TMNT are not mine. Any questions?

We All Have Days Like This

The acknowledgment was enough to bring the tears to his eyes. As he sat in solitude, desperately trying to meditate the pain, the hurt, the rejection away, he knew it was failing. This was not going to work. This was a waste of time.

This was hopeless.

"I don't need anything from you!"

Those six words became a mantra of doubt, of failure.

Hopeless.

It had not even seemed such an important confrontation. It was something that happened all the time.

How was this different from other times? I did what is always done! Why did I fail?

In the dojo, earlier: Raphael and Donatello had just finished sparing- and Raphael had won again- naturally- and had pointed it out-

"Leave me alone, Raph! I've had enough of your hints that I'm not good! I'm tired of you looking down on me!"

Stunned silence; then:

"I never hinted such a thing! Damn it , stop puttin' feelings into others that aren't there! I don't look down on you! If you'd come outta that lab of yours once in a while and actually practice, you'd realize that none of us look down on you!"

Angry brother, up off the mat, suddenly face to face with the other brother- and looking ready for business:

"Yes you all do! 'Don is not a fighter!' 'Don would rather invent than be a Ninja!' I'm just as good a ninja as any of you! I'm sick of this shit!"

Attempted intervention:

"Please-"

Hateful, heartless rejection:

"Stay out of this! For once in your life, just stay out of this! I don't need anything from you! I can take care of myself! I DON'T NEED ANYTHING FROM YOU!"

I am...

... bitter tears...

... depressed!

Wiping the stubborn tears from his face, he lit a few more candles, and added incense to the mix-

Kobunboku (a type of incense)

Perhaps this will influence me... perhaps this will help me resolve this... depression... this failure...

Doors slammed; things rattled; things smashed.

Raphael- gone to his room, to take out his frustration on his personal heavy bag.

Donatello- gone to his lab, to break things that he could easily replace or do without .

The others?

Stunned silence. Uneasy silence.

Michelangelo: He didn't mean it.

Head hung, ears deaf to reason or comfort, he made his way to his room.

To meditate.

What do I do now?

The incense burns; the candles flicker; the mind wanders from hopeless self-pity to the past for some perverse reason.

Two turtles, aged 10:

"So, all ya gotta do is pump this thing, and the rocket launches?"

"Yeah! Try it!"

Raphael looked at the plastic soda bottle. It was filled about one fourth with water, and corked with a real cork. In the cork was an inflation needle, the kind used to fill up balls like basket and foot. Attached to it was a foot-action pump.

Raph looked at Don with a skeptical eye.

"You ain't tryin' to play a joke on me, are you? Like Mikey did with that little 'experiment' of his?"

Don looked genuinely hurt.

"Raph, even if everyone was NOT standing nearby to see this, I would NEVER do that to you!" he had said softly.

It sailed so high! It sailed so high! I still cannot believe how high it sailed!

Four turtles, aged 4:

"Why he's cryin'?"

"Because his head hurts from the illness, my son."

"Can I help?"

"Yes, Raphael, you can help. Please do not let him be alone while I go get some more of the medicine from my room."

" 'kay, Father. I'll sit with him."

Raphael climbed up on the bed and held his brother's hand. It seemed the right thing to do.

"Is he gonna be all right?"

"Yes, Mikey. We all been sick afore- he's gonna be all right. 'Member when you was sick? Now you's all right!"

"Yes. Is all right now. But is Don gonna be all right?"

He opened his eyes, almost thinking that he would see that scene: Donatello in his bed, crying from the pain in his head; Raphael, sitting beside him and holding his hand; Michelangelo, sniffling, watching the entire scene from his own bed.

And then, today.

What did I do wrong?

The depression threatened to overwhelm him as no other enemy had. He had fought with the best of them; fought and triumphed!

But today...

"I DON'T NEED ANYTHING FROM YOU!"

knockknockknock

"May I come in please?"

Hasty start at the noise! Hasty sniffling and wiping of tears and of trying to compose himself to appear unconcerned; untouched by the day's events.

Calm, as always.

"Yes, you may."

Donatello entered his father's room, noting the candles and incense. He hesitated for a moment, then crossed the floor and knelt before his father, bowing with remorse.

"Sensei- Father! I am so sorry! I didn't mean to be so rude to you today! I never mean to be rude to you! I was just so mad and depressed and... and... and I shouted at you and at Raph, but mostly at you... and I can't explain it, but I was just so tired... and I didn't mean what I said to you-"

"It is all right, my son!" Splinter cut him off, though it had been hard. The sudden flood of emotions from this one, coupled with his own depression, had caught him momentarily off-guard as a parent. He quickly moved to recover that aspect of his life with the boys. He gathered his son into his arms even as he spoke. "It is all right. We all have days like that, my son. We all have days like that."

"I was just so depressed about stuff lately- and I was feeling like I was a failure- and Raph- and-"

Splinter merely tightened his hold on his son, and they both felt better.

"It is all right, Donatello! Believe me, my son, when I say that we all have days like that. It will be all right, Donatello. I promise."

It will be all right, Splinter. I promise.