The smell of frying eggs woke him. Warm underneath the soft blanket, Casey turned over, taking comfort in the homey smell and the warmth of the cloth.

Then Casey remembered he was the one who had to make breakfast in the morning. He awoke with a start, reaching for the alarm clock. Why hadn't it rung and woke him up? Dad was going to be so pissed-

His searching hand met empty space. He overstretched and fell off the bed onto the wooden floor with a curse.

No, it was tile.

What?

Casey sat up and rubbed at his face. His surroundings sharpened around him. Instead of dingy brown furniture and peeling white paint, there were grey walls and wide open space. For a moment, he sat in a tangle of limbs and blankets, confused. Then he realized he had fallen asleep at the lair.

He was fully awake now, and aware of the pain throbbing in his throat and behind his eyes. What time was it? Casey glanced around anxiously, then decided it didn't matter. He just had to get home as soon as possible.

Untangling himself from the blanket, Casey searched for his gear. He found his mask and shoes, but one sock was missing.

"Hey, look who's awake!" Mikey's voice boomed, "How do you like your eggs?" the turtle asked from the kitchen.

"Have you seen my shoes?" Casey asked, shaking the blanket out.

"Scrambled it is, then," Mikey chirped.

Throwing the blanket aside, Casey pulled his one shoe one without a sock, wincing at the water soaked into the lining.

The dojo door slid open. Leo and Raph came out, fresh bandages covering Leo's arms. "Morning, Casey," Leo greeted as Raph said, "Hey, Casey."

He grunted in response, tying the last lace. "What time it is?" he asked.

"...I'm not sure," Leo said, "Donnie will know."

"It's ten o'clock!" Mikey shouted from the kitchen. Grabbing his mask, Casey made for the turnstiles.

"Thanks," he said, "But I gotta go."

"Go where?" Raph asked, "It's Saturday. No school."

"I have work," Casey said, trying to calculate how long he'd slept. He still felt tired, but he couldn't worry about that now. He had to get home now.

"You have to leave now?" Mikey asked, poking his head from the kitchen.

"Yes," Casey said.

"At least let me make you a plate," the orange-banded turtle said.

"I have to leave now to get there on time," Casey said.

Mikey's shoulders drooped. "Aw maan," he said. Then he perked up. "But you owe me a visit later!"

"What- yeah, sure," Casey said to get Mikey off his back. He paused, and looked at his mask and equipment. He wouldn't be able to sneak this into the apartment with his Dad awake. He turned to Leo. "Uh, any chance I can leave this here and pick it up later?"

Leo looked suspicious for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Sure, but why?"

"I don't want my dad seeing," Casey said, making sure he had his wallet and the ruins of his phone. He grimaced. That alone was not going to be fun to explain. Picking up his sweatshirt, he pulled it on and raised the hood, hoping to hide the bruises on his neck.

"Why not?" Leo asked.

"Cause then I'd have to tell him what I do at night," Casey said as he hopped the turnstiles, "see you around, Leo."

"And don't forget, I owe you a pizza!" Mikey's voice yelled after him.

He felt Raph's presence next to him, but didn't say anything. It felt strange to be around the turtle without his gear on. Together, they walked down the sewers until the reached the manhole. Casey climbed into the sunlight. "Wanna roofhop?" Raph asked from the shadows."

Casey hesitated, then answered, "Can't. I have to get home the normal way."

"Because you don't want your dad to know," Raph said. Casey nodded his head.

"See you tonight?" Raph asked.

"I don't know if I can meet you there," he admitted, "My Dad's gonna be pretty upset that I was late."

"Alright," Raph said after a moment's pause, "Later then. Bye, Casey."

"Bye," he said, watching Raph vanish into the shadows of the manhole. He replaced the cover, wincing, and stepped out of the alleyway onto the sidewalk. Sticking his hands in his pockets and keeping his head down, Casey walked.

He stopped at the Duane Reade and picked up a canister of oxygen and some light bulbs because they were out at home. Hopefully, it would be a sufficient peace offering. Deep down, he knew it was not. The purchases emptied all the cash from his wallet, and Casey winced at the thought of having to eat the school lunch until he was paid on Wednesday night. But he needed the oxygen. The pain in his chest had worsened overnight and going to the doctor was out of the question. He had promised Splinter he'd get it taken care of, and this was the least he could do.

While he was there, he glanced at the clock. Ten-thirty. He had to get moving. Grabbing the bag, Casey ran down the streets, down Steinway until he reached his apartment. His dad owned the store below it. There was no way Casey could enter without being seen. With a sigh, he decided to just get it over with.

Stepped inside the store, he forced himself not to react to the loud ding of the doorbell and walked casually to the 'Employees Only' sign on the door. When he came back out dressed in the uniform, his father was waiting with crossed arms.

Casey was too tired to argue or to come up with any excuse, so he simply made his way over to the cashier station and stood, waiting. "Son," his father's voice rumbled, and Casey's breath came out in a tired sigh.

His father's tone changed. "Don't you disrespect me, young man!" he ordered.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Casey said, looking up.

"Where were you last night?" he ordered.

He cast a quick glance to the big glass double doors, hoping a customer would walk in. No dice.

"Out," he said.

"Out where?" his father asked.

"With friends," Casey said evasively.

"Friend, huh?" Arnold Senior muttered, "Were you drinking again?"

"That never happened!" Casey burst out.

Arnold Senior's face darkened. "Don't you correct me, boy!"

Casey backed down. "Yes, sir," he said sullenly, resentment building in his chest.

"Who were you with last night," Arnold asked, "and where did you go?"

"I was with… another kid from around here. He's not at our school."

"And?"

"And we took his car for a joyride," Casey said, pulling the first excuse that came to his mind.

His dad sighed heavily. "You disappoint me, Casey," he said, his voice sharp as one of Leo's katana, "You are sixteen. You are a man. You ought to know better."

"Yes, sir," Casey agreed, looking at the floor. He was too tired for this. He just wanted to fall into bed and sleep.

"What's wrong with your throat?" his dad asked suddenly.

"Nothing!" Casey said, backing away.

Grabbing him roughly by the arm, Casey's dad pulled the collar of his work shirt down. Casey hadn't see what his neck looked like, but from the expression on his father's face, it was a pretty spectacular bruise. For a moment, he wondered what his dad was going to do-

"Turn your collar up," he said, letting Casey's arm go, "We can't let anyone see that."

Pointedly, Casey turned the collar of his uniform back up the way he'd had them. The sass must have come off too strongly in his body language, because it earned him a box on the ear. "Watch it, boy," Arnold Senior warned, pressing Casey against the wall with his presence, "You're just like your mother, with your attitude and your-"

"Casey?" a small voice asked. Instantly, Arnold's behavior changed. He was all smiles when he straightened and looked at his daughter on top of the stairwell.

"Hello Angel," his dad said. Casey's stomach roiled and his nails dug into his palms as his father continued, "You done with your movie?"

She ignored his question and darted down the stairs. "Casey Casey Casey Casey!" Robyn banged into his ribs, and he barely managed to hold back an agonized whimper.

Kneeling down, he returned her hug gently. "Hey snickerdoodle," he said, pinching her nose.

"You left," she pouted.

"Yeah, I did," he said, "But I'm back now."

Robyn bounced. "Play legos with me?" she asked.

"Casey has to work now, sweetheart," Arnold Senior said, picking her up, "But I have a moment."

She laughed and threw her arms around her father's neck, repeating his name in a singsong jingle.

As he walked away, Casey's dad shot him a last, hard look.

The rest of the day passed in a blur- Casey minding an empty shop or serving a whiny customer, he and his father pointedly ignoring each other as one stocked shelves and the other swept or minded the cashier post.

Right after the store closed, their argument picked up like it never ended. They were both downstairs, and Robyn had just been put to bed. Casey tried to stave off the argument by just agreeing with his dad- their arguments always worsened Robyn's nightmares- but his father was out for blood, and it didn't take long for either of them to lose their tempers.

It ended in the usual fashion, only this time when Casey fell he was unfortunate enough to take an entire shelf down with him. The crash brought Robyn down in a panic. The sight of her tear-stained face sent shame burning across Casey's face. Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut? he wondered as his father comforted her and told her that Casey had just "had a little accident."

Casey nodded, and forced a smile. Arnold Senior went upstairs with her, and Casey was left to clean the mess. He picked up the broken glass and mopped up the jam, his father's words throbbing more than the fresh bruises on his arms and chest.

He was lucky Robyn had come down. His father hadn't expected him to fall back with such a light hit, and Casey's yell of pain had probably startled him, but he hadn't pressed the issue due to her interruption.

Another coughing fit overtook him as he dumped the trash into the cans behind the door. His mouth filled with saliva, and he spat it onto the sidewalk without a second glance, until out of the corner of his eye he realized it wasn't clear.

In the dim streetlights, he looked back. It was a dark stain on the pale cement. He remembered what Splinter had said about bruised lungs. His fingers fumbling in the cold air, he took out the canister of oxygen and took a deep inhale, grimacing. The dry feeling set his throat afire.

There was a light tap to his left, and he turned to see Raph standing on top of the dumpster. For a moment, the only thing he was aware of was panic- how much had Raph heard?- before a real smile crossed his face. "Hey Raph," he said.

"Brought you your stuff," the turtle said, tossing Casey a sack, "You said your dad turns in real early."

"Yeah, usually around nine-thirtyish. Not tonight, but I think we're OK," Casey said, looking up to his father's window. It was dark. "Thanks for bringing it by," he said, hefting the sack.

Raphael shifted uneasily in the darkness. There was something else Raph wanted to say. Casey felt his defenses come up. How much had he heard? It wasn't really any of his business.

"I did a quick once-over on the way," Raph said, "Snakeweed's not in the area anymore, but Donnie's kept tabs on him. Says he's holed up in the Bronx. When you're feeling better, we can go-"

"When I'm feeling better?" Casey said, "Hell, I'm down for it now… as long as I don't get caught breaking curfew again."

"Right now, you're not in much of a condition to do anything," Raph said, indicating the oxygen canister.

His fist tightened around the metal. "You don't think I can keep up?" Casey asked, letting it fall to the ground.

You're dead weight, son.

"After what just happened with Slash, after I smashed a mission Leo told me I couldn't handle-"

"That's not it, Casey!" Raph exclaimed.

"Then what is it, Raph?" Casey asked, only the pain from his newest bruises reminding him to keep his voice low. For a moment they stood, eye to eye in all but height. Casey forced words around the lump in his throat. "After everything, what more do I have to do to prove myself?"

Not even just to Raph. To his father. To his mom, who he could never please now. To live up to Robyn's astronomical expectations of him. When she looked at him, she saw the moon. Casey looked in the mirror and he saw trash.

"That's not what I meant," Raph said, "You're injured, Casey. Pretty badly," he added, looking at the fresh glob of red on the sidewalk."

"I've had worse," Casey said, and it was true. Just not in the way Raph was expecting. "I can handle myself."

"I know, Casey. I… it's just… Raph exhaled and sank to the ground. Heavy shadows clung under his eyes. "I thought you were dead," he said at last, his voice breaking the stillness.

"...You what?" Casey asked, for a moment unsure whether he should be offended or not, but at the same time realizing that there was no anger in Raphael's confession. Like Casey, emotionr was a large part of Raphael's being. To get an emotionless layer of his personality, they had to be cut very deeply.

"It was a four-story drop, Casey," Raph said, lifting his head to meet the teen's eyes. "Most people don't walk away from that. You- you don't even have a shell, or any ninja training. I heard the crash…you didn't-" Raph squeezed his eyes closed. "What else was I supposed to think?" he asked, opening them again to look Casey in the eye, "What else could I have thought?"

Casey blinked, and stood helplessly. Emotional mushy stuff was not something he'd even been good at. So he sat next to Raph with a pained breath and elbowed the turtle in the armpit. "Hey. You're not getting rid of me that easy, Raph. I… I know I don't look it, but I'm pretty damn tough. I can take anything you guys have to throw at me. And you know what? I can throw it back, too."

Raph met his gaze, then a smile stretched across his face. "Yeah, guess I can let you stick around a bit longer… I need someone to watch my back when my brothers are occupied with Kraang bots."

"Or hot-chocolate pizza."

They laughed together. Raph snorted, then looked back at Casey. "You know… Mikey only let me bring the stuff once I promised him you'd come by again," Raph said, "he likes cooking for people, and you two haven't hung out all that much."

"What, afraid I'll corrupt him? Casey asked with a grin.

"No. He'll corrupt you."

Casey barked a laugh and shoved Raph. "I'm serious," Raph said, "He has this way of getting into your head!"

"Well, Casey Jones has the hardest head around," Casey said with a smirk, "You could break walls down with my skull."

"That's for sure," Raph muttered, standing up. "Either way, we need to set a time up or he'll come drag you down there himself. He can do it, too. Don't underestimate him."

He thought of Robyn, who had managed to find her way home in the dark, covered with freezing slime in the cold New York air. "I won't," he said seriously,

"And… I'll keep an eye on Snakeweed," Raph said, "If you don't want me to go after him-"

"No," Casey said, "He needs to go down, whether or not I do it myself. I… I know you can do it. I won't go out looking for snakeweed until my chest stops hurting," he said. With the aid of painkillers, he added silently.

Raph's eyebrows lifted. "You're starting to sound like Leo now," he said.

Casey feigned offense. "And here I thought I sounded like Captain Ryan."

Raph snorted and clapped Casey on the back, sending the teen into another coughing fit. "Sorry," Raph said, "Sorry."

"It's OK," Casey said, forcing himself to stop coughing and stand straight. "See you in a few nights, Raph."

"See you," the turtle agreed quietly as he vanished into the dark.

Far below the city, something in the darkness moved.

"You can't say it anymore, Leonardo," a voice whispered as it left dead Foot soldiers and smashed Kraang droids in its wake, "He's my brother as much as you are now."

Slash slipped into the chamber with every ounce of ninja stealth he possessed. Past the guards, past the prison chambers, up the stairs into the heart of the seemingly empty building.

He found what he was looking for in the western wing. There were rumors, stories whispered among the mutants. The small but strong group of ninja that came from nowhere with a violet foot as their symbol, stronger, faster, deadlier than the Foot they knew.

To Slash, they were just stories. But while he noted the emblem of a violet Foot hung on the wall behind him, he didn't care. These new Foot weren't his concern. His only concern for now was the mutagen.

"You can't say it again, Leonardo," he whispered as he hefted the cylinder of violet mutagen that lay in their special storage chamber, "I won't let you."