Round 2.

I am sitting on the porch again, rocking distractedly in my chair as Raphael and Michaelangelo drag a dazed and reluctant Donatello up the porch steps.

"Found ‘im," Raphael says with his usual abrupt obviousness.

I nod. "I can see that. Donatello, where have you been?"

He shrugs. "Swimming." My facial expression does not flicker, but inside I am frowning. Donatello was never an avid swimmer. But what could his motive possibly be for lying to me? "I’m sorry, Master, I wasn’t paying attention to the time when I left the farmhouse, and I just sort of got carried away....I didn’t mean to be out long enough to force you to look for me."

His uneasy expression and the stance he keeps shifting makes me realize that my son is definitely hiding something....but what? I glance quickly at his two brothers, who flank him. No sign of understanding from them. Donatello alone is involved in this strangeness, whatever it is. I study Donatello closely, wishing to force him by sheer will to reveal the reason for his deceit. But this naive method does not work, and I simply sigh. "Gather your things. We are going.

Donatello gratefully heads into the house, pushing past April in the doorway with a hurried "‘Scuse me." Raphael and Michaelangelo follow. April notices my expression and comes to comfort me.

"I wouldn’t worry about it, Master Splinter. There’s nothing really wrong with Don, he’s just a little--spaced. And he usually looks a bit out-of-this-world."

I don’t have the words to tell April that something about Donatello’s manner reveals that his deception exists, even if it does not reveal the source of the deception. And I do not tell her what I have already determined for myself. I am old, but I am no fool. An essential part of ninja training is to recognize numerous drugs and their effects. Ninjas are, after all, assassins primarily. And poison is a common, though cowardly, method of murder. It is obvious to me that I have been dosed with a common Japanese herb which induces sleep. Most likely my sons and our human friends were treated with the herb as well. That would well explain our collective failure to wake on schedule this morning.

And since only one person was not affected by the sudden tiredness which made us all sleep late, it is only logical that Donatello is responsible for the drugs. But why? I feel as though I am walking in circles, repeating myself. There is no answer for the large, unconquerable question of "why?"

"Splinter!" Casey calls from the driveway. I look up to see my sons tossing the last few bags into the van. While I was absorbed in my thoughts I missed seeing all my sons come back out of the house. I stand as April locks the front door and she walks me down to the van, where I climb into the back with my sons. She sits next to Casey with Shadow in between. Casey grins and pumps the accelerator to make the engine roar. "Let’s get outta here."

Donatello slumps across from me, avoiding my gaze. He seems very aloof and secretive. And also very tired. What was he up doing so early at the river?

"Hey Master, look at this!" Michaelangelo’s seeks to distract me with some practical joke. I allow my concern about Donatello to slip away for a moment as I turn to Michaelangelo and prepare to smile.