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Mikey floats at a leisurely pace, a low whistle of a song he's long forgotten the name of on his lips. He still keeps in mind to listen in for any unusual disturbances or noise as he idles down the base's hallway.
It's Mikey’s turn to do the nightly checks. Donnie coincidentally (or not so) scheduled his rounds typically on nights when he does his longer meditation sessions. The near quiet of the base during this time always seems to settle him further afterwards. Only a few people on night shifts. He nods pleasantly to those who cross his path.
It's funny how growing up, Mikey hated silence at night. There had always been something unsettling about the lack of his brothers’ presence, of his father's, in the dark confines of his room that always sent Mikey scuttling to one of them. Bonus if more, or all, were present. Back then, nothing felt more comforting than having his family wrapped around him, each subconsciously gravitating towards their littlest brother. The steady sound of breathing lulling him back into peaceful slumber. He didn't mind the occasional snort or snore in his ear.
He just knew, this is what safety sounds like.
But now, 5 years deep into a war everybody residing on the Resistance's home fort were forced into, of startling loud emergency and evacuation alarms…
After too many screams of terror and agony on the front lines…
Hearing the gut twisting cacophony of Krang limbs and guts…
After the blaring sound of his own agonized howls in his ears until he erupted, orange flames and golden rage as Draxum held him back from chasing after their father, who had used the last of his dwindling strength to save his boys; body beaten mercilessly by the enemy right in front of their eyes…
After the near constant noises of grief from another life taken away from someone who loved them…
The sounds of his own family's mourning, bone aching pain he hopes he'll never hear again, a sledge hammer to his heart…
Mikey has learned to truly appreciate the quiet. Nowadays, that often means everything is okay. At least for a little bit.
Quiet means he can connect with Gram-Gram and…and dad.
Mikey, only 20 years old, is comforted by the quiet. He knows, this is close enough. not complete safety. but close enough.
Mikey keeps his breathing calm and centered as he freely allows his emotions to move within, to ebb and flow like the ocean waves he used to love painting.
He fiddles with his burnt sienna cloak as he keeps moving. He's learned from experience and Draxum’s mentorship, that bottling up negative emotions could lead to negative mystic backlash. So really, it's not too hard.
Even during an apocalypse, Mikey didn't lose his belief that you should allow yourself to feel your feelings when you're in a safe enough place.
He goes through the usual checkpoint locations with ease.
“Everything seems good to go.” He hums to himself, making his way to his family's designated sleep quarters.
He's just turned the corner, when he notices one of the adjacent doors to the main sleeping room open, faint light spotlighting the ground.
Mikey’s whole being perks up.
Someone's tending to the baby.
The family decided to designate that room for whenever Casey Jr starts getting fussy for things he needs such as food, diapy changies (Raph’s words), and other things that could leave him crying and potentially waking everyone up. But otherwise, the baby sleeps with them. Everyone determined to keep an eye on CJ and his mama.
Mikey hasn't had nearly enough time to see the baby lately. He quickly zips to the entrance, curious on whose up at this hour.
Mikey had to stifle a giggle at the sight. In front of him is Cass, nodding off in the chipped chair they scavenged, while the baby squirms lightly in her grip. Very much looking not sleepy. Cass’ head bounces up every second, before it slowly drops again in a cycle.
Poor mama, Mikey sympathizes.
Cass takes everything she's given with serious dedication. Whether it be commanding squads alongside April, aiding Leo and Raph with mission planning, protecting her family…
Being a mother…
The woman works hard and does so much. She must be just as exhausted as all of them, even though she can seamlessly hide behind her vivacious spark.
Let me help her out.
Mikey eases himself to the ground, softly padding over to the duo, smiling.
“Cass?” Mikey tries, a few volumes above a whisper. “Psst, hey Cass.”
He gets a little closer, but otherwise doesn't touch her.
That uh, hadn't gone well the last time.
Let's just say, Leo was sporting a wicked head bruise for a few weeks.
“Wakey, wakey Cass.” A hint more urgent. That usually does the trick.
Cass jerks with a snort, eyes shooting up and clutching little Jones tighter to her chest. “Wha-What? What??”
“It’s just me,” Mikey soothes with a placating raise of both hands. “Just Mikey.”
Cass visibly relaxes, slouching back slightly into the stiff-looking seat. She gazes at the still wiggling baby, face soft in a way he’s only seen directed toward the one in her arms.
“Oh, it's just you.” Clearly directed towards Mikey.
Mikey jokingly flips back his ravenette braid of hair. “Naturally!”
Cass rolls her eyes at the remark, but doesn't look away from her precious cargo. “Ah, I see you're still up, little warrior.” Cass states with amusement and fondness and fatigue all blended into one.
The baby simply gurgles in response.
Mikey frowns at the dark purple circles just under Cass’ deep brown eyes.
“ You look totally spent. I can take little man off your hands for a bit.”
Cass looks up at the box turtle, eyes squinted. It would look more intimidating if the corners weren't crusted over slightly with sleep.
“I can take care of my child, orange one.”
“Like no other.” Mikey agrees with stern genuinity, just a slither of Dr. Feelings making an appearance. “You're one of the most hard working mothers I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.”
Cass blinks, totally thrown off. Probably too used to exchanging playful verbal spars with either of the twins, or good natured rough housing with Raph.
Mikey continues. “But you still need to get proper rest.”
Cass looks away, lips pursed, the baby's hands waving directionless over the fleece blanket. Her defenses lowered way faster than usual for her stubborn nature.
Cass must really be tired if she hasn't fought back.
Mikey lightly touches Cass’ shoulder, now that she's awake and aware of the source.
“Cassie, it's okay to be tired. We're all here for you. You're not in this alone.”
Cass looks back up, face outlined with the tiniest amount of vulnerability.
Mikey gives the shoulder a tiny squeeze. “You're family Cass, remember? And this family helps each other out. You can lay some of the load on us.”
Cass’ lids flutter closed briefly, breathing in. When she opens them again, her face is set with surety, even past the suspicious shine to her eyes take on when the minimal light hits them at the right angle.
She nods, firm. “I'm counting on you, then.”
Mikey beams, stretching his arms out. “Bring ‘im here. Ceej and I need some much needed one-on-one time, anyway.” He chirps with an excited wiggle. Baby Casey wiggles in response, and Mikey has to physically bite back a squeal.
Too damn adorable.
Cass snorts, giving the baby a kiss on the forehead, and a few whispered words that Mikey can't make out. She carefully places him in happily awaiting arms, before slowly standing. A few joints pop as she stretches with a yawn.
Mikey’s simply happy to be holding this little bundle of joy.
Cass observes the two for a moment longer before making her way to the door. “You better wake me up if anything bad happens, shorty.”
Mikey squawks indignantly. “First of all, you're only like, an inch taller than me. Second of all, will do. But I'll look out for little man here, don't you worry.”
Being strong in mystic energy has its perks.
Cass nods in affirmation again. Her face melts, looking at the still babbling Junior one more time. “Thanks, Michelangelo.” She murmurs, arms crossed.
Mikey’s eyes widen in surprise. Cass only uses their actual names on rare occasions. When she's very serious about the words she's saying. Minus Raph and April. Somehow, they both gained first name privileges pretty fast.
Clearly she has favorites, but that's cool.
Mikey’s throat gets a little thick, and he swallows before saying, “Anytime, Cassie. Sleep well, okay?”
Cass smiles a tiny, rare smile. “Okay.”
Then she's gone.
Mikey watches her go into the main bedroom, door opening and closing with a faint click. Before bringing his full attention to the energetic baby.
“Heeey, little one,” The orange clad turtle whisper-shouts, bouncing the baby lightly. “It’s been awhile, huh?”
Now, Mikey knows Casey isn't old enough to hold memories for faces yet. But he swears he sees a glint of recognition in irises as rich as his mother's. The younger reaches pudgy hands up towards Mikey’s face, gurgling contently in the process. Chuckling, Mikey meets him halfway, allowing the baby to feel his face.
“Perceptive already, I see. Right on, lil’ bud.”
His heart practically melts into a puddle at Casey's delighted squeal when Mikey gently nuzzles his beak against a soft plump cheek, toothless mouth wide in a silent laugh.
“Case, Case, Case.” The box turtle sing songs, lightly bouncing the infant as he strolls around the room.
“Your mama's right, you know.” Mikey lifts him so that he's closer to eye level, tiny body still solidly supported.
“You are a little warrior.”
“Gabba ah.” Casey babbles, head cocked with big, wide eyes. As if he's actually listening.
Mikey giggles, kissing his forehead. “No, I mean it! You've got the spirit of a fighter. Just like your mom. I can feel it.”
Flashes of scenes poke at his brain.
Scenes that have never happened.
Scenes that have been coming in less and less fragmented over time.
(a white mask with red stripes.)
(a blurry image of…what could possibly be a young man.)
(a piece of paper. not sure what's on it.)
(a grand flash of marigold light.)
Mikey’s not sure what these are. Or who. All he knows is they started appearing sporadically during his meditation sessions since the day Casey was born.
But something ancient and omnipresent nudges him.
I think you do. You know.
The picture will become clearer.
“And Uncle Mikey’s intuition…is usually pretty spot on about these things.”
Casey Jr. plays with a loose strand of Mikey’s hair, still gurgling.
“Hey, you wanna see something cool?” Mikey prompts, watching as Casey lets out a garble that sounds strangely close to a “yes”.
Sheesh, this kid picks up on stuff fast. He'll be talking in no time at this rate.
“Check this out.” He tucks Casey into the crook of an arm, freeing the other. Casey lets out a questioning burble. He raises his hand, making sure Casey can see.
Mikey rotates his wrist for dramatic flair as he directs a small reserve of mystic energy to his fingertips. He shuts his eyes, thinking about what he wants to create.
He thinks of Casey Jr.
He thinks of the way Raph’s whole face collapsed into happy tears, falling to his knees at the sight of their new family member. He blubbered unabashedly as Cass garnered just enough energy to reach a hand out and pat her best friend's arm. She always has a soft spot for Raphie.
He thinks of his own tears, holding on to April for support as his chest explodes with immense adoration, not missing the way April swiped at her own eyes. He's only just met this little boy, but he loves him unconditionally, down to his core. By the water grin on his older sister's face, looking all as if she's witnessing a miracle, he imagined April feels similarly.
He thinks about Donnie, not nearly as outwardly expressive, but expression still noticeably soft by those who know the soft shell well, immediately taking to his wrist comm's notepad. Mikey’s not entirely sure what he was typing past the blurry vision, but he thinks he might’ve seen ‘To Do List’ and a few familiar sounding baby items, plus an extra note on upgrading security systems. That one was underlined twice.
He thinks of Leo. He watched the way he holds the baby a bit longer than expected as Casey took his first breaths of life, having been the one to deliver him. He watched the way his immediately older brother's eyes shifted. They brightened, blue flames previously dimmed, dull from the loss of the world and a father; from the loss of their youth, ignited tenfold. As if brought back to life. The slider’s breath hitched. His hands started to tremble, and he quickly handed the new mother her son with a strategically placed joke, trying to play off the momentary display of weakness.
He thinks of the way this tiny kid has boosted everyone's morale like nothing else. No one says it outloud, but a subconscious agreement emerges.They’d do anything for this child. They'd readily lay down their lives for this new life under their care.
Because, no one can bear the thought of losing this new chunk of their heart. The way they did everything with a new found vigor. With purpose. With hope.
All by Casey Jones Junior's influence.
Like a star, guiding them through the dark.
That's it.
His hand erupts in a flurry of yellow, translucent stars. Glowing in the dim-light room. Bringing pleasant illumination. Some are close enough for the boy to reach out and touch. And he does, squealing as the shape warps in his tiny hands, absolutely amazed. Some are farther away, scattered around the room, floating and rotating like an advanced crib mobile. He tries reaching for those, too.
Perhaps that means something.
Something about the impossible being achieved.
(several smudged figures. standing on top of a high place. a…building?)
Mikey watches Casey's unbridled joy. Innocent and pure and everything that his family thought was lost the day hell rained down on them, chest swelling with the same warmth and tenderness he's felt since day one.
“You're gonna do big things, Ceej. I can feel it.” Mikey whispers, burying his beak into a tuft of dark hair as the baby continues to play with the stars, adding an extra twinkle to them just for the chance to hear delighted giggles.
“I don't know how, but you're gonna. Might even change the world, for all I know.”
You do know.
Everything with time.
Tiny hands start pawing under Mikey’s chin, and a few tears slip past. “Thanks for bringing us something to look forward to in all this mess, little one.”
Casey cooes, patting at Mikey’s cheeks and pumping his tiny legs a bit.
Mikey hums, quietly rubbing a cheek gingerly, achingly tender along his head, before he's hit with an idea that must show on his face, because Casey looks like he's trying to mimic Mikey’s excitement.
“Omigosh, Case . You wanna see what a puppy used to look like?”
“Ababa hah!”
“I knew you would! A true man of culture.”
The mystic warrior proceeds to give Junior a real show for several more hours. He presents all types of animals big and small; naming them enthusiastically; keeping Casey's rapt attention until he eventually dozes off. Wiped out from all the fun.
Success , He preens triumphantly to himself as he carries the baby to the rest of their family. He's a bit tired now too. But it was totally worth it for the time he got to spend with his precious nephew. Feeling his soul's rejuvenation, Mikey wonders who the true healer of the family is.
For if Mikey is the sun, as his family has dubbed him,
Then Casey is Mikey’s favorite little star, helping him lead their loved ones home, even in the shadiest of nights.