This is long long long, and I hope it suits- I'm happy with it, but then that's me! TMNT are not mine. They're Peter Laird's.

Splinter went to awaken his sons, but the smell of cooking food alerted him to the early rising of at least one of them.

What is going on? If he thinks he can escape punishment early by preparing breakfast...

"Good morning, my sons. Time to begin another day!" he said to the other three, and waited to the side of the door by force of habit for the usual stampede that was known as Michelangelo, on his way to be "First!" to the bathroom, followed closely by the others.

This morning, however, there was no rampaging son- no triumphant shouts of "I'm first!"- no fighting and tripping and "Gee, MIKEY! You're not the only one who has to go!" from the other three. Splinter knew before he opened the door that the youngest turtle was already in the kitchen. But he stood aside just the same.

Leonardo was up quickly, as usual. He began the race to the coveted bathroom, automatically shouting "Mikey, you're always-" before he realized that for once HE was first to the bathroom!

Instead of going in, he rushed back, scared, to his room, where Don and Raph were taking their time, figuring that it wasn't worth the extra energy.

"Mikey's not there!" he dramatically announced, as if someone had mysteriously appeared, snatched his brother, and vanished before his eyes!

"It is all right, my son," Splinter said. "He is already up- and fixing breakfast."

Now three pairs of eyes were on father, puzzled. Mikey fixing breakfast was nothing new, but usually they knew it ahead of time due to their baby brother's loud and insistent announcement that he was "getting up early to fix the rest of you something to eat so just keep sleeping and don't worry about the fact that I have to get up so way earlier than you guys even though I'm tireder than you all and I hope I don't fall asleep and burn up the kitchen while I'm trying to fix breakfast for all the LUCKY turtles who get to sleep in late!"

In the kitchen, Michelangelo's preparations were complete! The party supplies were arranged- he was going to treat this like a special birthday party- and it was, in a way, it certainly was! He would surprise everyone with this fantastic breakfast, and then Splinter would HAVE to finally come clean with the coming baby, and Mikey would STILL be able to use his surprised reaction after all!

Eagerly he awaited the moment when his father and brothers would enter the kitchen and...

"Michelangelo, it was kind of you to-" Splinter began as he entered the kitchen. Then he lost the rest of what he was going to say as he took in the sight before him.

The entire kitchen seemed decorated for a party. There were two highly decorated signs of "Congratulations" and "Welcome to the Family" taped to the cupboard facing the door. Balloons were blown up and taped to whatever surface could hold them. The table was already set, and at each place was a homemade party hat and colorfully fringed noise makers known as "blow outs"- the kind where the curled up and flat hollow "tube" extended when one blew into it while making an irritating noise- were on everyone's plates.

In a bowl on the counter were their old baby socks, bulky with something that Splinter could only guess at. Next to the bowl were two highly decorated "gifts"- leftover Christmas paper had been used to good effect it seemed.

"My son," Splinter finally found his voice, and looked at the obviously beaming face of Michelangelo, who was wearing one of the homemade party hats already. "My son- what is going on?"

"It's a surprise!" Mikey grinned, grabbing Splinter's hand and pulling him to his seat. "C'mon! Sit down and put on your hat!"

"My son," Splinter tried again, as he was pulled along by the eager child. "What surprise are you referring to? It is not anyone's birthday today, and-"

"Mikey, what the heck?"

Leo's voice was loud with shock.

"PLEASE tell me this is NOT what I think it is!" He glared a strange look of embarrassment and horror at his brother.

"Sit down! Breakfast is getting cold!" Mikey ordered, ignoring Leo's reaction.

Donnie and Raph walked into the kitchen, and both rocked back a bit in surprise. Don looked as if he were seeing things- and NOT liking it one bit. Raph appeared to be just as startled, but his face also reflected anger- for a brief moment.

"Mikey, have you lost your HEY! I've ALWAYS wanted one of these!" and Raphael snatched up the noise maker and began to blow it at Leo and Don, hitting them several times in the face before anyone could react.

"Raphael! Please stop that!" Splinter said firmly, the noise already grating on his sensitive ears. Then he turned to Michelangelo. "What is all of this about?"

Mikey, barely containing himself, still refused to explain.

"I've made a special breakfast!" he announced, immediately beginning to serve it up from the oven where he had kept it so it would be warm. Soon each plate was heaped with blueberry pancakes, and each glass was filled with milk. Syrup, nice and hot, was set next to Splinter's plate, and a large bowl of fluffy scrambled eggs was proudly carried to the table by the young chef. "When I saw you had the can of blueberries I decided to see if I could make blueberry pancakes. The eggs came out great, just like in the picture! I think these are my best scrambled eggs yet! I would have put some ham in them, but we're out. I thought about the bacon, but I hate frying that, I hate getting popped with the hot grease, and 'sides you said to never fry it unless you're there to watch, and since this is a surprise breakfast party it wouldn't be much of a surprise if you had to help me fix it, right?"

Mikey, breathless, suddenly flashed a huge grin at his father,then snatched up the specially made hat and before Splinter could react, placed it on the startled rat's head and tied it in place.

"There! NOW you look like you should! Just like I pictured it!"

Splinter finally tore his stunned eyes from this young bundle of energy and took in his other sons' reactions. They were now seated, but would not return his questioning gaze. Leonardo was staring at his pancakes, swallowing down his obvious embarrassment. Donatello was equally occupied with studying the food on his plate, as if it were the most facinating thing he had ever come across. Raphael was quietly blowing into the party favor, trying to make it shoot out without making it squawk.

They knew what this was about- and yet they could NOT tell?

He turned back to Michelangelo.

"What is this about?"

Mikey, still riding the emotional high of his dream come true, merely grinned even larger. Then he grabbed the gifts and presented them to Splinter.

"I was gonna wait until after breakfast, but maybe it's okay if you open them now!" he said, still not answering his father. "Open this one first! Open this one first!"

Automatically Splinter opened the smaller package.

"A baby rattle?"

He held up the large pink and blue toy, his mind not comprehending the situation.

"YES! I was lucky enough to get that at the donation place!" Mikey grinned, seating himself and beginning in on his pancakes and eggs- after all, he had been up since before dawn, and he was starved from all this hard work! "That's why I was out of the lair that night, father. I gots more stuff in the room, but I'm saving it for when she gets here- I mean-"

Splinter's eyes snapped back to Michelangelo.

"She? Who is 'she'? When who gets here? My son..."

"Well," Mikey acknowledged, mouth full of tasty food, "I'm only guessing 'she'." Chew chew swallow. "It could be a 'he', but I'd rather it was a 'she' cause of the other gift." More food found its way into the turtle's mouth, barely staying there because of the constant smiling and grinning. "Oops! Sorry!" He caught some escaping eggs quickly with a hand and shoveled them back in and dealing with them promptly.

Splinter opened the other gift at once- and found the pink baby sweater, neat, cleaned and even repaired- there had been a button missing, and now a new one, sadly mismatched but proudly sewn on, replaced it.

"I tried to wait until you was ready to tell us," Michelangelo's words reached his ears. "But I figured that maybe you were embarrassed to bring it up, and on the show I watched they gave the person a party so she would finally not be embarrassed and would tell them what they already knew."

"I do not understand," Splinter barely said. His mind was having a hard time trying to figure this one out. Of all the strange stunts Michelangelo had pulled over the years, of all the pranks this growing young jokester had tried out on all of them, this- THIS did not seem to register with the rat. This one made no sense at all- and yet the other three, silent, embarrassed, squirming- they knew what it was about- and wouldn't tell-

"Leonardo, what is going on?"

The tone was unmistakable. Leonardo, the eldest, jumped as if he'd been pinched on the tail, and gave his father an apologetic, weak grin.

"Ummmm... remember when I said that what if someone believed something and it was bad but not bad like-"

"What is going on?"

Mikey, afraid that his brother would steal his thunder, jumped up and rummaged in the cupboard. With a flourish, he brought to the table where the untouched (except by him) breakfast sat, pushed everything aside, and presented Splinter with the cake that Mrs. Sakai had made.

On it, Michelangelo had placed a small sign he had made- he had drawn and cut out what appeared to be a baby rat wearing a diaper and holding a bottle, and then attached it to some cardboard. In carefully cut out letters that he, himself, had made, he had spelled out on top of the cake "Happy BABY!"

His grin was so large that it did not seem possible it could fit his face. He took the completely confused rat's hand and squeezed it, and just kept nodding and grinning at Splinter- as if he'd lost his mind.

Something clicked in the rat's mind- something unbelievable- it just HAD to be a practical joke! It just had to be!

"My son- do you think that-"

Michelangelo gripped Splinter's hand tighter. He was finally going to say it! He was finally going to tell them!

"YES! We're having a baby! I can't wait! OH, Father! I'm so happy!" Mikey shouted, and he leaped upon Splinter, hugging him and dancing around the chair then hugging him again and again and singing nonsense and carrying on about "Machi" and "baby sister" and "you can count on me!"

Splinter grabbed hold of Michelangelo firmly, forcing him to stand still and staring into his shining eyes. Long he stared into the depths of his son's soul, and with a heavy sigh realized that this was no joke- that Michelangelo was serious.

"Mikey thinks you're having a baby."

Small, whispered, almost unheard by the rat, Leonardo's voice reached his ears none the less, confirming what had finally become clear to Splinter.

Mikey, still in Splinter's strong grip, maintained that silly smile of pure joy.

"My son," Splinter finally said, and the smile froze on Mikey's face. Something about the tone set off an alarm deep in the recesses of his euphoria. "My son, I believe we need to talk... in private... now..."

The grin would not leave his face, but the eyes now reflected a growing fear- and the overwhelming desire to sing "The Wheels of the Bus Go Round and Round" began to creep up on him.

"My son, let us go to my room for a moment."

Mikey sat on the edge of the large pipe, legs dangling into the empty space, just above the river, Mr. Growly snug in his lap. The sounds of the seagulls as they chased after what boats were moving to and fro this late in the day, the deep call of a tugboat horn to a larger ship that replied in kind, the faint lapping of the water along the shore all echoed inside the pipe and made mournful music for Mikey's grief. The orange and red streaks of a sunset angled in somehow, striping the turtle and what he held as neatly as if someone had painted it that way.

He stared at his foolish picture- his labor of love- and he crumpled it up to toss it into the empty space. With luck it would hit the river and quickly fade in the dark, cold deep, taking all traces of his stupidity with it.

A furry hand took the balled up paper from Mikey's hand just as he reared back to throw it. The Turtle did not look up as Splinter seated himself next to his son, but he could see the faded robe from the corner of his eye; he could feel the tail slip around him as if it would keep him from running away, and he could hear the unmistakable sound of paper being smoothed open.

"My son, this is a lovely drawing. Why do you cast it away? You have captured your own image so perfectly."

"I dunno," he mumbled, shrugging, now staring at the busy river and wishing it were high tide and the water level were closer to the pipe so he could fall in and get so sick that no one would remember his dumb plans...

After Splinter had spoken with him in private, Mikey had gone to his room, stunned and embarrassed- and the others had been there- and all it had taken was Leo's "We told you so" to cause him to snatch his bear and his drawing and bolt from the lair, running and running to all of his favorite hiding places. He had spent the better part of the day moving from one to the other, making sure that no one could find him, determined to live for the rest of his life with just Mr. Growly, hiding by day, foraging by night... man, he was hungry!

Yet Splinter had known exactly where he would eventually end up. This was his most favoritest of places to come when everything was so bad. This was the place where he always came when the weight of the world became too heavy for his little shoulders to bear. Here he could watch the world go by, and wish that he could go with it.

"I am sorry, my son. I thought you understood everything I told you that night," Splinter sighed, gazing at the image of a longed-for sister. She was quite good, for being from his imagination. She was definitely a rat, and yet one that could possibly have been a true mutated shape. Her ears were similar to Splinter's, but more soft, more delicate. Her face was a bit shorter, but her whiskers were long and graceful, and her eyes- with shock, Splinter recognized that her eyes were the eyes of Michelangelo. They had that certain mischievous quality, that certain "feel" that Splinter knew so well.

He truly is a gifted artist. I wonder how I can...

What troubled him, however, was the obvious "love" in the expression of his son's face towards this figment of his imagination. When the others had finally filled in the gaps of Splinter's knowledge, he still had not grasped the depths to which Michelangelo had felt about this.

Yet now, looking at this picture, Splinter realized that his son had developed real and true feelings for someone who never existed and never would exist except in the disappointed heart of an eight-year-old.

"I guess... I guess I kinda did," Michelangelo finally replied, staring at his toes, clutching the always understanding Mr. Growly tightly. "I... 'member that night, and you said do I have any more questions, and I said I did but I didn't know what they were?" And he looked up at his father.

Splinter nodded, vaguely recalling something to that effect, though what had been uppermost in his mind was for his son to drop the subject altogether.

"Well, I guess the question I had musta been about the whole thing. I know what you told me, and I know what is in the books- Leo and them made sure 'bout that!- but it just... well, it just don't make sense I guess."

Splinter smiled and hugged his son.

"That means you were not truly ready to hear where babies come from," he said kindly. "You are still in the magical wonder of childhood. Let me see if I can clarify it for you, and I will not be too technical this time."

And Splinter spoke about love this time, not mating. He spoke about emotions rather than instincts, and above all he spoke about the heart, not the mechanics.

"The mommy is the one to carry the baby inside her body," Splinter said, as Michelangelo leaned up against his father and listened as if hearing a wonderful fairy tale. "The daddy helps, but it is the mommy who does this miraculous thing. You've seen the ducks at the pond, when we've snuck out to the park. And remember that injured mother cat we found that time? You were all four or five I think. Before we could make sure her owners found her, she gave birth in our bathroom- remember?"

Mikey sat up, startled. HOW had he forgotten that? Raph had thrown up when the first kitten came squeezing out in that little sack thing! Even Don had had to leave the room, he was so upset! Leo had stayed, but only 'cause he was trying to prove he was better 'en Raph- but only Mikey had watched with a grin on his face, only Mikey had marveled as the mother cat cleaned each squirming, blind, wet baby until it made a noise and somehow made its way closer to her body.

HOW had he forgotten that?

Then he heaved a final sigh.

"So you can't have a baby?"

"No. And for a better reason than because I am a male rat," he said. "Because there is no female who is mutated as I am. I cannot become a father that way."

Mikey nodded. He finally understood- well, not completely, but more than he had that first night. There were still many questions he had, but he sensed that now was not the time. He knew that Splinter wasn't ready for them yet.

"I'm sorry I caused all this trouble," he said, hugging his father.

"I am sorry as well, my son. You would have made a very good ani," Splinter comforted him. "But remember, you do have three brothers- and a father who loves you. I hope you can be content with us."

"Oh, yes! I am content! I swear it! Well... it would be kinda cool if one of them was a sister... Raph maybe! Then he wouldn't be so cranky all the time! Raphaela... Sounds pretty."

"I would not mention that to your brother," Splinter said, as they both stood up to return home.

"Okay," Mikey took Splinter's hand even though he was eight. Who cared what the others thought? This was his father! If you can't hold your father's hand when you're a big boy, then what kind of world was it?

They made their slow way home through the dimly lit tunnels of the sewers, the soft sound of their voices mingling with the sounds of running water, dripping pipes, and the occasional muffled noises of the surface world filtering down from above to join the strange "symphony".

"Of course, Machi is a much prettier name. I wonder if Raph would change it..."

"Michelangelo..."

"Shaaaadoooooow! Let me see them pretty toofies!"

Young Shadow, sitting on Mikey's knee, immediately opened her mouth wide in a grin that exposed all three of her new teeth, gurgling and squealing as her uncle chucked her under her chin with one huge green finger, eliciting an even larger grin and louder laugh.

"There them is! OOOh, who has the kootest toofies in the world? Oooh, look at them toofies!"

"Hey, Mikey," Casey called from under the hood of April's van. "Don't talk no baby talk to her! Talk normal."

Mikey looked at Casey, puzzled.

"What's wrong with baby talk? She's a baby! Aren't you a baby?" he asked her, voice switching back to that tone that many reserved for the very young. "Yes you are a baby! Baby Shadow, the kootest widdle baby in the world wif the kootest widdle toofies of all the babies!"

Squeeeeealgigglegigglesqueeeeeal!

Casey stood up straight, and leveled a screwdriver at the turtle sitting on the porch swing baby-sitting.

"Look! I wanner ta speak normal, like me! Ya gotta talk to 'em like a grown-up, not like a baby, else howse she gonna learn ta talk good?"

"He is right, my son," Splinter, seated next to Michelangelo on the swing, supported Casey even as he prevented the Turtle from making any sarcastic remarks. "We must speak normally to her."

Casey nodded in gratitude, then returned to his impossible task of once again trying to fix April's van. Splinter waited until his head was once again buried in the maze of motor parts, then turned his attention to his "granddaughter".

"I agree with your oji," he said her, as she offered up a huge grin to her furry grandfather. "You have very cute 'toofies'." And he smiled as she once again squealed at the sound of the word.

Mikey had a hard time holding her. She had begun squirming and struggling, wanting to go to Splinter, but Mikey knew that his leg was still healing from being broken. Splinter, however, took her and held her in the crook of his arm rather than setting her on his lap. She was getting so big and heavy!

She rewarded "Sofu" by immediately making a grab for one of his fascinating ears, eyes fixed upon it as if it were the only thing in the world. Splinter had to call upon skills he had developed so very long ago, when they had been the main grabbing goal of four infant mutated turtles.

"It's funny, Sensei," Mikey said, watching the skill of the Rat time and again defeat the questing of the little baby. "She makes me think of Machi."

Splinter, eyes on Shadow's determined face, sighed in agreement.

"I was thinking the same as I watched you both just now," he said. "You certainly were convinced in her actually coming. I began to fear afterwards that you would never reconcile yourself to the impossibility of it."

Mikey nodded.

"Yeah. For a year I kept hoping, you know. I'd wish upon stars even when I wasn't allowed topside. I'd wish on every wishbone that came my way, on every lucky penny tossed into the sewers- no wishing wells back home, eh Sensei?- I even tried praying for it after watching that movie about the girls at the Catholic school. After a year I finally put her away in my mind."

He gazed out in the distance, as if seeing himself and his "baby sister" once again.

"But it's odd, once in a while, when I was feeling low or when I was alone because of a fight with Raph or grounded to my room- I'd think about her, and spend time with her again. I even did right after Shredder's ninja nearly killed Leo. Right before he woke up that first time- I was sitting by him- and you all were asleep or out of the room- and I suddenly thought of her sitting on my lap, saying 'it's all right Mikeyanjo'- I even remembered that was how I always imagined she would say my name! And then, as quickly as she had appeared, she vanished- and Leo woke up. DO you think you can 'create' ghosts?"

Splinter smiled.

"You created something very real, my son, but not a 'ghost'. Your imagination is very powerful, but not that powerful. You created something that was basically an extension of yourself, something that could be loved by someone who had much love to give. I do not know how to explain it any better than that. You created something that was part Michelangelo. Her eyes- in the drawing, you will not remember, but her eyes were yours. Why you did this, I do not know, but I do know that you are a loving child." He sighed, thinking of all his family in the past and the present. So many changes. "I am glad that it is one aspect of childhood that you have never outgrown."

The baby squealed in frustration. She was not getting what she wanted, and it was making her cranky. As if on cue, April appeared from nowhere and with a "who needs a baba and a s'eepy bye time?" "April, don't talk baby talk...", the infant was whisked away by the determined redhead, being followed by the father who insisted on everyone "talkin' good English 'round my daughter"

"I do believe this even more," Splinter continued, placing a fatherly hand on his son's knee. "With young Shadow, you may have gotten your prayer answered. Who would have thought all those years ago we would be with such friends- much less have the opportunity to share in the life of one so young?"

"Yeah- maybe she's not my little sister, but I did get one- with April," he agreed. "I'm not ani, but I can be oji- and it feels good."

Splinter smiled, and hugged this one son who even now never refused such displays, no matter who might catch view of them.

"You are right, my son. Oji Michelangelo and Sofu Splinter. We have truly been blessed."