Before the sun rises, before the streetlamps shut off for the day, Casey wakes and sets out on his mission. He counts himself lucky that New Yorkers love a good, tall building. It keeps the sun away from him and gives him more time to find her.
He wishes she had a phone or a GPS or something. Walking around shouting her name and checking the spots he's seen her in before is starting to get old.
"Shadow?" he calls as he walks. "Yo, Shadow, can we talk? Please?"
Nothing. He keeps checking alleys, calling for her. The sky gets steadily brighter, a timer ticking downwards.
"Look, I want to say sorry! Could you let me do that at least?" he asks.
He feels the chill at his back before her voice reaches him. "You're going to wake up the city if you keep hollering like that, puckhead."
"Shadow!" he cries, whirling around, arms outstretched. There she is, same as always, floating a few inches away. "Yes! I knew you couldn't ignore me forever."
Her eyes narrow. "Just get on with it."
He lets his arms drop to his sides, a few foggy breaths passing his lips. Autumn's comforting coolness has started to set in. "I'm sorry," he says. "You were right. I was clinging to you, but I swear, it wasn't...it wasn't because I think you're pathetic. You're one of the coolest people I've ever met."
She stares at him, arms crossed over her chest, eyes still narrowed. His heart leaps into his throat and he swallows it back down.
"You..." Ugh, he's not good with sappy shit and he's even worse with apologies. "You make me feel alive again, you know? I've been so...so sad, for months, and then I met you and you're just as grumpy and sad as I am, but that's what makes me so happy! You get me! You don't feed me a bunch of bullshit like everyone else and...uh..."
He punches the air a little, starting to fidget back and forth. He had a plan, or at least some idea of what he was going to say. Something about how, ever since his dad died, he's wondered if his survival was a punishment, and that he's imagined what it would have been like if their roles had been reversed.
He doesn't want to die, but a part of him wishes he had been killed.
"You make me feel like I want to be alive," he says, almost whispering, cheeks getting pinker.
She sighs. "You don't have to say all that."
"But I do," he insists. "You need to know how I feel. I don't know what's happened to you since you got mutated, but I'm pretty sure you think everyone's lying to you or trying to use you for something. I'm not lying and the only thing I want from you is to be your friend."
"I don't have friends."
"Because you don't trust anyone! But I want you to trust me, because I trust you!"
She scoffs, although there's a lightness to it that hints at real humour. "You're an idiot," she mumbles, and no one but April has ever said it with such fondness behind it.
"Yeah, I am. Doesn't make me a liar." He takes his bag off his shoulder, digging the soccer ball back out and holding it out to her. "I want to play soccer with you and talk about how much life sucks and everything we miss about how things used to be."
She turns away from him, her always-moving hair following her in a delayed sweep. "You didn't find me just to say all this, did you? Is there more?"
His shoulders sag and he brings the soccer ball to his chest. "We found this warehouse. The Dragons are bringing equipment there and we can't break the code on the only door into the place—"
Her body tenses, stark still. "Is...is it in the Bronx? Right between some high-rises? Looks pretty out of place?"
"Yeah, exactly! You know it?"
She doesn't turn back to him, a tremor rolling through her shadowy body. "What could you possibly need there? And why are you telling me?"
He purses his lips. "Leo wants to talk to you. We need info and we're hoping you'll help us break in."
"No."
He rolls his eyes. "You don't need to test me again, Shadow."
She turns to him as her eyes seem to glow, her body expanding in her rage, and Casey takes a staggering step back as she looms at him. The soccer ball still clutched in his hands raises a little, the worst shield in the world.
"This isn't a test," she hisses. "You have to stay away from there and I won't risk going back."
He blinks. "Back? So you know it?"
"It's dangerous."
"I like a little danger."
She glares at him, her body still rippling with barely-concealed distress. "See, this is what I'm talking about. You didn't want to just see me. You need my help again."
"It..." He groans. "Damn it, yes! But you don't have to help, I just had to ask!"
"I know. I don't have to do anything," she says. "Why should I help you again?"
Casey closes his eyes, trusting that she'll still be there when he opens them again. He hugs the soccer ball closer, a cold spot against his flushed chest. "I don't know. There's...there are these scientists that hurt the turtles a few years back. It was bad. We're worried that this is them trying to make a comeback."
"Scientists?"
"Yeah, Mutacorp. It got bought out but, you know, evil people are like cockroaches sometimes. We think they might be behind Beast Mode." And her, but he doesn't add that part.
She raises an eyebrow at him. "So your friends are...just afraid that someone is going to try and hurt them again, huh?" Her voice is softer now. "What are you going to do if you can break in?"
"I don't know. Leo has a plan, but...he asked me to talk to you. See if you would be willing to talk to him?"
"So you're running an errand for him?"
"Only as a side quest." She rolls her eyes and he sighs. "I did want to see you. I missed you."
She floats lower, bringing herself to the ground instead of constantly hovering at his eye level. "You really...really don't know how to handle rejection, do you?"
He shrugs. "You really don't know how to stay away from me."
Again, she raises herself to his eye-level, leaning closer. Her chill wafts against his face, like standing in front of an air conditioner, and he hopes that she can feel his sincerity even though she can't feel much else.
"I'll say it again," she murmurs. "That warehouse is dangerous. I really, really don't want to go back there."
"Why?"
She turns her face away. "You wouldn't understand."
"Try me."
"I won't. I don't want to."
He stares at her, at her bright pupil-less eyes and the faint shadowy features on her face that you can only see if you get close enough. He likes to pretend he doesn't know what fear is like, but it's just bravado. He's good at bravado.
"Okay, I won't pry," he says. "But...if you help us, whatever happened back then that hurt you, whatever is behind that door? I can stop it. The turtles can stop it, but we can't do that without you." Her shoulders release some stiffness, but she doesn't look at him. He takes a deep breath. "I swear, I'll do everything it takes to make sure you don't get hurt again. Any scum that try will have to face the Casey Arnold Jones."
She lets out a brief weak laugh. "Your middle name is Arnold?"
"After my dad, yeah."
She exhales, still not looking at him. He reaches out to grab her hand, almost instinctively, but stops. Instead, he holds the soccer ball out, letting it rest against her fingertips. She flinches and yanks her hand to her chest, holding it there for a second as she squeezes her eyes shut.
"Okay..." she whispers, her tone soft and broken as she looks up at him. "I'll help."
He exhales. "Awesome." He holds the ball out again. "So...you want this back?"
"Hold on to it for me." She eyes the sky, frowning. "Think your friends will want to talk now...or later?"
"Now, probably. Come on."
Together, they head into the sewers, and Casey hopes that she'll trust him to keep his promise to her. No one, shadow beast or otherwise, is going to get their hands on her if he has anything to say about it.