AN- Whooo, third fanfic! It's in Demeter's POV again, cause I do like her. :-) Munkustrap and Demeter feature a lot in this but there will be minimal romance. Please review because I love getting them and I'm still a novice so constructive criticism will be appreciated. Just as a warning, there will be some self-harm in this fic, but not for a while yet. Hope you like it. I did delete this but I've reposted it as I got a PM telling me that they were enjoying reading it so, here you go!

-Demeterfan :-)

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters, I just mess around with them. ;-)

Chapter 1

I've never really felt true happiness until me and Munk were blessed with our little Jemima. When she was a tiny kitten we simply sat and watched her all the time, as she slept, when she fed; it was like she was a particularly interesting exhibit at a museum. Once, when Munk was out on guard duty, I was grinning at her as she sleepily sucked one claw (which had been carefully filed blunt so she couldn't hurt herself) and her milky brown eyes rolled to catch me gazing at her and she gave me her first real smile. I don't think I've ever felt so thrilled.

Jemima grew quickly, almost too quickly; I wanted to hang onto that dinky little kit for as long as possible. My daughter developed a sweet, friendly personality, a lovely soprano voice and the largest, most beguiling eyes-though maybe I'm a little biased. Much to my annoyance and frustration, Jemmie also developed an infatuation for Tugger, and he had a habit of tickling her under the chin that made me want to rip his paw off.

I may have been happy, but the rest of the world seemed bent on destroying my little world. For whatever reason we didn't know, Macavity had once again made his presence known. He'd viciously assaulted several cats, issuing dark orders to 'warn the rest of the Jellicles.' And, much more terrifyingly, he'd tried to strangle Pouncival; luckily, the tiny Tomkit had shrieked so loudly that half a dozen Toms had raced to help, and Macavity had fled, outnumbered. Poor Pounce was left traumatized, unable to sleep without being plagued by terrible nightmares and refusing to be alone for even ten minutes.

Naturally, we were all left feeling extremely unsafe; mothers (including me) barricaded their offspring indoors and only let any cat within ten feet of them if they were absolutely certain they wouldn't whip out a razor sharp claw. Bomba and Tugger temporarily moved in with me, Munk and Jem as it wasn't safe for them to be alone in their dens. It was a burden, but I couldn't stand the thought of losing Bomba and, although they may fight like cat and mouse (that's such a ridiculous saying; we wouldn't lower ourselves to fight with our food) I knew Munk didn't want his brother to perish.

Me and Munk barely saw each other nowadays. Guard duty increased dramatically after the attempted murder, but so few male cats were able to do it; most were either too young, (like Plato, Pounce, Tumble) too old, (like Gus and Asparagus) too busy, (like Skimbleshanks) or simply refused (like Tugger). Skimble helped whenever he was off work and Tugger, with of a bit of effort, could be forced into it, though he spent the majority of his guard moaning about it, but usually, the only available cats were Alonzo and Munk. Both could be completely trusted to ensure the safety of the inhabitants of the 'yard, but they took their duties a little too seriously. It's not uncommon to see Munk perched by the front of the junkyard, near the gates, his head nodding with fatigue, and then find Alonzo sat close to the back of the 'yard, yawning and scrubbing at his eyes blearily. I once went into the clearing early evening and found Victoria at Alonzo's post, with him fast asleep beside her. It was unbelievable how much strain Macavity had managed to put on the lives of so many cats without causing a single fatality.

About two weeks after the attempted murder of Pouncival;

The early morning was dull and colourless, the sun sulking behind the clouds and refusing to allow even a few watery rays warm the air. Quite a rough wind bit at my face and sent the lighter rubbish around me leap and dance into the sky.

The day was no different to any other; my Jemima was still restless to venture beyond the safety of the junkyard gates; I still jumped at the slightest noise and made sure Alonzo was always in sight and earshot. Jemima raced ahead like she always did, I called after her to stay close, which she completely ignored. Snapping into protective mother mode, I hurried after my eager daughter.

Then, as sudden as an April shower, everything stopped being normal.

Jemima gasped and gave a little shriek, her voice jagged, as if she was being strangled.

"Jem?"

I called cautiously, quickening my pace to get my daughter back in my sight again. Jemima was silent, and the eerie quiet hung in the air like a bad smell.

"MUMMY!"

I nearly jumped out of my fur, sprinting towards Jemima's anguished yell. My little kit sounded so painfully terrified it brought tears to my eyes and made my heart flutter like a caged bird. Panting, I rounded a corner and grabbed hold of my daughter, scanning her for any cuts or bruises; Jemima's eyes were as large and wide as dinner plates and she was shaking fearfully, her little mouth open in a silent scream. Gripping her quivering shoulders, I turned her to face me, and then instantly regretted it when she promptly vomited violently down herself and most of me. I grimaced, but had much more pressing matters at hand than a few sick stains.

"Jemmie, what's the matter? What's happened? Has someone hurt you? It's okay; mummy will keep you safe."

I gabbled, looking around wildly for any threat. Jemima struggled to find any words, her mouth opening and shutting uselessly.

"Tell me, Jem!"

She flinched at my harsh tone and I instantly felt guilty. Her petrified eyes locked onto my perturbed ones as she gasped and coughed, and she gestured to the side with a quivering paw. Taking a deep breath in a (failed) attempt to steady my nerves, I looked. Screaming as loud as my daughter had, I clutched hold of Jemima, even though we were both soggy and disgusting, and we stared at the bloody, mangled body and sobbed together.

"Victoria! VICTORIA!"

Jemima wept, as if chanting her name enough times would bring her back out of sheer willpower and determination.

"It's okay,Jem. It's going to be okay."

I whimpered, but I was weeping so much I was barely coherent. I couldn't deal with things like this on my own; I could already feel hysteria falling upon me. I glanced around frantically and spotted Alonzo in the distance.

"Help...help..."

I called, as loudly as I could, but Alonzo didn't react. I tried again and again but I felt like I couldn't suck enough air into my lungs and I could barely talk above a whisper. Jemima was still feverishly yelling for her friend, louder and longer until she was shrieking. Alonzo, surprised by the noise, ran over to us, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"Deme, what's wrong with Je-"

He gasped as he clocked what was causing Jemima so much distress. Hauling my squealing daughter onto my hip, I whispered soothingly into her little pointed ear and rubbed her back until her screams died into sobs, though she still muttered the odd 'Vicky' every now and then.

Alonzo took in poor Victoria's blood-soaked body, his face draining even whiter so the black patch around his eye stood out crudely. Shakily, he swayed on his paws for a few seconds, looking as helpless as a kitten, but quickly remembered that he was in charge and ran to inform the rest of the tribe.

Jemima kept trying to crane round to take another look at her unfortunate friend, but I gently pressed her head onto my shoulder; I didn't want her to see again, it would probably start up her screaming once more. Revoltingly, we were both still wet and sticky with vomit and the smell wasn't exactly pleasant, but I don't think either of us noticed.

I glanced up at the sky disdainfully; why wasn't it darker? Where was the thunder, the torrential rain, the forked lightning? The normality of the day was unnerving and out of place; it was like playing dirty music in a classroom instead of times-tables, or a classical orchestra in prison instead of a melancholy harmonica.

My half-mad pondering were interrupted by the arrival of the other Jellicles. Predictably, all the Toms gasped and the Queens shrieked, Etcetera and Electra burst into tears, grabbing onto each other, Pounce started shaking and Tumble clapped his paws over Pounce's eyes, shielding his little brother from the horrors. Alonzo had specifically not informed Mistoffelees- it had been decided that the death of his sister should be broken to him slowly and cautiously- but news travels fast and somehow Misto had heard about it. No one attempted to restrain him as he elbowed his way to the front of the group. We just watched fearfully, frozen; the older cats stopped shouting, Etcetera and Electra stopped weeping, Pounce prised Tumble's paws off so he could see and even Jemima didn't make another sound, though she didn't lift her head off my shoulder.

Slowly and methodically, Misto fell to his knees and felt for Victoria's pulse, obviously not believing the terrible news. As soon as Misto failed to detect the throb of blood, and therefore life, through Vicky's body he let out a howl like a wounded animal and buried his face in his paws, though the tears still seeped through.

"No! Vicky, wake up, please...please! Come on, I know you're just pretending."

He sounded so convincing I expected Victoria to suddenly leap up, laughing at her joke. After seeing my daughter distraught, Misto heartbroken and the rest of the tribe pitiful, I'd have hacked my arm off to make that happen. Misto clung onto Vicky's paw like an alcoholic clutches a bottle, his body racked with sobs, his face screwed up with sorrow.

"No, Vic, you can't die! Please...don't. I've already lost our mother, you're all I've got! I can't lose you, too! Please...come back..."

he whimpered. Most of the Queens were crying along with him- I know I was.

"I'm so sorry, Misto..."

Jennyanydots whispered, wiping her eyes. Alonzo looked too chocked up to risk speaking, but he placed a comforting paw on Misto's shaking shoulder. Misto took a deep breath and swiped a disdainful paw across his face, but fresh tears quickly replaced the previous ones. Keeping his moist eyes glued to the floor, he clambered up and turned to Alonzo.

"Can you take her away please? I can't stand to see her like..."

he trailed off, but we all got the message. Alonzo nodded wordlessly, unshed tears shimmering in his icy-blue eyes. Turning my head, I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to watch anymore; I couldn't bear to see her limp body being carried away, didn't want to look as the blood stained Alonzo's fur. Munk wrapped his arms around me and Jemima (tactfully ignoring the fact that we were both in serious need of a wash), clinging onto us for comfort. I somehow managed to smile weakly at him, remembering why I fell in love with him with that one thoughtful gesture.

My smile was soon harshly knocked off. Misto suddenly whipped round to face us, his brown eyes full of hate. At first I though he was angry that I was smiling at such a serious moment but it wasn't me he was glaring at so viciously. It was Munk. Storming up to us, Misto jabbed an accusing claw in Munk's face and addressed him in a tone that oozed malice:

"You did this! It's your job to protect the junkyard and your incompetence got my sister killed!"

I expected Munk to tell Misto that that was crazy, that he was just looking for someone to blame as it made the grief easier. But Munk just stood silently, looking heartbreakingly guilty and not meeting Misto's chocolate eyes.

"Some protector! You really did a good job, letting my sister get murdered. The blood lies thickly on your paws, Munkustrap. You make me sick!"

he spat, and then stomped off, starting to weep again. Everyone coughed and shuffled about awkwardly, trying not to look at us. I grasped my mate's paw, shifting Jemima to my right arm.

"Munk, you know he didn't mean that, don't you? He was just so upset about Vic that he lashed out at the first person he could. Please, don't take him seriously."

I begged, tugging on his arm imploringly. Munk sighed dejectedly, his eyes sad.

"Why should I not? He spoke the truth; if I'd have been more careful Victoria might still be alive right now."

"But he didn't mean it, Munk. I know you; you will have done all you could. For Everlasting's sake, you haven't slept in days! Promise me you won't dwell on what Misto said."

A smile danced fleetingly across Munk's face and he kissed me playfully on the nose.

"Okay, okay, I promise it won't cross my mind again."

He sounded so sincere, but those dark green eyes flicked from Jemima, to the surrounding Jellicles, to the place where Victoria's body had been found. He looked everywhere but at me.