Chapter Text
Recovery was a process, not a promise.
Casey knew that intimately by now. He had seen the ebb and flow of a war throughout his childhood. The adults could only do so much to hide the reality of what was going on from him. People he grew up around would be here one day, and gone the next.
He remembered the lows of the injured and dying on cots or corners. The quiet sound of booted feet over aged tiled floors. Soft murmur of assurances in the air. Stifled sobs and shaky breaths. He remembered Sensei’s voice, one of the many easing injured soldiers and civilians. The smell of antiseptic, and the smell of rot. He could close his eyes and feel himself back in those moments.
There was always a joy at someone recovering. Someone pulling themselves up from what seemed like death. Many times, that joy would be snuffed out just as quickly. Recovery was elusive, sometimes out of reach.
He remembered the weight of Sensei’s hand on the top of his head, “C’mon, Case, let's give them some privacy, huh?” He remembered peeking back into the infirmary ward, trying to take in the faces of people he might never see again. Half listening to Sensei’s voice rolling over him.
When he stepped into helping Sensei and the other medics, that fear never truly went away. He never let that fear rule his choices, but it lived in his heart. It nestled neatly under his ribs, a worry that tangled itself tightly there. He knew who he was and what needed to be done when he stepped into this space, this role. He could work even while worry nagged and tugged at him.
Recovery was a process. Not a promise.
He always tried to make that unspoken promise stick, even when it felt impossible. The odds ever never kind as the Krang ravaged what was left of earth.
Even now, he still found himself checking on the turtles. After the final fight with the Krang, no one was really at their best. Broken bones, concussions, loss of vision, torn ligaments - the list felt endless in a way. No one had escaped completely unscathed. April could duck out to the surface for care, but no one else really could.
He kept busy by making sure they recovered. Casey knew how to do that. Understood how to care for someone else in extreme circumstances.
Bit by bit, they began to mend. They healed.
Bit by bit, Casey Jones Jr felt his relevancy wane. Recovery was a promise here. Each turtle flourished, rose back onto their feet and carried on. Settled back into lives they’ve always belonged in.
Whilst Casey felt adrift. The role he fit into, being taken soundly away in a matter of a few months.
What was he supposed to do now?
All he could do was live, and he wasn’t sure how anymore. This wasn’t home, but it was now. All these familiar faces were just slightly wrong enough that Casey kept finding himself tripping over old expectations. Sympathetic smiles and assurances came with every slip. They promised him safety and comfort. Something he appreciates, but has no idea what to do with.
Recovery a process, not a promise for Casey.
Everyone else could bask in recovering in a world they knew, settling into a life they wanted.
Casey didn’t have that promise.
He never would again.
"Take it day by day, Case." Had been Leo's advice alongside a friendly pat on the shoulder. The interaction just leaving Casey feeling all the worse in a way he can't articulate. How do you tell someone you make me miss my dad?
—-
Casey slouched deeper into the bean bag chair, half watching the projected movie on the wall. His mind kept wandering, unintentionally, but it wasn’t helpful for keeping up with a Jupiter Jim marathon the family was watching. Casey was well aware a heated conversation about lore would kick off at some point, and he wanted to try to participate. He liked the discussions that happened, but it wasn’t really the same. Jupiter Jim was a lot more fun when Sensei did all the voices with Uncle Mikey.
One movie rolls to a close, and there is a squabble about whose starting the next one. April rolls her eyes, rising from her spot to stomp over to the projector. Mayhem settles in her seat with a pleased rumble.
Casey looks up from his drink to glance at the other teenagers around him. Each of the turtles had taken up their favorite beanbags. April stood behind the projector, fiddling with the settings absently. She waved off help from the turtles with a disinterested flap of her hand. Squabble or not, the family enjoyed backseat helping.
“You sure you don’t want any help-?”
“I got it. I got it-” April says easily back, “Not my fault someone threw the projector last time we had movie night.”
Mikey whined, half ducking into his shell. “That movie was super scary!”
Leo grins a little, lightly elbowing Mikey. “You mystic-ly chucked the projector three rooms over.”
The youngest turtle released what was essentially a pitiful whine in return. The chorus of snickering that followed showed no one seemed too bothered by the incident. There was always something happening in the lair in some way. Casey had grown used to that much, at least. There was no regimented schedule or expectations, but everyone seemed to have something they were doing independently. Casey was still figuring out what his own schedule was like.
Casey found himself smiling a little at the exchange, before something occurs to him. That had been a lot of mystic energy to unleash all at once. Uncle Michaelangelo was always aware of all the mystic energy he used. He and Sensei talked about it with Commander O’Neil so often. Casey couldn’t help but let his worry spill out. “Did you tell Master Draxum about it?” The question earns him curious looks. He was still having a hard time shaking old titles, but it was a process like everything else is. Most of the time, everyone let it slip by without much comment.
Mikey emerged from his shell, laughing a little self-consciously. He rubs the back of his neck, trying to avoid eye contact. “It’s not a biiiig deal.” The youngest of the turtles offers back nervously, “I mean, it was an accident!” That was a ‘no’ to the question, clearly.
“He did say no mystic nonsense until further notice.” Donnie muses, tapping at his wrist panel, his gaze fixated on something he was working on. Even during movies, his attention tended to stray worse than Casey’s did.
“Don’t think he’d call it nonsense…” Leo muses, squinting at Donnie. The purple clad turtle waved his twin off. “It’s all nonsense regardless.”
“Casey is right though, probably good if Drax checked on Mikey later.” Raph interjected easily, settling the conversation. Mikey groaned at that, giving Casey a withering stare as he sunk lower into his beanbag chair.
Casey flicked his attention back to his drink, trying to pretend he wasn’t being sulked at from across the room by Mikey. There was huffing and puffing from Mikey’s side, earning a laugh from Raph.
“C’mon, big man, he’s got a point.”
“Noooo, I don’t wanna-”
“No one is calling Drax now.” Raph assures Mikey, trying to cut off the sulking. “Lemme see your hands real quick, though.”
“Omigosh, Raph!”
“Angelo, just let him look.” Leo’s voice brokered no real room for argument. The tone alone made Casey tense up a little out of instinct. There was some shuffling and whining. Casey finally looked back over. The largest of the turtles was pulling back the fabric of Mikey’s hand wraps. The golden cracks had gotten worse. A lot worse even from that use.
The stillness that followed the realization seemed to burst whatever good mood lingered in the air. The three other turtles and April grew still. Stiff. Casey couldn’t help the disquieted feeling from settling over him.
“Mikey…”
“It’s not that bad.” The youngest turtle protests awkwardly, but the look he’s getting from his brothers seems to do the job of making him go quiet. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth.
“It sure looks pretty bad.” Raph answers with a scoff.
“It’s not!”
“Mikey, if you push too hard…” Casey starts gently, not sure how to broach the topic. They knew Master Michelangelo’s fate by now. Without intensive training, Mikey could burn himself out so easily. Casey had seen how magic had taken its toll physically on his uncle. Worn him away until there wasn’t much left of him by the end of the war.
Casey chiming in only seems to frustrate Mikey more. He yanks his hands away from Raph, scowling. “I’m fine! They don’t even hurt!”
“Not comforting.” Donnie intones dryly.
“I wish you guys would just trust me!” Mikey squirms out of his bean bag chair to stand up. “I’m not a baby, okay!? I’ve been reading the books Drax gave me! I’ve been prepping to be an awesome mystic warrior!”
Leonardo gently rises from his seat, attempting to deescalate things. “We know, Mikey-”
“Look! I can totally handle myself just fine!” He walks in front of the projector, the credits for the last movie cast over him. Block letters half obscuring his face. “Now I could probably open a portal by myself!” The youngest of the brothers doesn’t wait for any protests.
He stands at his full height, taking a stance Casey recognizes. Right foot forward, left foot behind him. Mikey holds his head high, breathing out harshly. A glow starts at his markings, quickly intensifying as he moves.
He touches his two index fingers together over his head, rocking back on one leg. His feet cross one another as he turns in place. As he moves, Mikey finishes the circle, completing it at his chest level. The glow rises to his eyes, blotting them out completely.
Nothing seems to happen at first.
Only for a crack to seemingly break in the air itself. It flakes and crumbles, becoming a rough looking circle. Magic ripples and burns in the air. It whirls and howls, like a mighty wind trying to suck everything into its gaping maw. The hole ripped between them reveals a white, overly sterile room. White tiled floors. Plain white walls. A metal exam table with a paper sheet over it. The smell of antiseptic is potent, as is the tang of blood that lingers in the air. The portal is gazing down at some kind of lab.
A large mutant turtle is seated on the metal table, a heavy metal collar settled against his throat. He startles at the magic, eyes going wide. He tries to awkwardly balance himself with one arm. The other gone.
Casey feels his heart drop in his chest. His drink drops out of his hand, rolling across the hard concrete floors underfoot.
“Sensei-?” His voice comes out small, a wisp of a sound.
The turtle chokes out a sound, almost inaudible from the howling of the portal. “Casey-?” His gaze flicks between all of them, recognition clear in his gaze. He forces himself up on shaky limbs, a smile warming his features. Casey feels himself stagger to his feet, rushing forward. Not that he’s the only one, given the sounds of the rest of the family reacting.
Mikey crumples to the floor and the portal closes with him. He clutches at his chest, breathing heavily. There is no portal, the howling winds and burnt magic are gone. All that is left is Mikey. The cracks spread rapidly across his arms, flaking away green skin.
Casey staggers to a stop. He stares at the space where the portal once was as the rest of the family rush to Mikey. Voices ring out, questions and worry. Casey feels like he can’t breathe. Was that really his Sensei? Where was he? Was that here? Was that back home-
“Someone call Draxum, right now!” Leonardo's voice cuts through the haze. Casey fumbles to move back to his seat to grab his cellphone. A gift from Donnie after he settled in. A lifeline to the rest of the family.
Leonardo’s voice, a command, is clear enough to follow. Instinctually, something he can do even as his mind spins wildly in circles. Even as his heart feels like it will beat out of his chest, he does as he’s told.
With shaky hands he finds the number and he calls.
Casey can’t shake the image burned into his mind. Sensei starting to smile, hope bright in his eyes.