[Hey guys, this is the first chapter of Viridity, and I really believe that i'm going to enjoy this story because when they idea popped up around tumblr and various drabbles, I was in absolute ecstatics. I really hope that I portray the characters as close to canon as possible and give Renet some justice, even if this isn't the way her character is sent in the actual show.]

Viridity (n.) - naive thinking

"Every true genius is bound to be naive." - Friedrich Schiller

"Hey guys, d'you ever realise that the cartoons we watch are kinda like our missions?"

"Seriously? You're reading way too much into a cartoon show, Mikey." Blue eyes narrowed slightly over the lip of the faded comic book page, and disappeared back between the washed out images. But the effervescent smile remained on the cherub freckled cheeks and he turned back to the flickering credits. White noise erupted in his ears, as he tried to tune out his hot-headed brother over the sound of another cartoon theme song, head bobbing on calloused fingers.

But in the short amount of time before he piped up and was dodging a flying slap, the youngest Hamato found his bottom lip pouting in concentration. His mind, a scatterbrained and unpredictable space suddenly seemed to fix dots together, connect puzzles pieces.

That was until he saw a space for fun, an awareness that seemed embedded deep in his bones and mischief pocketed itself in the corners of his lips. Then, Crognard was forgotten about in exchange for his short legs leaping high and away from his green-eyed brother.

The second time it happened, electricity sizzled on his tongue with the absence of breath and he slumped, deep into his favourite bean bag chair with the grace of a potato. Sweat dripped across his shoulders and his breath heaved. In the back of his mind, he could hear the familiar sounds of family as they retired to their rooms after the night of shell-whipping by Leo, leaving the youngest to stay up as long as he liked.

Long fingers itched around for the remote that he knew lay around his feet and a squeak of victory parted his lips when his fingers made contact with plastic. As the television fizzled to life, and his breathing evened out, Mikey felt his eyes closing of their own accord.

But the adventures of the barbarian were hard to resist, and as the episode dragged on, Mikey found his body lurching forwards as similarities to the last few days connected on screen. Chewing on his bottom lip, Mikey noticed how Wizardess was brain-washed into attack her friends by Malfidor, with only Crognard to stop her. The similarities seemed to breathe the life of his brothers and himself, and as Crognard turned to find his female companion gone, Mikey only vaguely thought that it will be torturous to wait another week to find out what happened to Wizardess. But as he sank back into his bean bag chair, a hand falling over his cheeks and forehead, as if to rub the dog-tired feeling from his skin, he wondered.

"Dude," he muttered, the ceiling his only friend as he fell back, the familiar credits flying across the screen, "this is totally tripping." After a few episodes of another cartoon series, the youngest turtle retired to his bedroom, stifling the yawn and his racing thoughts.

However, the third time that Crognard had made him wonder, he knew something was wrong. When they returned home late, with the warm welcoming arms of their sensei that Mikey gladly fell into, he grasped his brothers by the arms and hauled them into the kitchen with a desperate "I need to talk to you dudes," on his lips.

He vaguely heard Raphael growl and snatch his arm away, but gladly sink into the seat offered at the kitchen island. Donatello however, had already dropped his bald head to the cool exterior of the kitchen island, soft snores escaping his mouth through the gaps of his arms. He distantly saw even Leo fighting to keep his eyes open.

Brandishing a wooden spoon in one hand and a determined look in the other, Mikey waved to gain the attention of his sleep-deprived siblings. "Okay, I know you guys are like, totally knocked-out right now, but you need to pay attention to me." As if to enunciate his last words, the curved end of the wooden spoon, still slightly stained with pizza sauce, connected to the back of Donnie's head. As the elder mutant jumped up with a squeak of pain, the youngest darted his tongue out to lick the remaining sauce off of the end.

Ignoring his purple-masked brother, Raphael's hand smacked onto the table, though it lacked the usually strength behind it, despite rattling a few salt shakers and minds. "Heck yeah, I'm tired! Mikey, if this is one of your stupid 'ice-cream kitty needs more vanilla frosting for dinner' things again, I'm out," he warned, eyes narrowing dangerously onto his freckled brother, with various noises of agreement from his other brothers. But immunity had built up inside the smallest turtle over the years to Raphael's coldness, and his only response was a million watt smile.

The eldest of the four brothers however, collected his most-patient smile reserved for the smallest of their trio and with a grunt, turned the attention back towards the freckled turtle. "Alright Mikey, what is it?"

Without a hint of hesitation, Mikey gathered the air into his lungs with a proud air, both hands laid lazily on his hips, wooden spoon forgotten about. The smile pulled tighter on his lips, "Dudes, I think the Crognard is trying to tell me something."

A pregnant silence followed and Leonardo's smile dropped in exchange for an annoyed frown. Raph's fingers pressed into the space between his eyes and Donnie's head fell back. All three eldest brothers chalked up the interruption on their way to sleep by their youngest brother as childish antics and Leo was the first to stand, wobbling lazily on his arms as he pushed off the stool.

The two followed but Michelangelo let a squeak force it's way around the shattered words in his throat and was throwing his arms over the doorway before they could turn. "Guys! You gotta listen to me! Crognard totally knows stuff, I mean he's –"

"Fictional, and you know it," interrupted Donnie, a tired scowl on his features as he pushed to the front of the group. He towered over his little brother by a foot, but he still flinched when a hurt look filtered into baby blue eyes. His baby brother's arms faltered at the exasperation in all his brothers' expressions, but Donnie was tired and broken by the night of searching for a home for Mondo and had no time for Michelangelo. But whatever exasperation was in his gaze, it didn't carry into the way he pushed his brother's arm down over the threshold of the door, like folding broken glass. "He's fictional, and you need to understand that. Now, I'm going to go to bed."

When he'd cleared the doorway of Michelangelo, who'd slowly deflated at the shutdown, he'd pushed through and fell into his bed tiredly, Raphael on his toes with a grunt of annoyance shoved towards his freckled brother.

However, Leonardo stood with a shoulder pressed to the stone doorframe, arms crossed and worrying his bottom lip between his two top teeth. His brother in green stared at his toes, fingers nervously fiddling with one another, as if lacing them together would mean he wouldn't feel so hollow and Leo could only imagine what Mikey was feeling.

When a gauze-wrapped hand landed on his shoulder, Mikey's gaze turned upwards, blue hues circled with a child-like hurt and Leo swallowed loosely. However, in a hopeful gesture, Mikey's lips pulled up. "I said a while ago Leo, a-about the TV. You believe me, right?"

Torn between indulgence and logical thinking, Leo pulled the younger into an embrace, feeling the fiddling stop and arms wind around his shell. But logic won out with a nuzzle to the head and finding himself at the door. "You have an over-active imagination, Mikey, and after tonight it would be fired up even more-so. Getting some sleep will help."

With that, Leo disappeared and Mikey gripped the wooden spoon harder.