I Am So Sorry My Son

It was still an extraordinary feeling to be back in one's right mind, especially after so many months of relying solely on his innate, animalistic instincts. Splinter had experienced many hardships in his long life, but nothing compared to the harrowing separation from his sons. The bond they shared was more than just familial; it was the core of his very existence. Reuniting his spiritual half with his physical half had been a painstaking process for which he was immensely grateful to his family. They had risked everything to bring him back, and despite the dire circumstances, he couldn't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude. Alien invasions and backstabbing murderous childhood friends aside, he was happy to have his boys and their two friends back with him. However, despite his happiness, he couldn't ignore the fact that the situation they were in was far from ideal.

The city they all called home was still under siege by their enemy, and they were currently outnumbered and possibly outgunned until Donatello could figure out a faster way to mass-produce the Retro-Mutagen to turn everyone back to normal. But he knew there was more going on than met the eye.

At first, he thought he was just imagining things, being too vigilant and paranoid for no reason. It had been months since he had seen his children, and he was "too clingy," as his sons said. But the more he watched them, the more convinced he became that something was going on.
His sons had seemed clingier themselves, though that wasn't anything particularly out of the ordinary. Despite what they tended to project outwardly to those around them, his boys were much more touchy-feely than they cared to admit. Especially during times of stress, they would hover either around him or each other. He had figured that was just what this was this time.

As he observed them closely, he noticed subtle changes in their behavior that were becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. Leonardo, his eldest, had always been the leader who shouldered responsibility gracefully and determined. But since their reunion, Leo's eyes had a weariness and a heaviness in his step that Splinter hadn't seen before. The physical injuries he had sustained were severe and nearly fatal, and the recovery had been slow and painful. Splinter felt overwhelming guilt for not being there to protect his son when he needed him the most.

The image of Leo, broken and battered, haunted Splinter's thoughts. He remembered the first time he saw his son after the battle, lying unconscious with wounds that spoke of the ferocity of the encounter. The sight had nearly broken him. As a father, he was to protect his children and keep them safe from harm. Yet, he had failed. The weight of that failure pressed heavily on his heart, a constant reminder of his shortcomings.

His other sons were faring a little better. Donatello buried himself in his work, desperately trying to find a solution to their predicament. The normally calm and collected Donnie was now a bundle of nerves, his frustration spilling over in uncharacteristic ways. Splinter watched as Donnie's hands shook while he worked on the Retro-Mutagen formula, his usually steady hands now betraying his inner turmoil.

Michelangelo, the group's light-hearted prankster, had lost much of his usual spark. His jokes were fewer and far between, and his laughter lacked its usual warmth when it did come. Splinter noticed the sadness that lingered in Mikey's eyes, the way he clung to his brothers, seeking comfort in their presence.

Raphael, always the most volatile of the group, had become even more aggressive. His anger, once a controlled flame, now threatened to consume him. Splinter had caught Raph training late into the night, pushing himself beyond his limits in a futile attempt to regain a sense of control. The anger was a mask, Splinter knew, for the pain and fear that Raph kept hidden deep within.

Splinter's heart ached as he watched his sons struggle. He felt a deep sense of helplessness, a gnawing fear that he was losing them in ways he couldn't quite comprehend. The changes in their behavior were subtle, but to a father's keen eye, they were glaringly obvious. Each of his sons was dealing with the trauma of their separation and the ongoing war in their own way, and it was tearing him apart to see them suffer.

He had tried to talk to them, to offer words of comfort and wisdom, but his efforts often seemed to need to catch up. There was a distance between them now, a chasm created by months of separation and the horrors they had endured. Splinter knew that healing would take time, but time was a luxury they could ill afford.

The nights were the hardest for Splinter. Alone in his meditation room, he would replay the events that had led them to this point, searching for answers for some way to make things right. The guilt gnawed at him, a relentless specter that refused to be silenced. He was supposed to be their protector and guide, yet he had been powerless to prevent their suffering.

As a sensei, Splinter had always prided himself on his ability to read his sons, to understand their needs, and to provide guidance. But now, he felt adrift, unable to reach them in the way they needed. The burden of leadership weighed heavily on his shoulders, and he feared that his insecurities and failures contributed to the rift between them.

He thought back to the day they had first found him, feral and lost in his own mind. The joy and relief in their eyes as they had worked to bring him back to himself had been overwhelming. They had risked everything for him, and he owed them more than he could ever repay. Yet now, as he watched them struggle, he couldn't help but feel that he was failing them once again.

The siege on their city added another layer of complexity to their already strained existence. Every day was a battle for survival, a fight to protect what little remained of their home. The constant threat of attack left them all on edge, their nerves frayed and their spirits battered.

Despite the dire circumstances, Splinter was determined not to give up. He knew that they were stronger together and that their bond as a family was their greatest asset. He had to find a way to reach his sons and help them heal and become whole again.

One evening, as the moon cast a silvery glow over the city, Splinter gathered his sons in the dojo. The air was thick with tension, each of them carrying their own burdens and fears. Splinter took a deep breath, the weight of his emotions pressing down on him.

"My sons," he began, his voice steady but filled with emotion, "I know that these past months have been incredibly difficult for all of us. We have faced unimaginable challenges, and the road ahead is still uncertain. But I want you to know that I am here for you, now and always."

The silence that followed was heavy. Each of his sons processed his words in his own way. Splinter looked at each of them, his heart aching for the pain he saw in their eyes.