Title: Moth and Flame – The sequel to the 'Cat and Mouse' series
Author: Jayde
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Seven years have passed since the events of 'Rest in Peace'.
Credits: All bow to Sassy, because she works so hard to clean up my writing and turn this stuff around quickly.
Disclaimer: I do NOT own the turtles. I borrow them only for entertainment purposes. No profit or harm intended.
Author's Notes: Aw, I don't want to spoil anything for anyone. Just read.
"One more for love …"
Five for Fighting – 'One More for Love'
Chapter 3:
Two years earlier …
"Hey, where's …?"
Rachel got a chance to start the question, but she never had a prayer of finishing it.
"Sit down," Raphael commanded sharply. He was sitting on a mat in the center of the room in the new martial arts school. Rachel had been expecting to see Mike here for her lesson. "You hear me, kid?"
Rachel gulped back a retort, and knelt down on the mat in front of him – but far enough away that she had a chance to run if necessary. She had always been just a little bit afraid of 'Uncle' Raph. He didn't make her things like Don, and he wasn't as quiet as Leo. He was loud, and rude, and you never quite knew what he was going to do until he did it.
"Here's the deal. There's been a change of plans in your training," Raph explained cryptically. Rachel waited, wondering what this meant. Was she not going to be trained anymore? Was she maybe doing so well they were going to give her more to do? Like maybe she'd get to patrol with her uncles now?
"I'm yer new sensei," Raphael announced, dashing her hopes.
"No way," Rachel denied quickly, and Raph scowled at the thirteen year old girl.
"'Fraid so, kid. So, here's the rules, and they're real simple. You do what I say, when I say, and we'll get along just fine."
"And if I don't?" Rachel questioned daringly. Raph's wide mouth quirked up in a small smile that would have sent knowledgeable Foot clan soldiers fleeing from the room, but Rachel remained where she was.
"Try me," he offered lightly, but his eyes were narrowed and ready for any movement. Rachel decided not to try just yet.
The buzzer for the downstairs door sounded, disrupting her in the middle of changing. She glanced at the clock, and her mouth dropped open with horror. It couldn't be time yet … She shrugged her blouse on and fumbled with the buttons as she hurried to the front door. She hit the intercom button.
"Yes?"
"Sam?" Don's voice came back clearly through the speaker. Sam gritted her teeth in frustration. Couldn't he be late just once in his life? She hit the button to open the door to the building. Now she had two minutes. Running to the kitchen, she finished buttoning her shirt and tucked it into her skirt. She yanked open the fridge door, and pulled out the chicken … only to discover it was still frozen. Sam cursed viciously, and threw the package back into the fridge.
A soft knock at her door sent her spinning back in that direction. This had been one of her categorically bad ideas. She had only been home for a few minutes from briefing the FBI on the possibility of a serial killer in the city, and now she had nothing ready to make for dinner.
Well, she couldn't leave him outside all night, Sam mused with self-disgust. She took a steadying breath, and walked to the door. She opened it, and lit up with a smile as she saw Don there with a bundle of flowers, and a boxed pizza.
"I hope you're not offended," he offered, grinning. "But I didn't know if you had learned to cook yet." Sam took the pizza from him, and shook her head, still smiling.
"It's not that I can't cook," she emphasized, stepping back to let him in to her apartment. "It's that I never have time." Don entered and took a look around. Some of the furniture looked familiar, but the couch was new. He turned back to find Sam looking him up and down.
"What?" he asked, curious. He glanced down at his clothes to see if something were amiss.
"I just can't get over you being dressed," Sam commented. Immediately reflecting on her statement, Sam's face flushed with embarrassment. "Well, you know. You never wore clothes before and …" Her blush deepened, and Don had to put a hand over his mouth before he started laughing. Sam shut the door, and took the pizza into the kitchen without another word. She was afraid of what she would say next.
Don followed her, and she saw he was still holding the flowers. Sam opened a cupboard, and took down a simple vase, filling it with tap water. "These are beautiful," she murmured, putting them into the water. "You didn't have to," she added, meeting his eyes again.
"No, but I wanted to," he noted, leaning against the counter. "Plates?" he questioned. Sam nodded at the kitchen cupboard near the fridge, and she turned to the drawer that held the silverware. A few minutes later, they were perched at her kitchen counter on stools, and eating the pizza.
"So it looks like the same perpetrator," Sam said, completing her tale of the three related killings. Don leaned his arms on the counter, holding his glass of wine lightly in one hand as he considered the information. "More?" Sam asked, sliding over the bottle. Don shook his head.
"I don't want to get drunk," he said, still thinking about the murders.
"Well, there goes that plan," Sam muttered. Don raised an eye ridge as he studied his dinner companion mutely. A small smile graced her features, as she lifted her glass and took a sip. She set her glass down carefully, and looked at her empty plate. Her smile slipped away to be replaced by a very serious expression. "There's so much I want to say right now, but I'm not sure where to start."
Don stood up from his stool, and took her arm. She rose as well, and they walked over to the couch to sit down again. Sam turned her body to face him, and bit her lip as she considered how to begin.
"It's been a long time, Sam. If this is about before …," Don shrugged. "I'm not angry about that now."
"It's not about that, really. I do want to say I'm sorry for all of that," Sam started, staring at her hands. "But it's also about not coming to see you. Why I waited so long …"
"Why did you?" Don queried, leaning forward and trying to seek out her eyes to read her expression. She looked up finally.
"I was afraid," she admitted. "I wanted to come and talk to you. I thought about doing it hundreds of times, but … I didn't know how you would react." Sam blinked a few times. "I didn't know if you still cared, and it seemed safer to stay away then to learn that you … that you hated me. I wanted to keep that hope, even if it wasn't real," she said wistfully.
"Sam …," Don whispered. He reached out and placed one of his hands over hers. She turned her hand over and clasped his fingers.
"I kept busy," she confessed, her voice getting a little hoarse with emotion. "But I never forgot …" Don brought his other hand up and cupped her cheek. She tilted her head, and rubbed her cheek against his palm. Her eyes were closed. If this were a dream, then she wouldn't do anything to disrupt it.
Don leaned forward, and pressed a gentle kiss to her mouth. Sam lifted her hands and caught the collar of his shirt, bringing him closer and deepening the kiss. His fingers moved into her hair, and she made a small noise of pleasure.
He retreated a little, and tried to catch his breath. "We should probably practice a little restraint," he noted unevenly.
Sam stood up abruptly, and offered a hand to Don. "I think we've waited long enough," she said, her voice husky but certain. Don searched her eyes for a moment, and then put his hand in hers.
"I'm home!" Juliet called just after she shut the front door. Hearing only silence in the apartment, she headed for the kitchen to drop her backpack. It was stuffed with more reports that needed to be studied, and lists of possible supporters to contact. She didn't take any of it out, because she was too damn tired to deal with it right now.
It had seemed so simple in the beginning – a few hours a week to help bring a law into being. What's the big deal, after all? But she had badly misjudged how many people were against having aliens on the planet, let alone letting aliens marry humans. What had started as something fairly selfish, her desire to marry Mike legally, had become an all-consuming quest.
She wasn't the only one suffering. In fact, she wasn't even really having the problems so many others were. She knew a lovely female alien who had been tossed out of her home after her partner's death. He had left the place to her in a will, but because his family contested it, and there was no 'official' relationship she had lost out. It affected property rights, child custody, medical insurance – the litany went on and on.
And it terrified her. What if something happened to her? Mike wouldn't automatically get the children, because he wasn't recognized as their legal stepfather.
She knew this was hard on her family – all her hours away from home. But it seemed worth it right now to protect the future.
Juliet looked at the backpack. It seemed to be calling out to her conscience. She should get to work, but all she wanted was to crawl up the stairs, and curl up against Mike. She sighed, and opened the pack to draw out a large sheaf of papers. She set them on the table, and got herself a glass of water before buckling down to work.
Upstairs, stretched out on a large bed, Mike listened in the dark as Juliet settled down in a chair to begin reading. She wasn't even going to come up and say anything to him. He turned onto his side, and tried to ignore the familiar pain. He could get up and go down to her, but that would be a little worse. That would be a more direct method of rejection than what he was experiencing right now.
Don rolled over, and opened his eyes. He was disturbed, at least momentarily, to see an unfamiliar room. He rubbed at his eyes, and turned his head on the pillow to note that he wasn't alone.
Sam's eyes were closed, and her face was relaxed in sleep. There was even a small smile. He moved closer, careful not to wake her up. He cautiously wrapped an arm around her waist, and she shifted nearer unconsciously. Don closed his eyes and breathed deeply, brushing his beak against her hair. He wanted this to last as long as possible before the world intruded.
True to experience, a cell phone rang on the bedside table. Sam groaned, and turned over to reach for it. Without even opening her eyes, she answered it.
"Hello," she said groggily. Then, a little more alert. "Where …? When …? No, I'll be there." She disconnected, and dropped the phone on the comforter. Sam stretched, arching her back, and then moved her arms around Don's neck as she pressed close to him. "I have to go to work," she whispered against his jaw, just before she kissed him there. She continued to dot kisses along his jaw and down onto his neck. "You could stay here," she offered softly. "Hopefully I won't be too long."
"I have to get to class," Don responded, wrapping his arms around her, enjoying her attentions.
"Mmmn," she groaned unhappily, and drew away. Don let her go reluctantly as she sat up and shook out her tousled hair.
"What happened?" he asked, curious about the early morning call.
Sam slumped a little, and drew her knees up to her chest. "Another murder," she responded quietly, looking across the room at the mirror over her dresser. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips a little swollen, and her hair a mess. And she only had a few minutes to pull herself together. She glanced over at Don, who was still prone on the bed, his arms crossed behind his head. She could see that he was pondering something again. "Will you come over later?" His eyes focused on hers, and his wide mouth turned up in a smile of promise.
"Absolutely."
Coming downstairs in the morning, Mike found Juliet already in the kitchen, and pouring a large pot of coffee into a thermos.
"Hey," he greeted on his way to the fridge to dig out juice. He glanced at her, and noted the dark circles like purple bruises under her eyes. "Did you sleep at all?"
"A little," Juliet said, twisting on the top of her thermos. "On the couch. I didn't want to wake you." If she had turned, she might have seen the sharp line of Mike's jaw as he ground his teeth together.
"And you're leaving again," he noted, his tone calm only by force of will. He shut the fridge a little harder than normal, and poured a glass of juice.
"There's a big protest to plan," Juliet explained, zipping up her backpack, and then struggling into her jacket. "You knew it would be busy when I was elected vice president of the action committee. It's a bigger commitment." Mike nodded, and tried not to flinch as she dropped a quick kiss on his cheek before she hurried out.
He leaned against the counter for a little while after she had gone, gripping the edge so tightly that his fingers ached. When the phone rang, interrupting his dark thoughts, he was kind of relieved.
"Hello," he said into the telephone, and heard Noelle's piano teacher on the other end. "A meeting? Sure, I can come by later today. Not a problem. Do I need to bring …? Oh." Mike paused, a little puzzled that she didn't want him to bring Noelle along. "No, that's not a problem. Bye."
He set the phone down, wondering what the issue was with Noelle's piano lessons.
Author's Notes: You guys are so generous with the reviews. Thank you to Lunar-ninja, pacphys, Reluctant Dragon, chibi-rose-angel (I hope the email helped!), Reinbeauchaser, Sassy (have a nice trip!), BubblyShell, and KuwabaraMikey17.
