I know that I could have probably ended with the last chapter- it was tempting, since I've been having problems with the conclusion of this tale. But I believe that I will soldier on! I need to bring them up to the present. Mikey needs to repay Don, and by Kris Kringle, he is going to repay him! It ain't over 'til the fat man shouts "Ho-Ho-Ho!" TMNT are the property of Mirage, though I am hanging up my stockings and leaving out all sorts of bribes for Santa in the hopes that MAYBE...

Chapter 10- With Little Tin Horns...

Splinter was pouring pancake batter onto the hot griddle, and watching as the nicely formed circles quickly bubbled and firmed around the edges, rising up ever so slightly as the center bubbles popped and held. At the right moment, he expertly flipped them, revealing nicely golden browned sides, and they once again rose up from the pan, nice and fluffy and smelling like heaven to four hungry turtle tots.

Normally they would be under foot, each waiting a chance to claim the biggest, hottest pancakes; but this morning they were still busy marveling at the amazing turn of events that had taken place.

Leonardo and Raphael were trying to figure out the best configuration for the race track, while Donatello was searching the lair for the perfect tool box to house his new tools (still in their original container, but really! One needed a proper tool box when one had proper tools!). Michelangelo was sitting at the table, working with one of the art pads and some of the drawing pencils- carefully erasing the tiniest mark, trying desperately not to waste one precious sheet of the drawing paper!

"Father, hold that pose!" he earnestly requested, eyes going from the figure of the rat at the stove to the pad and back again.

"If I do that, the breakfast will burn my son," he smiled, carefully depositing four more cakes onto the main plate, and placing the little "cover" on top to try to keep them warm. Then he poured four more nicely shaped pancakes onto the happy-sounding griddle.

Mikey sighed, shaking his head, and did his best to work around such an uncooperative model.

"We didn't look in our stockings yet," he commented as he carefully drew Splinter's tail- at least IT was posing for him, staying still so he could capture its features accurately. In the back of his mind he imagined what it would be like to have a really cool long tail that could smack down his brothers in the dojo the way Splinter had smacked down Leo and Raph the night before- then dismissed it as impractical. After all, though he would be able to smack down Raph, Raph would be able to grab hold of it and swing him around, and the image of his being spun over Raph's head like a yo-yo at the end of a string disturbed him greatly.

Four more cakes joined the rest under the cover. Four more rounds were poured into the pan.

"We will look after breakfast," Splinter replied, smiling. He finished the last four pancakes, then turned off the stove and set the table. Michelangelo reluctantly left his first masterpiece and went to get the milk, syrup, and butter without being asked.

Splinter looked at the drawing, and nodded, pleased that he had mentioned art to Mr. Sakai. It was obviously supposed to be Splinter. The tail was very nicely done, if a bit long, and he had actually managed to make a few of the "folds" in his robe look very realistic! He still had a way to go, but it could safely be said that this was indeed Splinter- a child's drawing of Splinter, and yet with a hint of a budding talent in the process.

"I am going to move this, my son, so it does not become ruined by our food," he told him, carefully putting the pad, pencils and erasers on the top of the refrigerator for safe keeping.

Mikey carefully poured the milk in the glasses that Splinter had already set on the table.

"Do you like it? It's not finished. I'll have to wait until you fix pancakes again," he commented as he went about his business of dispensing the tasty cold milk.

"Perhaps after I wash the dishes, I could 'pose' for you as if I were cooking," Splinter suggested.

Mikey thought about that long and hard, face wrinkled in indecision.

"Well... I don't know... it kind of is supposed to be real-life... but that would be a waste of food," he mused, then shrugged and smiled. "Okay, I can pretend that you are cooking while you stand there! It will only take a few minutes!" Then, in typical Michelangelo fashion: "What is that letter? Did Santa leave it after having the milk and cookies"

Splinter, momentarily confused, looked to where his son was pointing on the table. The letter from Mr. Sakai (Splinter assumed it was from him, anyway) was still lying there, next to the empty place and glass.

It had been hard to tell whom had been more impressed with the fact that Santa had stayed long enough for a snack- Michelangelo or Leonardo and Raphael. Splinter shook his head as he put these neglected objects in the sink, laughing to himself how his two older sons had viewed the glass as if examining it for human fingerprints, as they ignored the already cheerful little brother who was even more thrilled by the evidence of a thoroughly enjoyed treat ("Look! Hardly any crumbs! He must have been hungry! And the glass is almost dry! He must drink milk like ME!").

" 'Do not open until Christmas' ," Michelangelo read aloud, examining the envelope. "It feels very thick! That must be some letter!"

"We will open it now," Splinter said, as Donatello, temporarily defeated in his search, came into the kitchen and took his seat, setting his precious tools on the table next to his plate.

"Open what? Wow! A letter? Did you get that from the-" He froze; he had almost said "Sakais", but Mikey was there- "from Santa?" And he looked at Splinter with almost a wink.

"Leonardo! Raphael! Come to breakfast!" Splinter called, as he, too, took his seat and retrieved the envelop from Michelangelo. "We are about to find out, my son."

As the two arguing turtles ("I'm tellin' ya, the box says it can be done!" "And I'm telling YOU that you need more pieces!") took their places, Splinter opened the envelope. Leo and Raph stopped their "discussion" long enough to stare with interest as four small, decorated envelopes, two plain, pale blue envelopes, and a simple note were removed from the larger one. Splinter read the short note, and his sons noticed his eyes glistening.

"Is it bad news?" Raph asked, worried that perhaps the note was a warning or a threat. After all, Santa had been nice and left them gifts; had he also left them a warning?

"No, it is a nice note," he replied. "It is from Mrs. Sakai. She says here that she 'asked Santa Claus to deliver these Otoshidama to the Hamato children on behalf of her husband and herself'. And she wishes us a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year."

"Otoshidama," Leonardo repeated carefully, looking at the envelope Splinter now passed around the table to each of them. His had a funny smiling crocodile on it, and some symbols he had not learned to read yet; but he knew what the word meant. "It's not the New Year's yet, Father. Should we open these?"

"She indicates in this note that you may- she considers it an early gift, and since she has no idea when I will be visiting, she felt safer in entrusting it to Santa to deliver them," Splinter replied, keeping a serious face the entire time.

Michelangelo just could not believe his luck! Presents from Santa, and an envelope with a surfing penguin on it! Quickly yet carefully, he opened his- "Money! Wow! Money!" And he pulled a crisp, green bill from the packet- the number "20" bold on the rectangle.

Now the others opened theirs as well, and each had the same amount, represented in the cleanest, newest piece of money they had ever seen in their lives! This for SURE had never been in the sewers or on the sidewalk or near a dumpster!

"Otoshidama is for spending," Donatello pointed out. "How are we going to spend it?"

"When you come to the store with me next time, you bring it with you," Splinter explained, serving breakfast, "and I will allow you to choose something. Or you might save it for the future."

Don looked back at his envelope. On his was a girl and boy in traditional dress- the boy was whispering a secret to the girl. He would save his, he thought, carefully putting it back in the envelope, and placing both under his tool kit. He would save his against the hard times; or in case he actually could BUY a worthy box for his new tools.

There were still two blue envelopes left, but Splinter ignored them, encouraging everyone to eat up. Michelangelo needed no prodding; he started wolfing through his four cakes as if the day would vanish in disaster unless he saved everyone with his special ability to be first one finished! He barely wiped the syrup from his mouth, chugged down his milk, wiped that from his mouth as well, before he was asking "What are those other envelopes?"

"Hmm?" Splinter was still on his fourth bite of breakfast. "Those? One is for you, and the other is for Donatello."

Mikey was about to grab one, when the look he got from Splinter reminded him of his manners.

"May I have the one for me, Father?"

Splinter signaled that he may, and Michelangelo picked up the blue envelope that was addressed to "Hamato Michelangelo".

Opening it, he found a folded piece of paper of the same pale blue.

Santa"

Mikey just stared at the letter, and smiled and smiled and smiled. Ha! Santa was the bestest! Even Leo and Raph could see that now! Ha!

Donatello looked on, curious, and then Splinter silently handed him his envelope, while Mikey started reading his aloud with many "yes, that is true, you know, I do have a good heart" and other such comments, passing his precious letter to Father, but not to his two older brothers who "might get syrup on it, and I'm gonna keep it forever and ever".

Santa"

Don thought long and hard. His logical mind knew there was no Santa; his child's mind whispered "what if you're wrong?"

He realized that Splinter was watching him; silently he passed his letter to his father. Splinter read the missive, and once again his sons saw tears come to his eyes. Then he looked at Donatello, smiling.

"He is right," is all Splinter said, and though this was a puzzle to the others (for Don didn't share his letter, though Mikey pleaded really hard, promising him the moon and other impossible things), Don knew what his father meant. He carefully put it back in the envelope and hid it under the tool kit as well, then finished his breakfast slowly.

"Man, Donnie! I told you mine," Mikey was still complaining, kicking his chair legs with the heels of his feet, momentarily sulking.

Leo and Raph finished at the same time and asked in unison, "May I please be excused?"

"Yes, my sons," Splinter replied, and the words were hardly out of his mouth before the two of them raced to the sink to deposit their plates and glasses, then raced into the living room.

"Remember, Leo! You're gonna trade me your oranges for my apples," Raph's voice sounded in the other room.

The stockings! Mikey had forgotten the stockings!

"MayIpleasebeexcused?"

"You may- Do not throw your glass into the sink!"

Donatello sat with Splinter, suddenly shy.

"Un, Father," he finally said. "Do you- do you suppose that a person can be right and wrong at the same time?"

"This is about Santa, yes?"

"Yeah... see, I'm sort of confused. I mean, I know that you got the gifts, and that you brought them back from the Sakais. And I'm pretty sure you put it all out when you told us you were gonna straighten up the dojo after you found us all out of bed," he said. "And I'm guessing that someone like Mr. Sakai wrote that note- I've seen Mrs. Sakai's handwriting- and yours- though it is possible that you could have disguised your handwriting- and yet how would Mr. Sakai know- unless you told him- and yet I was there, I know you didn't tell him- and yet how-"

"How did he know about what you've been doing?" Splinter asked, and Donatello nodded. Splinter thought, then sighed. "Well, my son, I am afraid I do not have a logical answer for this except to affirm what you originally asked. Yes, I believe it is possible to be right and wrong at the same time."

Before Donatello could continue, or Splinter could explain further, there was a SHOUT from the living room.

"OH! I don't BELIEVE this! OH, WOW!" Michelangelo's voice shook the lair. Two seconds later came the tuneless blast of a toy horn.

Splinter's eyes went wide even as his ears went flat. In shock, he quickly turned to Donatello, who scooted down in his seat, suddenly not hungry.

"Aww, MAN, Santa is punishin' us!" they both heard Raph complain to Leo. "This is his punishment to us for waiting to attack him!"

"Yeah, this is worse than a spanking!" they heard Leo agree earnestly.

The tooting sound grew closer as Michelangelo danced into the kitchen. The tune was the same note, but the rhythm indicated that he was in the midst of a very energetic rendition of "Jingle Bells". He circled the table a few times, then danced back into the living room to the accompaniment of protesting older brother voices imploring him to "STOP FOR GOODNESS SAKE!"

"Yes," Splinter said, looking at the sheepish Donatello. "I believe that the last line of your letter is true: I believe that this makes you 'Santa' as well."

Christmas: Don, dozing at his computer, jerked awake at the approach of his overly cheerful brother Mikey. He was dressed for outside, and was carrying clothes, coat, hat, mittens, and boots for his brother.

"Come on, bro! You promised! And soon it'll be too late!" he wheedled, dropping the bundle next to Don's workstation.

"Mikey, I'm really busy. This security system has got to be improved! What with Karai back in the picture, and Bishop still lurking around out there somewhere- we need to be prepared!"

Mikey sighed in frustration.

"Dude, you used that excuse the other day," he reminded him. "The day before, it was 'cause Splinter was feeling ill and you needed to hang around just in case he needed you. Last week it was because you were not feeling well. What is it about this that has you breaking your promises to your favorite little brother?"

"You're my only little brother," Don muttered, desperately turning to his computer in an attempt to look busy, though he knew as well as Mikey that he was just pretending. He just did NOT want to deal with this. It was not something he was looking forward to.

"Come ooooooon!"

Don sighed. If he just did it and got it out of the way, then Mikey would leave him alone.

"Okay- but in a half-hour, okay? Please? I want to get some things together."

"Yes! I'll be waiting, bro!" And Mikey left, humming "Jingle Bells" as he headed for the kitchen for a quick snack.

Don sighed, marveling at Mikey's cheerfulness, and wondering why he just could not share in it. This Christmas, for some reason, was depressing him, and he still had not figured out why-

Well, that was a lie. He knew part of the reason. But he pushed it to the back of his mind, and went about gathering supplies in his handy-dandy duffel bag.

"I wish I didn't have to do this," he murmured, suddenly overwhelmed with sadness. Then he forced himself to smile. "I'm doing it for Mikey. That's all that matters."