He gave the book one last lingering look and sighed. Its edges were wrinkled, the picture on the cover had begun to rub and flake away, its colors not nearly as bright as they'd once been. The spine was loose and the title page just behind the cover had been ripped down the middle. It was in a sad state, but still readable … And still hard to say goodbye to.

He brought it to his chest and held it close for a while, closing his eyes as he felt the heat from the sun on the back of his head and neck dappled and sporadic as the leaves and branches of the bush cut through its rays. He breathed in once, and then again, and then finally exhaled with some bit of finality.

If this was what he really wanted to do, he knew it had to be now, before anyone saw.

He pulled the book away from his plastron, kissed the top of it quickly, then popped out of the bushes, jumped over the fence and placed it carefully on the bench. He only allowed his gaze to linger on it for a few hesitant seconds before he hopped the fence again and returned to his spot nestled in the bushes. He curled in on himself, holding his knees to his chest and waited.

Only a few minutes had gone by, when the side door opened and a flood of children poured out of it, all screaming and running and nearly tripping over their own feet as they scurried toward the swings and the slide and the square of blacktop where they could draw with chalk. All except for one shy little boy who clutched at Jennifer's hand and shook his head when she asked him the same question she did every day.

Mikey held his breath as they walked over to the bench. They stopped once they stepped up to it and stared down at the seat.

Jennifer furrowed her eyebrows and leaned forward to pick up the book, examining it as though it was a possession of someone's that might be missed, which … it was. She glanced around, searching the area as if the owner had lingered, which … he did.

But after a moment of finding no trace of him, she smiled and looked toward the boy next to her.

"Have we read this one yet?"

The little boy shook his head.

"Ohh, this is one of my favorites."

She sat down and pulled him up next to her then opened the book and began reading. Mikey pressed his face against his kneepads as he listened, his grip tight around his legs, skin hot and sweaty, stomach slightly empty, chest slightly hollow. Every time she turned a page he visualized the pictures that he had spent years staring at and memorizing and watched as the little baby in the book became a toddler and then a child and then a teenager and then an adult—his beautiful browned-haired, kind-faced mother there by his side all the while, picking him up to rock him back and forth, back and forth, back and forth until she couldn't anymore.

"Well, that mother, she got older," Jennifer read. "She got older and older and older. One day she called up her son and said, 'You'd better come see me because I'm very old and sick.' So her son came to see her. When he came in the door she tried to sing the song. She sang:

I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always...

"But she couldn't finish because she was too old and sick. The son went to his mother. He picked her up and rocked her back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And he sang this song …"

Mikey took in a breath, parted his lips and sang under his breath:

"I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always,
As long as I'm living
my Mommy you'll be."

Michelangelo sighed and took his face out of his knees to wipe the wet from his cheeks and crawl silently out of the bushes. He couldn't stay while she finished the rest. He didn't want to hear her sing anymore, knowing that he'd never been her baby and never would be. Maybe one day he'd check up on her again, make sure she was okay—still happy and healthy living in a world that never pushed the boundaries beyond what she could take. Maybe she'd forget about him. Maybe she already had … That was okay. Maybe that would make it easier for him to forget her too, though he doubted he really could.

He walked home slowly and no one yelled at him when he came in this time. In fact, they didn't say anything at all. But he could feel their eyes "discreetly" watching him from the corners as he trudged to his room. He'd be happy for them later. Right now he wanted to sleep.

When he woke, it was to the suffocating scent of something burnt and the ring of someone's voice in his ear.

"Mikey … Mikey!"

He groaned as one of his brothers crawled over him and shook his shoulder. He swatted whosever hand it was away and tried to yank his covers back up to his neck but they wouldn't budge on account of whoever was sitting on top of him.

"Hey, Rapunzel, get up, you've slept long enough."

A rough hand, different from the first, tapped his cheek, but he shrank away.

"Rapunzel's the one with the hair, Raph," said Donnie's voice from somewhere on the opposite side of the bed.

Raph scoffed. "Well, thank goodness we have you to help us keep our princesses straight, Grimm. God bless the life outta ya."

"Eh hem." Leo cleared his throat. "That's not what we're here for remember? Mikey, wake up!"

The hands shook him again, and Mikey finally squinted his eyes open and peered up at his eldest brother who had made himself comfortable straddling his side.

Leo beamed down at him with a very uncharacteristic smile and shiny blue eyes, and Mikey furrowed his brow suspiciously. He turned his eyes on Donnie who quickly straightened up and put on the same smile, flashing that gap between his teeth. The little turtle turned over—as best he could with Leo sitting on top of him—and narrowed his eyes on Raph next, whose elbow was propped on his pillow as he leaned against his bed. For a moment, Raph just gazed down at him with a flat, green gaze until Leo cleared his throat very obviously again and Raph forced up one corner of his mouth.

Mikey pursed his lips and looked back at his eldest brother. "What're you guys up to? Being annoying this early in the morning is my thing."

Raph scoffed and shook his head.

"It's actually almost noon," Donnie said.

"Really?" Mikey raised a brow at Donnie, who nodded. "Too awesome," he moaned, sinking back into his pillows with a yawn and turning over. "Sleep day."

"Oh no ya don't," said Raph, latching onto his shell and shaking him roughly until he opened his eyes with a whine and Leo swatted him away.

"Why're you guys in here?" Mikey groaned, rubbing the back of his neck.

Leo took a breath, smile widening proudly. "Well—"

"We made ya breakfast," Raph said.

"Brunch technically," Donnie said, a finger in the air that he brought down immediately as his eyes dropped and he shrugged in an awkward kind of way. "Well, we tried to at least."

"I-It turned out okay," Leo said with a shrug. "We might've burnt some of it."

"By which he means everything," Raph said.

"Except for the juice," Donnie said loudly. "I … Well, actually that was store bought."

"I mean, it's edible," Leo said, looking to the others for an agreement. They both mumbled something, but Mikey didn't really care if they agreed or not.

He was sitting up now, beaming at his three older brothers with that same fullness in his chest that he'd felt when he was talking to Splinter the other day.

"You guys made me breakfast?" he said, looking between them.

"Brunch," Donnie said, rocking forward on his toes.

"Don't get used to it," Raph said shortly, crossing his arms over his chest, though there was a quiver to his cheeks that suggested he might've been holding back a smile.

"Well ..." Leo shrugged. "We figured we owed you."

"Owed me? For what?"

Raph swung out a fist and punched him flat in the arm so hard that the sound of flesh-on-flesh impact echoed through the room.

"Ouch!" Mikey grabbed his arm and winced when Raph moved his hands to re-stuff them over his plastron.

"For what," he grumbled under his breath. "For bein' the best pain-in-the-ass little brother we could've asked for, genius. Why else would we do stuff for you?"

Mikey's cheeks perked up. "Aww ... I love you too, Raph."

The red-banded turtle narrowed his eyes and glanced at his brother from the corner of them. A glimmer of a grin appeared on his cheeks. "Yeah, don't get used to it."

"Well, come on," Leo said, hopping off the bed and heading for the door, "before it gets cold."

"Can burnt food get cold?" Raph quipped, following close behind.

Mikey slid out of bed and looked up at Donnie who continued to stand there as though waiting for him.

The purple-banded turtle smiled softly and looked toward the ground.

"So you gave it to her then?"

Mikey pursed his lips, trying not to lose his smile as he grabbed for his mask and the rest of his gear and started tying them on. "Yeah," he said, sitting on the edge of his bed to pull on his kneepads. "I figured she needed it more than me."

"More than I," Donnie corrected as he sat next to Mikey. "I'm sorry it didn't work out, Mike. Believe it or not, I really wanted it to."

Mikey smiled tenderly. "It's okay, bro. I've got you guys, and sensei, and you can still sing me lullabies right?"

Donnie scoffed and swiped the mask out of Mikey's hand to tie it around his face for him. "I'm not much into singing these days."

"Ah, come on, Don."

"No, I'm serious. My voice is at that stage—"

"Donnie."

"It's not pretty, Mikey, I'm not kidding."

"Pleeeeeease?"

Donatello tightened the knot on Mikey's bandana and sighed with a roll of his eyes, though there was a small grin in the corner of his mouth. He draped an arm around Mikey's shoulders, cleared his throat and sang:

"I'll love you forever,

I'll like you for always,

As long as I'm living

my brother you'll be."