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Zog

Zog was gone.

Zog, an enemy. A Triceraton warrior, one of many who had tried their best to destroy the Turtles; one whom they had not only aided, but who had in some misguided mind-altered situation accepted them as superior officers- who had fought in spite of deadly wounds inflicted by the Shredder and saved their lives, was gone.

Mike was quiet all the way home.

Mike was quiet and unemotional all the way home.

Mike was quiet and unemotional and detached all the way home.

Raph tried several times to reach him, but Mike was polite in his refusals and denials.

He was definitely not himself.

Mike had been the one to work closely in that last hour or so with Zog. Mike, who was the one who wore his heart on his sleeve- if he had sleeves, that is- the most emotional one, the most immature one, the "youngest" one- had been the one to work the closest with Zog in that last hour or so.

Full circle on grief.

He refused to show any emotion all the way home. He was polite, quiet, calm, and totally un-Mikey all the way home.

He went straight to his room as soon as they got home.

Master Splinter prevented the others from going in after him.

"I will handle this, my sons," he had said sadly.

This was a father's job, after all.

Brothers are wonderful for support and love and all that stuff- but this was a father's job at the moment- a dirty, painful, traumatic job- a father's job.

Mike was seated on the floor, staring at nothing. He didn't even look up when Master Splinter came in.

He looked calm.

Cold.

A statue of no emotion.

Master Splinter sat beside him, held his arms out to him, and simply said, "My son."

And he held him as if he were still a turtle-tot crying over the loss of a valuable and irreplaceable "something".

Yes, brothers are the best for most of life.

But nothing can help like the love of a parent.

It was quite some time before he finally left Mikey's room. Mikey was finally asleep, exhausted but more his old self.

Now it was time to comfort the others.

They needed it, but they also were there to comfort their father.

Their need at the moment was great, but their concern for Mike and Sensei was greater.

It was a perfect family.

No one could hope to have a better family than this.

Zog was gone.

He had been an enemy.

But he had also been a living creature, separated from his own kind, his own family, his own familiar world.

He had died on an unfamiliar planet, away from family and friends who probably already mourned him as lost; no burial, no grave marker, no way to note his passing.

The Turtles had experienced loss before, but this loss was the most touching, the toughest, the most tragic to their minds.

And that was simply because of the father that had raised them.

Zog was gone.

But they had each other.