"Some stuff's just beyond our control." Casey had said that to April once because, well, it was true, but...not about this, not about Greg. Bones had come in covered in blood with a jar of green shards and told him that Greg was dead and Casey'd tried to call Wash and...got nothing.

If he were back in NYC, he could call up the guys, play video games until his hands were sore, get Raph out and go bust some heads, wind Mikey up for a prank war, fix something big and heavy with Donnie, or...well, he'd never actually done it but meditate with Leo. Do something to get his mind off it.

But they weren't here and Bones...well, in Casey's experience you didn't break out the hard stuff unless you wanted to be left alone and the last thing Casey wanted right now was to be brushed off. So there wasn't much to do right now but go and fight the Nox. He'd made a token effort to find partners like he'd promised but...he was going out anyway because not going out meant finding trouble and finding trouble meant not being alone with his thoughts.

Though when he really considered it, and he tried not to, he knew fighting the Nox wasn't going to help this situation. He'd found one rift, quite small, not near enough to work out the deep pit of anger he felt. Most of the damage he'd suffered was when he punched a brick wall out of frustration while forgetting that he wasn't wearing his hockey gloves.

In fact, when he heard the door open, he'd been bandaging his knuckles. He pulled his fingerless gloves over the bandages and went out to see what was going on. Bones was home, so maybe Rose had come back and-

And Greg was here. Alive. Totally fine. With Wash helping him. Casey couldn't form words.

"...Wha- Greg? How-"