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Eyes

She was beautiful: her pale face, her long black locks of hair, her hazel eyes peering through perfectly beautiful slanted eyelids.

Splinter stared at her picture; the only way he could still lay his own eyes on her. She stared back at him with what looked much like a vague smile and a slight sparkle in her eyes.

His eyes wandered to the bundle in her arms; his daughter. The beautiful little girl that they shared and loved. The one that he never got to see live past her first birthday. She looked so weightless, so precious and innocent.

Splinter shook his head and sighed. “Tang Shen,” he whispered, “how I wish you could see my boys, our boys. They're so precious. I know you would love them, as would Miwa. They have asked about you, but I don't know what I am to tell them. They are far too young to know the truth.”

With the thought of his boys, he knew to check the clock: it was nearing the time that they would awake, and for him to wrap up what he was doing. It was time for him to start the day that would mark the beginning of his fourth year without his beloved wife and daughter.

He reluctantly rose from the rug-covered concrete floor and returned the framed photo to the shelf where it resided. His gaze steadily traveled to the pink tiger lilies that lie below the shelf, their flamboyant colors contrasting dramatically with their poignant surroundings.

They had belonged to her. She kept them in their home and cared for them and prided in them in a way that much resembled the way she did with their daughter. They had remained standing in the only part of their home that had not burned to the ground and were one of the only material things that he was able to salvage. Every winter they would die, but if he cared for them properly, giving them artificial sunshine and watering them daily, they would come back lively and colorful every spring.

He smiled ever so subtly as he gingerly touched one of their petals. He saw her face, the petals in her hair matching those irresistible pink lips and mesmerizing hazel eyes. Just as quickly, she was gone.

A tear escaped the rat's eye, and he swiftly wiped it away as if he did not even wish for himself to know he was sobbing.

“Come now, Yoshi,” he scolded himself. “You still have fatherly duties to attend to. You cannot afford to mourn all day.”

“Daddy...” a small voice broke the stillness.

Splinter turned and saw his oldest three-year-old son standing in the doorway watching him curiously. He cleared his throat.

“Good morning, Leonardo. Did you sleep well?”

“Uh-huh,” Leo nodded. “Why is it dark in here?”

“Daddy was just doing some early morning meditation,” he lied and rose to his feet. “Are you hungry?”

Leo rubbed his tummy. “Mm-hmm.”

Splinter chuckled and gathered him into his arms. “Are your brothers awake yet?”

Leo shook his head. “They're still sleepin'.”

Splinter glanced at the clock again; it was nearly eight-thirty.

“Well, perhaps you should go wake them up. It is getting a bit late for them to still be in bed.” He set Leo back on the floor.

“Okay daddy,” Leo said, “but Raphie doesn't like it when we wake him up.”

“He will get up. Go on, now.”

Leo sighed and trotted off to his room that he shared with his brothers.

“Guys! Get up! Daddy says so!” Splinter heard Leo shouting out loud from where he stood.

He smiled and shook his head as he groggily made his way into the kitchen. He turned on his dirty, rundown old coffee pot and began to brew some coffee for himself.

“Now what to make for breakfast...” he thought. Having only worms and algae to eat and feed his children, his options were rather limited, but he liked to get creative with them. It made them feel less like they were eating the same thing everyday. He decided to make them pancakes. That was always a big hit among the four hungry toddlers.

“Daddy!” Leo hollered, abruptly entering the kitchen. Donatello and Michelangelo trailed in behind him and took their seats at the kitchen table.

Leo's raised voice cut through Splinter's thoughts and comforting silence like a fist through glass. He sighed.

“What is it, Leonardo?”

“Daddy, Raphie will not get up! I told him you're makin' brea'fast and you said so, but he won't!”

Splinter retrieved his large mixing bowl from the cabinet and dropped it on the counter perhaps a little too hard.

“Tell him I said to get up now,” Splinter growled. “I don't want to have to come in there.”

Without another word, Leo was off to reattempt waking up Raphael.

“'Mornin', daddy!” Mikey chirped.

Splinter looked to him and tried to manage a smile. “Good morning, Michelangelo. Good morning, Donatello. Did you sleep well?”

Donnie nodded.

“I slept good,” Mikey cheered. “Wanna know what I dreamed 'bout?”

Splinter dumped some algae in the bowl. “Of course.”

“I had a dream dat I was a rock star!” He stood up on his chair as if it were a stage. “I had a bunch of people 'round me and I was singing and dancing!” He began to jump up and down on the chair to emphasize the details. “And den...”

“Michelangelo, sit down,” Splinter ordered.

Mikey paused and cocked his head at his father curiously.

Splinter felt his fatigue rising seeing the little one not obey immediately.

“Did you hear me? I said sit down!” he snapped.

Mikey's eyes grew wide and he wasted no more time to plant himself back down in his chair. He bit his lip and tried to fight the lump forming in his throat and the tears begging to fall.

“Daddy!” Leo ran into the room shouting again. “Raphie still won't get up and he hit me!”

Splinter dropped what he was doing and stormed out of the room.

“Just sit down, Leonardo. I will deal with it,” he grumbled as he passed him.

Leo sat beside Donnie and looked at Mikey across from him. He noted his quivering lip.

“What's-a matter, Mikey?” he asked.

Mikey finally gave in and allowed his tears to flow.

“Daddy yelled at him,” Donnie whispered to Leo.

Leo shrugged it off.

--------------------
Splinter knelt down beside his sons' cot and firmly shook the lump that still lie under the blanket.

“Raphael, get up this instant,” he growled. “I am not going to tell you again.”

Raph groaned and rolled over to face him. “But daddy, I still sleepy.”

“You have had plenty of time to sleep. It is after eight-thirty, now get up or you will help me with the dishes after breakfast.”

Raph pouted as he reluctantly sat up.

Splinter roughly thrust him into his arms and stormed his way back to the kitchen. He sat him down next to Mikey and it was then that he noticed that Mikey was sobbing and rubbing his eyes.

“What is the matter, Michelangelo?”

Mikey only hiccuped and continue to rub his eyes.

Splinter sighed and scooped him up. “Is it because I shouted at you?”

Mikey's lip quivered as he nodded his head.

Splinter hugged him close. “I am sorry, my son. I did not mean to shout at you. I did not want you to fall and get hurt. You needed to sit down.” He rubbed his shell and kissed his cheek and then pulled him away and gave him a small smile. “Are you alright now?”

Mikey gave him a pouty nod and Splinter returned him to his chair. He returned to preparing breakfast.

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As quickly as it began, breakfast time ended and the day went on. The day that Splinter wanted more than anything to be over. Before he knew it, nap time had arrived, giving him two hours to himself so that he could meditate and relax his strained thoughts.

After tucking the boys into their cot, he kissed each of them and turned to leave.

Donnie pulled a book out from under his pillow, crawled out from under the blanket and went to Splinter's feet before he could leave.

“Daddy, daddy!” he said tugging on his kimono. “Can you read us a story before nap time?”

Splinter sighed. “No, not now, Donatello. Perhaps at bedtime, but right now I need you to take a nap.”

“But please? I wanna hear this story real bad! It's about a turtle and a bunny and...”

“No, Donatello, daddy needs some quiet time right now. Please return to your bed.”

“But it'll only take a minute,” Donnie whined. “I promise and then we go to sleep.”

Splinter groaned and massaged his temples. “Get back in your bed, Donatello. I cannot read to you right now.”

Donnie held the book up to him and bounced up and down. “Please, please, please, daddy! Ple-e-ease!”

Splinter ripped the book from his hands and tossed it across the room. “Get in the bed, Donatello! Now!”

Donnie looked at him, frozen in shock and slight fear.

“I said, now,” Splinter said as he jerked the little one off of the floor and roughly placed him on the cot beside his brothers who watched him nervously. Splinter looked sternly into Donnie's fearful mahogany eyes. “Now, go to sleep. You do not need a story right now.”

He left their room, none of them daring to make a single sound.

------------
Splinter tried to meditate as the little ones slept, but he could not shake the image of Donatello's fearful eyes. He did not mean to be so harsh with the little one, but he just kept pushing him when his mind was already overwhelmed with fatigue. He sighed. Still, it was of no fault of his sons', they did not deserve the sour mood he was in.

He gave up on his meditation, pulled himself to his feet, and went back to his old family photo.

“I know I should not take out my sadness on the boys, my love,” Splinter whispered to the photo. “This is always a hard day for me. Please do not be disappointed. I am trying.”

He knew just what he needed to do in order to relax his mind; he needed to talk to his sons, so he sauntered out of the dojo and back to his sons' room.

As he had feared, they had all fallen asleep; he would have to wake them up. He lightly shook Leo, who was directly in front of him.

“Boys,” he whispered, “wake up, my sons. Daddy wishes to speak with you.”

Slowly, they each cracked their little eyes open and tried to rub the sleepiness from them.

Leo yawned. “Nap time over already?”

“No, Leonardo, it is not. I need to speak with the four of you about something important.”

“What is it?” Raph groaned.

“First, Donatello, I am very sorry for the way I acted before you went to sleep. What I did was not very nice at all, and I know I upset you.”

Donnie yawned. “'S'okay, daddy.”

“It is not okay. I should not treat you that way. I am sorry that I have been in such a sour mood today. Daddy is just very sad today because a few years ago, before any of you came along, something very sad happened to me, and I get sad when I think about it. I get upset very easily when I am sad.”

“W-what happen?” Mikey asked.

Splinter shook his head. “Perhaps I will tell you when you are a little older. You are not quite old enough to understand.”

None of the boys said a word; they stared at him with sleepy eyes. He grinned.

“You may get back to your nap. I just wanted to say that I'm sorry.” He kissed each one on their cheek and told them he loved them. “I will get you up in a little while.”

After Splinter left, Mikey rolled over and looked at Donnie. He frowned.

“Daddy is sad...”

Donnie nodded, his eyes barely open.

“We should do somethin' to make him happy 'gain,” Mikey said.

Donnie yawned. “What you think we should do?”

Mikey thought hard. “Oh! I know! He likes flowers. We should get him flowers.”

Donnie rolled over to face away from him.

“You can do it, Mikey. I'm too sleepy.”

Mikey sat up and shrugged okay I will. He rolled off of the cot and trotted out of the room.

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Splinter, having given up on meditating for the afternoon, stood over the kitchen sink washing the dishes from lunchtime. As he scrubbed his thoughts continuously drifted away to thoughts and images of his wife and precious baby girl. Miwa's pudgy little face and hands and tiny feet being held in her mother's petite arms and beheld in her fervent gaze. They were quite a beautiful sight, but alas, only a poignant memory. Never to be gazed upon again.

Splinter sighed.

“Daddy...”

He eased a little at the sound of his son's little voice. He turned.

“What is it, Michelangelo? What are you...” his heart skipped a beat and his body paused at the sight before him. There in his youngest son's chubby green fingers were the now defiled lilies that he had been nurturing for the past hardest four years of his life; the only ray of sunshine that existed in his somber dojo. The only thing left from his old life.

Splinter lost it. He jerked at the little one's arm, causing him to drop the lilies and cry out in what could not be determined as either pain, fear, or a hideous combination of the two.

“HAMATO MICHELANGELO, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!” he violently shook the pudgy little arm in his furious grip. “WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?!”

Mikey could not speak, only cry, scream, and struggle to catch his breath.

Splinter whirled him around, absently twisting his arm and swatted him repeatedly on his backside. After spanking him, he turned him around again and got inches from his puffy, wet face.

“YOU ARE NOT TO TOUCH DADDY'S THINGS, MICHELANGELO! EVER! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!”

Mikey squirmed and screamed, desperately trying to get away from his terrible overwhelmed father.

“DADDY, NO! OWW!”

Splinter released him and he sprinted away and hid underneath the couch. He collapsed to the floor, sat up against the cabinet and cried into his hands. What had he done?

To Be Continued...