I am, in all honesty, quite in shock at the moment. If it weren't for you guys, and 'Sillabub' and 'Tumblebrutus' in this, I have no idea where I'd be right now. Just… thank you, all of you.

But this is what my life has become since (May 15th) Sunday evening.

(I picture the Jellicles as they were in the movie, as human actions will be needed. Also, this is a world where giant talking cat/humans are not an odd thing.)

Also, this originally was a GIANT one-shot, but I broke it up, each day a chapter. So some are short, some are long. Ta-dah.

-Electra's P.O.V.


It all started on what I thought was a regular Sunday evening.

In my room, in the den I share with my parents. Immersed in music, working on stories on the laptop Mistoffelees had hooked up to the TSE 1 somehow for electricity. I'd inherited this one. Some Jellicles had them, not all did.

The phone we'd also hooked up rang. I figured it must be one of the other Jellicles. Our group had kind of split over a while. Left around my section was myself and my parents, Mistoffelees and his, Tumblebrutus, Pouncival, and their parents, Sillabub and her mother, and Plato, living by himself.

Using one of the new human contraptions, little nine-year old deaf Victoria and her parents were about forty-five minutes away, driving one of the human things. I had a vague idea of how to, but I left that mess primarily to my parents. Etcetera and Jemima lived out there as well.

The others were kind of scattered, not too far out of an hour's radius from where I lived.

My mother hung up. "Electra! Victoria's in the hospital! We have to get there!"

Shock. Inability to process. Moving mechanically.

Out of my room, counting my steps.

Two from my bed to my door, opening it, nine to get down the hall to the next door. I didn't ask about Victoria. Didn't really think to.

Open the next door. Seven steps, three around, seven more stairs. In the kitchen. Looking up at my mother. She's crying. Odd. I can't think of why.

"Come on," she whispers, handing me my favorite sweatshirt, a black one with the word 'Paramore' written all over it in white, blue, and yellow. I shrug it on. "We have to get out there."

I nod, not saying anything. Four steps, in the laundry room. Six to get through there, open the door, and I'm out in the garage. Three steps then into the passenger seat.

My dad's at work. My mom told me he can't come with.

We drive to the hospital in silence. My music is playing from the car -I must of left a CD in it- but it doesn't calm me as it usually does. Paramore's The Final Riot fades to the back of my brain, even though my mom has it turned up pretty loud, neither of us wanting to particularly talk.

I stare out the window, at the passing green trees, brown rocks, a mountain, the combination of the two. Watching them fade into the more city scene, lit up signs, buildings, people wandering about. Their lives aren't affected. They don't know the inspirational little deaf princess I do. Didn't know her life may have been in danger.

Absently, I register something in my sweatshirt pocket making noise. It takes me a while to distinguish the music is coming from a cell phone, not the speakers. They are both Paramore songs, after all. I listen to a few more bars of Decoy, then flip my phone open. A text message. A call would have played Fences.

It's from Sillabub. 'Dude. Did you totally forget practice or something?' Right. Softball practice. Kind of seems inconsequential.

I sigh and respond. 'No. On the way 2 hospital. Cuz is hurt.'

Naturally, Sillabub is the best person I know at hiding things from our coach and various teachers, and even though she should be in the middle of practice right then, she responded. 'That sux. They'll be okay?' Of course, she didn't realize I was talking about Victoria, nor did she have any reason to.

'I dunno. Dunno anything, really.'

It doesn't take her long to text me back again. 'U'll be okay?' See, that's why we're what can only be considered best friends. She can tell with little to no thought what I'm feeling. She knows a family injury might screw me up, which it is.

'Dunno.' I tell her. And then we were there, at the hospital. I've despised them ever since I watched Admetus die in one, doctors looking on. I despise doctors too, of course. It's hard for some people not to.

Twenty-two steps from the car into the hospital. Seven to the desk where my mother speaks with some lady about where we'd find Victoria and her family. I turn my phone off, knowing there's something about them interfering with the equipment. I don't like hospitals, yes, but if someone's depending on a machine to live for them, I don't want to have the fact that I can mess that machine up on my conscience.

Twelve more steps down a hallway. In an elevator.

Pacing. Ten steps to walk around the perimeter of the elevator. My mother and I are the only ones who occupy it. I pace around the thing three complete times before the doors open up and we step out again.

Seven steps and then a turn to the right, and we're in the intensive care unit waiting room, or what I call it, at any rate.

Victoria's mom is there, eyes puffy, she had been crying, but probably ran out of tears. Three steps and we're next to her.

Victoria's father is standing behind his mate, hand on the back of the cold metal chair that is appropriate only for a hospital. His eyes are looking at a wall, determined, but you can see lines of sadness etched on his face anyway.

"What happened?" I ask him quietly, because he seems to be the more stable of the two at the moment.

"She was hit by a car," he says quietly, "we only found her because one of her friends saw her bicycle, twisted and mangled, in a yard. She'd been on her way home from a friend's. It wasn't hard to find her. Just had to follow the crowd of people around the unconscious little girl."

We nod. And then we sit. And wait for news on the nine-year-old princess's life status.

Concussion, screwed up leg and ribs, that's the short version. She was unconscious yet when my mom and I left. She'd lost a lot of blood too, apparently.

I counted my steps again, but the numbers were the same. The only thing that I could call the same.

The drive wasn't any less weird on the way home. I didn't turn my phone back on until I got home.

Sillabub hadn't responded. Maybe the coach did take her phone, I don't know. But then a response came. 'U ok?'

I let the day sink in. Answered truthfully. 'No.'

'Want me to come?'

'The 'rents are home. R yers?'

'Like she gives a damn.' Sillabub's parents -well, her mom, really- don't give a crap what Sillabub does. Her dad's rarely home.

'R U okay?' Sillabub's parents put her through a bunch of crap. I don't know where she'd be if it weren't for her friends.

'Ya. But r u?'

This conversation had me laughing, despite the day's events. 'No.' I texted her back again.

'Open yer window, kid. Be over in a sec.' I didn't question this. It wasn't the first time she'd snuck over and entered my room using my window. Yes, I do live on the second floor, but that cat climbs trees like a squirrel.

She swings in, standing on my desk for a moment before stepping off. Her book bag for Monday is slung over her shoulder. "Think your dad will mind driving me with you tomorrow?" She asks me, grinning.

I smile, but tears come out of my eyes anyway.

Her grin vanishes. "Come here, kid." She pulls me into a hug, and my tears and mascara stain her T-shirt, but she doesn't seem to care.

I can't pretend, to know how you know that I'm here, know that I'm real.
Say what you want, or don't talk at all.
Not gonna let you fall.

"You'll be okay, she'll be okay. Doctors aren't horrible people," She tries to soothe me.

"Yes, they are. Think of what they did to Ad."

"Lec, they did all they could for Ad. It just wasn't enough." Her head's resting on my shoulder now, her hand rubbing my back.

She sleeps in my room that night. I'm on the bed, she's on the floor. But her presence meant so much to me, that I wasn't alone anymore.

Reach for my hand, 'cause it's held out for you.
My shoulders are small, but you can cry on them too.