The Assignment

Don walked into his lab and closed the door. Spinning his chair away from the desk, he sat down a bit clumsily and had to clutch at the little wooden box in his hand.

Inside that box was the result of two days' worth of painstaking effort. Not his painstaking effort; three different boxes contained his final product.

This was the end of an assignment their father had given to all four of his sons. Opening the boxes and reading what each contained was the next to last part of their mission. They'd been given two days to complete their work and at the end of that time frame, they were to take the box marked with their name and move to a private location before opening it.

He lifted the top off with some trepidation, knowing his brothers were in their rooms doing the exact same thing. Inside were three folded squares of plain white paper and Don pulled them out before setting the box aside.

Carefully smoothing open the folds on the first paper, Don looked down and read, "I love you. . ."

Each missive was to begin that way. Master Splinter had insisted on the format. What followed those three words was totally up to them. Master Splinter's only other requirement was that they complete one for each of their brothers and that they speak the absolute truth.

Master Splinter drove them daily with physical and mental exercises; this he said, was an exercise of the heart. If they wanted his blessing to be together as more than brothers, they would have to prove that they would not play favorites.

They were not to sign their names. It didn't really matter; the penmanship alone told him who had written each one. With a sigh he began to read his first note.

"I love you because you never seem to get mad at me. Don't know why; I can manage to piss everyone else off but not you. It's not like I'm trying to upset everyone and somehow you always seem to understand that about me. I know I've scared the crap out of you and I'm not trying to do that either, it's just I can't avoid trouble, it ain't in my nature.

"I love how you fuss over me when I'm hurt and tell me how you wish I would be more careful. Nothing you say ever makes me mad either, and you know plenty of words. It's just that I know you're saying them 'cause you're scared and concerned and I love you for that.

"I love you because you're gentle and strong and try to give us everything regular people have, even if you have to stay awake for days to do it. I love your no nonsense attitude and your soft smile and the glow in those dark, brown eyes. . . "

Another pair of three fingered hands pressed the corners of a note onto a tabletop as their owner also began to read.

"I love you because what I see under that angry exterior is someone who cares about us and feels like he has to protect us all the time. You bluff like you're mad or all 'whatever', but I know the truth is that you feel everything so much more deeply than anyone could imagine. Hey, except me, 'cause I see past that stuff, even when you're pounding me – or trying to catch me so you can pound on me. Ha!

"I love you 'cause you let me be myself. I love how you act all mad at me then give in and do stuff I want to do because you like to make me happy. I love how upset you get if you think I'm hurt, or sick or even sad. I love when you get all dangerous when you think someone or something has hurt me, or made me sick or unhappy.

"I love to feel your strong arms around me and your gruff voice next to my head as you tell me everything's gonna be okay and how you're gonna fix stuff to make sure it's okay. I sure a shell love when you're whispering things to me in the middle of the night when we're all alone. . . "

In another slightly darkened room, a body shifted and paper crackled.

"I love you because your strength guides me and gives me hope. You have wisdom beyond your years and such rock solid common sense that it keeps me grounded when I sometimes forget about the reality around me.

"I love your patience and determination; your generosity and nobility. I love that you work so hard to be the best because I know you're doing it for us. I love how you understand there are times when my mind is completely captured by an idea and you give me the space I need and make sure everyone else does, too.

"I love how you make me take care of myself when I forget to eat or sleep and I love how you rely on me. It makes me work that much harder to try to please you. To see that understated smile or hear the warm note of pride in your voice over something I've done makes my world complete. When you touch me it just feels so right, so perfect. . ."

Seated cross-legged on the floor, the fourth brother leaned over to read the paper spread before him.

"I love you because you remind me not to take myself too seriously. I love how you see things; for you everything has a silver lining and your positive approach is refreshing and necessary. You make me look at things from a whole other perspective and help me to see things the way you do, all new and shiny, even in a sewer.

"I love how you brighten everything around you; whether with your smile, a good joke, a wild tale or even a well-thought out prank. I love how adventurous you are; even the times we've shared a stomach-ache from one of your culinary experiments are worth how excited you get by trying new things.

"I love your good-nature and youthful exuberance. I love how you are always there with a warm hug and how you always seem to understand what each of us is going through. I love your enthusiasm and how it invades every aspect of your life and sweeps the rest of us along as well. I love when you whisper to me to loosen up and try something new. . ."

They continued reading and the lair was silent for a time, wrapped in the spell those pieces of paper were weaving over their home.

"I love how you're always there when I need you; even before I know that I need you. . ."

"I love your voice of reason; your kindness and willingness to listen. I love your tenacity and your readiness to do everything asked of you and more. . ."

"I love you because even at your fiercest and when you're most angry with me, I know you've always got my back. I love the fire in your eyes and the quick, forceful passion. I love how you can move me to speak in the harshest tones, or to not be able to speak at all. I love how you make me question myself; how you refuse to let me become complacent. I love how you take me over. . . "

"I love your spunk and your energy; I wish I could figure out a way to harness it to a big battery! I love how persistent you are; how you never give up on a game until you figure out how to beat it, or how you never give up on a dream no matter how much we ride you about it. I love how you wheedle and poke at me until I drop what I'm doing to help you out with something, and how you reward me for my efforts. . ."

"I love how you ain't afraid of me, even when I'm going berserk 'cause I'm so pissed off. I love how it's you that's usually pissed me off – call me psycho but it makes me feel alive knowing you care about me. I know you care about me 'cause you sure as shell wouldn't ride my ass if you didn't. I love making you tremble when I've got you pinned under me and I can see by the look in your eye that you've read my mind. . ."

"I love how smart you are, how freaking brilliant you are. I love your soft voice when you ask me what I need and how you sigh and give in and even though I always know you're gonna; it still sends a shiver up my spine. It's the same shiver I get when we're in a bad situation and I hear you say, 'guys, I have an idea'. I love when we're alone, just the two of us and you say that same thing. . ."

Don drew a deep shuddering breath as he finished the last one. Smoothing them on his knee, he piled them together and held them tightly between his hands. Tears were coursing down his cheeks and he squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to regain his composure.

Those little pieces of paper had just become his most prized possessions. He would never, ever let anything happen to them.

Another moment; and then Don stood up. He used his wrist band to wipe away some of the moisture from his eyes and face and then carefully placed the notes between the pages of a book. Later he would probably encase them in plastic to preserve them; but now there was something left to do.

The last requirement of their father's assignment was that they all meet in the dojo once they had finished reading the notes.

There was no one else about as Don made his way through the lair. His father was in his own room; he'd told them he would not be part of their meeting; this assignment would be completed by the four brothers without further guidance from their sensei.

As Don stepped into the dojo three pairs of eyes in the same condition as his own met his and he knew their father had been correct, as always.

This assignment was something they had needed to do.