Casey Jones was not good at this "responsible sibling" shit.
Actually, that was a lie. He thought he was alright at it. Kinda. Robyn was still alive and begging him to have tea parties, wasn't she? Casey had lost a tooth or two beating the tar out of Purple Dragons and freaks of the week to keep the neighborhood safe for her. Maybe he had woken up with a pounding migraine a few times in the morning, but his younger sister's sleepy face while he got her ready for school made everything worth it.
This was all the sibling sacrifice he made without including the turtles. Who knew how many times he had put his skin on the line for the Hamato family. Casey didn't call them his brothers, but they were close enough. He had binged all of the Nightmare on Elm Street movies with Raph's dramatic ass, downed multiple Mikey disaster pizzas, surprise noogied Donatello for being a nerd, and actively gave Leonardo shit for his Space Hero fanfiction whenever possible.
He had some weird feelings about April but he brushed them under the carpet whenever possible. Casey Jones was also not good at this "self reflection" shit. He didn't lose much sleep over that one. He and Red went to school together, fought mutants, and struggled through calc tutoring in the library. Cool. That at least qualified them as pretty damn good friends. If the Hamato brothers didn't live in a sweet sewer lair and April wouldn't ask questions about the house Casey would have already rolled out the red carpet and had them crash at the completely-not-Dad-approved condemned apartment where he hung out half the time.
So, all in all, Casey thought he was alright sibling for being spread thin over so many different duties. He tried. If Robyn forced him to eat a few spoonfuls of wheaties because she thought he looked tired-sleep deprived, sick, dealing with mutant problems, dealing with Dad problems, dealing with high school problems, dealing with all the problems-that was a sacrifice he was willing to make. He hadn't dropped out yet. If he did, he was planning to get a GED. See? He could make responsible decisions, too. Sure, there was all that "getting in detention" and "punching a cop that clung to Mikey's shell too long" business, but whatever. Robyn didn't see that. He was a better role model than Dad half the time. That was all that mattered.
Really, Casey was bad at a lot of shit that didn't involve knocking heads. He was bad at "being a good eldest son" shit, "legible handwriting" shit, "not making Dad angry and avoiding a slap to the head for more than two weeks" shit, "practicing Spanish" shit, "using an inside voice" shit, and "avoiding excessive profanity so Master Splinter didn't furrow his brows and then clear his throat that one time" shit. Plenty of issues could not be solved with a swing of a hockey stick or a smartass remark. Sometimes that stung, but Casey took pride in the fact that when he failed, he failed spectacularly. There were no people who kinda wanted to be his friend or kinda hated him, he thought, looking at the row of shaky B's and D-'s on his report card. Everyone either wanted to kill him or hang out with him. Simple as that. The complicated areas were reserved for Dad. No one else got a ticket to that weird grey area of the auditorium.
The problem right now was that he wasn't good at that "talking to the mutant snake ninja sitting on the shop roof with no explanation" thing. Somehow, Casey thought that not many other people would be good at that either.
New York had not hit winter yet, but nor was it in fall. The city had reached the blurry time of transition that put it nowhere. The sunlight playing across the decaying cluster of apartments and seething traffic in the streets did not disappear, but a gleam in the light made everything colder and golder. Robyn wore gloves in the morning when she took the bus to school now. Casey found his fingers growing numb on patrols far faster. The few green spaces in their neighborhood flamed with yellow, orange, and red that curdled into brown at the edges.
Soup kitchens preemptively breathed in before the influx of winter traffic arrived. Animals were preparing too-Casey swore the rats he saw chewing at cardboard outside their apartments looked plumper already. Whenever Casey roof-hopped back to their shop and home above it, he saw the same chilly autumn rain that trickled down his collar slicking the fire escapes and fire ladders outside the stacked apartments. When combined with the neon street lights of the stores below, it almost made the sparkling ladders look like they were going somewhere. Not silver toothpicks of metal that he and the turtles had almost broke their necks on more than once.
Now there was an extra addition to their steam-belching rooftop. Casey spotted the glimmer of white scales from across the street. He hoped that any passersby thought it was a garbage bag caught up there again. No one here ever called the police, but the situation could get nasty enough without them involved. It was a blessing that Dad was out that evening. Casey cursed to himself as he climbed the stairs to the rooftop exit. He snatched a coat on the way up. If he had to participate in an unfair ninja fight, he wasn't going to be cold for the beginning. Damnit, Karai, he thought.
The door swung open with a wheeze. Both Casey and Arnie had been working hard to ensure it didn't rot off its hinges. Casey stepped out onto the rooftop with a hockey stick in hand. He hoped his footsteps didn't sound tentative. He definitely wasn't nervous. At all. Sure, he was about to confront Splinter's crazy daughter turned mutant turned renegade without any of the guys along, and all he had to show from their last fight was a healed wrist, but that was fine. Casey Jones did not do "nervous." There was a fifty-fifty chance she was reasonable or losing her mind in her half-form again. Like a coin flip, Casey told himself. The odds weren't bad, right?
Karai perched on the corner of the roof. She was mostly human. She sat back on her heels with her elbows resting on her knees. From behind, she looked like a statue. Shredder hadn't carved any imperfections into his best work. Her neck was a little too long for her body. A ghost of a tail peeked from the back of her pants. In the neon moonlight, Casey saw white clumps of scales shivering along her elbows and spine.
It wasn't like Karai was a shampoo model in her spare time-people who flicked spines in half didn't need to do that-but her hair was different. It looked rougher. Ropy. It had the sheen of greased horsehair, falling around her pale ears like a noose nuzzling close to a throat. Her unseen face stared out into the night. Casey started to suspect the feeling in his stomach was something like dread.
"Hey," he said, loudly. "What's the deal, snake face?"
Perfect. Ten-out-of-ten Jones family tact. He stood in the middle of the sagging roof knowing that Karai could hear his every shift. When he spoke, a puff of white escaped his mouth. Karai didn't move. The crescent moon seemed to tip closer through the smog, just for her. Casey fidgeted. His next three steps made the roof groan.
"Funny," Casey said. "Are you practicing your gargoyle poses up here? Meditating? There are lots of better places to go. Central Park, for starters."
The slim structure of dripping hair, scales, and sheathed knives that was Karai did not answer. Casey's danger instinct rang in the back of his head. He pushed forward anyway. The shellphone was in his coat pocket, but this wasn't his coat. He had grabbed Dad's instead. Arnie's jacket sagged around his shoulders. There was nothing but receipts in these pockets.
The only link to the brothers was a flight of stairs down, hanging in a warm kitchen. Casey wasn't turning back now. He based his life off bad decisions. The roof creaked again. Every puff of white breath felt like a death rattle. Karai remained frozen. Five steps away, Casey saw the pattern of her scales.
"Really, Karai," he said. His voice came out crackly. "You're being creepier than usual. What are you doing here? Are you okay?"
Do I need to get Splinter? Shit, I hope she's okay or I can get Splinter. Karai was a reach away. Casey could have watched his bruised knuckles flex as he extended his hand and placed it between her shoulder blades. He did not do that. Karai's back was a little long too, he noticed. Casey edged out his hockey stick, poking Karai's shoulder.
The end of the stick cracked from the force Karai grabbed it with. Casey swore as she almost wrenched the stick out of his hands. Wood bit at his chapped fingers. Karai's upper torso twisted around independently of her body, hissing, as she flung Casey and his hockey stick backwards. One of Casey's feet left the ground. The swear died in his throat when he stumbled back three steps.
"Holy shit, give me a warning!" Casey gripped his hockey stick tighter. Blood welled beneath one segment of cracked skin. "What are you trying to do, break one of my good sticks in half?"
"Can you stop talking?"
A sliver of Karai's cheek faced him. Casey heard a soft rasp in that welled beneath each syllable.
"I asked what you were doing," he said. "You didn't answer me."
Karai rubbed one of her temples. Irritation ran through Casey. Splinter did the same thing when Leo and Raph's rivalry was on his last nerves. All he had done was ask why she had bothered to show up at his apartment past sunset. How is this fair? Casey lifted the hockey stick, puffed his chest, and stepped closer. The flash of movement on Karai's face might have been a rolling eye. Her hair blurred her jawline. It swept out longer than any curve of a human's face.
"You're sitting on top of my home in plain sight," Casey said. "Are you gonna tell me why you're here or if you're okay or not?"
"Are all members of your family this obnoxious?"
"Seriously, Karai, I want an answer. You're not looking great."
"As if you care," she said.
"I'm about to stop caring in fast fuckin' order," Casey said. "Frigging A, Why don't any of you ninjas know how to give a straightforward answer?"
The cold was doing wonders for his confidence. Casey still didn't feel as steady as he sounded. Karai's brow crinkled, disturbing her whole face. The bridge of her nose blended with her forehead. Casey tried not to take all of her in at once. What word did Mikey use to describe her that one time? Elegant? Dangerous? Nah. Casey worked his jaw and avoided looking her right in the eye. If he focused on her scaly forehead, he could do that. Unsettling. Right. That was the word.
"I was getting fresh air," Karai said.
"Fresh air," Casey said. "Out in the projects. Right."
Karai gave an exhausted huff. It rattled up out of her throat with effort. Now that Casey paid attention, he realized that she had not moved from her spot once. Even as a half-ally Karai usually revelled in putting them on edge with her superior reflexes. April and Raph in particular hated it. Now, as a half-snake, she remained aloof. Casey started to see a hue in her cheeks. It was not from the neon lights.
"Karai, you're turning blue."
"Hardly," she said. "It appears you damaged your brain through your thick skull after all." Her forked tongue flickered out, tasted the air, and retreated into her mouth with a flash.
Could snakes get hypothermia? Casey didn't remember if he had passed third grade science. That slinky ninja outfit didn't look like it provided much warmth. An idea struck him. He stabbed his hockey stick forward. It stopped five inches from Karai and went a foot wide of her, but she bowed, striking at it with her hand. This did not hide the fact her swipe went out two seconds too late. Casey took one step back in the face of her new irritation.
"The cold is really messing with you, isn't it?" he said.
"That was uncalled for, Jones." The hiss emerged now. Her folded fangs gleamed at the roof of her mouth. "Do that again and I'll remove your stick and your hand."
"I bet you will," Casey said. "No, really, I bet you will." He hastily put his hands up as Karai glared. "Sorry. Stupid thing to do."
The quiet settled between them far too quickly. Murmurs on the street and the distant sounds of honking cars scraped the roof like dead leaves in a breeze. Casey was tired of standing on the roof. Now that the last wedge of sun had died, the temperature plummeted. Cold gnawed on Casey's face. The blood from the cut on his finger congealed in a sticky thread along the creases of his hand. Karai bent, her knees slithering closer to her chest. Her eyes were glazed. The columns of steam admitting from busted heaters all over the city offered them no warmth.
Casey knew this was a bad idea. It wasn't a bad idea he liked, either. He could feel it knocking around his ribs with the grace of a bad fall. The little voice in his head that subbed in for Raph was saying don't be an idiot, Jones. Maybe the chorus of the other Hamato brothers was with it. Casey wasn't sure. He was too busy thinking of Robyn, fast asleep in their shared room, and the blue hue on Karai's face.
"Come on," Casey said. "We both know how this is going to end."
He stepped back. Even in her sluggish state, Karai's back tensed. Suspicion filled her slit eyes. Casey lowered his hockey stick and sighed. He gestured to the door, begrudgingly.
"You're going to freeze if you stay out here," he said. "Hell, we both are. Are you going down the stairs first or me?"
Karai had fragmented eyebrows. In this state, they looked like remnants of human skin struggling to keep their grip on a peel of granite. Casey still saw one arch.
"This is a poor joke even for you, if it is one," Karai said.
"I mean it," Casey said. "Get inside before I change my mind."
Against his instincts, he turned his back to her, heading for the door. He was glad she didn't see his shiver when he heard her scales rub together. Shit, he thought, I'm lucky the guys were living in the sewer before her. Casey turned around when he heard no footsteps.
"You coming, or not?" he said.
"What do you have to gain from this?"
Karai now sat with her legs over the building rim, her feet brushing the floor. Casey didn't know if he felt relief or the urge to bolt rising. Don't be a coward, he told himself. Casey focused on the more human bits of her face. Her hair was easy enough to look at.
"You're friends with the turtles," he said, "and you're family with them and Splinter. That's enough for me."
Karai stilled. Casey didn't know if it was a hesitation or a cold gust of wind that slowed her. In the white sea of scales and skin, something changed her expression. It left Casey with a stretch of face he did not understand. He wished he was looking at Mikey or Raph instead-hell, even Leo or Donnie. Despite the turtle beaks, it was easy to see what they felt. The only unreadable one of the group was Splinter.
"You have a particular definition of 'friends,'" Karai said. "I don't believe it fits you."
Casey saw the word 'family' curling around her split tongue before she smothered it. His heartbeat quickened. It was not in the way everyone's heartbeat quickened in one of Splinter's soaps. It was an ugly, missed-a-beat feeling that came from staring at Arnie's shoes on a hungover morning. We're not having this talk, he thought. If Karai was going to kill him she could do it without humiliation.
He looked at her black hair again. It rejected her old bleached stripes with a vengeance. Inky color ate its way up her hairs.
"Dunno what that means, but fine," Casey said. "You're blood with Splinter, he cares about what happens to you, and we're… enemies of an enemy, which sort of makes us friends. Good enough for you?"
Despite her short hair Karai had lots of it. Robyn would have a field day braiding it. That realization gave Casey so much whiplash that he yanked his gaze to her nostrils. They looked like grooves carved into her lengthened, distorted face. Pits shaped like apple seeds.
Whatever thoughts were clunking into place inside Karai's mind reached their position. She put her weight on her feet. Casey's teeth ached. That still did not look like movement in the making.
"I won't swing at you again," he said, desperately. "I promise."
That unlocked something. Karai's green slit eyes glowed with a decision. She moved from the roof corner. Part of Casey knew it was really the blood relation part that had convinced her, but he was too cold and sickened to care.
"You go first," Karai said. She crept towards him, footsteps measured.
Was that a threat, or a plea? Didn't matter. Karai could kill him in five seconds. The more seconds slipped by, the more Casey realized he didn't want her in the apartment, and the more he realized he had to let her in. She was a Hamato, in a screwed up way. He owed it to Splinter, at least, to make sure she didn't freeze.
The old man better feel all the favors he owes me in whatever karmic field he's always meditating to reach, Casey thought. Then again, Casey found himself right: Karai was the enemy of an enemy. It would be a dick move of expansive proportions to leave her out to dry after she had saved them. Now he knew how Donnie felt. It sucked to be right.
"No funny business," Casey said. The door knob numbed in his hand. "You stay in the dining room, and if you hear noise or someone shows up, come back out here or go through the store door. Got it?"
No reply. Casey huffed. A hiss unfolded from Karai's lips.
"Yes," she said.
Casey lowered the hockey stick as he pushed the door open. Heat wafted towards him, hitting his face. A shiver crawled up his spine when he felt Karai's presence slink closer. A ripple went through Arnie's coat. Was that a forked tongue tickling his ear? Oh, god, he thought, don't look behind you.
"Well," Casey said, waving at the stairs and struggling to find his bravado again, "welcome to the Jones family home. Number one crash pad for freaks and vigilantes."
Karai wordlessly shut the door behind them before following him down the staircase.