I own nothing.

The food was being set out on the table. Leonardo stared at the process frowning with his arms crossed over his chest. Usagi strode up to stand beside him. There, he stared up into his friend's face, watchful.

Gennosuke could be downright dangerous in such moods. Other warriors, the rabbit samurai had known and served with, had been the same way. "Still worried about your brother, my friend?"

Leonardo's voice was hard, and his syllables were nearly spat out as he waved one arm toward the table to emphasize his point. "This is his favorite time of year. His favorite holiday! Usually, we can't get him to stop decorating everything or off the couch where he's planted himself to watch every single, Christmas special on!"

The ronin tilted his head in confusion at this last statement. He understood from his friend's tense stance and stare directed at the table and hallway beyond, rather than at him, he needn't reply, however. Indeed, the kame continued. "And 'I' sent him out! I insisted he go play around up there, covered in human clothing, of course, so he wouldn't be recognized as different from them. I 'told' him to go blow off some steam! And he hasn't returned. He's always hungry! He's got to be starving by now! Where is he?!"

Donatello walked up to them both. He dared what Usagi would not, and laid a hand on Leonardo's shoulder. He smiled at him too. "Hey, Leo, look at what's going on right in front of you. If you didn't look ready to spit nails, Sensei would be demanding you help us set the food out too."

Usagi looked back to the table himself. Donatello had just put a bowl on it. Casey, April, Raphael, and even Splinter were likewise putting dishes full of food down to join other filled dishes already there.

The samurai then looked back to Donatello, who was continuing. "Mikey is chore-a-phobic. As soon as the last dish is on the table, and doesn't have to be carried anywhere, till after the meal, he'll pop in through that door!"

Leonardo gave a small smile. His form slumped as it lost much of its tension. "You're right Don." Usagi's friend then started toward his father, who was carrying a dish, and the ronin thought the kame a worthy son.

Not to be entirely outdone by Leonardo's brother as a voice of comfort, the samurai walked beside his friend for a moment. "I am also sure that the Battle Nexus Champion is fine, Leonardo san." Indeed, the warrior with two swords thought the orange-wearing one ought be. After all, he had defeated some of the finest warriors from several different worlds. What trouble could he thus get into that he could not then get out of?

. . .

A little earlier ….

Maskless, but with an orange hat pulled down just short of his eyes, and a matching scarf wrapped up nearly to his mouth, Hamato Michelangelo stared through a windshield at an icy, snowy street. He drove a truck with its back filled with boxes of Little Orphan Alien toys: the hottest on the market. Behind him a line of police cars followed with sirens whining and lights flashing.

Mikey complained about this aloud, perhaps to himself, or maybe to the orange kitten stuffed down his coat. Every now and then, the feline made sounds while peeking over the zipper-tab as if he sympathized with the turtle's plight. They had already become fast friends in just a few hours. However, the young cat might have been regretting his close association with the ninja-turtle already.

Since discovering his now-warm resting place, he'd been shot at by guns (and a rocket launcher), nearly gotten into a head-on collision when his friend played "chicken" with a few foes in a sports-car, and now …

Both kitten and turtle's eyes and mouths opened wide. Mikey spoke aloud over the cat's head, but probably not to the kitten alone. "For what I am about to do, forgive me!"

Then, Mikey plowed through the fronts of two, parked, police cars attempting to block the road. Police officers jumped to either side of the road away from them. Mikey leaned out the driver-side window to apologize loudly even as he kept driving a full load down the road with an orange kitten hiding inside his clothes.

. . .

Usagi was close to feeling more uncomfortable than he had at the Daimyo's table. He hadn't thought that possible before unless he was being tortured. On one side of him was an empty chair. On the other, sat the warrior Casey Jones. Said warrior had his arms crossed over his chest, much as Leonardo had earlier.

Donatello had been wrong. The table had been set. Everyone else had been seated, and the Battle Nexus Champion had not come.

Angel slouched, set an elbow on the table, and then set her chin in the heel of her hand. The great warrior in white, a mighty hero of this world, sighed loudly. The Daimyo of the Battle Nexus began to tap a metal claw on the table's surface. April breathed upon a spoon and put it on her nose.

The warrior beside him, however, this Casey Jones, broke first. The human spoke loudly, after changing his glare into an appealing smile, "I don't know about you guys, but I'm starving! Let's chow down on the holiday goodies!"

Usagi might have been very, very new to this world, but his did not let his hands budge. He simply watched those of the warrior beside him grab a bowl and pull it to himself. In a moment, it appeared he had been correct to refrain from like action.

Splinter spoke from his position at one end of the table. From there, it seemed like he was addressing everyone as he reprimanded Casey Jones. "No, this is a time for family, and being together. We must wait for Michelangelo."

Raphael, who was already slumping where he sat, his arms crossed on the table's surface and looking, rather than sullen and sulking, as Usagi recalled him looking the last time they sat together as a table, as if his thoughts were wandering beyond this place searching for something, and not entirely in anger. Indeed, the kame's voice bore more puzzlement than fury in it. "Where is that bum?"

. . .

Leonardo sat in a similar position as Raphael's. His body, however, had gone rigid again. In his mind, he was running through several scenarios. None of them were pleasant.

Mikey had run into Purple Dragons holding up some holiday shopper and been shot trying to help. Mikey had interfered in the same situation, but been struck in the back of the head by a chain or crowbar, taken to a Purple Dragon hangout, and there become their pinata. Mikey had been mistaken by a group of ordinary New Yorkers for an alien and mobbed and beaten on by them, maybe was being chased by them still. Mikey had been attacked by the police or the EPF for looking like an alien surrounded or still being chased by better-trained professionals with high-grade weapons. Mikey had run into the Foot led by the recently reappeared Shredder ... Karai had better save him.

Leo's morose thoughts were interrupted by April. "Alright, we'll give Mikey another five minutes, but that's it! The food is getting cold."

This time Splinter said, "Agreed"

Raphael added, "He better get here soon, that bonehead."

Leo wanted to tear something apart with his bare hands. Instead of the holiday mood he'd had earlier, he felt a dark maw opening up inside of him. Why did something always have to happen at Christmas? What if tonight, instead of celebrating with friends, he and everyone here who knew this city went up, after eating, to search for a still-absent Mikey and found him frozen solid?

He could be surrounded by a patch of pink ice and snow stained in his blood. He could by lying in unstained snow and ice just knocked out because he leapt and slipped on ice coating his landing surface, fell on his head, and froze to death. He could be dying right now, because they were waiting another five minutes …

Nothing was holding him there, except the angry, tense face of his father. If Splinter said one word, one syllable, he'd be off into the streets. It would be rude to Usagi, rude to all their guests, but how would any day, let alone Christmas, ever bring anything but pain and shame again if he found Mikey, tonight of all nights, too late?

Mikey, where are you?

When he finally heard footsteps behind him coming down the tunnel, the footsteps of his little brother, he didn't know if he'd hug him or kill him. Soon Mikey's voice was ringing through the lair like sleigh bells as if he was right on time and "everything" was right in the world. "Merry Christmas everybody, meet my friend, Klunk!"

Mikey held up an orange cat kitten by the size of it. The creature was sitting upright in his gloved, three-fingered hands like they really were true friends. By the smog-stained tint of its fur, the animal was a stray.

How could Mikey earn the trust of a stray off the streets so fast? Was "that" what he'd been doing all this time? "He" might think that a good enough excuse for all this, but, his older brother didn't. "Mikey, where have you been!"

Their father spoke in a lower, but much tenser tone. His laid-back ears also spoke of his mood as did his choice of words. "Our guests have been waiting. It is very rude!"

Leonardo watched his brother. His ears were alert to every sound for clues as well. He froze at seeing his little brother's show face … contriteness? His voice even sounded … sincere? "I know; I'm sorry."

Then, his little brother, with his nose for danger, like he'd had for as long as Leo could recall, approached not him (ready to tear into him with words if nothing else), their father (whom he'd rarely seen this upset if they hadn't gone against a direct order), but up to Raphael the turtle most likely to blow his top. Mikey's voice regained cheer he'd come in with, "But you're not going to believe what happened!"

Raph, who'd thankfully slumped into his "What's the use" pose rather than tensed into his, "I'm about to knock the stuffing out of you" stance, interrupted. "Mikey we don't want to hear some lame story."

At least, Splinter, who was smiling, maybe because he'd gotten a rare, sincere-sounding apology from Michelangelo was right there if they needed separating. It looked like they might. Mikey had his "Let's poke the bear" grin.

He went up to Rapahel, put his index finger under the other turtle's chin, and chided him. "Uh-uh-uh, Raph! Remember this is the season of giving!"

Mikey at least had the intelligence to step back after doing that. Raph answered without getting out of his chair, but while putting some more bite into his tone. "Yeah, and I'm thinking about giving you a well-seasoned smack upside the head!"

Leo thought his brother's food metaphor likely spoke to how hungry they all were. Maybe that was why Raph was, overall, being gentle. Maybe he was weak from hunger. The hot-headed turtle, nonetheless, shook his fist as he spoke.

Mikey stood beside Splinter, at the head of the table, and spoke to them all as if he was giving them a lecture! And what was worst of all, it was a pretty good one. When had Mikey, Mr. Battle Nexus Champion and dojo goof-off, gotten the moral authority to lecture them all so well?

"Guys, it's Christmas Eve!" At the smile on his brother's face, and brightness in his voice, Leonardo felt himself smiling back despite himself … Mikey was not only here now, he was alive. He wasn't just alive, he was healthy and happy. And maybe, just maybe, he was at his best right now.

He continued to think so as Michelangelo continued. "It's a time to remember those less fortunate than ourselves. In fact, it's a time not to think of ourselves at all. And I have just the ticket." The orang-clad turtle smiled and pointed to the ceiling.

Leo's grin grew a bit more. Oh boy, what does he have in mind now? Whatever it was, from the feelings in the room, Leonardo had a gut instinct they were all going to go along with it. He hoped Usagi wouldn't mind.

God Bless

ScribeofHeroes