okay, or if he's even aliv—

No. We will find him, April thinks as she stops the manifestation of the negative thought. Her brain switches gears from her missing boyfriend to her missing friend. Casey didn't seem himself in first period. She could feel waves of pain radiating from his mental energy. They had an exam so she couldn't ask if he was okay. And as soon as the bell rung, he left the classroom without a word.

She hopes to catch up with Casey later and get to the bottom of whatever is going on with him. April's thoughts are interrupted as she spots Simone leaving the A/V closet looking particularly suspect, which is completely normal for her mischievous friend. April sighs. She really isn't in the mood for Simone's shenanigans this morning.

"Hey, Simone," April puts forth an effort to greet her friend with a smile.

Simone lets out a squeak as she leans forcefully against the closet door effectively slamming it shut. "APRIL! …HEY, GIRL! …WHAT'S GOOD WITH YOU, BESTIE?" Simone's voice rings out, her smile so wide it looks painful.

"Why are you shouting?" April narrows her eyes.

"NO REASON… I… I mean no reason." Simone props her elbow against the A/V closet door.

April quirks a brow at Simone's nervousness. Nope. I am not getting pulled into that whole situation… whatever it is.

"Okay… well, have you seen Casey? He's been kind of distant the past few days," April asks, making a point to ignore Simone's behavior.

"Casey? Pfft… why would I know where that lughead is? Probably somewhere being stupid per usual, am I right?" Simone's words are a runaway train, tumbling out in a single breath. "Anyway, don't wanna be late for… kiss…er class… yeah… class. Later!"

April blinks at Simone's retreating form as she practically flies down the hall. "Since when has she ever cared about being on time for class, or for that matter, being in class at all?" April mutters to herself as she puts a mental bookmark on that conversation for later. April sniffs the air and frowns. Weed. She looks at the A/V closet, putting two and two together. April rolls her eyes as she walks past the door. Simone smoking weed was nothing new to April. Judging from the opening click of the door as she passes by, Simone wasn't alone. April doesn't bother to turn around, assuming it to be some pothead that Simone decided to hook up with. Simone is smarter than she gives herself credit for, but April really wishes she'd find something better to do with her time.

A familiar jingle meets her ears as she pulls her tphone out of the side pocket of her bookbag. "Hello?" April answers as she ducks into the bathroom to avoid the cellphone-snatching teachers in the hallway. There's a long silence before April confirms the caller. "Mikey? …Did you shell-dial me again?"

"Oh!… uh… no, sorry. Can you come to the lair?"

"I'm in school right now… Is everything okay?" April asks, while checking the stalls to ensure she is alone. Mikey usually texts her if he's bored or in a less than 'Mikey' kind of mood.

"Not really. Splinter's lost and Raph and I tried everything but I don't think he knows he's lost. I can't drift so I can't find him, but maybe you—"

"Wait, wait. What do you mean Splinter is lost? Did he say anything before he left?" April interrupts him, trying to make sense of his disjointed explanation. "Slow down, Mikey."

Mikey takes a breath. "No… no. He's still here but you know how he's been meditating all the time? Well, I think he saw something and now he's lost."

The tardy bell rings. April's been an exceptional student, drowning herself in school work for weeks; anything to stay busy, to keep her mind sharp and focused. Surely one skipped day would be forgivable. "I'm on my way."

April's heart races as she pushes past the turnstile. Despite the urgency of the situation, her pace slows as she looks around. The lair, a warm underground refuge she once called her second home, is now a shadow of its former self. Nothing has physically changed but April feels the difference all the same. The stiffness of the worn couch as her fingertips graze its headrests, the distorted flicker of lights from the arcade games that sends a chill down her spine, and the sad echo of her own footsteps, empty and hollow, all an atmospheric concoction of foreboding energy.

It was only a few weeks ago since her last visit. The atmosphere had been dispirited, yes, but nothing like this. This was so much worse. There was once a weight of warmth, joy, and familial strength, an undeniable love that anchored her in ways she didn't know she needed. But now the lair is haunted by despair and fear as anger and bitterness threatens to swallow it entirely. April feels the unnatural pull in the lair that seeks to spirit her away into one of its dark corners, the same way it imprisons its current residents. Without its benevolent anchor, one could easily be whisked away into the dreary shadows now occupying this place.

"April!" She hears her name but can't quite respond as the lair's aura pulls at her mind. It's only when Mikey grasps her hand that she gasps back to reality. Worried blue eyes meet her as she blinks.

"Mikey?" Confusion follows as she shudders for the second time since entering the lair. "You don't feel that?" April asks as dread surrounds her.

Mikey tilts his head to the side. "Feel what?"

Of course he doesn't feel it. April's eyes soften. He's been in it too long. Mikey was completely desensitized to the dreadful atmosphere around him. It was like being in a cold shower for so long it no longer chills your skin, not knowing how cold it is until someone else steps in and tells you. April feels the same heartbreaking emotions of the lair radiating like nervous energy from Mikey.

"Never mind. Where is Master Splinter?" April asks, finding her determination again.

"In Donnie's room, come on!" Mikey tugs her forward and she's thankful to be pulled out of the unseen emotional tar pit of the main area. However, entering Donnie's room is like going from the frying pan into the proverbial fire.

A rush of stale emotions nearly suffocate April as she enters the room, the heart of their current crisis. She coughs even though there is nothing physically irritating her lungs. Emotions aside, the room did carry the stale scent of old linen and fur, which makes April's nose twitch. She observes the makeshift shrine of childhood relics placed in a circular sacrificial fashion with Splinter at the center, sitting in silent meditation on the bed. If this was a shrine, the arrangement makes April wonders what exactly Splinter is sacrificing himself to. As she feels the energy of Splinter's presence, it is not the serene image of a wise and gentle master that greets April but a man lost in the haze of his own mind, adrift in a sea of memories and regrets.

"He's been like this for weeks… I just… I didn't know. He always meditates, I thought he was okay. I didn't know," Raph says, the self-blame evident in his quiet tone. He sits hunched and hopeless in a chair in front of Splinter's unmoving form.

April walks over to Raph, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder before giving it a squeeze. "Hey, this isn't your fault. Let me see what I can do." April motions for Raph to move as she takes his place on the chair, scooting closer to her Sensei. Master Splinter's peaceful countenance is no different than any other time April has watched him meditate but appearances are indeed deceiving.

As April's fingertips touch his temples, she feels a spiritual reverberation from Splinter that hums through her soul, a heavy melancholy that bring tears to her eyes. There's something else present. April pushes gently into Splinter's psyche. She sees roots, strong tree-like roots. His unspoken fears and desires have developed into thick tendrils, drilling down into his mind, muddying his meditation, and twisting his thoughts into a false feeling of peace. She hears an echo, an impression of a repeated word.

Stay… Stay… Stay…

April gasps, processing everything she just experienced from the few minutes of contact with Splinter's mind.

"How bad is it?" Mikey asks her, rubbing instinctively at the shell necklace around his neck.

"Master Splinter isn't just lost. He's trapped." Her expression becomes critical as she addresses the brothers. "The emotional roots are so deep, I… I don't know if I can help without hurting him."

"What if we go into Sensei's mind like we did with Donnie before he…"

"It's worth a try," April says quickly with a determined smile, as she struggles not to think about her failed attempt at saving Donnie from the spiritual manifestation of his mutation.

"But you're staying here. No brain hopping for you," Raph points at Mikey, his stern tone leaving no room for argument.

"Just 'cause I can't drift doesn't mean I can't help!" Mikey pouts as he stomps his foot defiantly.

Raph takes a breath. "You are helping. I need you to stay out here," Raph gestures to the room they're in and continues. "If something weird happens to our bodies, wake us up, okay?" Raph gives Mikey a persuasive look before the younger turtle finally agrees. "That's my guy." He cuffs the back of Mikey's head before turning back to April. "Let's do this."

"Splinter is connected to something here that's giving those emotional roots their energy. We need physical contact with it." As April speaks, Splinter lets out a content sigh that takes her by surprise. That's when she notices Splinter's fingers curl around something in his lap—a toy dinosaur. Overlapping her hand with Splinter's, April senses the raw energy from the aged toy as her eyes glow white. "Take my hand." April extends her free hand to Raph who kneels beside her at the side of the bed. Raph takes her hand and immediately falls forward, his head flopping against the bed as unconsciousness envelopes his mind.

April opens her eyes to nothingness. No walls, no floor, no ceiling just empty space. "Raph!"

"I'm here." Raph brushes against her shoulder as he comes to her side. They both take in the nothingness around them. "So what're we lookin' for? Shadow monsters, inner demons…?" Raph inquires as he narrows his eyes carefully as if expecting an ambush.

"I'm not sure but I think we'll know it when we see it."

Know it when we see it… when we see it… see it…

"Or hear it," Raph adds as his voice also echoes eerily into the nothingness. April takes a step forward only to thump her face against an invisible barrier. As she rubs her sore nose, the barrier ripples into ringlets of muted colors, reflecting her and Raphael on its surface before the waves settle down into nothingness again. Raph flicks the unseen wall in front of them and this time it ripples an echo of the gesture and carries the warbled sound of children's laughter. "What the shell?"

April shrugs. This is new territory for her as well. She presses hard against the barrier, eliciting a continuous ripple of colors and distorted sounds. April presses harder and Raph joins her as the ripples become aggressive and bright before suddenly giving in as April and Raph tumble through with the grace of a falling piano.

The perceived fall changes to a stumbling walk as colors, sounds, and feelings echo around them until the surrounding colors ripple into a scene. Vivid saturations echo and bounce off one another painting the world around them.

"It's the lair," April says. "But it's… different." There is a crisp newness to the underground dwelling as though years of age had been peeled away. As April and Raph explore the lair within Splinter's mind, they notice certain things missing like the arcade games and punching dummy. April perks her ears. She hears it again, laughter. It's less of an echo and more solid now.

"There. It's comin' from the dojo," Raph points to the doorway. They rush to the dojo but stop short at the entrance, taking in the moment before them. There are no weapons lining the walls to which April is accustomed, only the small shrine of Splinter's past family and a baby turtle aquarium signifying his new one. What really stands out to April is the dojo's tree. The enormous tree whose branches and leaves used to umbrella as a centerpiece for the dojo is a mere sapling.

Laughter rings in April's ear as she turns to find four very small turtles circling Master Splinter hand-in-hand. This room is no dojo for training but a playroom to four small turtles and their father. Splinter's eyes are closed, a gentle smile gracing his relaxed features. The turtles excitedly continue to circle Splinter as they sing between giggles:

The bird in the cage,

When, oh when will it come out

In the evening of the dawn

The crane and turtle slipped,

Who is behind you now?

When the song ends. The turtles stand still, though not as quietly as April assumes they are supposed to be, as they fidget and titter around Splinter.

"Hmm… who stands behind me?" Splinter says lightly as his tail gently wraps around the turtle behind him. "Is it my precious Donatello?" The turtle in question squeals with delight as the tail brings him in front of Splinter and plops him into the rat's loving arms. "My Kashikoi shōnen*," Splinter speaks warmly to the little turtle boy as he nuzzles his snout against the side of the boy's face.

"But Papa, how did you know it was me?" Donatello asks, his voice high and keen as he eyes Splinter with round curious eyes, the gap-toothed smile never leaving his face.

"I would know the sound of your laughter anywhere, my son." Splinter proceeds to tickle Donatello who bursts into a fit of giggles.

"Papa! Papa! What about me?" Another small turtle, that looks strikingly like a much younger version of Raphael, tugs roughly at Splinter's robe. "Would you know me?" Green eyes wait intently for an answer.

"Me too! Me too!" The other two turtles pipe in, demanding a response. With a single swoop of his arm, Splinter gathers the three remaining turtles giving each a round of tickles to the unprotected extremities outside of their hard shells.

"It's a memory," April says softly as she feels the warmth of the scene playing out before her.

"I… I barely remember this," Raph murmurs at her side. "Uh, why is he looking at us?" Raph says as Splinter narrows his eyes at April and Raph. "Memories can't see us, right?" Splinter whispers something to the small turtles who continue their play as Splinter strides over to them. "April…" Raph trails off, pulling at April as he steps back.

April stumbles back along with Raphael as Splinter closes the gap between them. Raph is right. Memories were echoes from the past. They have no consciousness and should not be able to see them. Apparently, this memory didn't get the memo on how things work in one's subconscious. Splinter was close to impossible to defeat in the physical world. April doubts his mindscape will be any easier. "We… we mean no harm!" April splutters holding her hands up peaceably. A hard nudge in the arm and Raphael copies her gesture.

"Who are you and why are you here?" As Splinter speaks, April senses a strong protectiveness. This was no memory. This was Splinter.

"I'm April and this is Raphael. We've come to help you," April answers.

"Don't you remember, Sensei? It's me, it's Raphael," Raph says, tapping his plastron as if the gesture will trigger some kind of recognition with Splinter but the rat father merely quirks his furry brow.

"We do not need your help." Splinter's tone is cordial but stern.

"No, they don't," April agrees with a sad sigh, pointing to the four turtle children playing happily in the center of the room. "But I think you do." April's expression softens as she tries to be gentle in her approach, knowing any trauma to Splinter's mind could adversely affect theirs as well.

"How so?" Good, she at least had his attention even if it was skepticism.

"You're trapped in a memory loop," April says.

"A memory loop?" Splinter questions as he looks from April to Raph.

"Yes. I think… I think you came here while meditating to try and find Donnie but somehow you got stuck in this memory."

"You are mistaken, child," Splinter smiles with ease, oblivious to the immediate danger he has unwittingly placed himself in. "Donatello and the rest of my sons are safe with me." He gestures to the turtle tots.

"No, he's not!" April stiffens at Raph's sudden outburst. "He double mutated and some sleazy agents took him! Mikey pretends he's okay but he's not, and Leo… he ain't been around. We need you back, Splinter!"

April senses a flicker of melancholy and guilt within Splinter's mindscape but a numbing unawareness tries to coat his mind again.

"They need me here! Who will protect them if I do not? Who will feed them, keep them warm… love them? I cannot leave them. I will not abandon them." The passion speaks loudly in Splinter voice, a misplaced vow of fatherly love that brings tears to April's eyes.

He doesn't understand. His grief has trapped him here in a place and time he thought his children were safe. With everything falling apart in their world, April empathizes with Splinter's need to go back to a time when he could protect his boys.

"Master Splinter, this isn't real," April shakes her head sadly. "But I understand why you picked this memory to live in," April continues as she pulls her words from related memories. "Your sons were younger, innocent back then. They looked to you for everything. They needed you and you protected them." April pauses as she feels Splinter's mind open up to her speech. "But your boys aren't little anymore. You taught them how to defend themselves and stand up for others. It scared you when they went into the city alone at first, and every night your heart clenched with worry as they fought evils beyond this world. And then your worst nightmare came true. You couldn't protect them."

The false serenity around them glitches as subliminal truths flash in between.

Donatello's horrific mutation.

Blood gushing from Michelangelo's arm

Leonardo's battered and unconscious state

The fear in Raphael's green eyes.

The images assault Splinter's mind as they try to break through. Splinter grunts as he holds the side of his head.

"No!" Splinter cries out. The tranquil scene slams back in place as Splinter struggles with his emotional pain.

"Papa, can you read me a story, please?" The little Donatello asks while tugging on Splinter's robe.

"It's not real," Raph tries again as he steps forward, placing Splinter in-between two sons, one a wistful fantasy of innocence and trust, the other a dire reality of pain and suffering. "You gotta let this go."

Splinter, reluctant to let go of this illusion of safety, gazes at the young Donatello with a mix of nostalgia and anguish. "They are innocent. To let go is to expose them to the darkness of this world."

"It's too late for that," Raph gives a quiet, pensive response. "But it's not too late to save Donnie. He's still out there and he needs us. All of us."

Splinter's struggle is palpable as he clings to the echoes of the past. The dojo wavers, the edges blurring as Splinter's mind tries to reconcile his fears, guilt, and sorrow. But the memory fights back. The small turtle, sensing their father's distraction, clutches desperately at Splinter's robe.

"Don't go, Papa," little Donatello pleads, his big brown eyes shimmering with tears. "I need you."

Just as Splinter moves to follow the turtle tot, Raphael grips his forearm. "Dad, please!" Raph begs, his eyes determined yet hold the fears of a child who needs his father. "I need you."

The vision shatters, cracks spreading through the dojo's walls like a spider's web. The young turtles' voices grow frantic, their hands reaching out but unable to hold onto him. Splinter looks at the fading memory one last time. April feels his heart breaking as Splinter whispers to the final remnants of little Donnie's face. "I failed you once, I will not fail you again." With a final, agonizing effort, Splinter tears himself from the memory, the illusion fracturing completely as April is forcefully tossed from Splinter's mind.

She gasps as she returns to the harsh reality of Donnie's room. April holds up a finger to Mikey's muffled voice as she takes a minute to orient herself. Her sight clears as Raphael shakes the fog from his head. April chances a look toward Splinter. His eyes, now clear and resolute, meet April's and Raphael's.

"April. Raphael…" Splinter says as he attempts to stand. April and Raph are instantly at his side when they see their Sensei falter.

"Be careful, Master Splinter. You've been… immobile for a while," April pauses as she takes the walking stick from Mikey and hands it to Splinter, who gladly takes it for support.

"Thank you." Splinter looks between April and his two sons. "Your observation and quick thinking saved me from a self-inflicted demise."

"It's good to have you back." Mikey's smile actually reaches his eyes this time.

April notes how Raph stands before Splinter, his tough exterior barely concealing the emotional storm April senses inside him.

"Hey, Mikey," April whispers as she steps back to the door to give Raphael and Splinter some much needed privacy, "let's go fix something to eat. I'm sure Sensei is probably hungry." Even without his aura abilities Mikey returns her meaningful look after a quick glance at his older brother and follows her to the kitchen.

Raphael's fists clench and unclench at his sides. He barely notices April and Mikey slip from the room as he scrutinizes Splinter's face, searching for any sign that the man before him was still trapped in the recesses of his mind.

"Sensei… are you… are you really back?" Raph's voice is quiet and rough, its usual sturdiness still present but now tinged with a heaviness that wobbles like a Jenga tower. Please be back.

Splinter steps forward, the air around him charged with a renewed energy of confidence and paternal poise Raphael had not seen in weeks. Splinter reaches out, his hand strong and reassuring, and places it gently on Raphael's head. "I am here, my son," he said softly, his voice steady. "I will not leave you again."

The warm touch of his father's hand, the strength and unwavering truth in his voice, it's all too much. Everything was too much. Raph's tough facade crumbles. His shoulders shake as shameful tears stand in his eyes. He dares not look at Splinter's face in fear of seeing the disappointment there. "Sensei… I tried… I tried to hold everything together," he chokes out between sobs. "But things just kept gettin' worse. I wasn't strong enough… I couldn't—"

The next thing Raph feels is fur and worn fabric against his face as Splinter embraces him, pulling him into his bosom. The gentle stroke of his father's hand over the top of head is enough for the dam to break as tears flow from his eyes, dampening the robe and fur cradled against him. His body trembles as he finally releases the stress of responsibility he had carried alone for weeks.

"You have done more than I could ever ask, Raphael," Splinter murmurs, his voice filled with pride and sorrow. "You have been strong for your brothers, for me. But you do not have to bear this alone any longer." Raphael finally remembers how his arms work as he returns the embrace, clinging to Splinter as a childish fear of losing his father again overwhelms him. "It is alright, Raphael. It is alright," Splinter soothes him as the rough-and-tumble teen tries to swallow back a sob that still manages to hiccup past his lips.

Splinter nearly breaks at the sound of his son's muffled sobs. His absence of mind had put an insurmountable amount of stress on his second oldest and for this, self-reproach weighs heavily in his heart. "My son, I am sorry I was not present in the way I was needed to be. I was lost in a realm of regret and wishful thinkings of Donatello. Perhaps if I had been more…"

…Attentive? …Observant? …Smarter?

He shakes his head at the spiraling thoughts. No. Those are the same type of thoughts that dragged him away from his boys to begin with. He would not allow such thoughts to consume him again. "I am here now and we will manage as a family," Splinter apologizes with a promise he plans to keep. He can't afford to let his own grief and regrets consume him again. It was selfish to retreat within himself in such a manner that caused his children to suffer more than they already have with their brother still missing.

Splinter holds Raphael firmly in his embrace until the teen signals his discomfort, and possibly embarrassment, by shifting awkwardly in his arms. The rat father watches as Raphael straightens his haggard stance and quickly rubs his arms over his eyes, erasing evidence of tears even though his eyes are still quite watery and red. Splinter's brows crease with concern as he takes in Raphael's appearance. The red-banded ninja swayed despite his best efforts to stand upright. Splinter lifted the boy's mask until it rested on his forehead. Charcoal bags of exhaustion have settled beneath Raphael's eyes. How long had the boy been without sleep? His green skin looks dull and not its usual rich emerald green. Was he eating properly?

"I'm glad you're back, Sensei." Splinter hears both the sincerity and relief in Raphael's voice. "I gotta fill you in on—"

"Whatever it is can wait," Splinter interrupts him. "The only thing you must do at this very moment is rest. April and Michelangelo will tell of any immediate concerns and you can fill in what is left later." Splinter ushers Raphael from Donatello's room, leading him to his own. Splinter shushes any objections as he leads his son with steady, gentle hands to lie on the bed. It doesn't take much persuasion from Splinter at this point as Raphael's energy is completely depleted as he flops across his bed. Splinter spreads a blanket over him.

"Dad?" Raph slurs, his voice coated in sleep.

"Yes, Raphael."

"You… did your… best," Raph offers encouragement around a yawn. He blinks twice before finally losing his fight with sleep. Splinter's whiskers twitch as a small smile crosses his face. He is both proud and saddened that Raphael felt the need to encourage him. He has grown much throughout this ordeal. Splinter lovingly rests his hand on his son's head before leaving Raphael to obtain some well-deserved rest.

Splinter follows the soft murmurs coming from the kitchen and finds April over the stove tending to a small pot of chicken noodle soup while Michelangelo retrieves a box of crackers from the cabinet.

"Master Splinter!" April jumps a little as Splinter clears his throat to announce his presence to the two teens. "It's good to have you back." She smiles warmly as she places as bowl of soup at the end of the table where Splinter usually sits. Splinter nods, taking a seat as he thanks her for the soup. "Are you feeling okay?" April asks, a small line of concern sitting on her brows.

"Yeah, do you need anything, Sensei?" Michelangelo chimes in, plopping next to Splinter with a small saucer of crackers.

"I am fine. Only a bit of fatigue. I believe the worst has passed," Splinter reassures them.

"Where's Raph?" Mikey asks as he glances at the empty space beside Splinter.

"Getting much-needed rest," Splinter confirms as April sets a cup of chamomile tea beside his soup. "Which is why I hope the two of you could inform me of the developments I have missed."

This is the only invitation April and Mikey need as they spill into the events that took place over the past few weeks. Aside from Michelangelo's unfortunate medication side effect and a rumor April has yet to confirm of Casey being picked up from school by an agent, Splinter had not missed much. Little to no progress had been made locating Donatello, much to Splinter's dismay.

"My dad and I are still narrowing down libraries. I think we're pretty close to finding Gary," April says though her smile seems forced as she grabs her bookbag. "I'll catch up with Casey and see what happened with that agent. He's been pretty distant with everything going on with his mother."

Splinter hums at April's worried expression for the young vigilante. "Please send my regards to Casey. These are difficult times for us all in one way or another." April nods at Splinter's sentiment. His ears twitch as he listens to the unusual quietness of his home. His eyes widen briefly before receiving into an inquisitive frown. "Where is Leonardo?"

Michelangelo and April share a look. April bites her lip and her grip tightens around the shoulder straps of her bookbag. Mikey suddenly finds his soup interesting.

"Um, I should really get going," April says quickly as she heads out the lair.

Splinter returns his gaze to Michelangelo, who meets his eyes with a sigh. Perhaps more has happened than Splinter was led to believe.

April slides the key into the lock of her apartment. The door groans open as she steps inside, the familiar quiet of her home muting the hum of the busy city. Mentally drained and physically exhausted, April kicks off her sneakers with a sigh. All this time she believed Splinter was getting closer to finding Donnie through meditation, when he was actually just as lost as the rest of them. April hid her disappointment while in the lair, the emotions already high without hers being tossed in the mix. She is grateful Splinter is safe now and not a complete vegetable, but she can't stop the sadness that spreads over her knowing they are no closer to finding Donnie than they were when he was taken two months ago. April tosses her bookbag onto the couch, its thud muffled by the fabric. Her dad would be late tonight. He is still at the college, grading papers. The solitude is no stranger to the redhead.

Tonight, however, the air feels different, charged with an unease she couldn't quite place. As April moves toward the kitchen, a faint, irregular sound reaches her ears—a soft metallic clinking.

As the sound persists, curiosity quickly turns to alarm and her heart quickens. She moves stealthily toward the bathroom, the hairs on her arms standing on end. The door is ajar, and she places one hand to her temple as she telepathically and cautiously pushes it open. Ready to mentally bodyslam the intruder against the wall, April's eyes widen at the scene before her.

"Leo?!"

Translation/Acronyms:

wth = what the heck

btim = be there in a minute

Kashikoi shōnen = clever boy

A/N: Thanks for reading! As always please review! I absolutely love hearing from you guys! Until next chapter, have a great day on purpose!

~Poetique