TMNT is the Property of Mirage. I wrote a letter to Santa, but he hasn't promised anything yet.

Chapter Eleven: He's Making a List...

This used to make him happy.

Finding and repairing stuff; taking old toys and remaking them newer and better; refurbishing laptops, gaming systems, other electronics; sorting out the money he'd either earned by working for April or Casey, or that he had found in the sewers, or (more to his liking) recycling money that he and his brothers would "take" from drug dealers who were selling to kids, and putting it into the cute Otoshidama envelopes- and then he and Mikey would "deliver" these surprises to various children April hooked them up with, or whom Casey pointed out to them; children who for a few happy moments would think that perhaps there WAS a Santa Claus after all...

This used to make him happy.

But this year, it seemed that there were more and more children in need, and several were repeat visits; wasn't anything getting better for people?

And it seemed that more and more there was a certain "reluctance" on the part of some to even say "Merry Christmas"- some even objected to the holiday right out. Donatello, this year, was feeling the same.

What was it that Scrooge told his nephew? As he stood there, staring at the clothes he was to put on, his mind searched for the quote. Splinter had given him that book for Christmas when they were seven, and he had read it repeatedly. Ah, yes:

Bah, humbug, Don thought, sighing.

He'd read that book, and discussed it with Splinter, and realized what he was trying to tell him. Whenever he'd felt down around this time of year, he would find some comfort in that little story about hope and love and redemption. But this year...

This year had seen so many personal problems in his own family as well. Leo had not been himself since their final battle with the Shredder. He had been moody, careless, quick to anger- more Raph-like than Raph- well, that's not true, he corrected himself. Raph could be those things, but he never forgot that he had a family that cared for him. Leo had been so distant it was like another person who looked like Leo had taken his place. He'd taken to going out alone at night, searching for fights, sometimes taking Casey with him, but usually alone- he never took his brothers unless it was a "training run".

He made bad judgment calls and careless mistakes one right after the other, and at the same time he would harangue the others with "We're not good enough! We must train more! We're not giving it our best!"

After a battle with Hun and his newly refurbished Dragons, Leo nearly went off the deep end- bested by a guy they'd beaten time and again. And he increased his carelessness to the point where Don had been hurt. Leo swore after that incident that had injured Don so badly that he would try hard to change, but lately- lately it was like it had never happened. He was surly even with Splinter some days, and they knew that their father would not tolerate that much longer. Don feared that Leo was going to do something unforgivable- or deadly.

The Casey/April thing also had him down. He'd thought that he had long ago gotten over any crush he had on the brainy redhead, but lately, watching the two of them as they planned the Christmas Celebration they were going to have up at the farmhouse made him feel as if there was no point to anything, especially living.

But he knew the main reason was the Sakais.

As they had grown older, Splinter and his sons had still kept in touch with them, still visited the store in the dead of night. But their son, with the illness of Mr. Sakai, had become more and more involved in the running of the business, and he had frowned on these "late-night customers" to the point where he had installed surveillance equipment against the wishes of his parents. Finally they had decided that it was too risky to continue the relationship, and Splinter had left them a heartfelt and beautifully written farewell letter of gratitude.

That had been years ago, and once in a while, on their nightly runs, they'd pass the place, and have fond memories, and regretted that they could no longer visit.

Then the Triceraton invasion pretty much destroyed the place, including their home above the shop. They had fortunately escaped with their lives, but had lost everything. The son had no desire to rebuild, and Mr. Sakai lost the will to struggle on with his painful illness.

Don remembered when they had first seen the destruction. For months they had no idea what had become of the family, and then one night, Donatello had come across something on the Internet at one of the many sites he monitored. There was a posting, in Japanese, inquiring of the whereabouts of the Hamato family.

Mrs. Sakai, searching through the various Japanese community sites, had been advertising for any information regarding a Mr. Hamato and his four sons- that she needed to see them so she could fulfill her husband's dying wish- to meet the family.

Don noted the e-mail address, and consulted Splinter. Then Don helped his father with writing a reply.

The meeting was arranged, despite Splinter's letter to them trying to explain why it would not be a good idea. They would not take no for an answer, and finally Don told them the truth: that they were not "normal", but mutated beings- the triceratons were not the only odd things to ever walk the earth, etc.- and there was no response for a few weeks.

Then, Mrs. Sakai begged.

"I could not contact you sooner, as my husband's health deteriorated so much that I feared he would die at that moment. He is still alive- indeed, his wish is to remain so until he can finally meet you. I know that you have told us this fantastic story, and we both have discussed this shock- but after seeing the aliens that destroyed our home, and remembering all of your kindnesses and friendship, my husband is pleading that you please meet with him!"

Splinter had sighed, and thought long.

"Very well," he had said. "But tell them it is only to be a meeting between Mr. Sakai and myself. I insist that his wife not be present."

"I want to come as well," Don had insisted. Splinter had agreed, and the plans were set in motion. Mrs. Sakai had accepted the terms, and named a time. Due to his condition, he was allowed visitors past the normal hours. That would be the best time, she judged.

So Splinter, with Donatello, had gone to this secret meeting- April and Casey had been enlisted to help pull it off.

Poor Mr. Sakai! He was so thin and weak, Don was afraid that the shock of seeing a large talking rat and a giant bo-wielding turtle would be too much for him. His eyes had grown large when Casey and April had smuggled them into the hospital room- and then, when Splinter and he had bowed, when Splinter had addressed him in Japanese, he had smiled, and though his voice was almost gone, he insisted on speaking with this strange creature who had been a friend all these years.

"Please," he rasped out, as they prepared to leave. "Find it in your hearts to visit with my wife. She will need the comfort, and she will not be shocked, I swear it." Then he'd gone into a coughing fit, and the nurse was summoned. They left before they could promise anything.

Mr. Sakai had died shortly after that. Don had made a promise to himself that he would somehow keep in contact with the wife, but it was something that never happened due to their battles with Shredder and their constant run-ins with Bishop.

And all Don could think of was this woman, who had lost her husband, her business- and evidently her family- her son had taken his own family back to Japan shortly after the invasion, and she had refused to go- and things happened- and Don had MEANT to find her, to keep in touch- but-

Don found himself dropping tears once again as he thought of all he should have done.

Splinter had been ill; Don feared every time that Splinter got sick that something would happen to him. Every time he got better, and Don would be so glad... and yet he feared the next time...

"Come on, Don!" Mikey, carrying his version of Santa's bag, was waiting impatiently. Don still hadn't dressed yet.

"I don't feel like doing this, Mikey," he said simply. "I just do not feel like doing this."

So sad... his whole being reeked of sadness. Mike could feel it emanating from Don. Putting down the sack, he sighed and, stepping forward, hugged his brother, secure in the knowledge that Raph was not around to see this display of affection.

"Don, I know; I know how you've been feeling, and maybe even why- but if you sit around here moping, then you're never gonna get over it, and..."

He didn't finish the sentiment; the look in Don's eyes was enough to quell the clichés. He settled for pulling a Santa cap from his pocket and putting it on Don's head before his brother could say anything.

"Come on, we gotta get moving!" And Mikey without looking back grabbed the bag and headed to the elevator. He didn't need to see Don to know that he had tossed the hat to the ground.

Don followed, putting on the rest of his gear as they traveled up to the garage.

Don nearly refused to go at that point- Mikey had decked out the "Battle Shell" with tinsel, wreathes, multicolored lights, strings of POPCORN, and other seasonal decorations, including many created by the artistic brother- a spectacularly drawn Santa Claus dominated the back doors, and on top of the roof was a small yet fantastic-looking Christmas Tree!

"Mikey, we're not supposed to be drawing attention to ourselves!" Don protested. "That's gonna attract the notice of everyone- including the police! You KNOW that I faked the license and registration!"

"You worry too much, brother of mine," Mikey, loading his bag into the back, laughed. "Can I drive?"

"Not on your life!" And Don got behind the wheel before Mikey could do anything about it.

He managed to make the trip through traffic without Mikey's constant rendition of "Santa Clause is Coming to Town" driving him into a homicidal frenzy... but only just.

They arrived at April's, where she and Casey were waiting in the store with more goodies for the ones they were going to visit tonight; baskets of food, clothes, toys, all sorted and labeled with addresses, and only waiting for the final "gifts" of Donnie and Mikey.

"Hey, this thing looks great!" Casey approved. His enthusiasm for Mikey's decorations did nothing to improve Donatello's mood. Neither did April's cheerfulness, for that matter.

"Mistletoe!" she sang out, holding a sprig of the seasonal parasitic plant above Don's head and kissing his cheek- an action she then repeated with Mikey, who seemed to enjoy it more than his morose brother.

Don gritted his teeth in response to all the Christmas cheer that was filling up the interior of the vehicle, and drove to the first address April gave him.

Great- another repeat visit. How many times do we have to keep coming to this place? I'll bet that they could get help anywhere in the world- why not work? The husband seems healthy enough! I sometimes wonder...

Children began to come out of the apartments, oohing and awwing over the fancy Christmas truck. Don and Mikey, well-covered, helped April and Casey carry in the first delivery- and Don found out why they still needed the help.

The lady was having another kid. The husband, she cheerfully explained his absence, had found a third job to help pay for the coming even. Hopefully, once he could find the time to finish his training, he could get a better-paying job and he could spend more time at home.

Don kept quiet as the little kids peered from the bedroom, where the mother had banished them.

"After all, it's not Christmas yet!" she laughed to them, admonishing them to close that door!

Don felt like a world-class heel on the way out to the "Battle Shell"- but he refused to let it get him out of his depression.

Mikey and Casey suddenly produced what seemed like an endless supply of candy canes, and with many cheerful shouts of "Merry Christmas!", the children eagerly accepted the candy, and waved goodbye for a long time as Don drove away; he could see them in his rearview mirror, and it brought sharply to mind that Christmas where he'd mingled with the crowd of children to accept the candy canes from the firefighter dressed as Santa.

He sighed. Even this failed to lift him from his depression.

More stops to grateful people; more kids coming out to marvel and laugh and exclaim over the "Christmas Truck"; more candy canes. Briefly, Don wondered if Mikey and Casey had been stealing them from a factory, then immediately dismissed that thought from his head. They were cheap, so buying what seemed like a million candy canes would not be a problem.

Now the van was finally empty. The last bundle was delivered to the last grateful family, the last candy canes were handed out to happy, gawking children, and at last it was time to go home.

As soon as we're there, this junk is coming of the "Battle Shell", Don thought fiercely. It had not done his mood any good when they had been sited by several patrol cars. His heart had nearly stopped when at one stop, two officers came up to them and complimented the decorations.

"Nice to see that the Spirit of Christmas is still strong," the older officer had said. "Seems like these past few years, people were kind of forgetting it."

"Yes," the other one had agreed. "Remember last year, when there was talk of not being able to put up the Christmas tree in the duty room? I mean, all this talk of being tolerant of others feelings- yet no tolerance for the feelings of those that celebrate Christmas."

"I hear you," his partner had nodded. "My kid's school even this year insisted on calling it a 'Winter' Program- not even the word 'Holiday' was to be mentioned. Of course, it was pointless as every class performed a Christmas song anyway. Well, Merry Christmas!" And they shook their hands and headed back to their patrol car.

"Wow!" Mike had grinned, turning to Don. "See? And you was worried about the police."

"Can we please get out of here before they decide to run a check on these plates?" had been Don's reply.

Yes, this entire bunch of stuff is coming off ASAP, he was thinking, when Mikey handed him another address.

"Just one more stop, Bro," he said.

"One more stop? We're out of gifts, Mikey. What do you mean, one more stop?"

"I promised Splinter we'd make a stop to get something," he said. Don shrugged, studied the address. If it was a store, it wasn't one he knew of. And it was all the way over on the edge of Chinatown, where a few Japanese herbal medicine stores struggled to make a living amidst the more popular Chinese ones.

Oh, well, perhaps Splinter didn't trust Don's doctoring skills- and immediately he felt bad for ever thinking that. His Sensei was the one who had taught him about medicines and first aid. He probably needed something special.

Don sighed, and headed in the direction of this last stop.

And then, he thought, it's home and all of these crazy decorations are coming off the "Battle Shell"!