Work Text:
There hasn't been any records of Time Travellers ever existing, let alone the concept of them even succeeding.
Casey often wonders why.
Time travel is hard, time travel is ridiculously hard to achieve. He knows, he saw it outright happen when its form took shape surely as it rips time and space; what it can do to the one who dared to touch its sacred plane.
But the earth isn't only filled with humans and animals as its living organisms. There are Yokais hidden throughout history thought to be mere legends when in fact it's truth. With what the Kraang had showed him his whole life, surely there would be one madman in Yokai kind that succeeded in time travel. Yet, he found nothing. Not in Draxum's library, not in the mystic library, Splinter's weird stash of old things or anything Big Mama has (whom he escaped only by the skin of his teeth) would tell him, reveal to him, that he wasn't just a billionth out of one miracle that just so happened so he could save his dying planet.
At that time, it was his worst nightmare. To be completely isolated out of the normal; the thought that he lived, and he was the only one left from there.
Now, though, he wished that theory of him being a miracle was true, and not what it had to be if it's not. Anything. Anything but the other side of the coin. The world, however, always finds a way to be cruel to him.
Casey woke up just today, feeling a little bit more tired than usual. He's preparing his morning coffee; he moves a little too sluggishly to his own liking, he doubled the caffeine. Just in case. He falters in his steps. Odd. He's tired, but not enough to miss his steps, much less on firm floor tiles. Maybe the floor had been mopped, it doesn't explain his continued faltering. His sore muscles makes him feel like all he could do right about now is hold his mug shakily, which doesn't invite much confidence into his situation. Casey head towards the lair's living room, treading carefully as he uses the wall for support. The family gathered in the living room saw him, and immediately abandoned all of their activities to check on him, inquiring him of his health. He must've looked worse for wear than he had thought. Leo, ever the medic and his best friend, was especially worried for his wellbeing.
Casey had thought any other answer that wasn't his total isolation would have been better than this life he live.
He shouldn't have been so presumptuous.
His vision dims and turns, he felt hands on him; he faintly realizes he's facing the ground, having nearly fell on his face. The family is unusually quiet, but one heavy weighted look makes him realize they're speaking, but no voice enters his ears. Only absolute silence.
Vaguely, he noticed the blurry pieces of pale yellow embers floating around him. Where it came from, the benevolent hands of rest beckoning him overridden his inquiring instincts.
His family screams for him, his mind slips from him. Casey disappears into small, soft, floating pieces of pale yellow.
It seems, he overstayed his welcome.