Title: Destinations – Sequel to 'Moth and Flame'

Author: Jayde

Summary: This picks up a couple of months after 'Moth and Flame'.

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor have I ever, owned the turtles. No harm intended.

Credits: Big thanks to ReluctantDragon for the beta reading. Two chapters posted in one day – thanks to Rein finding the secret location. Everything else has yet to be beta read, so be patient folks.

Chapter 5:

Raphael hung back a bit, watching the reunion out of the corner of his eye. He didn't want to intrude, and he figured he could be patient for a few minutes. As he stood, he shifted his pack a little on his shoulder. It was beginning to bug him. As he swung it back into position, he felt the bag hit an object.

"Watch it!"

Raph turned around and found someone behind him, glaring at him ferociously. He looked her up and down, and could feel a smirk blossom on his lips.

"How you doin'?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. He knew this made his arms look bigger, and never failed to interest the females he ran into.

"Wonderful. How about you hit me with your luggage again?" she spat back, bending down to retrieve her spilled papers. When Raphael shifted his pack, it had hit her arm. Startled, she had dropped her folders and now they were in a mess all over the floor.

Kneeling down, Raphael began to gather up the papers into a pile. The woman glanced at him, surprised, and took the documents from him a little sheepishly. They stood up, and she pushed the hair out of her face.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you," she offered, sounding genuinely contrite.

"'S'alright. I've had worse," Raph responded, studying her again. For all intents and purposes, she appeared to be human – the first and only human he had seen on Maora 2 thus far. It was sort of comforting to see a human. "You got a name?" he questioned.

"Haven," she answered, trying to juggle the papers and folders back into some semblance of order again.

"Weird," Raphael said, an eye ridge quirked at her.

"That's your name?" Haven asked. "Weird?" She glanced at him and noticed that he was shaking his head.

"No. It's Raphael. Listen, I gotta catch up with my bro," Raph said. "You work around here, or …?"

Haven blinked, trying to figure out what Raphael was asking. "I … work with the Utroms," she replied cautiously.

"Maybe I'll run into ya again," Raphael said, smiling. Haven's mouth dropped open as the drift of the conversation finally caught up to her.

"Um, maybe," Haven stammered, stepping back and nearly running into a trio of arriving passengers. "Excuse me, um, Raphael. I have … I have to get back to work." Raph grinned as she hurried away. Yeah, he thought, wandering over to Leo and Sen. He still had it.

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"Have you got your suit?"

Don smiled and put his free arm around Sam's waist. The other hand was busy pulling a small suitcase through the bustling airport. "I have my suit," Don replied.

"A decent tie?" Sam questioned, glancing down at the boarding pass in her hand. Where was gate 53? She didn't want Don to miss his flight because she was inept at finding the gate.

"All of my ties are decent," Don responded defensively. The security checkpoint loomed ahead, the line already considerably long. Fortunately, he hadn't brought any electronics except his laptop.

"Please tell me you didn't pack any cartoon ties," Sam said. Don didn't answer right away, and Sam stopped walking. "Donatello …" She looked up at him, and he grinned unrepentantly. "It's a good thing you're a genius," Sam groused. "You can get away with being eccentric." She looked at the boarding pass again.

"Sam, stop," Don said, taking the boarding pass from her and putting it in the pocket of his jacket.

"What?" she asked, looking around as other passengers joined the line for security screening. Don caught her chin in his hand and made her look at him.

"Stop worrying," he instructed firmly. Sam shifted her feet nervously, and then sighed. He could read her like a book. Why did she even try to pretend? She reached up and put her hands on his shoulders. More than anything in the world she wanted to wrench him out of this airport and drag him back to the car. Not that she could, but she wanted to.

"Have a good trip," Sam offered, her unhappy tone revealing everything she was thinking. Don shook his head and then pressed his face to her right ear, nuzzling her hair. His arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her closer.

"I love you, Sam," Don breathed. Sam closed her eyes. Why the hell did she feel like crying? It was three freaking days! She circled his neck with her arms and held on.

"Call me, okay?" She hated that it sounded like she was pleading.

"I will. Don't forget your doctor's appointment today," Don reminded her. Sam shook her head, still unable to convince herself to let go. "Sam," he said finally.

"I know," she whispered, removing her arms and taking a step back. "I have to get to work," she stated, more to herself than to him. Don smiled, reassuring her, and moved into the line.

Sam backed up, still watching Don as he made his way through the metal detector and then he was out of sight. Three days, she thought, was just too damn long.

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Pushing the newspaper out of the way, Mike set out two takeout coffee cups on the desk, and opened a white paper bag to retrieve the muffins. Juliet leaned forward in her seat on the opposite side, and picked up the paper. Mike sat down in Leo's office chair, and picked up his muffin. Banana chocolate chip, and it was still warm.

"Proposition 6 passed in California," Juliet reported, opening up the newspaper and looking at the article with interest. "We could fly out and get married."

Mike shrugged. "Or wait for it to happen here," he said brushing muffin crumbs off his shirt.

"Or just keep on living in sin," Juliet offered. Mike glanced over at her, and smiled rakishly. He leaned far forward over the desk, and Juliet met him halfway to share a kiss.

"Mmm, coffee's getting cold," Juliet said, moving back. She picked up her cup and took a sip.

"We should practice before the first class," Mike suggested, polishing off his muffin in a couple of giant bites.

"You mean I should practice," Juliet interpreted, rising to her feet and setting her cup down. "Was I that bad?"

"Let's just say that your technique needs work, Jules," Mike said diplomatically, standing up and moving around the desk. He took her arm and guided her to the nearest studio.

"Funny," Juliet said, wrinkling her nose at him as Mike passed her a bo staff. "You've never complained about my 'technique' before."

"Nice try, but you're not gonna distract me," Mike replied, spinning a nunchuck and dropping into a fighting stance. "Let's see if you remember anything." He put her on the defensive almost immediately. In her head, Juliet was struggling to remember her lessons from years ago. Blocking she still sort of had down. She thought it unlikely that, barring interference from an outside source, she could take Mike.

The sparring was pitifully short, and when the bo was knocked out of her hands, Juliet wasn't very surprised. "Okay. I suck," she laughed, raising her hands. "I surrender."

"Are there terms for this surrender?" Mike asked, tucking his nunchucks back into his belt and walking forward. Juliet stepped back and found herself trapped against the wall as Mike approached. When he was close, he caught her hands in his and gently pinned her to the wall. "What do I get out of it?" he questioned huskily.

"What do you want?" Juliet whispered, leaning in to brush her lips over his. Mike deepened the kiss, and then remembering himself, he withdrew a little.

"You okay?" Mike asked, concerned. He could practically hear her heart racing, and he did not want to scare her. But there was no fear in her eyes. Only excitement.

"We," Juliet gasped, catching her breath. "Should spar every morning."

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Four months ago, on Maora 2 …

Nothing was the same. Opening the door, Sen nodded to a servant and removed her cloak. The garment was retrieved from her hands and put away. These little gestures – these comforts that her mother would never consider living without – now annoyed Sen. She was perfectly capable of putting her own cloak in the closet. No one needed to fetch and carry for her.

Sen glared at the gleaming tile floor of the entry hall. Her mood, as it had been since her return to her home world, was somber. Even her lunch with Cho had failed to bring any joy. Sen walked slowly down the hall, recalling the hour just past. Cho had requested an outing. Sen had been thrilled at the time of the invitation. She had seen so little of her friend since returning to Maora 2.

But the meeting had not turned out at all as expected. The restaurant had been fine, and the food was excellent. But somehow, Sen missed their old clandestine get-togethers at the bookstore.

"Why did you choose to meet here?" Sen asked as she was seated at the table. The room was tastefully decorated in a popular style. The service and cuisine was supposed to be excellent … but this wasn't the sort of place they usually met.

"Oki and I love this place," Cho enthused. "We eat here as often as we can."

"I did not know Oki was doing so well," Sen commented carefully. Cho's smile was bright, but it was no longer infectious. Sen found she could not return the expression.

"Well, we struggle," Cho admitted. "Everyone does." The drinks were served, and Cho sipped at her colorful concoction. Sen watched her friend with a feeling of foreboding. "I was wondering," Cho began hesitantly. "If you might consider extending us a small loan."

In her room, Sen shut the door and crossed to her bed. She sat down heavily and put her head in her hands. She had asked questions. What did they need the money for? Were they in financial trouble? Cho had insisted it was for their forthcoming wedding; for trifles for the guests or some such thing. But Sen noticed that her old friend would not meet her eyes.

Her mother had warned her many times over the years – never lend money to people you know. Give a gift, call it a charitable contribution, but do not pretend they will pay it back. With dismay, Sen was forced to recall other things Taka had said – in particular her repeated prediction that, sooner or later, Cho would ask for money.

She had refused the loan to Cho, and things had turned ugly. Cho had accused her of being selfish – of hating Cho because she was getting married. Cho had called her a jealous snob, and Sen had left. She had paid the bill on her way out.

It hurt. She couldn't pretend it didn't hurt. The only reason Cho wanted to see her was to ask for money.

Sen curled on her side on the bed. Leonardo, she thought, why did I come back here?

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