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Casey Alone

Summary:

Casey Jones Junior spends a day alone in New York.

Notes:

My second attack for @tmnt write fight!

Prompt Used: (rottmnt) anything with casey jr. maybe him adjusting to the new timeline? talking things out with leo? up to you! can be hurt/comfort or just fluff i am not picky

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Casey Jones Junior would never tire of watching the sunrise. 

He sat alone on the roof of One World Trade Tower, looking over New York City as the sky began to brighten. Each day he saw the sunrise meant another day he’d lived without the threat of the krang. 

His mother had described it to him often when he was a kid. She’d awe him with her depictions of the different colors that would paint the morning sky. Fill him with wonder at the very idea that the sky could be different from the two colors he’d always known it to be. It had become one of his favorite things to hear before he fell asleep. 

Dark orange slowly appeared in the sky and Casey could imagine his mother sitting next to him, pointing at the sky and jumping up and down with contagious excitement. He imagined she’d be so ecstatic to see the real sky, that she wouldn’t be able to contain it. He could imagine, if she were here, that she’d drag him out of bed every day just to watch the sun come up. She probably wouldn’t have needed to, as Casey got up himself to view it every morning.

The orange in the sky began to lighten, and red spilled onto the few clouds that streamed across the sky. Casey remembered once telling his mother that red was his least favorite color, to which she’d taken offense. She told him that red was her favorite color, and she wouldn’t let the krang ruin it. She’d look a krang right in the eye and laugh at it. His mom had been the strongest person he knew. She had been the one who inspired Casey to be brave. The one who taught him how to stand up and fight for himself. She'd done so much for him, and he couldn't have asked for a better mom. She'd told him once that despite the world they lived in, the universe had given her the greatest son she could have asked for.

The red slowly faded to orange, then to a golden yellow. The sun could be seen on the horizon, and as it rose, the sky slowly turned a light blue.

Look, mom , he thought, a new day dawns. He flipped his skull-themed mask down and stood up. He had somewhere he needed to be.

He used his grappling hook to descend the skyscraper. Once his feet were planted on the ground, he headed through the streets of the city until he reached a graffiti wall. He stepped right through it and into Run of the Mill Pizza.

The restaurant was bustling with customers despite the early hour. Casey spotted Señor Hueso next to a table, chatting with a yokai who sat there. The bone man spotted Casey after a moment and excused himself, walking up to greet the teen.

“Just you today, guerrero?” He asked Casey.

“Yeah.” Casey nodded. Señor Hueso led Casey to a small table, not bothering to hand him a menu.

“I assume you want your regular?” 

Casey nodded in reply and the bone man left, disappearing into the kitchen. The teen was left alone with his thoughts for company. It wasn’t too long ago that the sheer number of yokai who could cram into this restaurant had overwhelmed him. Now he was able to sit comfortably by himself. He let the indistinct chatter wash over him as he looked around. There were yokai of all sorts here. Some large, some small. Most sat together in groups, either with friends or family. Others, like Casey, were alone.

As Casey looked around, he imagined Master Leonardo sitting next to him and pointing out his favorite things inside. Casey could imagine how Sensei would tease Señor Hueso as he worked, with the bone man taking it as well as he always did; with a frown and sarcastic come back.

Casey could easily picture Sensei telling stories from his younger days as the two sat at the table. Master Leonardo had always been the best storyteller. Once, when Casey was younger, Sensei had told him how he’d discovered the wall of champions the first time he’d stepped foot into the restaurant. He’d wanted desperately to be on that wall, as he felt it would prove his worth. He’d dragged his brothers with him through a deadly maze that would grant them not only pizza, but their picture on the wall. Master Leonardo had described how they’d gotten trapped, and how he’d used his mystic powers to save them, even though it was against the rules. His portal led them straight to the pizza box, but before he and his brothers could taste the contents inside, the maze manager trapped them in green vines, threatening to crush them. Leonardo, being the team’s faceman at the time, had sweet talked their way out of getting in trouble. He’d even managed to convince the minotaur manager to let them try the pizza. Leonardo and his brothers had ended up with their photo on the wall of cheaters, however.

The first time that he’d been here, Casey had checked that same wall. He’d found that the picture of the turtles was still hanging there, and it had brought him both a deep sadness and profound comfort. Its presence there meant that not everything in this timeline was different. But it only made Casey miss his family even more.

A steaming pizza was set in front of him, interrupting his train of thought. Casey realized that he had teared up and blinked rapidly to erase any evidence of moisture. One of the waiters had brought him his pizza instead of Hueso, which meant the bone man had probably gotten caught up in something. Casey thanked the waiter and served himself a slice. He’d ordered his favorite pizza, which ironically was Sensei's favorite as well. 

Hawaiian.

Master Leonardo had often told Casey that he wished he could have one more slice of Hawaiian pizza. Casey had had no clue what Sensei was talking about at the time, but now he couldn’t imagine his life without it. He just wished Master Leonardo were here to share in it. 

Casey bit into his pizza slice, trying to picture what Sensei’s face would look like were he here. He tried to picture what it would be like for the older slider to taste pizza for the first time in several years. Casey imagined that he’d be so excited, he’d likely order as many boxes as he could carry to take back to the lair.

It didn’t take long for Casey to finish his pizza. He tucked the money for his bill into the check and left it on the table, exiting the restaurant. He made a quick trip to the store before heading to his second destination of the day, a graffiti wall in the Hidden City.

Casey found an empty space on the wall and set down his purchased bag of spray paints nearby. He slipped a respirator onto his face and sorted through his paints, selecting the first color he wanted to use. He’d learned from Master Michelangelo that any blank space could be used as a creative outlet. The mystic warrior had taught Casey everything he knew about art, including spray painting. Where Master Michelangelo had gotten spray paints during the apocalypse was a mystery to Casey. The teen could never figure out if he had a hidden stash somewhere, or if he made his own somehow.

Casey remembered when Michelangelo had told him how he’d always been the most artistic out of all his family members. He had told Casey how he’d decorated the old lair, spray painting the walls with murals and decorating it with string lights. Even during the apocalypse, Master Michelangelo had decorated their hide-outs, bringing light and color to them no matter where they went.

Casey shook the can in his hand and began his artwork, imagining that Master Michelangelo was beside him. He could see the box turtle creating an artwork of his own, one that would dazzle all who saw it. The teen could imagine Master Michelangelo offering him tips and tricks, even though he already knew most of them. Were the older box turtle here, the two would likely end up distracted and in a paint battle with one another, dousing each other until one of them yielded. Despite Michelangelo being the greatest mystic warrior to ever live, he was still the youngest of the turtles and would try to have fun with Casey when he could. Master Michelangelo had once said that it was those small, intimate moments that kept their hope alive. 

Casey was pretty sure that it was Michelangelo himself who had given them hope for a better future.

Casey worked on his graffiti for hours, taking the occasional break while waiting for the paint to dry. When he finished, a painting of Master Michelangelo rested on the wall. Casey felt a tear fall as he looked over his finished piece. The last time he’d seen Master Michelangelo… He broke that thought off and wiped his cheek. He had more places to be.

Casey headed back to New York City and visited the Lou Jitsu dojo. April had taken him here not long after he’d come to this timeline, and since then he’d gone once a week to help train the kids in the dojo. He knew more about different fighting styles than even April and had helped the dojo win several different competitions. 

Commander O’Neil had held somewhat similar competitions in Casey’s time. She’d helped teach Casey how to fight and would have her trainees fight each other to learn how to better read their opponent. She’d pit Casey against adversaries twice his size, usually Master Leonardo. The two adults had taught Casey together how to take down an enemy that was larger than him. It was thanks to them that he'd survived as long as he did. 

Casey brought his thoughts back to the present. The dojo was hosting a competition, and the teen was there to watch it. As he watched his students participate, he could imagine that Commander O’Neil was watching it right alongside him. Were she here, he could see her cheering on his students and giving him a spine-crushing hug each time they won. He could imagine that she’d be pleased with how he’d been able to pass along the things she’d taught him.

When the competition ended, Casey congratulated his students before once again taking to the streets of New York. He headed to a nearby drive-in and snuck in, finding himself a seat atop a truck when no one was looking. The movie being played was an older movie that he had not seen. It was one that his senseis told him was Raphael’s favorite. 

Casey had never met Raphael, but his brothers had talked about him a lot. They’d told Casey how he was the world’s best older brother and had always been there for them when they needed it. He’d been the brother they could go to for advice. One they could go to crying, and he’d lend a shoulder. He was one they could go to when they had nightmares, and he’d soothe all of their worries. He had been, according to his brothers, a gigantic turtle that held the softest heart of them all.

The movie being played really showcased how gentle of a soul the snapper turtle had. It was a movie about a found family who all got separated but made their way back to each other. Casey imagined Raphael was sitting next to him, pointing out his favorite scenes from the movie. He imagined that the snapper would laugh at the funny parts, and cry at the deeper parts. Casey was told once that the ending always made Raphael cry. As the credits rolled, his own cheeks were covered in wetness. The teen wiped away his tears and stood up. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t cry. Not yet. 

Casey left the drive-in before the owners of the truck could spot him resting atop their vehicle. His next destination was a science fair that was being held in the city. When he made it there, he walked around and looked at the different exhibits. He imagined Master Donatello was next to him, pointing out what could have been done better or explaining in great detail how the displayed inventions worked. He could almost see Master Donatello scoffing at some of the projects, proclaiming that he’d invented something similar when he was ten years old and could make something way better than anything here.

Donatello had often shown off his inventions to Casey. Partly because he babysat Casey the most, and partly because the teen not only took interest in but understood his inventions. One of Donatello’s favorite creations had been a gigantic hover-type battleship. The entire thing had been covered in purple plating and had Donatello’s signature logo on it.

Master Donatello had been proud of all his inventions. He'd told Casey how he’d once created a drill purely for the sake of heroic poses. When the krang invasion had started, Donatello had begun building drills that were meant for the war. They were used to create massive sinkholes beneath the krang armies. Donatello’s tech, combined with his mystics, could wipe out almost as many enemies as Master Michelangelo. Casey had experienced firsthand just how devastating Donatello’s inventions could be on the battlefield, and he had seemed nearly unstoppable. So, when he’d gone on a mission that he did not return from, it had shaken the teen to his very core.

Casey blinked as he remembered that he was still at the fair. He’d been standing in the walkway, lost in thought. His eyes were misted over once again. He blinked the moisture away. He had one final destination.

Casey left the fair and traversed the city using his grappling hook. He took the last ferry to Liberty Island and hid in the shadows, waiting for everyone to leave. Once the island was clear of visitors, Casey snuck along the surface until he’d reached his goal.

The Statue of Liberty.

The last time Casey had seen this monument, it was in shambles and the head had been resting on the ground. It had been the place where Master Leonardo had given Casey his final mission: find the key, stop the krang.

This was also the place where the remainder of his family had died. The place where he’d been ripped from them as he was sent to the past.

Casey stared up at the Statue of Liberty. The teen was certain that if Donatello were here, he could spout off all kinds of facts about it. But Casey wasn’t here to learn about it. He was here for personal reasons.

Casey slammed the handle of his modified hockey stick into the ground. He took off the cloak that he always wore and wrapped it around the hockey stick’s shaft. He then bent down and leaned a teddy bear he’d purchased earlier against the cloak-covered shaft. He stood back up and slid off his knee pads, propping them up against the teddy bear. Lastly, he took his skull-themed mask and set it gently on the sawblade of the hockey stick. He stood back to admire his temporary memorial. He was quiet for a moment as emotions coursed through him.

“It’s been a year since you sent me to the past, Sensei.” Casey began to speak, his voice thick. “I was able to complete my final mission, just like you asked.” His throat clogged with the emotions that were begging to escape. “I have spent every day since then learning what it is like to live in a normal world. I’ve tried pizza, have watched heartfelt movies, created my own art, and have kept up with my knowledge of technology. Most importantly, I’ve gotten to know the past versions of you, senseis. Even then…” Casey swallowed a sob. “I still miss you. I hope I’ve made you proud.” Casey broke down then, falling to his knees and leaning his head against the small memorial he’d made. Sobs shook his frame and tears streamed down his cheeks as he allowed the emotions he’d been experiencing all day to escape. He’d always miss his family, would constantly feel their loss, even if he had their younger counterparts in this timeline.

He was forever alone. 




 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Casey didn’t see the Hamato ghosts who surrounded him, hugging him tightly.

Nor did he hear Master Leonardo who whispered, “I couldn’t be prouder of you.”

Notes:

I hate sad endings, but this one felt very fitting for the vibe I was going for. I know that the prompt said fluff or hurt/comfort but I had this idea and just had to get it in writing.

Also, I tried really hard to hide the significance of what day it was (anniversary of defeating the krang/the day Casey was sent back in time) until the end of the story. Hopefully I succeeded?

Oh, and if you guys were wondering, guerrero means warrior (according to google, anyways. I don't know Spanish so I'm hoping it's right but if it's not please let me know). It seemed a very fitting nickname for Hueso to call Casey Jr.

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