Title: Changes
Fandom: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Splinter/Surprise, Leonardo/Karai, Raphael/Casey, Donatello/April, Michelangelo(/Pizza?)
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: Splinter brings his sons together for an impromptu meeting -- which may well have far more important details than any of the four yet realize.
Word Count: 1,575
Written For: Fan FlashWorks Challenge 411: Amnesty: Challenges 4-9: Stages, Five Things, Do-Over, Genre, Drag, and Communication
Warnings: Slight AU
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.








He was waiting when they came in late that night, which was not, in itself, of course, unusual, but what was unusual was what had been weighing on their Sensei's mind all that evening, since awakening from his earlier nap to find the lair empty. "My sons," he said as a candle swooshed to life beside him. He had not moved, and every one of his sons knew he had lit the candle with nothing more than the power of his mind.

The four teenaged turtles exchanged uncomfortable glances as they settled in onto their knees on the pillows before their teacher and father. He was the only authoritative figure they had ever actually known, but was as much a father as a Sensei, even if not in name. It was a rare occasion, usually a holiday, birthday, or a very near life and death situation whenever they were actually able to call him their father to his whiskered face without being reprimanded and reminded that he was always their Sensei first and foremost. The older brothers understood why the old rat felt the need to protect them by teaching them all they could ever need to know above actually loving them. The red-banded turtle just thought he was an old grouch, and the youngest lacked the deeper knowledges of life to be able to begin to comprehend their Sensei's decisions. Regardless, in this moment, each one of them was feeling nervous.

"I, huh, went out for a movie, Sensei," Raphael said, clenching his fedora in his hands. He didn't like seeming vulnerable to his brothers, but it was more concerning, by far, that he might have disappointed his Sensei. The rat was getting on in years, and Raphael worried on far too many nights, when he was out and about on his own or with Casey, that he might return one night again to find his father gone, only this time forever. He gulped and looked down at the gray hat he was twisting. His dark eyes widened as he noticed the ash on the hat and quickly, but subtly, wiped it away. It would not do for Splinter to discover he had started smoking, no matter how much he might otherwise approve of Casey.

"Yeah, I bet that was a boring genre flick." Mikey whistled. "It's always action with you, never any comedy or any real meat -- "

"You wouldn't know meat if it rose up and bit you on the shell! Besides, what were you out doing all night?"

Michelangelo grinned, whistled again, and leaned back. His hands scooped around the dome of his green head. "Wouldn't you like to know?" he asked, his grin growing wider. Mikey's eyes shone as he thought of the various, new pizza ingredients he had tried that night, from mushrooms to little, green plants. His whistle grew in pitch, making Donatello wince. Of all the brothers, Donnie had been the one practicing the most safety as he'd tried out some new inventions with April.

Leonardo, usually the one to chastise his brothers and make them behave for their father, gulped and looked down at the cement floor beneath his hands. He thought of the pack of little plastics tucked into hiding on the back of his belt and hoped to any and all powers that might choose to be benevolent to them that his beloved Sensei had not found any he'd failed to properly discard. It was all new with him and Karai -- new and exciting, but he knew neither his father nor brothers would ever approve of the Shredder's daughter. They could not possibly understand --

"Hush." The single tap of his long and wiry tail against the sewer floor was the only sign that Splinter's patience was slipping. "None of what bothers each of your minds, my sons, is the reason why I have brought you here tonight." Indeed, he had his own secrets as his friendships beyond the lair grew. He had made very many... interesting alliances while playing his chess games at the park.

When his boys had fallen silent, Splinter began, "My sons, there are many stages to this life. We have prevailed through many of them, but there are more time to come, and will be more long after I am gone from this world. We will not always agree on the things that make us happy, or even necessarily what we each find important, but I want you each to understand the importance of always being there for one another, no matter what may come."

"We will be, Sensei," Leonardo broke in.

There were tears shining in Donatellos' big, dark eyes as he queried softly, his beak trembling, "What are you trying to tell us, Sensei?"

"Whatever choices in this life you make, my sons, unless it is one that will harm you -- " He ignored the disappointed expressions on three of his four children. " -- support one another. Do as you will, as long as it does harm you or those for whom you care."

"And, of course, the innocents," Raphael grumbled, leaning back. He thought of the drags he'd taken on Casey's cigarettes, and on other certain things, and wondered how his father would feel about each. The tobacco might hurt his lungs, but it brought him peace, and Casey -- Well, despite what he'd originally thought, Casey would never hurt him.

"Love who you will love," Splinter continued sagely, "and support one another always."

"But, Sensei, what if... they might not be good for us?" Leonardo questioned. "It's not as though we can meet very many people."

"When you least expect it, my son, you will find the one with whom you are meant to be. Life also hands us each a certain number of chances to redeem ourselves, to... do over certain things, certain mistakes we've made in the past. Use these opportunities wisely, and please know that, of all the things I might one day look upon and regret, raising the four of you will never be amongst them. Each and every one of you are truly my greatest treasures and pleasures in this world."

Mikey yawned and stretched; for once, Splinter did not hit him with his staff. The youngest brother looked bashful as he apologized, "I'm sorry, Sensei. It's just been a long night."

The other brothers, each with their own worries and guilty consciences, nodded as well. Raphael grunted and stretched. Donatello hid a long, lingering yawn behind his hand, then tucked his hand underneath his shell, his tail wiggling out of sight, as he noticed there was a lipstick stain on his palm. He blushed, but the change in his color could not be told in the dark shadows of the lair at night.

"It has been," Splinter agreed, and each of the brothers let out a sigh, though only three were actually audible. "Good night, my sons. Sleep well."

The candlelight snapped out. The turtles stood and began to make their way to their own rooms, which had finally happened with Donatello's latest expansion of the lair. Donatello paused, thinking back to his feelings of worry that he might yet come home to find Splinter gone again, and darted back to his Sensei. Before his father could protest, he threw his arms around him and hugged him tight.

"Oh, yeah! Oh, yeah! Hug time! Huggy wuggy!" Michelangelo skipped back and joined in the hug, wrapping his arms around both his brother and father.

"Lame," Raphael grouched, folding his arms before his plastron and rolling his dark eyes.

Leonardo hesitated before joining in the hug. At long last, just before the turtles were about to disband, Raphael, too, threw his arms around the others and strongly squeezed them all. It was only when Splinter actually squeaked that he quickly released them. Not a one of them spoke of the squeak, but they each made their way to their individual beds, each with their own worries to comb over in the late, pre-twilight hours.

Splinter, left alone, rocked back on his haunches and grinned. He took his Turtlecom out of his old, purple robe, opened it, and looked to the screen. Did you tell them? it read. He was reminded again of how incredibly talented his scientific-minded son was, to be able to create a device that even an old, blind man could use to connect with the world around him -- even if this particular wise, blind man only wanted to use it to reach out to one person, one old rat, in particularly.

Splinter beamed, his dark eyes glittering and his tail whisking happily about in the air behind him. Not yet, he typed in response, but I will.

How do you think they'll react?

They will accept you. They will come to love you as I have.

I hope you're right, but how can you be sure?

I cannot, Splinter answered in truth, but I know my sons. And he had raised them well. As they dealt with their own personal paths to adulthood, they would also come to accept the biggest change in Splinter's life since they had come, splashing, into it. They would accept Andre, and the changes he would bring to them all, Splinter knew, for he made him happy and they loved each other. And love and joy, in the end, as Andre had taught him, was what truly mattered the most.



The End