Work Text:
Title: Bit By Bit
Fandom: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
Summary: Hit by the decompiling blast, Splinter is split into thoughts and feelings.
Notes: takes place during s07e01: Tempus Fugit from Back To The Sewer. Also based on a quote from Splinter in s07e13: Wedding Bells and Bytes from Back To The Sewer.
"It was strange. I had no single sense of self, but rather a multitude of thoughts and feelings. Common to them all, however, was a longing to return to my family."
Something is wrong.
His sixth sense promptly warns him of impending peril. Hamato Splinter listens and turns his head because his instincts never lie, and he has no reason not to believe them.
He sees Donatello behind him and at a decent distance. From within the hulking mecha, his intelligent son repeatedly pounds his fists against the glass in a frantic manner. Donatello mouths something to him, some kind of warning perhaps–judging from that fearful expression plastered on the turtle's face.
Serling, the armored robot accompanying them on their arduous journey from future to present, levels a blaster at something past Splinter.
His gaze tracing the invisible line between the weapon and its target, the mutant rat feels his heart racing as quick as a cheetah. Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo. His other sons, the unsuspecting boys.
A chant blares in his mind like sirens: danger, danger, danger!
The decompiler readies its attack, and he knows he must react. Time is far too impatient to allow him even a single word to alarm the trio of brothers before him. But… perhaps the actions of an old father willing to sacrifice himself for his beloved family can catch up.
As swift as the flowing timestream they all drift through at this very moment, Splinter does not hesitate to throw himself forward before the decompiler goes off.
He reaches his sons right as the green beam reaches him.
Searing energy robs the rat of sight and sound, intrudes his body in a violent surge, and takes him apart bit by bit.
Blue like a river ever so patient and persistent, Red like flames that burn in righteous ire, and Orange like the sun shining brightest. Glad for their safety. Relief over success of having intercepted the blast. No danger, no danger, no danger.
Purple like aster, brilliant in wisdom and knowledge. Worry. Fear from Purple vividly clear in one of the many thoughts running rampant. Must comfort Purple, must reassure Purple. Unable to do so.
Future to dinosaurs, dinosaurs to knights, knights to nightmares–three incarnations of the most horrific evil imaginable. Wanton destruction. Overwhelming urgency. Have protected the colors. Have stayed together.
A foreign place. Numerous paths of light, numbers scrolling across the screens, strange structures that seem rather alien. Empty, silent, and unknown. Not a hint of Blue, Red, Orange or Purple anywhere.
Alone and confused. Where…?
…Dead?
No! Not dead. Not… dead…
Seek the colors. Too much to bear, this desperate need to reunite. Too sincere and vehement to ignore. Hurts even more.
Yearning for home. Over and over and over again. An everlasting wish.
Longing for family. As blue as water. As red as fire. As orange as the prelude to a cold, dark night. As purple as a bright flower blossoming into greatness.
Sad, lonely, disoriented, desperate, wistful… but hopeful. So much all at once, the wild flurry of these emotions and thoughts.
Trust in the colors. Never lose faith in the colors. Remember the way Blue, Red, Orange and Purple paint the world.
Remember, remember… remember!
Leonardo.
Raphael.
Michelangelo.
Donatello.
…
…
…
"…my sons… …my sons… …my sons… …my sons…"