100Celebrate the moments of your life... but with pictures, not coffee! I wish this came with pictures! Oh, there is a flashback within the flashback as it were, which explains the long section in italics. I hope. Thanks to everyone who has read this story and paid me many kind compliments! Thanks to Terran, Machias, and Kyabetsu for beta-ing.
TMNT belong to Mirage. Happy endings belong to us all.
Photo Finish
"I had found the instant camera in the bag," Splinter continued, now holding the opened album in front of him so he could look at it. The four Turtles could see that he was enjoying fond memories- his eyes shone with delight, a soft smile was present on his face as he carefully turned pages, pausing here and there to gently stroke some picture as if once again touching a tiny son's head...
If I make a break for it, I think I can reach the door before Sensei realizes what is happening, Mikey thought, judging the distance with his eyes, glancing back and forth from his father to the exit.
"I had seen one of them before," Splinter continued. "My master's friend had one, and they were taking pictures to send back to Japan, to his friend's family. I had my picture taken. The flash startled me, but it was interesting to look at the picture afterwards. Of course, at the time I had no real idea that it was me, or what it was about- I believe I even challenged my own image to a fight- but as I gained in my mutated knowledge, I found that I could recall the basic principles of the device...
Splinter had been in luck. Not only was there a camera, but six packs of the film needed to make the instant pictures. He called up his memories of how Master Yoshi and his friend had spent a happy day taking "pictures", laughing, complaining when they did not turn out, joking with each other over who was the better photographer, and wasting film on buildings when they could be taking pictures of pretty girls.
Splinter had brought the device home and studied it carefully, referring to the little, well-worn manual that had come with it. Printed in English, the previous owner had either translated certain directions herself or had had someone do it for her, but the basic instructions had been redone in someone's neat handwriting into Japanese.
The four had been playing on the floor when he aimed the device at them and pushed the button.
The flash was bright and sudden, and for the moment it was a toss up over who had been more startled, the turtle tots or their father. Indeed, Splinter had nearly dropped the camera when that bright "flash" had illuminated his sons- had he hurt them? He remembered that when Yoshi had taken his picture, the light had temporarily blinded him.
Four surprised turtles sat on the floor, opening and closing their eyelids rapidly; their blinking eyes looked fine but confused. One by one the strange "dots" that were in their vision suddenly began to fade, and they could see their father standing in front of them.
They looked at each other without a sound, then back to Splinter, puzzlement etched into their tiny faces. It was as if they were trying to make up their minds whether to be afraid and cry or not.
Splinter, playing it calm, removed the small rectangle of stiff paper that had emerged from the front of the camera. There was a black square framed by shiny white.
Wondering what he had done wrong, he went to retrieve the manual- and then he noticed that something was beginning to appear! Slowly, gradually, the black box began to fade in places, to lighten here and there, and to Splinter's great joy, four small green shapes began to emerge from the blackness, as if by magic!
Fascinated, he watched, oblivious to the fact that four pairs of blinking eyes were now staring at their grinning father.
Splinter felt such accomplishment! In his hand was his first picture of the Turtles! Michelangelo, his foot in his hands, was caught in the act of trying to see if he could get his toe into his mouth, while Donatello was looking at the pictures in one of the books Splinter had found, and pretending to "read" to Leonardo, who sat there with a smile on his face pointing to one of the pages. Raphael was frozen in time in the midst of a summersault attempt, something he had performed accidentally one day while playing and had been trying unsuccessfully to recreate ever since.
"Wassit?" Michelangelo piped up, the first to recover. He had gotten up and was standing there, tugging on Splinter's robe insistently, pointing with his other hand at what Splinter was holding.
"It is a picture of you, my son," Splinter knelt down to sit on the floor, gathering his youngest to him and showing him the picture.
Michelangelo's eyes went wide!
"They's Rapiyel!" he said in surprise. A chubby finger poked the picture. "They's Dontello an' Lenardo! Hows they get inna pitsure? Whosit?" And he pointed to himself.
"I took the picture with a camera," Splinter explained, as the other three crowded in suddenly, vying for the best view of whatever it was Michelangelo was looking at. "A camera takes pictures, like in the books and magazines that I show you. This is you, Michelangelo."
"How it work?" Donatello was trying to get the camera out of Splinter's hands now, studying it as best as he could while struggling to pry this fascinating device from his father's grip.
"I do not know how it works," Splinter said, firmly holding the camera with one hand. "Do not try to take it from me, my son."
"Wanna see!" Donatello fussed, determined. He usually did as he was told without question, but this was just too good of a thing to pass up! Splinter always showed him how things worked! Why not this? "Wanna see it work! How it work?"
Splinter, sighing, adjusted his sitting position to accommodate Donatello.
"I will show you, but you must not try to take it from me, my son," he said, positioning Donatello on his lap so that the camera was before both of them. "Inside this machine is some special paper. This little window is where you look at the person you want to take the picture of. This button makes the camera 'take' the picture. It makes it flash, and then whatever you are looking at will show up on the paper. I do not know how that happens. I only know that it does."
"Wanna take a picture!" Don grinned hopefully, looking up at his father's chin. "Wanna take a picture of Micha'anjo!"
"Yes! Take my pitsure!" the youngest shouted, getting up and standing directly in front of Splinter and Donatello.
"Hey! I wanna do it too!" Leonardo said, squeezing into the space on Splinter's knee where Michelangelo had been sitting. "I wanna do it too!"
"Me too!" Raphael piped up, trying to find a place to fit into. "Me too! I wanna do it too!"
Splinter positioned Michelangelo back some, and lined up the shot himself. Then he allowed Donatello to look through the "window".
"I sees him! He's tiny!" Donatello suddenly yelled, jerking his head away from the camera to look at his brother. But now he was his regular size. Then he looked in the "window" again, and saw that once more his brother was magically smaller! Looking up, he was his normal size again! "How's he do that? How's he get tiny then big? How's you get tiny then big, Micha'anjo?"
Michelangelo looked at his brother, face scrunched up in complete puzzlement.
"I's not tiny! I's a big boy!" he insisted. "I's a big boy like you!"
"You's tiny in the window!" Donatello insisted right back, once again moving his eyes from the viewfinder to his brother and back.
"It is a trick of the camera," Splinter said before an argument could erupt. "It is a trick of the camera and I do not know how it is so, but that is what it does. Now, let us take this picture."
Guiding his son's hand to the button, Splinter gently helped Donatello push the button. The flash once again startled them all, but this time no one was worried about whether they should cry or not.
The paper rectangle came sliding out of the bottom of the camera to a chorus of "OOoooooh"s, and they pushed in even closer to stare at the black square.
"I doesn't see him," Raphael pointed out. "I doesn't see anything!"
"Have patience, my son," Splinter replied, and as they stared at the square, they gasped in growing surprise as the image of their little brother emerged before their very eyes!
"Me next me next me next!" came the shouts...
He still had film. He had been sparing, saving what he could for important occasions. They all loved having their picture taken it seemed, and it was a special rare treat when father got out the camera.
"Pitsure! Pitsure!" Michelangelo, catching sight of what his father carried, jumped up from the floor with Mr. Growlly and began to hop with excitement. "Wanna take a pitsure of Mistah Growlly!"
"Later you may take a picture of your bear," Splinter promised him. "For now, I am getting it ready for something special."
"Special?" Leonardo asked, grinning. "Playing with the blocks is special!"
"No, summersaults is special!" Raphael contradicted, suddenly getting into position. "Look! I's learned to do it!" And he managed to pull off a very sloppy, lopsided summersault, knocking down the tower of blocks in the process.
Splinter laughed.
"No, my son. I am waiting to take a picture of something even more special," he replied, making a big show of fixing up the camera, cleaning the lens and making sure that there was precious film in it.
The foursome kept peppering him with questions and guesses, but Splinter merely smiled and told them that they would find out soon enough.
"Hey! I remember this!" Michelangelo suddenly shouted, drawing the attention of the three visitors on the couch across the room. "You said that the first one to-"
"MIKEY!" his three brothers shouted in unison, frantic to keep him from saying any more that might be overheard.
Splinter, still looking at the photos, smiled widely.
"Yes," he said quietly, ignoring any outsiders that might be curious to what they were now discussing. "I turned it into a contest between the four of you. You were all anxious to use the camera. It was your special magic toy, and a great rare treat. And I needed to celebrate your achievements according to the book I had been reading. So I told you that I was saving it for the first one who learned to go to the toilet on his own."
"When you learn to go to the toilet without being told to, or telling me that you have to, then I will take your picture," Splinter said. "And then you may take the picture of the next one who learns to use the toilet all the time on his own."
Four little faces exchanged looks, trying to process this.
"Has to go!" Michelangelo shouted suddenly. He tried to grab Splinter's hand, but had to settle for his robe. "Has to go potty!"
Splinter shook his head.
"You have already been," he admonished. "Just a little while ago. You must not say you have to go when you do not."
Michelangelo thought about this.
" 'kay," he said, letting go of his father's clothing. Then, without a word, he ran with his bear to the bathroom as fast as his little legs would carry him.
"I's goin'!" he shouted at the top of his voice after a few seconds. Splinter and the others went to the bathroom to find Michelangelo on the toilet, face scrunched up with determination. "I's goin'! I's a big boy! Take my pitsure!"
"Michelangelo," Splinter said, lifting him down from the toilet. "You are not going to the bathroom. You have already been. You must wait. You must not pretend."
But Michelangelo was not to be dissuaded.
"I does has to go!" he insisted, jumping around as if he would have an accident at any moment.
Splinter allowed him to once more get up on the toilet, but after five minutes it was painfully obvious even to the Turtle that it was not time.
For the rest of the day Michelangelo tried this ploy, running to the bathroom and insisting that he had to go when he didn't. Soon Donatello and even Leonardo, afraid that their brother might actually succeed, began to make unscheduled trips themselves, only to taste defeat and humiliation- especially after once such false alarm by all three, they had returned to the living room to play- only to have three simultaneous accidents.
Splinter was not happy, but he did not punish anyone or show any anger. After all, they were trying, and he should have been prepared for the possible results.
Raphael, on the other hand, refused to play along. He squirmed and fussed until Splinter would ask him if he had to go, and then he would only go to the toilet with great reluctance. He still viewed it as something that was not to be trusted.
"I's gotta go!" Michelangelo shouted once again, at the supper table, and before Splinter could react, he was out of his chair and on his way, closely followed by Donatello and Leonardo, both insisting that (once again), they, too, had to go. Splinter sighed, and looked at his remaining son who was calmly eating.
"Do you have to go, my son?"
"No, I don't got to go," came the honest reply. Then, in a hesitant voice, he said, "I don't like the potty, Father. It's scary."
Splinter, one ear on the inevitable squabble that had broken out in the bathroom over who really had to go versus who did not, drew in a deep breath at this statement. Raphael never said he was afraid, even when he was. Even that terrible day, shortly after they had moved in, when he had gotten out of their new home and got "lost", he never said he was afraid- though he sure had shown it.
"My son, I would never have you do something that was dangerous," he said (No, I was not thinking of my planned revenge against the Shredder at the time, thank you for pointing that out Michelangelo!). "It is something we all have to do, Raphael. But you must never be afraid of it. I know that falling in frightened you, but I promise you that (Michelangelo! Fifty flips and a two thousand word essay on showing respect to your family!) you do not need to be afraid. I promise you on my honor."
Raphael looked at his father's solemn expression, and listened to his calm, honest words. Then he nodded, and went back to eating.
Meanwhile, three dejected and angry turtles returned to the kitchen, blaming each other for the accidents that had just happened in the hallway.
Bedtime. Middle of the night. Splinter awoke to the sound of water running.
Quickly he arose and made for the sound. The last time he had been called from his bed like that he had found Donatello trying to turn on the faucet in the bathtub so he could see if his pillow would float like in the dream he had just had.
The light from the hallway did not show him who was in there at first. Switching on the bathroom light, he was met with a triumphantly grinning turtle.
"I hadda go! I waked up and I hadda go, so I goed in here!" the little one shouted proudly.
Splinter, listening to the sound of success, returned the grin, and immediately went for the camera.
"I am very proud of you, my son!" he praised him, and the flash lit up an extremely happy-
"Raph?" Mikey shouted, once again causing the three guests across the room to focus their attention on the family. "Raph was the first to-"
"MIKEY I swear I will KILL YOU!" Raph's threat drowned out the rest of his brother's shocked revelation.
Don, taking the book from Splinter, stared at the last picture on the page. There, indeed, was Raph, sitting on the toilet with the biggest, proudest grin in the world.
Under the picture was a notation.
" 'December 3rd, Tuesday, 3:15 AM- Raphael uses the toilet on his own. Picture taken by Splinter'," he read softly, fear growing. Quickly he turned the page, and there was his own picture! He, too, was sitting with a proud grin; he, too, was looking triumphant. He, too, had a caption. " 'December 3rd, Tuesday, 2:43 PM- Donatello uses the toilet on his own. Picture taken by Raphael'. RAPH? RAPH took my picture?"
He felt humiliated.
"That was the reward," Splinter replied simply. "Remember? The first one to finally become potty trained would get to take the next picture. And so on," he added as a hint. Don, looking at his father, returned his gaze to the book.
There was a picture of a goofy grinning Michelangelo, holding onto the seat for dear life and yet appearing to be extremely happy.
" 'December 5th, Thursday, 7:57 PM- Michelangelo uses the toilet on his own. Picture taken by Donatello'."
"No, way!" Mikey shouted, suddenly snatching the book and looking at his picture. "I think I remember this... yeah, I kind of do remember it... and that means..."
And he suddenly started laughing, dropping the book and looking at Leonardo, who was as red as any green turtle could be.
"Let me see that," Raph said, snatching up the album before Leo could grab it. Reading, he started to laugh, too- slowly at first, then louder and faster.
Leo hung his head, feeling a strange mixture of mortification and anger.
" 'January 2nd, Thursday, 12:12 PM- Leonardo finally uses the toilet on his own. Picture taken by Michelangelo'. Oh, man! FINALLY!" Raph gasped, and now Leo wanted nothing more than to destroy that book.
Splinter, possibly sensing Leonardo's desire, took the album from Raphael and carefully held on to it.
"So you see, my sons, this being 'first' is not really important," Splinter calmly said as the other three had a laugh at their leader's expense. "In the end, all that matters is that you all master what you are being taught. Do you understand what I have been saying?"
It was a few minutes before three of them could answer- their voices still shook...
"No- no we don't," Don finally managed to gasp out. "Honestly, Sensei, all this has done is bring up embarrassing firsts. Raph was the first to become potty trained. It's hardly something to brag about."
"And yet being the first to master a kata is?" Splinter asked. "Being the first to master a lesson makes you better than your brothers?"
He looked in the book again, reliving old memories of other firsts- their first lesson with weapons; their first stitches; their first battle wounds.
"You have all had firsts, whether embarrassing or not," he continued. "For example, there was the first time one of you discovered, while sitting in the bathtub, that you could-"
"NO!" four voices, united in fear, each one thinking about something that he had maybe done and wondering how Splinter knew about it, pleaded with their father and teacher to go no further. There had been enough emotional embarrassment for now.
"Then I will ask this again. Do you understand what I have been saying?"
They looked at each other once again. Leo took a deep breath.
"Yes, I think so. You're right. Being first is not important, as long as we all master it. I understand that now."
Splinter was not really convinced that he had gotten his point across, but he thought that perhaps for now he should just let it go. After all, they had guests.
The four bowed to Splinter and got up to leave. Mikey, his mind on the possibilities of torturing two brothers, and trying to decide which one to start with, suddenly had a question.
"Hey! If Raph took Don's picture, and Don took my picture, and I took Leo's picture- then who did Leo get to take a picture of?"
"Can we just drop it?" Leo said forcefully. "It doesn't matter." Especially to me, he thought. I've had enough humiliation for one night.
But in the back of his mind, he did wonder. He vaguely remembered being allowed to use the camera, but he didn't recall whose picture he took- probably it was something unimportant.
Splinter watched the four meet up with their friends, and breathed a sigh of relief. Going to his room, he carefully put the book of firsts into his bedside drawer- and pulled out an old photo that he kept hidden in the back.
He had finally mastered how to use the device the correct way. All the work spend training his sons had forced him to deal with his own failure. And once he had mastered it, he had allowed Leonardo his chance to use the camera.
But there is NO way they will ever see this picture, he thought. After all, there are some things that are not meant to be known...