Brotherly Bonds

Can it be Love?

"Is there something wrong, my son?"

"No, Sensei, I'm fine."

The old rat frowned at the blatant lie and sighed. "I can tell when you are lying to me, Raphael."

No answer. He eyed his son thoughtfully and allowed his tail to twitch behind him, a gesture that he knew the red-masked ninja would understand.

Raphael sighed for the twentieth time that very afternoon. For the past ten minutes or so, he had been feeding his new pet turtle, Chompy.

Splinter eyed the little alien turtle warily. He was still not quite sure how to feel about the fact that they now had an alien creature, no less, one that would eventually grow to bigger than their entire planet, living with them. But Donatello's tests had shown that via his current growth-rate, Chompy would not be large enough to pose a true threat to anyone until millions of years after their deaths.

Raphael was happy. He appeared to have grown very close to his young turtle pet and his bond with his brothers appeared to have gotten even closer, which made Splinter smile. Raphael seemed thrilled to be back in New York, but there was still something...off about him. All of them were acting a little different, particularly around their sensei, but Raphael's behavior was maddeningly uncharacteristic of the hotheaded turtle.

"My son...I realize that I know very little of the time that you have spent away from me, but if there is something bothering you—"

"No, no, it's nothing, Sensei."

"It does not sound like nothing," Splinter's stern voice rumbled lowly.

A wistful, breathy sigh, a sound which seemed so alien for Raphael, escaped the turtle's lips. He stood and scooped up Chompy Picasso. "I'm going to my room."

Splinter reached out, "Raphael, do not—" He stopped and his hand fell, allowing his son to walk away. If Raphael needed time, then time he would allow. Confronting the red-masked turtle about his mood could wait until later that evening. For now, he would let the child be.

Leonardo strode into the kitchen and brewed some tea. He offered a cup to Splinter, which the old rat accepted with a soft mutter of thanks.

Leo immediately sensed his father's distress. "Is there something wrong, Sensei?"

"It is your brother, my son. I begin to grow very concerned about him."

"Donnie?"

Splinter raised an eyebrow. Surely, Raphael's behavior could not have escaped his brothers' notice. Unless, of course, there was something wrong with Donatello that was much more pressing than Raphael's current state.

"I confess, he was not the brother I was thinking of. Is there something wrong with Donatello?"

"No, Sensei, it's just that he's been running nonstop for the last couple of days trying to replicate some of the technology we had on board Fugitoid's ship." Leo said with a shrug.

Splinter hummed. "I see." He fell back into silence.

"Who were you talking about, Sensei?"

"Raphael," the old rat sighed, wearily.

Leo's face fell a little before steeling over.

Splinter noticed the change and frowned. Something was being kept from him, that was clear, but whatever it was, it was anyone's guess.

"What is it, Leonardo?" He asked gently, probing his son's eyes for any clues. There were none forthcoming.

"That's for Raph to tell you, Sensei. It isn't really my place."