A/N: And here it is, my friends, the final chapter of this story. Ready, Steady, GO.

Chapter 9: Playing It Backwards

Leonardo always polished his swords in the same fashion.

Up and down. Left to right. Up and down, left to right. There was a rhythm to the process, a beautiful symmetry that only those attuned to the sword- or the completely anal- could really understand. Oftentimes, when polishing his twin blades, Leonardo Hamato would wish that keeping his family together, and in line, was as simple as polishing a sword blade. But, as Usagi had once pointed out, "Even the straightest of sword edges can have their tiny faults."

Leonardo did not like the world fault. It placed blame, something that caused strife. Fault implied a flaw, something wrong. It was a mistake. But faults were a part of everyone. The perfect being- the perfect ninja- did not exist, and no matter how hard one strived, there would always be faults, in performance, in choices…in family.

These were the things Leonardo thought as he polished his swords for the fifth time, watching the door, waiting. Always, always waiting.

When April had shown up that afternoon, she bore no news of Raphael. She did, however, have a runner on Casey, which included an exceptionally long list of various alcoholic substances purchased from the nearest outlet. Michelangelo had asked what Casey bought; Donatello offered to check the list against the very real possibility of alcohol poisoning; and Leonardo had gone out, and returned, empty-handed.

Splinter had said nothing. Ever since Raphael's abrupt disappearance, the old rat had said nothing at all. That should have been what disturbed his children the most, but no, it was not that Splinter said nothing that had his children up in arms. No, no, it was the fact that the rat, facing the disappearance, abduction, and perhaps death of his son, didn't seem worried at all.

When Leonardo, angered at his own defeat at the hands of the Shredder, disappeared for days on end, Splinter sat up, nursing a cup of tea, his eyes always on the door. When Michelangelo ran off into the sewers after breaking one of Donatello's earliest inventions, the rat had immediately gone hunting for him. When Donatello, lost in a scholarly dream, had spent far too long at the junkyard, it was the old rat that brought him home.

But Splinter never chased Raphael.

Somewhere in the back of their minds the other brothers were jealous of this. Raphael had a freedom they did not- the ability to completely cut himself off from his family, from his obligations and his life. Raphael had a best friend, a beat, a rhythm of the street that did not match the rhythm of the sewer, and he could dance to both at the same time. It was for this reason that Splinter had never chased Raphael. While Leo, Don, and Mikey were all bound by thick cords to their family, Raphael was tied by a thin string. It might take him longer, but he always found the end, tied around his finger. And he always followed it home.

But this wasn't like those other times.

This time, there was no feeling of Raphael at all. The fiery blaze that was their brother simply didn't exist, not even against the smogged backdrop of their beloved city. Raphael had cut all astral contact.

That was what scared them the most.

Three days. Three days of not knowing.

Yet Splinter wasn't worried. True, his words to April- sharp, biting, low- had been hurried and hoarse, but now? He merely waited, patiently, like someone standing at a stop light, or waiting for a dinner order. He acted, in fact, much like Raphael hadn't left at all, like he was merely out on one of his numerous 'dates' with Casey. Raph's chores were carefully divided; his training gear put away. It was like their brother had left on a prescheduled trip.

None of them expected it, really, when it happened. Michelangelo had been playing a videogame, upside down, staring at the screen. He yelped and fell out of his chair. Donatello, working carefully on a small microchip, swore and pulled his hands away, grabbing his head and glaring at the door. Leonardo, from the small training area, dropped his swords and polish with a clang, scuffing the blades after the sixth round with the worn cloth.

Splinter, sitting across from a quiet April O'Neil, merely smiled at the sudden flare of hot red chi, the tip of his tail curling up as he said, standing to his full height and grasping his stick, "My sons are home."

And the Lair's door slid open on silent hinges, because this was a ninja's household, after all, and Donatello hated being lax.

There were a million questions Leonardo could have demanded answers to, a million worried tones Donatello could have used, and a million bad jokes Michelangelo could have cracked at Raphael's expense.

None of that seemed to matter when the three Hamato siblings were faced with the greatest of the world's "What the FUCKs" greater even than Bishop's rampage on little grey men and Leatherhead's bizarre obsession with jazz.

And it came in the form of Casey Jones' arms around Hamato Raphael's waist.

It was Splinter who reacted first, teetering on tiny clawed feet, coming to the door with the soft 'taptaptapscratch' of his walking stick. He surveyed the scene thoughtfully. Raphael blinked down at him, and for the first time anyone could remember, he looked almost ashamed. Casey wore a face much similar, only tinged with a kind of euphoria. Splinter nodded, once, in an approving manner- and then whacked them both over the head with his stick.

"OWWWW!!"

"Sensei, what the SHELL!"

Splinter smirked.

"Raphael." He said sternly. "If you ever do that again I shall be most displeased. Mr. Jones, take care of my son." He turned, tapping over to the couch, glancing at his other three children. "Have at him, Boys."

Leonardo stalked forward on silent feet. Raph moved to stand between his brother and newfound lover, and the tension- old, comfortable, familiar- flared to life. Leo placed a hand on Raphael's shoulder. Whatever was conveyed in that touch, it was enough for Raph to step back, leaving Casey standing before the door looking nervous. Leo circled the human, examining the sword he held in one hand.

"Casey."

"Y-Yeah, Leo?" Casey asked, eyes never leaving the blade as it slowly began to twist.

"How often do you see me sharpening this sword, Casey?"

Casey Jones gulped. Hard. "A…lot?"

"That's right. Just a…friendly little reminder." The look on Leonardo's face could only be described as evil. "Welcome home, Raph." He tugged his sibling into a loose, one armed hug. It didn't quite convey all the worry and the stress of the past three days, but it was enough for now. They'd fight later, everyone knew, and it would be fantastic and possibly apocalyptic, but for now they were at peace.

Donatello had a small pad of paper out. "April tells me you tried out my hangover pill. How'd it work?"

Casey made a face. "Fine, if you LIKE your entire hangover being forced out your throat."

Donatello smiled sweetly. "Well, that's good to know, Casey. After all, I've got more of those pills. Bottles..and bottles..and bottles of pills. I don't even know what some of them do yet. I'd love to have a chance to experiment."

Although not as brazen as Leo, Donny got his point across. Casey winced. Mikey groaned. "Aww, man," he complained, "You guys got all the GOOD threats!"

"You're the youngest, Mikey," Raph pointed out from where he had sat beside Splinter on the couch. "You don't get to threaten the significant others."

"Yes I do! I'm a brother, it's my right! I could be even more annoying!"

April shuddered. "Please, no." she said. Donny shook his head. "forget Raph, we'd probably kill you before he'd manage it."

"Well…hmm.." Mikey stuck his tongue between his teeth, obviously deep in thought. "I could sic Klunk on you!"

"Oh, and have him sleep on me?" Casey asked. "Real scary, Mike."

"Damnit." Mikey shifted from foot to foot, and then blinked. The metaphorical lightbulb went on over his head. Since it was a Michelangelo lightbulb, it was bright orange, covered in glitter, and was vaguely shaped like the Silver Sentry.

"I've GOT IT! I could make you listen to country music! BACKWARDS!"

"Backwards?" Casey asked with a raised brow. Mikey nodded eagerly. "Yeah. Everyone knows there's satanic messages in country, it's like everyone knows Aliens built Stonehenge!"

Donny blinked. "Aliens, Mikey, did not build Stonehenge."

"yeah they did."

"No, they didn't."

"The what's an Utrom if it's not an alien?"

"…….."

"HA! I win!"

"I thought you got everything back if you played a country song backwards." Raphael said thoughtfully. April nodded. "Right. Your house, your dog, your girl or boyfriend…"

"So you still fail, Mikey." Raphael pointed out. Michelangelo pouted. "I will think of something!" he said. "But until then…anyone hungry?"

"Food would be fantastic," Casey admitted as his stomach growled out loud. April rose an eyebrow. "Did you eat ANYTHING?" she asked. "I got food while I was out!" Casey said defensively. Raphael leaned over the edge of the couch. "If you call the hotdog cart over on high street food," he said conspiratorally. Mikey dove for the phone. "PIZZA!" he called happily. Then his eyes narrowed, focusing in on a small, dark mark on Raphael's neck. Far too small to be a bruise got in a fight…

"Raph, is that a HICKEY?!"

And so it was that Raphael Hamato and Arnold Casey Jones finally got over themselves, and found in one another the person whom they could stand to be around for the rest of their lives. The Hamato Clan was increased a pair, and normalcy- or, as normal as the lives of a family of mutants and ninjas and vigilantes and engineers could get- returned. Of course, when one snowflake falls others follow, and more romance would soon be brought to light in the gentle glow of computer screens, with the helpful advice of brothers. But that is another story.

PLAYING IT BACKWARDS

THE END

A/N: HOLY FUCKSHIT BATMAN I FINISHED A MULTI-CHAPTER. Thanks so much to all my reviewers and fellow authors who both fav-storied and fav-authored me, I feel so honored by the attention. I had a lot of fun writing this and now that I've proven to myself that I CAN finish a multi-chapter, I might just write a few more. I would like to apologize for the constant shifts in the spelling of Donny's name, since I can never remember if I end it in Y or IE. Special thanks to Amaronith on livejournal, who kicked my ass throughout this whole affair and helped me when the inspirational well was running dry, and to my Scottish partner-in-crime Starkiller who reawoke my love of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I'll be seeing you!