The candle flames pulsed beside the soft hiss and warm crackle of the refurbished phonograph. A dulcet jazz version of "Tea for Two" drifted out of the antique machine's fluted brass horn. Turtle and Alligator sat facing each other, each hugging knees-to-chest. Encircled by candlelight, even as they sat still their shadows danced across the four walls of the repurposed New York subway car. Despite their larger-than-life shades, the Gator loomed massive and imposing over the Turtle. It was an ironic image, since the young terrapin gave the elder crocodilian strength. What the croc offered the turtle…well, even if the turtle was clueless he knew it was something extraordinary. That, and the croc told a mean knock-knock joke.

Deep in conversation, the two friends hadn't noticed the time – it was deep into the night. This was typical of Michelangelo and Leatherhead. The solace and recognition they found in each other dissolved away the hours as much as it did their heartaches. Somehow, the alchemy of their friendship transmogrified their burdens into prospects, birthing 'verses much prettier than current RL.

Their friendship defied convention. It was weird. Mikey embraced Leatherhead like a puppy: a lethal puppy with a pure soul hijacked by fury and fear. Mikey innately gravitated to the monstrously powerful mutant, and loved his friend as the broken creature he was. Leatherhead was Mikey and his family writ large. He was Dogpound with hope of salvation. If Mikey could facilitate Leatherhead's rehabilitation by giving him love and lucidity, maybe some of that good karma would come back to Mikey and his brothers, too. Maybe the beast in all of them would fade, just a little; just enough.

Leatherhead understood some of this. Mikey, being Mikey, did not.

Befriending Michelangelo was one of the most unexpected things Leatherhead had ever done. The Turtle was frenetic, with his peculiar slang words, obsession with fantasy horses, and gift for misplacing the logic in anything. Perhaps Michelangelo's skill at 'disappearing' reason explained why Leatherhead achieved the closest thing to peace-of-mind when he was in the Turtle's company.

Leatherhead swam in the murky waters of self-hatred and outrage at his powerlessness when the Kraang captured and abused him. Mikey knew Leatherhead was capable of deep kindnesses and great feats because he was climbing up from a rock bottom of desolation and destruction.

Mikey drifted in a cloud of happy feelings fueled by his boundless love for his brothers and father. Leatherhead knew Michelangelo concealed pain of judgement and deep fear of rejection by his family from them, and himself. The croc predicted that one day this truth would cause his friend to fall hard. Leatherhead vowed to catch him.

If nothing else, Leatherheads' torments had taught him that it was better to choose how one is broken, because then one has a greater chance of knowing how to reassemble the pieces.

"My friend: in you I am trying to make sense of me. I hope that the feeling is mutual", rumbled a cogent Leatherhead to a chillaxed Mikey.

"Dude, that's totally gross", Mikey asserted, "Let's just keep with the hugs, like we do."

The Turtle and the Alligator fell silent, both deep in thought, one with his index finger to his chin, the other carefully picking a scab.