Epilogue-- well, I had to do it. I just had to visit them one more time! Forgive a sentimental woman! TMNT are owned by Mirage. Incidental shop owners are creations of mine, and are not important to anything except my own creative beliefs.

EPILOGUE:

When Mr. Sakai came downstairs from his home above his small grocery, and entered his business to begin his busy day, he noticed at once that his most loyal "customer" had been here.

"Look!" he called to Mrs. Sakai, who was just entering the store. "Mr. Hamato was here last night!"

Relief spread over the old lady's face.

"I'm so glad! I was worried that the people he is hiding from had finally found him." And she made a small and grateful bow to the store's Buddha. "Did he leave a letter as usual?"

"Yes. Apparently he was very ill for the past few weeks, and his poor sons were left to take care of their father," he replied, and handed his wife the simple white paper that was elegantly decorated with some of the most graceful kanji either one had ever seen.

"Such beautiful writing!" she sighed in continued admiration. "No! Those poor boys! They are only, what, six now? How were they able to take care of their father? They must have been eating poorly." She read the letter carefully. "Ah! He has nothing but praise for them, however. He has raised them well."

"Except for the two who attempted to go out in public to purchase milk at the all-night grocery," Mr. Sakai sighed. "Foolish children! Has he not told them time and again that they must live in hiding? I am sure the Yakuza must be the ones after that poor man."

Mrs. Sakai agreed with her husband, though in the beginning she was worried that perhaps there was a Mrs. Hamato who had no idea where her husband had gone with their quadruplets. But ever since that first day when they had opened the store to find a paper crane, a neat envelope, and an itemized list of purchases, along with an apology for breaking into the store in order to feed his sons, the Sakais had realized that this was more than just a custody dispute. Over the past few years a sort of written friendship had sprung up between Mr. Hamato and the Sakais, and though no details were given, it was commonly believed that this family was in hiding from the Japanese mob, or Immigration, or both.

"I am glad that he is better," Mr. Sakai said, putting the money into the cash register and carefully hiding the letter until later when he could properly dispose of it. "It is such a shame to destroy such beautiful calligraphy."

"Yes, but at least we have this," his wife agreed, pointing to a beautiful banner that had obviously been done with great skill as well as feeling.

The kanji symbol for "Prosperity" painted on the rare piece of silk looked as if it were the work of a gifted artist, and the Sakais believed that since Mr. Hamato had presented them with it, their business as well as their family had been very prosperous indeed. Was it not Mr. Hamato who pointed out how to make the shop more secure from the local street punks and gangs? Ever since those first few times when he started "regretfully breaking into your estimable store, please forgive me, but it is necessary", Mr. Sakai was able, through the advice of Mr. Hamato, to dramatically decrease the acts of vandalism and break-ins a hundred fold.

"We are lucky indeed," her husband agreed, opening the store and greeting his first official customer of the day.

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The training went back to its regular schedule for only a few days. The pay backs were being dealt out during sparing time, but soon ended with the illness of first Michelangelo, and then Donatello. Both brothers were bedridden within twenty-four hours of each other, and they had it pretty bad, just as Splinter had feared. He continued to train Leonardo and Raphael, who for some lucky reason were being missed by the illness.

Poor Donatello had fever so bad at times that Splinter worried for his survival-- as he always did when a son was sick. One terrible day Donatello was burning up so bad that Splinter filled the tub with lukewarm water and sat with him in it, cooling him down slowly, holding him tightly, afraid that he might lose him.

Michelangelo couldn't keep anything down except toast and tea, and even that was a struggle. He was so hungry at times, that they would give in and let him have something else, but shortly after eating, it would come right back up, and he would cry for some time.

"I really wanted to eat Chicken Jumble," he sobbed that one night, when Splinter had allowed him a tiny bit of this special meal. He had cheerfully swallowed it down, only to lose it about fifteen minutes later. Splinter could only console him, rocking him in the old rocking chair and telling him over and over that it would be all right.

Both were miserable, with chest-wracking coughs that threatened to rob them of breath as easily as it robbed them of sleep, and they were being waited on hand and foot by the older brothers as part of their punishment.

Leonardo took all of Donatello's chores, and Raphael was responsible for Michelangelo's-- which included cooking simple things. He soon grew to hate the toaster, and quit teasing Leo about his aversion to it after several bouts of bad luck and burnt toast.

"See? I told you that thing was evil," Leo said wisely to Raph as he was scraping the black stuff from his third attempt to make toast for Mikey.

Splinter, though he was not back to full strength, was able to begin his scavenging and foraging, as well as make his important trips to the two stores he occasionally visited. After all, winter was coming, and he had to take advantage of the rainy weather that had returned to make sure they had enough to get them through the difficult months ahead.

"I wish we could go with you to help," Leonardo said early one evening, as their father got dressed in the clothes he wore to help cover his form when scavenging topside. "You aren't really well yet."

"I wish that you could come with me as well, my son," Splinter smiled, touching Leonardo's anxious face. "But I will be fine, and you two must care for your brothers while I am gone. I promise I will not be long."

So Raph and Leo were baby-sitting two very sick brothers for the next few hours.

"My head is hurting," Mikey whined to Raph, as he brought him some tea and toast. "Can you do something about it?"

"Sorry, Mikey, but I'm not allowed to give you any medicines," Raph said sincerely. "But Splinter will be home soon. Shall I get you a cold rag?"

Mikey, eyes closed, biting his lip against the ache in his head, tried to be grown up-- but he couldn't. His head hurt so, and he longed for his father's return.

"Yes," he finally answered, nearly crying but managing not to, and Raph with great patience fetched the coldest rag he could manage, and laid it across Mikey's feverish forehead.

Meanwhile, Don was finally sleeping after nearly an hour of lung-bursting coughing. Leo had done as Splinter would do, propping Don up against himself and rubbing his back and chest, supporting him with words as well as steaming tea. Eventually his fit finally subsided, and he was able to fall asleep, but his breathing was very noisy, and Leo worried at every intake and release. It sounded worse than the groanings and moanings of the distant water pipes that echoed throughout the sewers; it sounded worse than Splinter had sounded on his worst night.

Splinter had had to rock him a long time the night before, when his fever had gone up so high and the coughing had become so bad that he couldn't even cry in pain. Leo had been very scared that night, even more scared than when Splinter had sat with Don in the bathtub to bring his fever down.

But so far, except for this recent coughing bout, he had been relatively okay under their watch.

The door opened, and Leo and Raph experienced such relief as they had never felt before. Father was home!

They didn't have a chance to go out to meet him, for they could hear him put down whatever he was carrying and make his way to them.

"How are the patients?" he asked softly, entering the room, shedding the clothes of his disguise. Wordlessly Raph and Leo moved quickly to help him undress from the sodden garments, each wishing they'd thought to have towels ready.

"My head hurts so bad!" Mikey cried before Leo or Raph could respond, and Splinter, though he was damp from his nighttime foray to the surface, made calming fussing sounds and bundled his youngest up in a blanket. He picked him up to take him into his room for painkilling medicines and fatherly rocking.

"Raphael and Leonardo, please put the supplies away for me, and then see to the dojo floor," he said, carrying Michelangelo to his room. "And that will be the last time. That part of your punishment is over."

Leo and Raph were glad of that bit of news! Scrubbing the dojo floor daily had been the second worst of the punishments; the spanking was quick but painful, and their tails were sore for a few days. But to them, the humiliation of being spanked was worse that the actual spanking.

Mikey couldn't understand that part at all when they'd tried to explain it. The spanking had hurt their pride more than their behinds.

Well... it had hurt their behinds plenty! But there was something about it that had also touched their pride; possibly because Splinter had done it in the presence of the two younger turtles as some sort of fatherly warning.

Now, once the dojo floor was scrubbed one more time, they would only have the chores of their brother to deal with. Splinter had spared them restriction to bed and let them keep their TV watching privilege in acknowledgment of their good intentions.

"Woo-hoo!" Raph cheered happily as they finished the job. "I hated this part the most!"

"Me, too!" agreed Leo, as he carefully put away the last of the supplies while Raph got rid of the bucket and brushes. "And now that Splinter is home, we can take a break from the chores as well."

"Whadda ya wanna do?"

"Let's just watch TV."

"Deal!"

It felt good to sit down for a few hours. They had worked hard to care for Splinter, but working hard to care for the brothers somehow seemed to require more of their time and energy.

They were sort of dozing on the couch when Splinter, having put Mikey back to bed, came into the room and sat between them on the old couch. They both woke up at that, rubbing their eyes.

"Well, perhaps we shall have a bit of peace for a while," Splinter sighed. Don was still sleeping, and now that Mikey's headache had been dealt with, Splinter could take a rest himself. As Leo had observed earlier, he still wasn't up to full-strength from his own bout with the flu, and Leo and Raph had noticed the sigh of relief their father had made in sitting down.

"I don't get it," Raph said, as if they'd been having a long conversation. "That whole time, Don and Mike stayed in the lair. Me and Leo was the ones who went out several times, getting all wet and stuff. Yet they get the flu and we don't."

"You sound disappointed that you are not ill," Splinter observed.

"No! I'm glad I'm not the one pukin' my guts out and coughin' my head off," he affirmed sincerely. "It's just, I thought that what with goin' out like that, we'd be the ones to get sick. I mean, Leo even fell in and nearly drowned--"

Splinter looked at Raphael suddenly, a bit shocked. Too late, Raph realized that they'd never told him the full story of what had happened-- just Don and Mikey. Both sons squirmed under his fatherly gaze.

But he let it go, allowing them to keep this secret for now.

"I have been thinking," he said instead. "This illness will not be the last, and I must prepare you all. You four did an excellent job as it was, with caring for yourselves as well as me. But I must prepare you for the future. You know that, unless I have to visit the other grocery, I sometimes purchase things from a small shop."

They nodded. Once in a while, Splinter would bring home some small gifts from the wife of the owner, who was convinced that four growing boys would need some little unexpected treat.

"If anything were to happen to me, I have no one I can leave you with," he continued sadly. He didn't want to address six year olds in this way, but he needed to prepare them for any possibility. "When Donatello and Michelangelo are better, I will take each of you with me to this shop, and teach you how to enter and exit without attracting attention. I will show you how I do this, but it is ONLY to be done by you if I direct you to do it-- while I am awake." And he looked at Leo.

Leo sank down on the couch a little, and smiled sheepishly.

"I've learned my lesson, Sensei," he assured Splinter. "I won't ever go topside ever again, unless it's with you."

Splinter smiled, satisfied for the moment.

"I wish you wouldn't think of this stuff anyway," Leo continued, looking at Splinter earnestly. "It's... it's too scary," he ended in a whisper, ashamed to be so afraid in front of his father and brother.

"I do not like to think of bad things, my sons, but I cannot help it. You four are important to me. You are my children, and I must protect you until you are old enough to protect yourselves. And I must prepare you to protect yourselves and each other for when I am gone."

"That won't never happen," Raph said confidently. "I know it for a fact! Nothing bad is ever gonna happen to you, Sensei! You won't let it happen! Can I go with you first? Leo always gets to go first. I wanna go first this time."

Splinter laughed at the confidence with which Raphael made this statement, coupled with his request to be allowed the first opportunity to go topside.

"Yes, I will take you first," he said, and enjoyed the unexpected delight that crossed Raphael's face. "Leonardo has been allowed to observe me at the other place, so it is only fair that you have the first trip to the Sakai Market."

Raph was so happy that he couldn't even lord it over Leo. He just beamed with pleasure at father and brother alike.

Then Splinter sighed, and snuggled both sons to him, a protective arm around each. They gladly scooted in closely, and got their own arms around him in the process.

"I hope that neither of you will ever have to take up such a burden until you are well into your adult years, but I do not feel it a disservice to Michelangelo and Donatello when I say that I depend on you to look after your brothers. And I depend upon them to look after you. Never forget that you are brothers, my sons. No matter how angry you become at each other, no matter how many times you say 'I owe you one'. Remember that what you truly owe each other is your love and support."

Normally Leo and Raph didn't like the mushy talk, but tonight they were truly understanding of what Splinter was trying to say. Tonight it wasn't mushy: it was wonderful.

"We'll remember, Father," Leo assured him, hugging him tightly.

"We won't disappoint you, Father," Raph promised, hugging just as tightly from the other side.

Sudden coughing from the other room, coupled with the weak cries of both invalids, signaled that it was time for the next round of comfort and medicines and family love. The three of them got off the couch and went about the business of caring for each other.

And as Splinter watched these two assisting him with the others, he couldn't help but smile with pride and love.

Leonardo and Raphael, realizing that they were being watched, both turned and saw Splinter beaming at them. He put an arm around the two just before they were to go fetch him the required medicines and tea for their brothers, and kissed them each on the forehead.

"I owe you one," he whispered, and they grinned in appreciation.