Locked.

It was still rattling.

I sighed softly in slight mirth.

"Are you sure you do not need any assistance, my son?" I questioned.

"Urg! No! I'm fine!" he growled angrily, not at me, but at the lock, "Damn! Since when did they start making these locks so damn complicated!" he hissed, slamming his fist to the iron door.

I shook my head, "As you wish." With my hands on my empty lap, already missing my cane, I watched him.

I hid a smile and watch him grumble, mutter, growl and curse, still working with the lock, grumbling and streaming about angrily at the metallic object, how stupid it is, not working with the sharp tip of his trustworthy weapon, refusing to fit like a key in the keyhole and get unlocked, and then he switched his stream of muttered curses to how his 'geek' of a brother ought to have been the one in this situation.

Raphael was never the type to use his infiltration skills often, unless it provided him with a fight later on, and though he had always been the best in picking locks, he didn't like using it often; so I assume this lock is quite not as simple as he originally thought, or he had been overconfident in his lock picking skill, either that or he had lost his touch.

Angered and frustrated, as the tip of his Sai refuses to enter the keyhole and turn correctly, unlocking the lock, he howls and pulls his weapon out, before he slams his shoulder, trying to ram the door open, but he simply fails, so he keeps going at it for many more times until he is breathless, and his shoulder starts aching, yet the door has nor a scratch or dent, and it is obviously refusing to open any time soon.

"Damn it!" he roared, now sending a kick, yet that barely does any good, it only adds pain to his already cold and stiff foot, in which he comically grips in pain and topples back, landing on his tail on the cold, hard, metallic floor, "Sh!t!" he curses in muffled pain, and then grumbles another stream of curses at the metallic object that is sealing us in.

I sighed and shook my head in distaste; my son dearly needs to control that colorful language of his. Ah, my legs still ache after our run with the Foot, and I continue to sit on the small empty crate, half trying to meditate, half wanting to comfort my angered, short tempered son, "Perhaps sitting down would help, my son." I advised, "It seems this door cannot be unlocked from the inside, and we need to wait for your brothers to aid us."

He sends me a hateful glare, but then remembers who he is addressing by the looks and sobers up, "Uh, I guess." He grumbles, now nursing his hurting foot, probably thinking of how much it will bruise the next morning, and glaring now at the locked door and cursing under his breath.

I sighed and leaned back against another crate, and decided to look at our surroundings one more time, hoping that I might see something I had over looked earlier, if only with the help of the faint little light shining down on us from the ceiling.

It felt like it had simply been nothing more than a few hours since our quarrel with the Foot began, and it had been a very long time since I've gone out with my children on an all-nighter patrol. I honestly did not expect to be attacked by such a numerous number of Foot, not after the Shredder disappeared with the Utrom building when it exploded into nothingness, but I guess I was gravely mistaken, as the night grew darker and dawn was yet to break, the enemy showed himself and attacked, and my sons and I were forced to scatter.

Raphael and I were separated from his brothers, and I was dangerously cornered and my legs were slightly injured, due to have been flooded by Foot soldiers from every direction, and seeing that I was standing alone, and was greatly outnumbered in Raphael's eyes; and though I could have handled them just fine, thank you very much; Raphael opted to cover my back and help me, so I allowed him to.

After all, all he wanted was to protect dear old dad, you see.

Of course, since we both were separated from the others, we ended up entrapped within this truck, and there is not a window in sight, as to at least see if his brothers are doing alright. When we were first trapped, Raphael had almost been knocked out cold, and since it's cold in here, it took him a little longer to wake up from his hazy daze, and he'd been up and wrestling with the lock ever since.

The truck had moved a short while after we were first locked in, and then after a moment, had stopped and then moved repeatedly several times, before finally reaching a full stop.

He became more frantic when the truck stopped; it worried him more that the vehicle had stopped than when it had first moved. He expressed his worry that we had been either taken out of the city, and would be used to bait the others, or they were going to rid of us when we least expect it, so he opted to try and unlock the door before either of those options happen.

'Either that, or drive this hunk of junk off a cliff and splatter us like bugs!' he grumbled.

My biological clock tells me we had been trapped in here for at least two hours, if not longer, and since we're not suffocating as of yet, in which I hope we don't any time soon, then that means there must be an air vent somewhere in which air escapes, not to mention this small space reeks of fish, and it's already latching on my damp fur, how very discouraging!

The truck's trailer is mostly empty, with the cold, hard cooled floor; the cooling cylinders are tucked with care under the iron inner body of the trailer, as to keep the cooling fluid from leaking into the shipment of fish. There are only two small crates, in which I'm sitting on one, and though both are empty, I'm guessing the cargo -of fish?- had already been delivered, yet the reek remains to assault my, unfortunately, acute senses.

Raphael yawned mightily, then groaned and cursed the cool atmosphere we're trapped in.

The cool air was making me drowsy as well, and it made me wonder as to how much worse is it for him.

He stretched his arms and then huffed out a cloud breath, willing himself and grumbling to move before he froze his tail off. He slowly picked up his Sai once more and trudged sleepily towards the lock, kneeling down to it's level, he went about picking it again, trying his best to focus, to push away the sleep taking over his reptilian body and lulling his mind.

I can still tell from his slowing movement that he was getting sleepy, and for that I worried.

Ever since they were very little, they have all been weak against the cold, even under layers and layers of blankets and warm drinks, and would often sleep for days, if not weeks, during winter.

Sometimes, during those very, very cold winter nights, their heartbeats and breathing pattern slow down, almost to a full stop, and I always fear that they have died during their hibernation-slumber, it had always been a constant nightmare for me, while watching over them during those harsh, cold winter nights, only when I reposition them, when they sometimes twist and turn in their beds, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in, do I relax, if only for a while, and put my fears to ease; temporarily.

There was a slight hiss, and I perked my ears.

The hissing sound continued, though slightly growing juts a tad bit louder, now as the room grew colder, and the soft little clouds formed at the corners of the small room, soon crawling towards us.

Raphael had not yet taken note of the clouds forming at the back of the trailer, he was much too busy cursing at the lock, and I worried. I knew what that crawling figure of a cloud was.

I cannot stop that cloud of cold air from moving, from invading and devouring the warmth of our space, and I cannot protect my son from something like this, it is beyond my control! Out of my reach!

I frowned at the growing chill in the small space, and no sooner does Raphael fail to ignore the chill that invaded his body, he stiffens and drops his Sai with a clatter, he wraps his arms around himself, and his shivering body is evident of his knowledge of the change in climate. He breathed onto his hands, trying to warm them up, before he slowly looked at me.

"S- S- s- a- sen- s- sai…!" he stuttered, shivering violently as his face twist with the bone cracking chill, "I- I th- think th- the- they're- t- t- t- !"

"They're trying to freeze us, I know, my son!" I reply, trying not to stutter, and gesture for him to come closer, for my legs hurt too much to walk, "Come closer! We need to keep each other warm!" I informed.

Like a child, Raphael shivers still as he crawls on all four towards me, now wrapping his cold, stiff limbs around my body, his hands latching onto my robes, "It- s s- so c- c- cold a- all of-f fa s- s- su-d-de-den!" he complains.

"Save your breath, don't think of the cold, think warm." I advise, yet the chill inside the trailer thickens, and even I start to shiver.

"C- c- cold! S- s- so c- c- c- old!" she barely whispered, his face twisting and he buries his face in my chest fur.

I shivered violently, and wrapped my arms around him tight, "I know, my son; I know." I tried not to stutter.

His breathing was already slowing down, as his eyelids begin to drop, and as less and less air is breathed in and out through his throat, his shivering body was growing less shaky as well, submitting to his hibernating body! I knew that if he fell asleep, he could very well not wake up, and even if he did survive, I will not be so fortunate, because I am not cold blooded, and the chill will kill me.

"Raphael, my son! You must stay awake!" I begged gently, my fingertips were cold, but they weren't as cold as his skin!

He made a murmuring sound, but failed to open his eyes, his hands were beginning to loosen from my robes, he was loosing to sleep.

"Raphael! Listen to me! You must fight this!" I begged.

He furrowed, and his fingers twitched, he murmured sleepily again.

Even with my acute hearing, I couldn't quite catch what he was saying, "My son, please fight this!"

Rubbing my hands over his shoulder, if only for little warmth, I inhale slowly, as to not allow the chilling air to slit my throat, for cold air in a warm throat is like begging for a coughing fit! I continue rubbing his shoulder, and thankfully he fluttered his eyes open, now scooting a little closer, almost pulling my smaller body into his lap, and moving his hands over my robe and gripping a little tighter, nuzzling my neck.

"God, s- sometimes it's s- s- So s- sucks t- to be c- cold b- b- blooded!" He muttered, stuttering still, though less than before; now his arms wrapped around me, he finally pulled me into his arms, and as odd as it sounds, I actually felt much warmer there. He paused and then nuzzled my furry neck, "Y- ya ho- holding up o- okay, s- Sensei?" he sleepily murmured, still nuzzling me, "I mean, it-s awful c- c- cold in here t- to you t- too, r- right?"

I smile just a bit, "I am fine, my son." I said quietly.

In all honesty, I was half embarrassed, half humored with the way he's cuddling me, entrapping me into his embrace, but I assume he's too cold and sleepy to care or realize the- irony of what he's doing. 'Ironic, isn't it, you old rat! You used to be the one to pull them into your lap and warm them up during those past winter nights.' I thought to myself, trying not to chuckle.

I was partly surprised that it is Raphael, of all my sons who is doing it.

He murmured again, his arms almost squeezing me too tightly, but then eased down, relaxing a bit.

"You are the one I am concerned about." I told then him, allowing him to snuggle closer, "Are you cold?"

"I'm fine," He almost yawned, "but I- just feel so t- tired all offa s- sudden, and so dang sleepy." He breathed out a small cloud, frowning in discomfort, he curled his legs and arms around me even more, encircling for warmth.

I already feel much warmer in his arms, and obviously he is feeling the same, because he is no longer stuttering so badly, so I smile a little wider, "Perhaps if we talk, it'll keep us awake." I told, hoping to keep him awake and occupied until help arrives.

"Whatever you say." He murmured sleepily, burying his face in my chest fur.

I arched a brow, half tempted to pinch him awake, half wanting to let him sleep, "Raphael," I began.

"Hn?" he almost snorted, trying to stay awake, "Yeah?" he then yawned.

"Have you any luck with the lock?" I questioned.

He furrowed, though his eyes were clamped shut by now, "No, the d- damn t- thing is out of m-m-mmmy- my league." He began, somewhat grumbling under his breath, "Uh, s- stabbing my Sai into the k- keyhole wont be enough to f- flick it open, it- won't work."

I sighed inwardly, "Shall I give it a try?" I questioned.

"N- no, I think it's one of them t- triple locked ones, s- Sensei." he released a small yawn, careful to direct his breath away from my face, "Yah- um, I need the key, probably a c- card key and the p- password or c- code number to open the thing from the outside." He explained.

"I see." I nodded, and ignored the way he was burying his head into my neck.

I smiled, it was very heartwarming in an ironic kind of way, having none other than my hardheaded son, Raphael, all nice and bundled up, snuggling into me; or actually, I should say, having me all bundled up in his lap. He had always been the one to reject any type of compassion, from either me or his brothers, and I find this situation quiet humorous. A tiny chuckle escaped my lips; he is so precious sometimes. I only wish if it were in a better satiation where we both could appreciate it more.

"What's so funny?" he furrowed a bit, yet his eyes refused to open.

"Nothing; I was simply thinking." I replied, not a lie, and not the whole truth.

He murmured again, "Ah, well I guess we have no other choice but to wait, huh." He informed, "This kind of thingamajig is Donny's specialty, he knows how to deal with these things."

I sighed slightly, "I do not know, from what you say, this lock seems too advanced."

"Ah, heck no." he smiled weakly, "Don can get this one, don't worry about it, Sensei." He paused, furrowed a bit and then continued, "Actually, I think it's the same type as the last one when I got locked up." He murmured.

At that I perked my ears, I tried not to eye him too anxiously; "You were locked up in a truck before, my son?"

"Hm, just once." he sleepily nodded, "Remember that time when we were supposed to meet you at that old sewer junction, when Baxter's rock munchers tore down the old lair?" he asked.

"Yes, I was concerned as why you four were so late." I answered, because I was also wondering worriedly as to what they could have come across while I was waiting for them, and had kept them for so long.

"Yeah, well truthfully, we tried to get to you real quick, but the sewer tunnel around the old lair collapsed, and we had to go to the topside to find another manhole to go to where you were." He began briefly, nuzzling me a little, slightly ruffling my neck fur.

I blinked, and Raphael's grip on my robe eased down a little, and I feared he was surrendering to sleep, "Go on." I urged.

"I found a manhole, but this dumb armored truck, that later became the Battle Shell, parked over it, and that's when we first met with the Purple Dragons." He inhaled, trying to bottle in a yawn, "We didn't want to be seen, the guys scattered and I just wanted to hide, I was dumb enough to jump into the truck and got myself locked up in the back!" He murmured, nonchalant.

I tried not to let the shock too clear on my face, but it was too much!

Strangely enough, he chuckled! "You should have seen the look on Leo's face, he looked like he just had a heart attack, heh! If I weren't so ticked off at Mikey, I would have actually laughed." He chuckled again, a little more loudly.

I sighed and shook my head, 'Kids!' frowning a bit at my son, I spoke, "Any other secrets you had been keeping from me, my son?" I asked jokingly, wholeheartedly not expecting any type of answer.

"Yeah." He murmured sleepily again, "When you went missing a few weeks back, way before the guys and I got teleported to the Triseraton home, I met this kid, his name was Tyler." He smiled.

I blinked once, twice, and wondered wearily if I ought to interrupt.

"Of course I never told anyone, but I was trying to help him and got smacked right in the face with a flash bomb." He furrowed a bit.

"Were you injured?" I asked, my heart now picking up a quicker pace.

"Nah, just turned blind." He replied indifferently.

At his reply, I felt my heart pummel into my stomach, my tongue was tied into a knot. "Blind?"

"Yeah, just for a couple of hours, nothing bad." He murmured, nuzzling my neck again, "Tyler and I had to go save his mom, she not nabbed by some dumb gangsters, and since I was blind, we had to work together to get her out." He explained simply.

I arched a brow, "And, if I may ask, how did you accomplish that, my son?"

"Simple, I used that clock trick you taught us when we were nine." He smirked a little, "It came in pretty handy."

At that, I huffed a small smile, "I am glad to hear that you have been paying attention to your lessons, my son."

"Me too." He said softly, yet sleep was evident in his quite tone of voice, "and I know I don't tell you this as often as I should, but I really appreciate all what you're doing for us, Sensei." He murmured sleepily.

I smiled, "A father must look after his children, no matter how old they are." I said at first, "I gave you lessons as to teach you how to look after yourselves, and you mastered it, not only for me, but for yourselves and for each other." I praised.

He smiled a bit, he nuzzled me again, "I know, and thank you." he grinned a bit, "I love you, dad."

I felt a dull ache in my chest, it was not bad, on the contrary, it felt very pleasant, "I love you as well." I cupped his cheek and allowed myself to nuzzle him, reminiscing over the past times when he was younger, and I did so much more often when tucking him and his brothers in for the night, "I love you all, my children." I sighed softly, welcoming warmth as it spread across my chest.

Raphael smiled, "I love ya, dad." He echoed rather sleepily and nuzzled back.

Though obviously he's just talking, not really comprehending what he was telling me, because he didn't seem to think much of what he was saying, those last few words struck me, in a very heartwarming way.

Not that I'd blame him, for his sleepy heart-spilling murmurs, he was half talking in his sleep, half wanting to trying to stay awake by talking to me. I smiled, nonetheless, knowing that my hardheaded son isn't really as hardheaded as he liked to appear.

Back to the Purple Dragon subject, I recall that I did not know about the reasons as to why they were late in meeting up with me at the junction, simply because around that time, choosing the locations of the rooms and facilities, we were all too busy tidying up the lair to be in a livable condition, and I've completely forgotten about asking them, as to why they were so late.

Not that Leonardo hadn't tried to tell me, yet unfortunately, every time he tried to consult me, as to tell me of their encounter, Michelangelo or Raphael would rise some type of ruckus, either it be complaint from Michelangelo as to where to put his kitchen items, or as to Raphael not wanting his items touched by his younger brother, leaving poor Donatello behind to pick up the broken pieces.

I shook my head, now eyeing Raphael, his head nodding lightly, drifting into sleep, so I squirmed a bit in his grasp and tried to snap him out of his daze without startling him too badly.

"My son! You must stay awake!" I told him gently, "Please, listen to my voice."

He murmured under his breath, nuzzling my neck again.

"Raphael, wake up!" I ordered a little more sternly.

"I'm up, I'm up!" he yawned, unwrapping one hand to rub his eyes sleepily. "Oh, jeepers! I'm all stiff." He yawned and then unwrapped both his arms from around me, stretching out mightily.

I sighed softly; sensing that the trailer was cooling down again, it was beginning to freeze up!

Raphael halfheartedly growled, but once his warm arms felt the chill, he quickly wrapped them around my warm body again, "Brr! I'm getting goosebumps all over!" he muttered tiredly.

I frowned in worry, if we stay confined in here any longer, the outcome will not be good.

I know that our body heat won't be enough to keep us warm and awake though the increasing chill, and Raphael will not last for too long, his skin is far more sensitive to the heat and cold climate than mine; but there was no way out, there is nothing for us to do! All I can do is pray that his brothers make haste and release us from this confinement, before their brother passes out.

Abruptly, as if hearing my prayers, there was a loud clunk at the door, and oddly, it almost sounded like something very hard and solid had slammed into the iron doors of the trailer. At the sound of the loud impact, Raphael's eyes fluttered open, he jerked eyeing the door, though his eyes were still heavy and sleepy, either it be he was anticipating an attack or another impact, I'll never know.

With a worried glance, we eyed each other, and I quickly slipped from his hold, and thankfully, my legs did not hurt too badly. Raphael, still slow and a bit clumsy, reached out for his Sai, one still stabbed into the lock, the other on the cold hard floor, but as soon as he touched one, he then yelped, for the metal was too cold for him to touch, he could not weld the weapon.

He was now breathing a little more heavily, fighting the urge to just curl on the floor and sleep, his breath forming clouds as the warmth our bodies made quickly withered away, leaving him bare and cold once more.

He shivered, and I worried for his sake, watching him stand up on his two feet a bit too shakily, too dizzily, though he was a warrior, in my eyes he was still a child! An innocent child! A warrior, but ninjas were never reptiles!

Raphael readied his fists, seeing his weapons were within sight and reach, but was currently not an option.

As soon as the iron doors opened, he leaped at the shadowed figured standing within sight, not stopping to think that perhaps they were armed and ready to destroy us! But unexpectedly, I was greeted by the sound of- a feminine scream?

Stepping at the exit of the trailer, I saw that we were at an old area, an abandoned construction site, it seemed, with sunlight seeping through the cracked roof, walls, shattered windows and torn down doors, casting it's warming light in patches and spot here and there; and there were very few unconscious Foot soldiers laying around, unmoving, as some of them were scurrying away in fright.

I smiled a bit as my orange masked son started yelping, begging for mercy under his red masked brother's cold touch, while my purple masked son palmed his face in mirth and frustration, while my blue masked son just smiled and rolled his eyes.

"Wah! Raphie, dude! It's me!" I heard Michelangelo shout.

"Uh, m- Mikey?" Raphael's voice spoke, weary and confused.

"Get offa me, Raph! You're as cold as a popsicle!" Michelangelo whined.

"S- sorry." Raphael murmured from where he sat over his brother, "Thought you were a Foot."

"No, I'm a turtle, you silly!" he half heartedly joked.

"Sensei!" Leonardo stepped at the now opened trailer door, extended a hand for me to take, "Are you alright?"

"Sorry we took so long," Donatello apologized, "we had a hard time tracking you."

"It is alright, my sons. There was no harm done." I replied wearily.

Accepting Leonardo's much, much warmer hand, I stepped out of the cold trailer, with a little help from Donatello, as my old, hurting joints ached after such a long suffering time, being trapped in such a cold place; my body shivering as the warmth of the early morning sun, stepping where it cast it's ray on he floor. At that moment, I felt bliss.

'Yes, the sun is such a marvelous gift given to us by God.' I mused at the sky with a content smile.

"Guys! We have a cold turtle over here!" Michelangelo's voice informed in panic.

Donatello hurried towards Raphael's now unmoving body, "What happened?" he asked as he started examining his fallen brother.

"I- I- I don't know!" Michelangelo stuttered fearfully, "He was just fine a minute ago, and then he suddenly just- collapsed!"

I worried that perhaps the sudden change in climate had put Raphael's body in shock!

Unfortunately, Donatello confirmed my fears, yet calmed my aching heart by saying that Raphael's body shut down briefly, but to a non-life threatening level, and all we need to do is keep him warm.

Seeing it was already morning, meaning that my biological clock had been thrown off a great deal, Donatello and Leonardo carried Raphael into the nearby Battle Shell, as Michelangelo escorted me into the vehicle, we headed home.

All during the ride back to our home, Leonardo drove, while Michelangelo and Donatello tended to my needs, and Raphael's condition. I was so very weary, and felt so horribly achy and drained, my bones hurt terribly, and Donatello exclaimed that a nice, hot bath ought to do the trick, and heal my aching bones, but yet I did not feel too thrilled.

Blame it on the change of atmosphere, and the worry of a parent about his child's wellbeing.

Once home, Raphael was placed on the couch, sandwiched and buried under layers and layers of heavy blankets, as I sat close by, wrapped under a lesser number of blankets. Leonardo and Donatello ventured off to prepare the needed medicine, for their brother and I, while Michelangelo was asked to explain the events that we have missed during our entrapment.

To be truthful, I was only half listening to his report, for I was greatly consumed by worry.

Donatello had claimed that Raphael's body temperature had dropped greatly to a very low and dangerous point, and forcing it up too quickly would surely and instantly kill him, so we'll have to keep his body cool for a while, before trying to force his body to warm up, little by little, and the process will have to be taken quite slowly.

I feared for his life.

There was nothing they could say or do eased my worry.

….

After a very long day, my worries were finally subdued.

Raphael had finally opened his eyes.

Though with a terrible cold and a slight fever, despite the runny nose, or snout, as Donatello would correct, he was still among the living, and that was all I cared for, because the cold could easily be remedied.

Raphael was evidently most glad to be back with his brothers, back home where it was nice, warm and comfortable, surrounded by his loved ones and family, even if he did complain about the way his childish brother kept pestering him about his voice, seeing Raphael's cold had made his voice- muffled, he was still happy to be somewhere warm.

Now, with his brother away, going about their daily chores, Raphael and I sat at the monitor area, and since my cold had already come and past, his still lingers heavily, forcing him to sniffle and sneeze every few minutes, and slightly making it harder for him to breath through his nostrils, instead, he sucks in the air through his mouth, cursing his sickness.

It was early morning and the others were away, I had nothing to do but relax and stay warm, while watching my favorite TV soap operas. So sitting quietly in my armchair, I glanced over at Raphael. He had his shell sinking into the couch nearby, legs pulled up and hugging them, while wrapped under multiple sheets and blankets, a box of tissues and a small wastebasket at his feet to dispose the wet tissues, seeing his nose was 'dripping rivers' as Michelangelo would say, much to Raphael's distaste.

"I don't see how ya watch dis stuff, Sensei." He mutters, though his clogged nose forces his voice to sound so differently, he sniffled, "It's so sappy, it blows the meter right off da charts, ya know?"

I smiled, and took a sip from my tea, "I simply enjoy the interaction between characters, my son." I said to him simply, "Who knows, I might find myself in the protagonists' shoes one day, at least I would get a head start as to what I am supposed to react." I explained, "After all, some of these episodes are based on real stories, thus the chance of them happening is fairly possible."

"Uh huh…" he murmured, pulled a tissue and cleared his snout with a 'honk' and then muttered under his breath, "Damn, I hate getting sick, I feel to damn useless." He growled tiredly.

I let out a small breath, Raphael had been repeating that for some time now, "My son, you are not useless, you are just, if I may say, had been pushed into a forced vacation." I informed, trying to comforting a little, for I know how much he hates staying home with nothing to do, "Relax and recover, and then you can pick up the things you left behind when you are well again."

"We wouldn't have gotten so darn sick if I would have gotten that stupid lock open." He grumbled, sniffling.

"You tried your best." I reasoned, recalling that he, in truth, did not remember any of the conversation that had happened between us during our imprisonment inside that truck's trailer, 'How sad. For a moment there you thought you two were bonding and growing closer. You just had your hopes up, you old rat.' I thought in self disappointment.

"Yeah, well my best weren't good enough." He grumbled again.

"I am sure you'll get it right the next time." I huffed, getting tired of the way he enjoyed kicking himself over spilt milk.

He eyed me wearily and then nodded, probably catching the wave of irritation in my voice, and he didn't reply; so either it is that he did not feel well enough to talk, sore throat and all, or he was uneasy about talking to me again, after hearing the noticeable change in my tone of voice, and for that, I mentally kicked myself and gave a small sigh.

Raphael had always been the hardest to open up to me, and I know that he loves and trusts me, I just don't understand why he does not confine in me as often as his brothers do. Leonardo always comes to me when he is in need of guidance, Donatello is the same, but in search for acceptance, while Michelangelo simply wants to talk with dear old dad, usually when he's feeling left out, ignored or downhearted.

Raphael got up, still wrapped in his blanket, and headed towards the kitchen, probably to refill his mug with the herbal tea, and though he highly disliked the taste, he endures it the best he can, because he knows that the more often he drinks it, allowing it's medical properties to kick in and heal him, the quicker the healing will be, and for him, the faster is the better.

I continued to watch show in silence, and then he soon returned, now sitting back in his previous spot, wrinkling his snout at the smell of the tea, that he forced himself to drink.

For some strange reason, or notion, I got up and walked over to the couch, now seating myself next to where he sat, allowing a little personal space, and he eyed me quizzically, but said nothing, because I don't usually leave my armchair to sit on the couch for no reason.

For a long moment, we just sat there near each other until the show ended.

Turning off the television sets, I hid a smile.

All during the show, Raphael had finished his drink and leaned back onto the couch, watching them with me in clear boredom, but slowly, the medical properties of the tea were finally functioning and thus, making him drowsy. Soon, he slid down to his side, laying on the couch, his head rest comfortably on my thigh, sleepily murmuring with a contented smile.

I watched him sleep, my hand on his head, stroking him gently, reminding me again and again of how similar, yet how different they are from their youth, but I don't mind, it only refreshes my love for them.

Nevertheless, the feeling was still pleasant.

Sometimes, no matter how old they are, they're still my children.

My sweet, kindhearted and innocent little children…

I will always and forever love them.

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A/N: The ending was lame and-or forced? Yeah, I know, Sorry; but I've been mulling over it for the past week, and I just got tired of tweaking and twisting and changing it for so many times, so I just wrapped up the final result real quick. I've been blocked on both 'LOSS' and 'When We Soar' and I needed the change by doing random one-shots. Anyway, a Splinter-Raph story that doesn't really have much Raph in it, mostly Splinter POV, I'm awful when it comes to doing a Splinter centered story, so I tried my hand on it… obviously, I need practice.