A/N: It's been a loooooong time since I've posted on this site, but I've wanted to write a Cats fic for forever. So I know this one is rushed and unplanned, but oh well. Here it is.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Cats. But I do love them all. :D

Jemima couldn't sleep.

In fact, it had been almost a week since she had. It wasn't quite insomnia, she'd had naps for an hour or two here and there, but she just couldn't fall asleep at night and wake in the morning. Her short naps left her restless and un-refreshed, barely functioning during the day. She hadn't told her parents, they would just worry, as usual, and that would solve nothing. In fact, she hadn't told anyone, not even Tumble, although she'd been tempted to ask him to sleep over more than once. Not that her parents would ever allow that, anyway. Demeter might love Tumble, but Munkus hated that his daughter was growing up. There was no way a tom would be staying over at her den, not a chance.

Nevertheless, Jemima had gotten out of bed and had no plans to get back in. She was pacing furiously, her tail swishing harshly against the floor in agitation.

"Just go to sleep," she told herself angrily, ears flattening. She never got worked up about anything, but her head felt heavy, all her muscles were tired, and the room was spinning. She needed sleep, but it would not come. And her claws were beginning to slide out; that was never a good sign.

Outside, the Junkyard could not look calmer. It was a full moon and a cloudless night. Jemima cocked her head and padded over to her window, the moon hanging stoically in the midnight air. The moon had always made her feel calmer, although she felt even more awake looking at it. But she wanted nothing more then to get out of her room, where she had begun to feel claustrophobic at night, and she was certain a breath of fresh air would help. Her mother had always warned her about going out alone at night, though. And both her parents would have a fit if they knew.

Jemima placed her paws on the window-sill, tail twitching, and glanced back at her darkened room. Reaching a decision, she turned back and forced the window up, slinking out as quietly as she could.

It was so nice out. Immediately, she felt the anxiety begin to slip away, the moon a shining beacon above her head. She padded out farther so she could sit in the moonlight, the Junkyard so oddly quiet. Jemima had never seen it this empty or silent before. It was unnerving, but also relaxing.

She settled down on her haunches, face upturned, and began to sing. It had always been an outlet for her, and right now she needed an outlet. Although all Jellicle cats loved to sing, Jemima had always been a tad more interested in it than her other friends. Her mother had always told her she had a lovely voice, and singing often helped when she was feeling low. She rarely did it in front of other cats, though. Coming to the end of her song, Jemima stared up at the sky, already feeling a million times better. Right now the moon was her only audience, and she was fine with that.

"That was beautiful."

Jemima whipped around. Well then, it seemed the moon hadn't been her only listener.

A small black cat was sitting in the shadows, barely visible except for the patch of white on his chest. He gave her a smile and padded out to join her in the light. "You have a beautiful voice."

"How long have you been sitting there?" Jemima asked, her eyes narrowing. This was exactly what her mother had warned her about. Strangers at night.

"Longer than you, princess," the cat said. The words should sound smug, but coming from him, they sounded kind.

Jemima eyed him warily. He was from the Junkyard, clearly, otherwise he wouldn't have called her princess. There was no royalty among the cats, but being Munkustrap's daughter had earned her a couple of nicknames. Although she had never considered 'princess' one of the nice ones. Cassie had started it, and Jemima had never liked Cassie. She was pretty sure the feeling was mutual.

"You look familiar," she told the black cat. He did, although she couldn't quite place a name.

The cat twitched his ears. "Somehow I doubt you know me. I'm Mr. Mistofolees, the Original Conjuring Cat." He gave a bow and another smile. He seemed somehow cute when he smiled, in a boy-next-door kind of way.

"Mr. Mistofolees?" Jemima asked dryly. "That's a fancy name. And a long one. Can't I call you something else? Like…Misto?"

Misto shrugged. "If you insist."

Jemima knew she should go back inside, and that her mother would put her on lockdown if she knew she was talking to this tom, but he was intriguing. She never got to do anything fun, and she didn't think this cat would hurt her. Why not make some conversation, make a new friend? "What's a Conjuring Cat, Misto?" she asked him, deciding she was interested.

Misto leaped up, his tail swirling with mischief, and he landed gracefully in front of her. "A magical cat, my dear! Not a Mystic nor an Illusionist nor a Prophet! I am the first and only Conjuring Cat!" With this, his paws began to alight, and he brought them over his head. As they reached for the sky, a bolt of bright blue light shot from them, creating a shower of electric sparks that floated down over the cat's head.

Jemima jumped back in fear and amazement. "A magical cat! I should have guessed, with a name like Mr. Mistofolees." She laughed as he created another shower of sparks, stepping below them and catching them amongst her fur. "That's so cool!"

"Why thank-you," Misto said, and bowed again. That smile was on his face again, and Jemima knew that he was at least an eight by Vicky's ratings. Not that it matters, Jemima scolded herself, giving a reluctant smile back. You have a tomfriend, remember? Which she did, and she was sure everyone would agree Tumble was a better match for her then this mysterious magical cat. Including herself.

As the sparks settled and then died, Jemima realized she had been out here far too long. "I should probably go," she told the tom unsurely. She sure didn't want to go, but she was afraid her parents might come check on her any minute.

The smile faded from his face, but he nodded understandingly, taking a step back. "Of course. Perhaps we might meet again." He gave one last bow and turned to leap off into the darkness. There was something about the graceful way he moved that finally made a name click in Jemima's mind.

"I'm sure we will, Quaxo!" she called after him.

He looked back as he paused, a flicker of surprise lighting his face, but then he laughed. "Goodbye, princess," he said, and leapt into the shadows.

Jemima shook her head, but she was still smiling. She had a feeling she would finally sleep tonight.