Disclaimer: *turns out pockets, lint and tiny moths flutter* Well, that's mine. But not TMNT.

A/N: Sequel to "White" in case you haven't read that one! This is also the scene which started "Kid's Stuff"…so it's been kicking around for a while! Anyway, enough from me!

A Father Waits

The candles sank lower, casting shadows across the wall. They danced over sleek gray fur. Splinter knelt, his shoulders loose, before the low table in his room. His thumb traced the cover of a worn leather book.

Happy Birthday, Master Splinter.

His claws tapped over the Sharpie scrawled sentiment. It had been three months since he'd last seen his child's face. Three long months he had forbidden himself from touching this book. From remembering how his son, all his sons, had been. Somehow, opening the photo album felt like a betrayal. As if he had given up on ever seeing him again.

He perked at movement near the door, but it was only an orange paw bapping at the lower corner. Klunk poked his head into the bedroom and looked around before meeting Splinter's gaze. He trotted inside, circling to sit at the old rat's side, and stared up at him with unwavering attention.

Splinter tipped his head. "Good evening."

That kick-started a purr. Splinter smiled and reached to scratch behind the cat's ear. Klunk pushed his nose into the cool palm. He crawled into the ninja master's lap and leaned into the thin chest. Splinter looked around, warily, before stroking the cat beneath his chin. His black eyes returned to the book before him.

"This is not a defeat, you understand," he said softly. "I…I only wish to see him."

Klunk purred his consent and the book opened.

Instantly, tears tingled. Four bright faces beamed back at him, seven years old and carefully clutching new weapons. Eager, innocent, and free of the burdens they shouldered now. These were the faces he still expected to greet him at the breakfast table. His first photo of them.

His mouth turned down. Normal fathers had reminders of midnight feedings, first steps, baths, and trials with spaghetti. Normal fathers didn't have to fish outdated cameras from the bottom of a dumpster. Normal fathers didn't have to fish at the bottom of a dumpster, period.

He flipped the page and laughed. Then again, normal fathers never had a dazed Donatello staggering to them with a blackened face. They did not have Michelangelo proudly showing off his first broken arm and matching skateboard. Nor Leonardo's nervous smile as he balanced twenty feet in the air. They never saw the defiance in Raphael's grin as he sat surrounded by a mess of overdue homework.

Birthdays. Donatello's first working engine. Glittering piles of Halloween candy. All four of them crowded together to show off their first bruises from the Foot. Raphael and Donatello beaming from beneath the Battle Shell. Klunk's eyes glowing from the depths of a Christmas tree. Michelangelo gloating over his Battle Nexus trophy. Then the youngest looking far more subdued as he looped his rematch medal about a severe and awkward Leonardo's neck.

Far beyond his walls, the garage door opened. Klunk lifted his head.

Splinter raised his eyes from the album with a sigh. His sons had snuck out again. And again he had been left in the dark concerning their plans. But at least they had gone together. They hadn't done so since the incident. He had sensed the growing rift between them these last few months. Whenever he tried to speak of it, he got brush-off shrugs and vague smiles assuring him that everything was okay.

That "okay" had erupted two nights ago.

He had heard nothing of the escalating fight until a crash brought him running to the living room. He arrived in time to see Leonardo rise from the rug with a bleeding lip and wild eyes. But the arrival of the father had cut any further violence short. He had demanded to know what happened and was answered with silence. Short and vicious, the fight hung between them. Their eyes warred with everything left unsaid. Fingers twitched with unfinished punches. And then Leonardo turned away. Splinter caught the younger one's arm before he could follow.

His son's eyes burned, furiously, but he waited until the front door closed. Once the leader was gone, he pulled free and vanished into the upstairs sanctuary of his room. Well, his anger and frustration could be dealt with in time. What had frightened Splinter that night had been what he had seen flash across his eldest's face.

It was the stony resolve and reckless abandon which had almost consumed him once before. The same grim light only the Ancient One had managed to still.

Splinter shook his head. He couldn't lose Leonardo again. Not now.

The front door banged open.

He winced at the brief bite of Klunk's rear claws into his leg. He rose and followed the tabby to investigate. His ears lifted at the sound of all three of them hurriedly whispering. Just as he reached the living room, the last shell disappeared into Donatello's lab. Splinter strained to separate their frantic words.

"Easy! Put him down. Gently!"

Adrenaline spiked through him.

"Leo, we're being gentle."

"Watch his head!"

"I have him."

The rat was in a full out run when he jumped the three steps leading up to the lab. His bad leg gave a jolt with his landing, but he ignored it. He threw open the door and stumbled into harsh fluorescent light.

Three turtles looked up and sucked in breaths of surprise. Leonardo straightened, a soaked sweatshirt clinging to him and glassy fear filling his face. Donatello rushed forward, babbling a warning which went unheard.

Splinter stared at the examination table.

His child lay limp upon it, thin and sallow-skinned. One wasted leg hung over the edge of the bed. His face was turned away, but even so, the sunken cheek was evident.

"Master…" He barely recognized Leonardo's voice.

Memories no photo album could contain struck him in the chest. When the rat spoke, his voice was as broken and weak as the still form before him.

"Raphael?"

* Man, I'm so not with the sneaky! It's Raphie. Please forgive me, Zathura! Reviews and critiques are always welcome!