Shadows

TMNT and related characters are not mine. They are property of Nickelodeon and used strictly for entertainment of fans. I have been a fan of TMNT for a long time but this is my first attempt at writing fan fiction for it. I tend to like reflective stuff. Please feel free to R&R. I'd love any tips.

It wasn't a normal month if Mikey didn't wake up at least a few times with some type of nightmare. They were never the same. It would be easier if they were, he could at least prepare for them then. But nope! Sometimes, they were like a bad B-horror movie that seemed oddly frightening enough then Mikey would laugh at it when he was once more in the waking world. Sometimes, they were just instant replays of old battles, repeated again and again in all their Technicolor glory.

Those nightmares, eh, he could handle those. He never liked them but he could wake up from them, pet Klunk, maybe grab one of his comics or something and laugh it off. It sometimes took a bit but he was able to push past them, dismissing them as things come and gone. He was pretty good at moving from moment to moment and living in the present. It was part of who he was.

Then, there were the other dreams. The darker ones, the scariest ones. Those were oddly more abstract than anything else. They were more feeling than substance, more temperature than sight, more overall, emotion than anything else, at least at first. They always started that way, like that weird feeling you get when you know someone's watchin' you, even though you can't see 'em.

If they would just STAY that way, well, then everything would be fine. He would be freaked out, disturbed but they never stopped there. Gradually, they would morph into crystal clear pictures, always of the same type of thing. It always involved his brothers and father, and it always involved them dying with Mikey powerless to do anything about it. Why? Why? Because whatever brought about their deaths was something he couldn't see, feel or even make sense of. He never saw the assailant. He was close enough to see their final expressions, to feel their blood splatter his face, and even hear them call him, or in the worst of cases, feel their hand grasp his wrist only to go limp and cold. But…he was never able to change the course of things.

If any of those nightmares EVER made him scream out, it was those. The other nightmares…well, they were easy to cope with.

The B-movie ones, well, they usually were dismissed with logic, or what was Mikey's version of logic, as soon as he awoke. The ridiculousness of them was easy to see once his eyes opened. He'd realize he was home, in his room, in the Lair and that no radioactive monster with ten thousand eyes and an uncanny ability to smell turtle was after him.

The others, the flashback nightmares, and well those were a lot like watching old horror movies, one you had seen before. You would cover your eyes when you knew the bad moments were comin' but you knew how the movie ended. When he opened his eyes, he would realize he was in the happy-go-lucky sequel. You know, the one where all the families were reunited and living all happy ever after in the comedy of the year.

Those others though, no. He would open his eyes and all he would see was dark, the dark of his room.

Shell, he hated the dark. It was a stupid fear, one that he tried to keep as low-key as possible though all of his family knew. Raph wouldn't even usually bring it up because Mikey tried to divert as much attention AWAY from it as he possibly could. It was stupid, irritating but despite how much it aggravated him, he never could seem to dissolve it. He may not have focused on a lot but that fear was something he had been trying to focus away for years. Never worked.

When he was younger, if the fear would stir up, he would slip into his brothers' rooms, usually appreciating that he had three elder brothers to swap between as needed.

Once all this mess with the Foot, Shredder, Purple Dragons and various other annoyances had started, he had cut down on it. He only remembered doing it a few times in the past year, twice to Raph's room and once to Leo's. Raph usually greeted him with feigned anger and annoyance but he always moved aside and let him stay. Raph had always been his protector, like the crabby superhero who would whine and complain but never falter.

When he went to Leo though, well, that was a lot rarer and Leo treated it as such. He wasn't pushy like Raph or agitated, naw, that wasn't the De Facto leader's style. Leo always stayed pretty quiet, usually left his bed and let Mikey have it and positioned himself in front of the bed, as if he were some sort of private samurai. It felt good though. Be it Raph or Leo, he could always fall back asleep. Maybe it was his slightly clingy personality but shell, it felt good to be protected.

He didn't want that to become common place though. He had a hard enough time being taken serious (and yes, there were times when he desired it) and running crying to your brothers because of a bad dream didn't help that. Even if they were the horrible, horrific, make-you-wanna-hide-under-the-covers-with-the-old-faded-teddy-bear kinda dreams. Running to them because you were scared of the dark? Even worse on the male bravado scale.

It was…embarrassing. Not because of the nightmares but because it wasn't just those dreams that made him wanna run to his brothers. It wasn't just the dark. It was the aftermath, the waking up, and the combination of the two. He would awake, look around his room and the darkness would work its horrible magic.

The visions of the invisible assailant and the empty corners of his room, the stretching darkness, the odd settling of sewer pipes and old concrete. His eyes would dart here and there, trying to focus, only to be darted to another part of his room by another sound, or feeling or…

Most people would have laughed, told him how dumb it was to focus on a dream and even dumber to think something would suddenly pop out of the shadows. An invisible assailant appearing in the dark to strike without warning? Ridiculous.

Trembling, Mikey pulled the sheets tightly over his head.

Mikey knew better than all those people.

After all, at the right moment and time…he _was_ the shadow. He knew how to slip into places unnoticed, he knew how to use the shadows and bends of light and structure. He knew how to shift his weight to be as light and soundless as the wind. He knew how to draw a weapon with no notice, no vibration. He knew how to focus on an un-expecting victim's weak points. He knew how to time a kick or a strike just right to cause little to no disturbance. He knew how to stalk, how to observe someone's actions, a little bit at a time and learn more than most of their friends knew.

He knew.

So, these dreams of losing his family to a murderous shadow…

Maybe it wasn't the dark he feared. It wasn't the shadows. It was the killers he knew could dwell within it.