Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Gone?
They were … gone?
His lips pinched in a frown, Cody Jones stared out his bedroom window. It was a sunny day outside—unsurprising, given how all of Earth's weather was computer-controlled—but as far as Cody was concerned, it could have been thundering and lightening. They were gone, and that meant the sun was a little dimmer, the temperature a little cooler, the sky a little less blue.
"I am so sorry, Master Cody."
Cody glanced up and noticed for the first time that Serling was still in the room. Before he could think better of it, he snapped, "Sure. Sure you're sorry. Be honest, Serling, you know you never liked having the turtles around."
If a robot ever looked sad, that robot was Serling, right then. "They were destructive," he admitted, in his rich slightly-accented tones. "And they were loud. And rambunctious." He reached out and rested a cold, metallic hand on Cody's shoulder. "And I will miss them dearly."
"Me too," sighed Cody.
As Serling quietly made his exit, Cody looked down at the piece of paper in his hands. Paper! How appropriately old-fashioned. In dark ink, and a large loopy script that could only belong to Michelangelo, were the turtles' words of good-bye. They thanked him for being their host and their friend. They included a quick apology for the suddenness of their departure. Something about a time mistress, whatever that was. They said they'd always remember him, and that was it. The end of the letter.
At the very bottom was a signature from each turtle and, of course, Splinter. The old rat sensei had gone first, quite appropriately. He'd signed his name in both English and Japanese characters. Mikey had gone next and, just like John Hancock, had written his name much larger than anyone else's. Then came Leonardo's signature, each letter of his name a perfectly proportioned size. Under Leo's name was Raphael's—or, rather, a hastily scrawled "Raph."
It was the name at the very bottom, though, that drew Cody's attention. Written in tiny, meticulous letters, slanting strongly to the left, was Donatello's name. Almost involuntarily, Cody's eyes narrowed as he read this last name. A post-script followed, in the same tiny handwriting:
Two pieces of advice, Cody, both meant for your well-being. First, don't try to bring us back. If you do, you will regret it—I will make very sure of that. Second, keep an eye on your uncle Darius. He does not have your best interests at heart.
Though he could never prove it, Cody knew it was because of Donatello that the turtles had left. Somehow, some way, Don must have figured out that the portal was actually still perfectly functional.
With a slight scowl, Cody refolded the good-bye letter and put it back in its envelope. He then set the envelope aside and reached towards his nightstand. He opened the drawer, took out a box, and rested the box on his lap. It was a portable cryogenics container. Though most of Cody's beloved antiques were displaced in the main rooms, he'd kept his most special treasure very well protected—from people and the elements alike.
He quickly punched in the password to unlock the container. With a soft whoosh the box lid opened, to reveal a small hard-bound book. Very gently Cody lifted the book out of the box and flipped it open. The pages were yellowed and shrunken and dry, even though Cody had taken meticulous care, but the writing inside was still legible, with each entry within clearly labeled and dated.
A diary.
Putting on a pair of gloves, so as to avoid contaminating the pages with his skin's oils, Cody flipped through the diary's pages until he came to the entry he wanted. He knew it word for word by heart, but he still felt the need to read it from time to time.
In small, neat cursive was written, Casey finally asked me to marry him today. And, idiot that I am, I didn't give him an answer. I told him I'd have to think about it.
Cody swallowed. All of a sudden his mouth felt as dry as bones.
This is crazy. I love Casey. Casey loves me. So what's the problem? The path not taken, that's what. I can't stop thinking about what might have been.
As soon as he'd accidentally brought the turtles to his time, Cody knew that he could never let them go back. They'd been contaminated—taken out of the proper timeline—and that meant that inevitably something, however small, would be different if he sent them back in time. He'd hated lying to them, but there'd been no other choice.
I remember the first time we worked together, the entry continued. Back in Stockman's old lab. Typing so quickly our fingers hurt, racing through all these command prompts, desperately trying to shut down the mousers. What an adrenaline rush. And then, with the mousers about to self-destruct, he lifted me into his arms so we could make our escape, and I felt another rush of emotion. But this time, it wasn't just adrenaline.
No choice. The turtles simply had to stay. Because the possibility of changes to the timeline wasn't just an abstraction. Oh, no. Cody knew all too well just how much a slight change could matter.
And sometimes I would wonder. Sometimes, when he didn't think I was paying attention, he would drop his guard, just a little. And he would look at me in such a way … but in a flash, the look was gone, and all I could see on his face was his usual friendly expression. Anything I might have thought was there? Gone. Then I met Casey. After that, he stopped looking at me. Or maybe he just got better at keeping up his guard.
Cody pondered over when a change in the timeline, if any, would become apparent. Would it have been instantaneous? The second the turtles got back home? Or were his timeline and theirs now running in parallel, with any changes occurring roughly at the same point following the turtles' return?
So many possibilities, so few answers. And Cody had always hated not having the answer.
Sometimes I wonder.
What if I had let my guard down? What if I had told him that I knew
he was looking? And what if I'd told him that I always liked it
when he looked at me that way?
Growling softly, Cody shut
the diary. He carefully set it back into its box then returned the
box to its drawer.
The sun was bright outside, but dark uncertainty hung over Cody. Based on what the turtles had told him, in their time Casey and April were dating but hadn't yet married, and certainly they hadn't yet had children. There was still plenty of time—time for April to change her mind, time for Casey to catch wise, and time for good old Donatello to ruin everything.
Which meant that Cody's time just might be running out.
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Author's Notes: So why would Cody be evil, I asked myself? I like well-rounded villains and explained evil. Though when I figured out a good answer for Cody, he ended up being less of a villain than a victim of circumstance. Oh, well.
Next chapter's the last. Thanks for reading!