Emily's stomach is growling, but she ignores it. She has more important things to worry about. Not getting lost would be at the top of this particular list.
It had taken Emily an hour to find the cemetery the day before, and another one to find her father in the sea of stone heads. Even though she hadn't meant to, she had spent another hour at her dad's grave. When she finally felt ready to face Casey, she got lost on the way. Her mother had given her directions and an address of course, but it had been four years since Emily had set foot in New York. It didn't help that she had a bad memory. It did help that Casey had forgotten she was coming.
So there Emily was, wondering around New York with a giant suit case. After leaving the cemetery, she spent two hours looking for Casey's apartment. She wasn't very happy to find that her uncle lived only three blocks from the graveyard. Three blocks.
She wasn't very amused. Now, however, she was rather relieved. Grateful, even. It would make the visits she had promised so much easier to keep.
After a couple minutes, she reaches the rusted gates. The day is a typical summer day in New York: the warmth clinging to the skin like static, the smog that filling the lungs every time you take a breath. She had missed this.
"Good mourning, Dad." She says, plopping herself down in front of the grave. "Or maybe it's afternoon. Yeah, it's probably afternoon." She looks around at her surroundings.
"Casey is just as empty-headed as I remember, but it was nice to see him. You should've seen his face when I showed up at his door. God, it was priceless.
"But it's weird, Dad. He has these friends. They're giant turtles. I know what you're thinking, but it's true." She sighs. She came here to talk, and it's easier to do than she thought it'd be. "Saying it out loud makes them more real, in a way. Anyway, no matter how weird this sounds, I think they aren't…how can I put this…a threat…No; I don't think they mean harm to anyone. I mean, that first one I met was a pain in the ass, but Casey seems to trust them."
She brushes some stray dirt from the bottom of the stone. "Casey has always had good judgment. I remember you telling me once that he was a vigilante. I think he's qualified to tell who's a good guy and who's not."
Emily draws her hand back. She reads the name on the grave over and over while she thinks of this mourning. The golden brown pancakes, the goofy smile that awaited her as she walked into the kitchen.
"Besides, I know there are worse things in this world than giant turtles with good intentions." She looks around again. The back of her neck is tingling, like she's being watched.
A slight breeze is blowing, swirling the haze around like a thick stew. She can't breathe.
She doesn't want to talk any more. She doesn't want to move.
She comes home from playing in the park.
Her father is lying in a pool of his own blood.
A woman with a knife is standing over him. Her eyes are white. Milky white.
Her father opens his mouth, trying desperately to say something, but blood, there's so much blood-
A snapping twig jolts Emily from her reprieve. She gasps and she turns to where the sound came from.
She sees who found her, and releases the breath she was holding.
It's a cat. It's only a cat. It's walking towards her, stops about six or seven feet from where she sits. It's black and scrawny. The yellow eyes of this creature are staring at her, just staring at her.
"Go away," Emily mutters, waving her hand. The relief that flooded through her at discovering it was only a stray was short lived. She didn't like being watched, and a bony black cat is no exception.
But the cat doesn't move. It doesn't even blink.
Emily sighs. She decided she's had enough of this place. These memories. "I'll see you later, Dad," she says under her breath.
She stands up, but her feet get tangled in each other, and she falls. So she gets up and tries again.
She runs to the gates. She still can't suck in air. Her breathe is just out of reach, and now matter how fast she runs back to the apartment, she just can't seem to catch it.
~*~
Casey drags himself from the floor that substituted as a bed. His back hurts. His head hurts. He pulls himself up and heads to the kitchen. Donnie and Leo had joined Mikey, and there they were, sitting at the cluttered table.
"Hey, guys. What time is it?" asked Casey, yawning.
"A little after noon," said Donnie, flipping through an old magazine. "I say we not pull another night like that for a long time." He says, not looking up.
"I agree," said Leo. "We missed our training this mourning. We'll have to make up for it tomorrow."
"Awww," pouts Mikey. "Why not? I had fun."
"Raph isn't even up yet. Casey just got up. Besides," says Donnie, "my stomach is killing me. I had way too much pizza and soda last night."
Mikey continues pouting.
Leo can't help but smile. "You can still have them at our place, Mikey. Just not here, involving all of us."
"Well," Casey says, reaching for the plate of pancakes. "Just don't forget you guys are always welcome here."
"Even with Emily staying?" asks Donnie tentatively.
"Of course! She seems pretty okay with the whole thing, and if not, I'm sure she'll come around." He looks around the kitchen. "Where is she, by the way?"
"Oh, she woke up about twenty minutes ago, saying she was going out." Says Mikey.
"Where did she go?" Casey sounds surprised.
"Didn't say."
"When is she coming back?" asks Casey, sounding worried.
"Didn't say." The turtle repeats.
"She's lived here before, right?" cuts in Donnie, after seeing the look on Casey's face. "I'm sure that she knows where she's going, or where she's currently at." He says hurriedly.
Casey grumbles something sounding like an agreement.
Leo looks at the clock. "I think it's time we got back to the lair. It's getting late, and Master Splinter is probably getting worried."
Mikey glances towards the living room. "Who wants to wake him up?" he asks, referring to his hot headed brother, who, coincidently, didn't appreciate getting woken up before he was ready to wake up.
Not too surprisingly, no one volunteered.
"Well, Casey," says Mikey. "He likes you the best. Why don't you do the honors?"
Casey looks at Mikey, than to the living room. "Might as well." He stands up. He walks to the place Raph had chosen to sleep. He's bundled in the blankets Casey had dragged from the closet. He looked like a bear. An ominous, angry bear.
He gets closer. "Might as well…" he repeats.
~*~