Hey guys! Back again with another fic. This one is about Skimbleshanks the railway cat. I had the idea as I was writing Unlikeliest of Lovers and thought 'what if Skimble made a mistake one day?'. Luckily for me Kings Cross Station is right next to St. Pancras International in London which gave me the idea for this one. I don't want to give too much away but I feel I need to explain the facts so those of you that don't know Britain very well can understand. 1) The Flying Scotsman is (or was) a train that ran from London to Edinburgh. It still runs but with modern trains and nowhere nearly as slow so for the sake of this story just imagine what I write is true. 2) There is a railway link between England and France called the Channel Tunnel and there are many services which run between London and Paris everyday.

Disclaimer: I don't own Cats so please don't sue me.

Skimble's Accident

A bump on the head

Skimbleshanks awoke as the bright morning sunshine shone into his den and warmed him and his sleeping mate. Skimble was a ginger tabby tom originally from Scotland and spoke with a thick highland twang. His stirring mate went by the name of Jennyanydots, a tabby queen with an overly mothering personality. She gently blinked herself awake and looked at her mate lying next to her with a smile. The two had been mated a great many years now and had been through a wealth of experiences during their time. They had had a beautiful daughter together about a year ago and she was turning into a feisty young kitten. They had called her Electra which in reality was quite ironic due to her quiet and generally solemn demeanour. One might think Skimble's life was the model of a perfect family yet there was something that unfortunately made it not so. Skimble worked on the railway and as a result had to go away for periods of time fairly frequently. It meant he had to leave the junkyard where he lived as well as his mate and daughter in order to provide for them. It wasn't all bad, it meant a steady income of food and allowed him to bring home gifts for his family from his journeys although he did miss spending time with them. Skimble served primarily on the Flying Scotsman – a train that went from London to Edinburgh on a daily basis and then back again the next day – and he enjoyed visiting his homeland as often as the train went. He would depart early in the morning and make his way to the train station in the city before greeting the human conductor and hopping aboard the locomotive ready to start his work. He would keep the train free from mice and make sure order was kept as he wouldn't stand for hilarity and riot on his watch. Frequent travellers would begin to recognize him and would greet him as he trotted up and down the carriages. Some would bring him treats from time to time which he certainly didn't pass upon. It was right to say that he enjoyed his work despite the consequences he had to endure.

The ginger cat looked down at his mate. She smiled back at him before the glare of the intruding sun made her avert her gaze.

"Time for you to go already?" Jenny asked sleepily

"I think so, dear" replied Skimble

"Will you be back tomorrow?"

"If all goes as it should then yes"

"Can't you stay a few minutes more?" she said hopefully. The ginger tom smiled back to her,

"Okay, I suppose I have a little time." He shouldn't have succumbed to his wish to stay with his mate as his sleepy morning state sent him back into a gentle snooze.

"Skimble! Wake up!" The ginger tabby bolted upright from his nap and started looking around frantically,

"What? What's wrong?" he said looking for the problem

He saw his mate holding up a wristwatch in front of him displaying the time. It was 9:30am, his train would be leaving in half an hour. He nearly flew out of bed as he rushed to put on his waistcoat. He was assisted by his mate and kissed her quickly before running from the den.

"See you tomorrow, Jenny" he called back to her as he ran through the entrance of the junkyard and towards the city. Jenny followed him with her eyes until he turned a corner and was out of her sight. She hoped he would make it to the station on time or panic would ensue.

Skimble narrowly avoided being run over by several black cabs and being trodden on by the commuters all rushing to get to where they needed to be. The sheer volume of people slowed him down greatly as he desperately tried to dodge his way through the crowds. Up ahead he could see his destination, the entrance to Kings Cross station. He sprinted for the door and didn't see the bustling human's shoe as it made contact with his head. He went flying to the side and landed in the middle of a large array of parked bicycles. The careless human seemed to ignore him and walk on, hurrying to carry on it's way. Skimble just gazed up the sky in a daze. His mind was fuzzy and he could swear he could see little bluebirds flying around his head in a circle. It wasn't until a minute or two later that he focused on the big clock at the top of the building. The time was five minutes to ten and exactly five minutes before the train was due to leave. He knew the staff must have been getting worried at his absence and he pushed himself up in order try and make a dash for it. He was dizzy and rocked on his legs before trying to run. He weaved from side to side as he doddered over to where he thought he needed to be. Unfortunately for Skimble, his rickety state had made his mind discard reason for the time being and instead of making for the entrance to King's Cross he steered himself to the entrance of the adjacent St. Pancras International station. He flew through the gates and bolted for the train he assumed was his. He jumped aboard as the doors began to close and concealed himself in a little nook to nurse his sore head. In the back of his mind he knew something was wrong but at that moment he didn't really care. He decided to try and take a little nap to clear his consciousness as the strangely unfamiliar train began to move off. He put the feeling down to the blow he'd received and went to sleep.

Back in King's Cross, the conductor of the Flying Scotsman looked up and down the platform wondering where the ginger tabby he was waiting for had gotten to. With an anxious sigh he decided that he couldn't hold the train any longer and signalled to the station master to give the order to send the train on it's way. The contraption jolted as it began to role forward missing one very crucial part of it's team.

About an hour went by before Skimble shook his head back into a useable tool. He felt a dull ache as he rose up to start his patrol and lumbered on doing the best he could. He started at one end of the train and slowly made his way through. The interior of the carriages was nothing like he knew them to be. Had the rail company updated them? Why was he the last to know if they had? He looked around confusedly at the passengers who stared back with a similar expression. They didn't look like his regulars at all. What on earth was going on? He felt coldness encircle him as he listened to an announcement over the intercom made by a very unfamiliar voice,

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome aboard the Eurostar. This is the non-stop service from London St. Pancras International to Paris Gare du Nord…

Skimble stopped listening after that. How on earth had he ended up on the Eurostar? He'd never been aboard this train in his life and didn't even know how the station guards could have let him on. More importantly, where on earth was that place the voice had said they were going to? He groaned as he saw telegraph poles rush by the windows of the train, it was going to be a very long day indeed.

Okeydoke. Skimble's gotten himself into a pickle, let's hope he can fix it. This probably won't be more than a few chapters but it's a little idea I wanted bash out before I begun my next story.

Review if you get a moment, thanks for reading.