OKAY! I have written and rewritten this final chapter, and I think I have it just the way I want it! I will post it NOW before I'm tempted to keep tampering with it! Thanks to everyone who reviewed this! Becca, Llama, everyone!

TMNT are owned by Mirage. I am owned by Diet Coke.

SPLINTER:

"Wow! This is so cool," Michelangelo thinks-- or says-- I am never sure how we are communicating in this situation. "I feel so floaty, like I'm full of helium."

"Or hot air," Raphael cannot help but say-- or think-- I am not sure.

We are in the room, sort of viewing ourselves as well as the surroundings both physical and psychic.

For several minutes, I simply let my mind slowly drift around the room.

Then--

"There!"

"Look at that!"

"Sensei, watch out!"

And I am struck by something cold and frightening before I have a chance to make any move or prepare myself. I am sent flying across the room, and I "crash" into a wall.

Michelangelo is now between me and the "dark something" that has plagued me all day-- its laugh is like the sound of breaking glass, and it looms over my son and me.

I finally get a good look at this thing-- for thing it appears to be.

It looks like a rat-- and a human-- and a rotting corpse.

It is dark, and moves in a flowing motion, like water-- no, like mud-- like earth-- like freshly turned earth from the grave--

It moves towards Michelangelo and me, as if to attack, but Raphael blocks it-- and is sent flying!

Michelangelo takes his place, and manages to make contact with it with kicks and punches before he, too, is knocked away. Then Donatello attacks it in a similar manner, knocking it towards Leonardo, who also gives and takes many punches and kicks. But they are no match for this thing.

Raphael, however, is once again in front of me, ready to fight this thing. Michelangelo is also suddenly there, prepared to defend me from this abomination.

I keep staring at this apparition-- it is familiar-- it is familiar--

"Who are you?" I ask-- or think-- to this creature. "Who are you? What have you to do with me?"

"I am Shi," it responds, and I am not the only one to feel the cold as it speaks to us. "I am what many fear. I am what you fear. I am what you fear the most."

Now I understand. The name is not lost on me, though my sons fail to recognize it for the moment.

"You have feared me for some time, and now you have made it possible for me to approach," it continues-- and laughs again, that laugh that sounds like breaking glass. My sons cover their ears, trying to block out that sound-- except Michelangelo, who is standing on guard-- yet I can see that the laughter is hurting him as well, if not more than his brothers.

And they all shiver, as the cold comes from this creature-- it is so cold!

Cold like the grave--

"You have feared me the most today, Splinter-san, so today your fear comes true!" and as it approaches, the cold intensifies-- and now a terrible stench issues from this thing-- the stench of rotting flesh, of moist earth--

Of Death--

I completely understand now! Foolish old rat, I completely understand!

This is my problem that I created, it seems. I created it with my depression; with my worries for my sons; with my foolish, selfish worries for myself. I summoned this demon myself with my own foolish, selfish emotions!

Shi.

Even the shape makes sense-- the rat, for I am a rat-- the human, for I am mutated and rather human in my abilities-- and the corpse to represent the decaying body.

Suddenly I am angry! I am angry at this evil spirit, and even more angry at myself for "creating" this situation.

"I do not fear you, Shi," I respond, and I get up, and move in front of Michelangelo. "I am ready for you. Come take me."

"Master Splinter!" Leonardo shouts, catching on before the others. "Mikey, don't let it touch Master Splinter!"

And the others try to block the way.

"No!" I command my sons. "I understand why it is here. I will explain later."

"There will be no later for you," the cold sweeps over us again, the cold and the stench and the fearful sound of its laughter-- but this time I do not feel it as strongly as before. "There will be no later for any of you. Except as 'Shigo'."

"I do not fear you!" I respond, and I throw up my hands in front of me, ready to strike. "I am not afraid of Death!"

Now they are all once again trying to interfere, but I refuse to let them take part.

"Come and take me, Shi!"

And when it is within striking distance, I fight it!

It is like a competition! I feel so alive! I make many punches and kicks, driving this thing that my selfish fear has created across the room.

I receive many punches and kicks, for it can fight back. It breathes out the freezing breathe, trying to take mine. It laughs again, trying to paralyze me with that breaking glass sound. It tries to overpower me with the smell of the grave. It tries to overpower us all.

I see my sons struggling against this fear, and my anger increases.

I see Michelangelo as he suddenly attacks this creature from the side, desperate to shield me in spite of my command to not interfere. I see him "tossed" to the side like a rag doll-- I see his corporeal body sag in the circle as the result of this attack.

My son!

I renew my attacks with much to fight for; much to live for!

My sons must not be left alone! And I kick this "manifestation" of Death, causing it to waver, to shutter, to fade slightly.

I must be here for my sons! And I punch this "creation" of my depression, driving it further in on itself.

I am not afraid of Death! I am not afraid of Life! I am not afraid!

It is now making a sound like wailing-- growing more distant as I continue to attack this evil spirit that I have summoned with my foolish worrying.

And I feel victorious, though the fight is not quite over.

My sons are stunned, desperate, concerned-- and amazed, I think, when, with a final leaping kick, I send this thing flying backwards out of sight and existence.

Then I am surrounded by my sons in this plane...

Then I am surrounded by my sons in my room... like in my death-dream.

I am lying in bed, looking at four concerned faces.

I don't remember going back to bed.

"Good!" Raphael is saying. "The fever has finally broke."

"How are you feeling, Sensei?" Leonardo says, helping me to sit up and offering me a glass of water.

"You sure had us worried," Donatello says. "Your fever was so high, you began to hallucinate."

Now I am completely confused.

"Hallucinate? Do you mean we did not just now confront Shi?"

Now they look worried.

"Sensei," Leonardo says, placing a hand on my shoulder. "What do you mean about us confronting Death?"

I think long and hard. What has been reality today, and what has been dream?

So, I explain what I am talking about, starting with this morning.

"You mean yesterday morning," Donatello says. "Most of your story takes place yesterday, and makes sense up to the part about dinner."

"When I came back with your dinner, you had fainted again," Leonardo tells me. "And your fever had gone up pretty high. We got you into bed and we've sat with you all night."

"You were restless most of the night, talking about cold and fear and Shi," Raphael continues the story. "I had to hold you in bed at one point, because you shouted 'I do not fear you, Shi! Come and take me!' and you tried to get up."

I dreamed it all? It was so real.

I look at Michelangelo, who is sitting there, wrapped in a blanket; after all, he had felt these things as well. He had seen this dark "something" as well.

He doesn't look me in the eye at first, as if ashamed; then he sighs.

"I shouldn't be in here," he murmurs. "I have a temperature. I think-- I've caught the flu."

I stare long at him. Then I look at the others.

I have a suspicion-- but I push it from my mind; I feel so tired, and they look tired, especially Michelangelo.

A dream, they insist. Well, it would make sense. A fever dream. It is certain that I do not remember much after this battle, and I can somehow tell that it is morning. Yes, it would make sense.

It would also make sense if they were hiding the truth about the confrontation. I am sure they are not lying about my being so ill during the night. I look into their faces. They are calm, determined-- such sons! I decide to accept this explanation; their explanation.

For now.

I tell my sons what I remember of the events, and I tell them why I probably "dreamed" like that in the first place.

"In the morning, when I fainted the first time, I allowed myself to become depressed at the prospect of nearing the end of my life," I confess. "I do not recall ever being this ill before, and I wondered if this illness was an indication that I had reached the end of my unnatural life-- for this mutation has increased my years by more than many. And I worried about what would happen to you all."

They are nodding at each other, as if they suspected as much.

Somehow this does not annoy me as it would have earlier.

I tell them of our 'trip' to the astral plane-- Leonardo, Michelangelo and I had discussed this because of what I had seen in my peripheral vision-- and when the vision presented itself as part-rat, part-human, and part-corpse, and had said that it was what I feared the most-- Shi-- I then knew that this was manifested from my depression earlier. I knew it was not really Death I was facing, just my fear for my sons after I am gone.

I was facing myself.

Anyway, that is what I tell them.

"This dream seemed so real," I say, looking at the innocent faces being presented to me. "But I am relieved that you say it was only a dream. I must not worry about you four. But for some reason, I cannot help it. I cannot explain why."

"I can," Michelangelo says. "Because you're a parent, and parents worry all the time about their kids."

"Yeah, look at Casey's Mom," Raphael points out.

"Look at the Daimyo," Donatello reminds us.

"It's only natural you worry about us, Sensei," Leonardo says. "You have always been very caring. Look how you tried to save your master Yoshi. Look how you collected four baby turtles in a coffee can and cleaned them off-- and raised them."

"You know, Sensei-- we worry about you," Michelangelo says, and they all nod in agreement. "And we worry sometimes about the future. But it'll be all right."

I smile at Michelangelo.

"Yes, my son. Yes, you are right-- it will be all right."

"Yes, and now, Sensei, though your fever has broken, you still have the flu, and you still need to rest," Leonardo takes charge. "And Mikey-- you need to go to bed, now!"

He will take care of his brothers.

And they will take care of him.

I need not worry. And they need not worry, either. Let them think that my explanation is correct. Let them think that it wasn't really Death I'd faced.

Though it was--

Let them think that they have "fooled" me. They are only looking out for me.

Such sons!

I smile at all of them, and lay down, and go back to sleep.

MICHELANGELO:

Outside Master Splinter's room, we look at Leo.

"Are you sure it was a good idea to tell him that story?" Raph asks.

"No, but I would rather he thought it a fever-dream than know it was the truth," Leo responds. "You saw how ill he was afterwards-- his fever was so high, and he really was hallucinating afterwards. He came close to dying in my opinion, in spite of defeating Shi. And you know how worried he was about us, even while he was so sick."

He looks again at Splinter's door, then at his brothers.

"I don't like lying to Sensei. But it was for the best. He shouldn't worry, and believing that it was a dream will keep him from worrying. You know what they say-- 'an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure'."

"I don't like lying to Sensei like that, either," Don says, "but I agree with Leo. He'll rest better if he's not worrying. It was for the best."

"I only hope we can keep it from him," Raph says, pointedly looking at me.

Looking at me, who felt all this stuff all this time; me, who had been seeing this "something"-- had they forgotten that I was feeling what Splinter had been feeling, had been experiencing?

But I am quiet. I'm afraid if I try to talk, I'll start crying. Don't they understand?

And why do they insist on keeping this from Sensei? Once again, who are we to tell our father yes or no, or withhold the truth from?

Sensei needs to know; Sensei would want to know. We have no right to make Sensei believe that is was all just a dream. It's not right!

I start to say this, to say all of this, to stand up to my brothers-- but my voice chokes on me, and I can feel the stupid tears trying to get out of my eyes.

I pull the blanket tighter around me; I'm feeling that "cold" feeling from before, though I'm sure it's just from memory, plus the flu.

"You know, Sensei wasn't the only one worried," I finally manage to say something, even though it's not what I'd planned on saying. "When he told Shi to come and get him, I was sure it was over."

I was sure that he was going to die, I silently add-- but they don't need to hear that part. I think they've guessed it.

I think they've guessed it because they are all thinking it as well. I see them look at each other as if reading each others' thoughts.

And they look at me again-- me who can't prevent myself from crying now that it's over.

And my brothers hug me.

But I plan on talking with Sensei soon. I don't like lying to Sensei about this whole thing. I will talk with him about it-- as soon as this stupid flu is over, that is.

At least I didn't lie to Sensei about that.

Small comfort.