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: Sassy, for beta reading and generally being awesome.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own the turtles. I borrow them only for entertainment purposes. No profit or harm intended. Okay, well, not much harm. Psychological harm.

Author's Notes:

To Sassy: I loved your volleyball story. My mom went to everything, but my dad couldn't always make it. He was very busy with work, so … Did I ever tell you that most of the plot lines in my stories reflect something from my own life?

To chibi-rose-angel: Poor Raph. (sighs dramatically) I just never get that poor guy a girlfriend. Maybe in another story, but not in this one. Sorry!

Lunar-ninja: Juliet has lost focus, I think. It's easier than you think to dive into something and forget about everything else around you. This is an extreme case (fiction and all), but I bet you probably know someone who has let a belief or obsession rule them to their detriment.

Reinbeauchaser: Thanks for the long review (2 chapters worth). The coffee maker thing was something I struggled with. It is a rare display of temper for the mild mannered turtle, but I think even he could only be pushed so far. Laughs Juliet arriving at the recital, and then blowing it. You know, I giggled like a little kid while writing that. I knew that would drive everyone up a wall.

Fallen Hikari: You, too? Yeah, I did the piano recital thing at age 12, and it was awful. I remembered the piece, but I was so nervous that I played it at the wrong speed! I'm glad you're here to deflate my head. I think right here is the spot to insert that evil laugh.

Chapter 8:

Seven and a half years earlier …

Promises to keep …

Juliet was nearly crying as she spoke aloud the words she had practiced in her mind before coming up onto the rooftop. "I promise I will always love you, and that this is only the beginning."

She choked a little, looking straight into Mike's unbelievably kind golden brown eyes. No one had ever made her feel as safe – as loved – as he had in the brief time they had been together. "I promise to stick by you, and listen to you, and laugh at your jokes." She heard Casey mutter something, but she ignored it. The only thing in her sights at this moment was Mike, and the rest of their lives.

"My turn?" Mike asked her gently, and she nodded.

The tears were blurring her vision, but it was okay. The rain was fine, too. It could have been hailing, and her heart still would have been too full to speak. .

"I can't make you a lot of promises," he began. "I don't have anything to offer other than what I've already been doing. I promise I'll be here for you, no matter what," Mike continued, and his dear face started to blur again. She wiped at the tears ineffectually with her hand. "I'll look after you, and Rachel and Noelle."

Her hand was trembling where it rested in his. "I love you, Juliet."


Sitting down gingerly on the edge of the small sofa, Mike winced at the shrill screams of his conscience. He didn't need to be here, and he should just get up and leave. Never mind making an excuse to Amber, who was right now putting together a tray in the kitchen. It was generous of her to lend an ear to his problems, but he would be better off taking it to Leo. Leo would make him spar, and he could get all of it out in the practice room.

Amber returned, and settled a tray with two cups of coffee, and all the fixings, on the coffee table in front of him. She sat down next to him on the increasingly tiny sofa, her left thigh pressed warmly to his. He jumped a little as her arm brushed his – she leaned forward to get a cup of coffee, and smiled at him.

"Help yourself," she said, sitting back. She crossed her legs nonchalantly, her fluttery skirt riding up above her knee.

Mike swallowed, and concentrated on his coffee. He was only human … Okay, he wasn't, but he was healthy and normal and just looking. And he really needed to get back home.

"Relax, Mike. I'm not going to bite you," she offered in a teasing tone. She sipped her coffee, and then regarded him more seriously. "Noelle did a fantastic job at the recital."

"Yeah," Mike enthused, back on comfortable ground. He could rattle on about the girls for hours. "She wants to go to Julliard," he added, leaning back to enjoy his coffee, heavy on the sugar and cream.

"I think she can do it," Amber considered. "It will be hard work, but she is talented and determined. The cost though …"

"I'll get another job," Mike said, shrugging. He would, too. If Noelle wanted a prestigious music school, then he would see that it happened. Amber lightly touched his arm, and he glanced at her in surprise.

"That's what makes you a great father," she offered, and then looked down at her hand. She didn't remove it though. "My father thought music was a waste of time. He cut me off when I chose it as a major in college."

"I'm sorry," Mike said, uncertain of what else to say in the face of this confession. He did attempt to relax a little. She was being friendly, and that was all. Everything else could be laid at the door of his own messed up emotions. Nothing more.

"I'm just glad Noelle will never have to go through that," Amber choked out, and Mike was startled to see that his daughter's piano teacher was crying.

"Oh, hey," Mike said, setting down his coffee and turning towards her. Doing what he would have done for anyone else, Mike wrapped his arms around her in a comforting hug. "It's okay," he assured her, rubbing her back a little. He felt her hands slide up his biceps, and rest on his shoulders. Her face burrowed against his neck, and he gasped aloud when he felt her lips brush against his skin. He shivered when her tongue darted out to lick lightly against his sensitive flesh.

Every alarm bell in his psyche shrieked at him, but he did not heed them. Stronger was the pain in his heart and mind. More powerful was his desire to escape the misery for a little while. He leaned into her welcoming embrace, temptation beckoned, and Mike fell.


"Ouch!"

"What happened?" Sam questioned, hurrying over to where Don leaned against the wall, holding his right hand gingerly against his chest. A box of books sat on the floor at his feet. It was moving day. Don and Sam had spent the past few hours bringing his things over to the apartment. They had started in the morning at the house with the loading. For a wonder, Leo had only made one pointed threat when Don was out of earshot. Of course, the threat had involved the use of the business end of his katana and her neck if Don was unhappy for so much as a nanosecond.

She didn't need the reminder. The fifteen similar statements from Raphael had made it clear where Don's brothers stood.

"I hit my finger on the doorframe," Don confessed, grimacing. Sam tugged on his wrist until he let her look at his injured digit.

"Oh, it looks bad," she teased. Don frowned, and tried to take his hand back, but she hung on. Sam bent forward, and placed a gentle kiss on his finger. "Better?" she asked, grinning up into his face. The corners of his mouth twitched a bit as he fought an oncoming smile.

"I might require a little more first aid," he noted softly, and Sam shivered at the look in his dark eyes.

"Not until we get everything moved in," she tried, knowing all was lost when Don put his arms around her to pull her close. "Your books," she protested, but he stopped her with a heated kiss.

"My books will wait," he replied a few moments later. He backed her steadily towards his desk, just recently ensconced in the spare bedroom that they had designated for his home office. When they reached it, he lifted her up to sit on the edge. Don leaned in, an arm at her back to steady her, and kissed her thoroughly.

"We do," she said, when she was allowed to breathe. "Have a dinner engagement."

Don groaned, and rested his forehead on her shoulder. Sam laughed, and patted his shell in a mock-comforting way.

"Your boss' dinner party," Don noted, his voice muffled against her t-shirt.

"And we have to shower, and change," Sam added. Don raised his head, brushing her hair into her face, and she bit her lip at the wicked gleam in his eyes.

"Did you say 'shower'?" he queried brightly.


Leo watched the two police cruisers pull away from the curb, and vanish up the street with the rest of the passing traffic. His eyes returned to the bookstore across the street, and his expression morphed into a cold glare.

Last night, while they had been at the recital, someone had coated the front of Sen's store with profanity and threats. The vulgar display had greeted them this morning when they came down to open up for business. Turning around, Leo walked back into the martial arts school. Inside, he found Sen sitting on one of the chairs in the viewing area for the parents of his students. He squatted down beside her chair, and looked up into her unusual, but to his eyes very beautiful, face.

"I'm sorry," he offered, feeling that the words were inadequate in the face of the vandalism. "If I had been here …"

"You must not think that way," Sen interrupted, almost rudely. "It … it is not your fault, Leonardo. You have done so much already …" She paused, and closed her eyes. "I am sorry. I am too emotional to communicate properly," she explained, and Leo wondered if he would always find her verbal expressions as endearing as he did right now. He took her hands in his, and caressed the slender fingers – so unlike his own.

"Don't worry about it," he reassured her. To his surprise, she slipped off the chair and to her knees. Sen leaned in and rested her forehead against his temple in a gesture of affection that made his pulse race.

That was how Raphael found them a few moments later. He cleared his throat loudly, and Sen jumped back as though she had been caught committing a minor felony. Leo frowned at Raph, ungrateful for the interruption.

"Store's clear. They didn't get in," Raph said. He had gone in to see if the damage extended inside. He waited silently as his brother stood up, assisting the blue alien to her feet as well.

"Thanks, bro," Leo replied. Sen bowed politely to Raphael, and he nodded briefly in return.

"Now what?" Raph questioned. In his opinion, they ought to go find the kids behind it, and bang some heads together.

"We can start repainting the front tomorrow. I don't have any classes," Leo stated, but Sen was shaking her head wearily.

"Should I not just give up?" she asked quietly. She looked over at her small business, and she felt nauseous at the words written there in splashes of red – like blood. "I do not think I wish to live like this."


There are moments when clarity comes like a rifle shot. It could be in a church, or a hospital, or in your car on your way to work. But it hits like lightening, and it burns you right through to your soul because you realize just how badly you have fucked up.

For Juliet Hamato, it was the key in the front door lock, and her partner and husband walking in and going upstairs without saying a word to her. It was afternoon, and the girls would be home in a little over half an hour.

And Mike had been gone all day.

She glanced down at the piles of papers on the kitchen table, and she knew in her heart that something was dreadfully wrong. Perhaps it was a dormant sixth sense, or just the old adage that the spouse always knows. The number of papers doubled and tripled as tears welled in her eyes to tamper with her vision. Juliet put her face in her hands, and wept openly.

Her marriage, her cause, her commitments, and her faith in herself had been shaken to their very foundations.

Juliet heard the shower start, and tried to get a hold of her self. Maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe there was still something left to save.

Upstairs, standing under the stinging needles of the hottest water he could stand, Mike closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the cool tile. He didn't think he had ever felt worse than he did right now. No defeat handed from the foot, no evil prank from Raph, had ever made him feel so diminished. He had broken his word, and dishonored his marriage – never mind that it wasn't legally binding. Mike was suddenly glad that Master Splinter wasn't alive to see how far he had fallen.

He slid down the wall, and knelt in the bottom of the tub as the water temperature cooled. A mere shower could not wash it away. He could still feel her silky pale arms around him, and smell her floral perfume. He gagged, scrambling out of the tub with a thump and skidding over to the toilet. He threw up, and then sank back onto the now wet floor.

Separated by a distance of wood, concrete, and despair, two individuals who had once been very much in love, cried alone.