Chapter 42 - A Father's Guilt

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*Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles franchise.

*Special Note: The awesome pieces of artwork for this chapter were created by my wonderfully talented friends, @Floralfatality (left) and Kastanie31 (right). Thank you both so much. 😊 

*Author's Notes: I'm back with chapter 42 of 'Lost in the Fight' and this one is very near and dear to my heart. I'm keeping all my fingers and toes crossed that everyone enjoys it.

I want to thank all of you for the amazing support you have shown me throughout this story. It means so much to me. I am incredibly grateful to each and every one of you. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Okay, let's get on with the chapter. ;) CJ

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Chapter 42 – A Father's Guilt

No sooner had Master Splinter stepped foot inside of the garage when he spotted his second youngest son suspended in an awkward position over what he referred to as the 'Shellraiser.' Splinter was beginning to suspect that his tallest boy was somewhat of a contortionist, constantly twisting his body at odd angles to gain access to whatever it was that he was toiling away on.

"Donatello, what exactly is it that you are doing?"

Master Splinter's already long face lowered into a contemplative frown. He was reasonably certain that Donatello's current activities did not fall within his specified work restrictions, nor did they appear to be conducive to the healing process, but the troubled father chose not to voice his concerns just yet. He did not want to start off the conversation by questioning his most sensitive son's judgment. That was what had caused Donatello's hardships to begin with.

"Oh, hey, Sensei. I'm just finishing up cleaning the Shellraiser's alternator." Donatello lifted his head up from what he was doing just long enough to politely smile and make brief eye contact before burying his head back into his work again.

From what Master Splinter's intellectual son had informed him, the Shellraiser had once been an old subway car that had served as a temporary living space for their friend, Leatherhead. Donatello had used his exceptional talents and skills to convert the abandoned car into a "high-tech" – per Donatello – vehicle, complete with all kinds of gadgets and devices that Splinter knew absolutely nothing about. The only thing he did know about the vehicle was that one of the mechanisms his resourceful son had developed for it gave them a "constructive" – again per Donatello – way of disposing of their garbage. Although Master Splinter was not entirely convinced that firing trash balls at their enemies did not qualify as a form of littering. It was probably something he should not be condoning, but his sons had somehow persuaded him to overlook their trash-launching exploits.

Master Splinter focused his attention back on Donatello, who remained immersed in his project. The attentive rat was still concerned about his son possibly overtaxing himself and putting unnecessary strain on his wounded shoulder, side, and leg, but again, the eldest mutant of the household elected to reserve his judgment.

"I see," came Master Splinter's impassive response.

The lack of emotion in his father's voice made Donatello tense right up. It was that detached tone that made it next to impossible to figure out what Master Splinter was thinking. The four brothers knew that tone far too well and they had all come to dread the sound of it.

"Please don't tell me I missed supper again. If I did, I'm really, really sorry, but I was so – " Donatello started to offer up an excuse, but his father stopped him short with a wave of his paw.

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