TMNT tots and all are owned by Mirage. The Sakais (store owners) are owned by me. Santa Claus is okay by me! Saying "Merry Christmas" is NOT a crime!

Chapter Two: You'd Better Not Cry!

The thing about sharing a room is, you tend to hear what others are saying about you.

Mikey, still riding an emotional high, had finally fallen asleep, and it was no surprise to him that his dreams led him back to the night's activity of seeing the Christmas lights, and the joyous news that Splinter was gonna allow Santa to visit them this year. His imagination was vast, and he was playing out every story, every cartoon, every movie he had seen that depicted this magical being who gave out presents to good little girls and boys.

Yet, during one exciting dream of flying with Santa in his sleigh, helping to hand out gifts and candy and other delights to children all over the world, he kept hearing someone whispering- no, someTWO whispering!

"I'm tellin' you, I don't like it, Leo," one of the sometwo whispered, just below the sleigh. Mikey looked at Santa, but he didn't seem to hear it. "I know Father promised, but I- I'm still- not sure."

"I know," the other sometwo whispered back. "We gotta trust Father, though. But I agree. I feel the same way. Mikey sure gets his way around here, even if it's dangerous!"

"Yeah. I used to think being oldest would be cool, but now I see that being the baby is the best position in this family."

"Yeah. Being the baby really pays off. I hate it. Mikey gets away with everything."

"Yeah. Last time when we had a fight, I got spanked and grounded to the dojo while Father went out, and all Mikey got was sent to bed. Man! And he started it!"

"Well, of course. He started that mess in the kitchen a few days ago, and who got blamed? Me, 'cause I was in charge. Sometimes Father don't realize that Mikey don't always listen to me!"

As the whispers grew louder and clearer, Mikey's dream of helping Santa grew fainter and fainter. Mikey now actively searched the sleigh, which was now the shape and size of his own bed, going so far as to lean far out over the side- farther- farther-

"AAAAHHH!" THUNK!

Mikey wasn't hurt too bad, but the shock of falling out of the top bunk while half-asleep started him crying.

"Mikey? Are you okay?" Raph and Leo both asked, and Mike, opening his eyes, saw the two of them getting out of Leo's bed to help him up.

It dawned on Mikey, even as Splinter entered the room with a candle to see what the noise was, that Raph and Leo had been sitting in Leo's bed, talking about him...

His tears, first from the surprisingly rude awakening fall, now became the heartbroken sobs of a younger brother whose older ones hated him.

"My son, are you hurt?" Splinter knelt down to the crying turtle, checking him for injuries. Michelangelo couldn't answer; he was too busy crying over the knowledge that his brothers hated him because he was the baby. Splinter looked a question at Leonardo and Raphael.

"We don't know, father," Leo said honestly. "Raph and I was awake, but we don't know if he had a nightmare. He wasn't saying anything. Then he fell out of the bed!"

Splinter nodded, then carefully picked up Michelangelo and the candle, and carried him into his own room to check for injury more thoroughly and to rock him back to sleep.

Don, awake in his own bed, had heard Leo and Raph from the moment that Raph, shaking the bed with a small nightmare, had woke up and made his way to Leo's, getting in with him and waking him up. He had heard the beginning of the conversation, and was now replaying it in his mind, even as Raph went back to his own bed, and the two older turtles finally fell back asleep.

"I'm tellin' you Leo, I don't like it..."

Don lay there in the dark, thinking and rethinking about the entire situation. Santa Claus was a myth; a legend that was based in history and a tad in fact, which had grown in the telling over the centuries, blending different traditions with others until the present-day Santa was the magical, jolly, red-suited fat man with the long white beard and the ability to dispense toys to the children of the world. Don had read several interesting books on Christmas traditions, including the history of Santa Claus. He'd also seen a show about the "biography" of Santa as well. He knew that an actual Santa did not exist- that "Santa" was a concept, not a being- and yet...

And yet he had kept quiet. He had not set his brothers' minds at ease, or crushed Mikey's hopes. He had not spoken up- perhaps if he had, then Father would not be so concerned. And Don could tell that Splinter was concerned. Don knew that Splinter would have to find a way to buy presents, and it went to his heart that his father had made the decision to find a way to not disappoint Mikey or the rest of them. Don knew better than the rest of them the true value and uses of money.

Ever since they'd started taking turns scavenging the sewers and tunnels with Splinter, they had become familiar with the green paper rectangles with the pictures of the presidents and the numbers representing value. They had found countless amounts of change (which was fun to play with), and they had weekly lessons in math using these items to help with all the basic skills.

They all knew that Splinter kept a careful supply of money for buying milk and other things- things that could not be easily scavenged. And he had allowed them all to sometimes keep what they had found on their own, kept as treasure that made them feel "rich"- though only Don seemed to have grasped just exactly what this stuff was.

Don sighed. Mikey sure had caused a problem with his desire to have a visit from Santa.

The door opened quietly, and Splinter, using the night light to guide him, stealthily entered the room and tucked the now sleeping Michelangelo back into his bed. He then did the same for Leonardo and Raphael, but when he got to Donatello, he was just a little surprised that this son was awake.

"Is something the matter, my son?" he whispered. "Do you need something?"

"No, Father, I'm fine," he replied. Then, as Splinter continued to look at him in the dim light. "Why didn't you just say that Santa isn't real, Father? Last year you could have said it, and this year, too. Then Mikey wouldn't be hoping for something he isn't going to get, and Leo and Raph wouldn't be scared- and you wouldn't be worried about buying presents." He said this last part shyly, as if he were overstepping the boundary of son to father.

Splinter's eyes widened in the dark at Donatello's words. He had known that this son was more aware of things, but it always surprised him when he would demonstrate just how aware he could be!

He sighed, and shook his head.

"It is too complicated to explain late at night, in a room where your brothers are sleeping," he smiled nonetheless. "It will be all right, Donatello. Michelangelo will have his visit from Santa. Raphael and Leonardo will see that there is nothing to fear."

"And you? You still have to find a way to buy presents," Don insisted. "Don't get me anything, please! If you have to do this, just buy something for Mikey. And maybe Leo and Raph, if it helps them to not be scared anymore. But don't get me anything! Okay?"

"Shhhhh," Splinter warned him with another smile, tucking him in and kissing his forehead. "It will be all right, Donatello. I promise. Do not worry about it, please! It will be all right. Now go back to sleep. Morning will be here all too soon."

And he left without waiting to see if his son would listen. He sighed as he got back into his own bed, and tried to clear his mind. As he had rocked Michelangelo earlier, he had learned a small part of his son's heartache, though he would not go into greater detail- after all, he did not want the label of "tattletale" added to the one of "baby"- so he had said that he had dreamed that Leo and Raph hated him because of Santa.

Splinter, however, knew his sons too well. He accepted this story with words of reassurance, and eventually he persuaded Michelangelo to tell him what he had enjoyed the most of their walk through the neighborhood. Distracted by the memories, Michelangelo had talked himself into a happy calmness, and fallen asleep in mid sentence.

Now he turned his mind to the others. Leonardo and Raphael had enjoyed Trick-or-Treating, despite their boldly addressing humans for the first time. Perhaps he could use that experience to calm their fears about Santa.

He did not wish to tell Michelangelo that Santa was not real- not at this time. They had so few things to hold onto at times. This belief made his son happy, and he would rather see him happy than disillusioned. There would be time enough for that later, when he was older.

And Splinter was not completely against the concept of "Santa"- at least, he felt he understood the sentiment behind the myth. Surely he was not the only parent who wanted to make his children happy.

But Donatello...

Splinter shook his head once again, and laughed quietly. Now he was committed to getting presents for each of them, especially this practical, caring son. Somehow it would be all right. He went back to sleep.

Splinter was out scavenging. Leo was in charge. Raph was practicing in the dojo- he'd been given special permission to do so, and that had made him happy- and Don was sitting on the couch, watching another Christmas show with Mikey.

Mikey had woke up happy once again, the hurtful whispers of the night a part of his dreams, and his upcoming Santa visit once again dominating his waking thoughts.

"We gotta leave out milk and cookies," he was chattering to Don as they watched "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" yet again. "We gotta write a note for Santa and leave it out with the milk and cookies. I hope Father brings home some cookies! I forgot to tell him!"

Don was only partly listening. He was trying to figure out how this old animated film had been made without computers...

"Um-hmmm," he absently responded every now and then, while trying to work out how they got the figures to move like that.

"Oh, and I wonder if we can wait up for him! I saw this one show, and the kids waited up, and they was able to TALK to Santa! Ohhhhhh, do you think WE could do that, Donnie? Just you and me," he added, lowering his voice, as Leo was sitting in Splinter's chair, reading a book. "You and me can do that- you're not scared of Santa, right Don?"

"Nawww..." How the heck did they make the reindeer fly, if it was all models that had to be moved a bit at a time? They didn't look like they were hanging from wires...

"Yeah, just you and me! We'll stay up and-" Mikey, mid sentence, suddenly froze as this old commercial came on- he knew it was an old one because it looked like the show they'd been watching.

Santa was in it! Santa was in it, riding on a funny-looking machine, while some people were singing "Jingle Bells"- only the words weren't the ones he knew.

"Closer shave, closer shave..." he heard, and fascinated, he watched this commercial as some human with some sort of real short fur on his face took this machine and ran it over his chin, cheek, and upper lip- and the fur was GONE!

"Donnie! What was that?" he finally asked, excited beyond belief.

"That? It's called an electric shaver," Don, distracted by the fact that the commercial was animated in the same manner as the show, gave the answer without concern. If he knew what was going through his little brother's mind, however, he would have shut up at once.

"What's an 'lectric shaver do?"

"It shaves a man's face. See, humans have hair-"

"Like Splinter?"

"Well, yeah, sort of like Splinter. And men humans grow hair on their faces-"

"Wow! Why do they do that?"

"Well, they don't just DO that, Mikey- it just happens. Anyway, some human men shave off the hair before it gets to long-"

"Like Splinter?"

"Ummmm... yes and no," Don was finally focusing on the interest of Mikey. "Most human men don't like beards and mustaches."

"Santa has a beard and mustache! He must like it, right?"

Leo, in the chair, sighed, closed his book, and headed into the dojo. His little brother's constant Santa chatter had finally become too much for the older turtle to bear, and he thought that joining Raph would be better than starting an argument.

"Uh, Mikey, why are you so interested?" Don finally asked, as the show restarted.

"So 'lectric shavers are for men to get rid of the hair on their faces..." Mikey repeated thoughtfully, ignoring Don's question. The clever brother could see the wheels turning in his younger sibling's brain.

"Mikey! What are you planning?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing! Nothing at all!" he grinned, turning his eyes back to the TV.

But his mind was suddenly filled with the bestest of bestest ideas in the entire world of bestest ideas:

He was gonna get Splinter an 'lectric shaver for Christmas!