Chapter 14 - Sanctuary

"No more!" came the defiant declaration as Michelangelo flopped down to the damp sewer floor. Surprisingly, he chose not to drape his hand across his forehead as if a maiden in distress. The boy's dramatics normally made it seem as if he was auditioning for a theatre production. "My legs hurt and can't more no more."

Counter intuitively, the little turtle kicked his legs into the air, trying to prove their ineffectiveness to carry his body further. Alas, Splinter could not blame the child for his frustrations. Their nomadic life was taking a toll on all of them - both physically and emotionally. The boys had grown accustomed to knowing that no home was a permanent one. The boys had experienced the disappointed far too many times now to know better. Somehow during their infancy the trials seemed much easier. Despite the tediousness of coordinating the transport of four non-mobile infants, their blissful ignorance of the situation yielded far fewer complaints. Now they were at an age where despite being able to rationalize the situation it did little to assuage the barrage of "why" along with "we're moving again" interlaced with "no fair" and "humans suck." To top it off, their distinct personalities intensified their flare for dramatics and bickering. Verbally capable children certainly led to more headaches.

"Your legs are fine! See?"

Raphael bent his right knee and delivered a kick aimed for Michelangelo's leg. Wide-eyed, Michelangelo curled his legs toward his stomach and rolled out of the way.

"Tousa! Raph tried to kick me!"

"I told ya his legs were fine!"

"Stop being rude, Raph!"

"Mind ya business, Leo!"

Splinter massaged the side of his head as his temple throbbed with each new shout – each voice systematically growing louder. The echoes amplified the commotion more in turned sending a fresh round of stabbing pain through his head.

"Enough!"

Silence immediately filled the tunnel save for the dripping water from the overhead pipes. Splinter pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled a deep, calming breath. As he exhaled slowly he turned to the turtles who now resembled statues.

"Fighting like this is counterproductive…"

"What does that mean?" Michelangelo interrupted

"Not helpful," Splinter replied with a forced calm though he felt his blood pressure rising. "I am sorry that we must move a lot but turning on each other only adds to the stress. If you require a break…"

"We require a home," Donatello muttered.

Splinter stepped forward and placed a reassuring hand on the tallest turtle. "I know. How about we walk a bit further and find a more suitable place to rest? A drier place perhaps?"

The turtles groaned in unison but responded with a reluctant "okay."

The mutant family pressed on though at a slower pace since the turtles trudged forward with their bodies slumped over from the exhaustion. Their demeanors changed though when one turn intersected with old railroad tracks. The bricks in these tunnels were weathered from time. Mildew clung in thick sheets on the wall. No signs of humans traversing these tunnels.

"Whoa! Check this out!" Michelangelo's voice bounced off the walls. That boy really needed to learn not to run off on his own. At least he was still within eye-shot. Then he took a large leap forward and disappeared around the corner.

Shaking his head at his brashness, Splinter followed after him. Rounding the corner, Splinter's eyes widened at the sight. Turnstiles greeted him. Peering past them he found Michelangelo running further into the depths of the large room. Splinter pressed his hand against the cold metal and pushed through the entryway. Walking further in, he found a great room with stone benches. Cobwebs and dust draped the ceiling and walls. A sneeze startled him, and he turned to find Leonardo rubbing his snout. Raphael and Donatello though nowhere in sight.

Damn it! Which way could they have gone?

"Can this be my room?!"

Hearing Raphael's voice at least alerted him to his location. Splinter followed the voice until he found the turtle in a room full of old wooden boxes, greyed from the dust. Who knows what else were lurking amongst the abandoned trash.

"Tousan!" Michelangelo screeched as he raced into the room. "You have to see this!"

Before he could respond, Michelangelo grabbed his hand and yanked backed. Splinter sighed as he humored the child and trailed behind him. Turning another corner he spotted the most unusual sight in a second corridor – an old, gnarly tree with lush green leaves filling the canopy. The contrasting color against the grey gave off a soothing, Zen-like aura. Peering down, he noticed the roots dug deep into the concrete floor. This puzzled the rat. Had the floors been built around the tree or had the roots penetrated through the floor? Either way, there was a water source feeding it. Upon further exploration, Splinter came across a pool - perhaps the same reservoir nourishing the tree. The old train station housed enough rooms to create bedrooms for each member of the family. Another room contained an old stove. If still viable, a proper kitchen could be set up. Could it be that his prayers have finally been answered? A sanctuary lost due to the passing of time? Forgotten to the human world?

Splinter returned to the first great room with the stone benches. There he found Donatello rolled into a ball with his legs tucked up to his chest; his arms embraced his knees. The Donatello was the most complacent of the children, rarely complaining about their misfortunes or about his brothers. Out of the four he was the only to not incessantly beg for rest. Instead he patiently waited for the scheduled breaks. Yet it was obvious the travels had drained him. From his knapsack Splinter pulled out an old bedsheet and covered the turtle's body. His hand trailed up and gently caressed Donatello's cheek.

"Otousan?"

Splinter turned to find Leonardo standing beside him, seeming hesitant to speak further.

"Yes, my child?"

"Can…can we stay here?"

"I think it would be best to make our camp here…"

"No," Leonardo cut in but then sheepishly cringed at his actions. "I mean…I meant…can we stay here…forever?"

"Yeah, can we?" Michelangelo interjected. "It's perfect."

The rat inwardly laughed at Michelangelo's definition of perfect. Although he could not deny that the old station was more than adequate to meet their needs. Yet his heart fluttered at the notion of whether it would be found by outsiders. Stroking his beard (or what passed as a beard hanging from his chin), Splinter could not recall the last time any human had crossed their path. He closed his eyes as he weighed the risk to benefit ratio. The benefits did seem to lean in their favor. When he opened his eyes, three pairs of eyes pleaded for a place to belong, a space to call their own. Their large puppy dog eyes melted his heart. He smiled warmly at them.

"It'll take a lot of cleaning, but with time and hard work, I do believe this can become a proper home."

Hopeful eyes turned to ecstatic glee as the boys yelled "yatta!" As Donatello shifted position, the boys quickly shushed each other, making sure to not disturb his slumber any further. Yet wide smiles displayed their joy which in turned pulled a grin on Splinter's lips.

It may take some time but I promise we will make this our home.