Nightmares

 Breathe in.

  How could he have done such a thing?  How could he have driven him away?

  Breathe out.

  How could he have allowed something like this to happen?  How could he let his family fall apart?

  Breathe in.

  He had to steady his mind- he had to...to find the space between his thoughts.  He had to become tranquil to find an answer to the problem.

  Breathe out.

  But it wasn’t a problem.  It wasn’t even an it, it was a he.  His own son, the child that he had raised since he had first gathered him into arms.  How could he pull himself away from such emotion?  How could he choose to forget what happened?  But he had to...he had to for the sake of the others.  He was their father, he had to remain strong.

  Tears dripped down his face, soaking his fur.  As they snaked down, they splashed the rug he kneeled upon.  He held in the sob that wanted to explode, for even though he was in the sanctuary of his room, he did not need his sons to know his pain.   His angry words had been lashed out, and the ones he had received were no better.  They had destroyed everything.

  I was never your son!

  Clutching his heart, Splinter doubled over.  The pain was real, the suffering was real, the regrets were real.

  It was all your fault!

  A choke escaped his lips

 None of you understand!  You will never know the meaning of suffering!

  The accusations, if he had ever heard one, were false.  The young man had been his son.  The responsibility for what had happened, although borne heavily upon his shoulders, was not Splinter’s fault either.  He had tried to understand the torn mind...and he was suffering even now, as he had when he lost his wife and daughter.

  Words could be calmed, forgiven.  But it was that look in his eye...his son would never forgive him.  He wasn’t capable of it.  He had been pushed to far.

  If he had only refused the pleading all those months ago.  If only he had not let them to the surface, this would not have happened.  The precious child that he had raised would never have been taken, stolen from his brothers in the midst of battle.  He would have never had to succumb to the horrors that the Kraang had forced him to, and he would never have come back broken.  They thought they could bring him back, they thought that with time he would heal.

  But first they had to battle the after effects.  Nightmares worse than Splinter had ever heard of had rattled his son, making him convulse.  They had lost him once...only able to bring him back.  Maybe he shouldn’t have.  Maybe he should have let him die in peace, to go on to a better place.  If he had...time would heal their wounds, but they would not have lost him in the way they had.

  He pulled through, as he always did.  It was a miracle, and Splinter had been thankful for it.  But just as his fever had broken...just as they began to see the light at the end of the tunnel...they were hit with the train.  A mutation within him had been triggered, and he had almost killed them all.  Only through his own self will and determination had he been saved, and for a while, he was at peace.

  But that came to end as well.  Although the mutation had been reversed...the side effects had not.  The monster that had dwelt in his son surfaced again, but this time, more subtly.  It ate him from the inside out, until what they saw today was all that was left.  Anger, hatred, bitterness.  It had consumed him.

  Splinter thought it best to correct him.  He was, after all, the parent.  He hoped to curb what was building, but it was too late.  He had denied it for too long, and when he finally did what was necessary, it was too late.

  Brining a paw to where his beard used to be, Splinter couldn’t help but shake at the thought of what had happened.  His own son...the young man he had raised since an infant...had nearly be headed him.  Only because of what was left of him did he pull back, did he spare his life.  But it been another inch...

  There was some of Donatello still left in the emptying shell, but it was disappearing.  The son, the brother, the inventor was all but gone.  He had clearly regretted his actions, but...but.  If only that could be applied...but his brothers had defended their father, as they should.  

  Splinter could barely remember seeing the fleeing body of Donatello.  He had run fast, and no doubt far.  It would take a miracle for him to come back, but it was something Splinter could hold on to.  A miracle.

  Splinter closed his eyes, unable to pull himself from the bonds that held him to the world.  The pain was like when he had lost Tang Shen and Miwa...only worse.  The betrayal had come from his own son.  His Donatello...and it would take the world to change what had happened.

  He knew what he had to do.  Give him space, and then approach him.  Let him think things over as he always did, and then bring him back into his arms.  Oh, how he prayed it would be that easy.  He couldn’t bear to lose another one...he couldn’t take it...it would kill him, slowly.  Piece by piece his heart would be pulled apart until nothing was left.  Few words could describe the agony, the torture, the throbbing sorrow.  If he one thing to say though, he would warn Donatello.  He would beg him to come back, to see the error in his ways.  And so, Splinter spoke aloud, letting the words roll over his tongue in a false hope that they would be heard.

  “Oh Donatello.  Tonight you are taking the first steps along a dark road from which there is no turning back.  You will have to go on and on from one madness to another, leaving behind you a wilderness of misery and hatred, until at last you are lost and destroyed.  Please, my son, come back to us.  Come back to me.”