Note: Expect the usual brand of comedy and angst. Special thanks to pouncii for her endless support and regular stream of ingenious ideas, and if you haven't already, I highly recommend reading Wicked Games (after you're done here, of course). Rated T for reasons.

It was simultaneously Etcetera's sixteenth and eighteenth birthday.

That may be quite a strange thing to explain.

Of course it could not technically be both her sixteenth and eighteenth birthday. Yet nobody could be quite sure which one it was, so they had settled on simply celebrating both at once and leaving it at that. The fact that nobody seemed to care enough to keep track of Etcetera's age as she grew up was not something new to her, nor something that surprised her.

And it was not something she could blame them for, either.

Etcetera, like many others, did not know her parents. The Jellicles had accepted so many kittens into their tribe that parentage had never been an issue to the majority of the tribe. And considering that Jennyanydots and Jellylorum acted as maternal figures to many of the kittens, they could hardly be expected to keep track of everyone's specific age, could they?

Was it particularly fair that Etectera was more or less the only cat whose age remained a mystery? Not really, but then there was nothing to be done about it. Jennyanydots was sure that Etcetera was sixteen, and Jellylorum was sure that Etcetera was eighteen. This had been going on ever since Etcetera's joint tenth and twelfth birthday. Six years of being two ages. This was what she had to put up with.

So on the evening of her latest birthday(s), Etcetera accepted that she was either sixteen or eighteen. Fine. That was just fine. There was a small gathering for her, even a few gifts from some of her friends. Not that anyone was what she would describe as a 'close' friend. Nor a 'best' friend. Just friends.

The real question that was beginning to bore into Etcetera's mind was what her 'thing' was going to be. And that is why, on Etcetera's birthday, she took it upon herself to talk to those cats in the tribe that had quite defined 'things'.

Skimbleshanks, for example, was the Railway cat. That was his thing. He loved trains, everyone knew he loved trains and he could not stop talking about trains. Sometimes scotch. Usually trains.

"Wee lass, happy birthday to ye." Skimbleshanks spoke with a wide grin, offering Etcetera a hug which she dutifully accepted. "Are you eighteen now?"

Etcetera smiled and shook her head. "I could be sixteen still, I dunno." She folded her arms, feeling a slight chill in the evening air. The sun was beginning to set and the Jellicles were all beginning to make their way into the middle of the Junkyard to give Etcetera some well-wishes. "I was wondering – when did you know you were the train cat- I mean, trains. No. Uhm, railways-" She blushed and covered her face with her paws.

"Ach, you're haivering like me after my third drop of scotch!" Skimbleshanks laughed as he patted her on the shoulder. "I always knew I loved trains. I've been telling conductors how to do their job since I was a wee kitten! But what you got to remember lass, is life... life is like a railway. Some cats are like those trains you hear about in Japan, the fast ones that fly like bullets from a gun! And some cats like your ol' uncle Skimble are like steam engines. Sure, we aren't fast like those new-fangled machines they've got over in the Orient, but we've got character and charm and we..."

See? Skimbleshanks could not stop talking about trains. After a little while, Etcetera realised that she really did not understand the Railway Cat at all, and found herself no closer to knowing anything than when she started. Though Skimbleshanks did offer her a small glass of scotch as a present, which she hesitantly consumed. Skimbleshanks claimed it tasted of the cherry-oak interior of an original 1923 steam locomotive. Etcetera thought it tasted of ash.

She swiftly moved on to receive well-wishes from other cats in the community. As the night progressed, Etcetera found herself embroiled in conversation with all manner of cats. The great Bustopher Jones brought her a wonderful gift of a birthday meal, comprised of cabbage, rice pudding and mutton. Suffice to say, Etcetera did not look 'full of gloom' after that. Yet no matter what she asked him, she could not find any answer to how he became the Cat About Town. He simply was.

Etcetera spoke to the magical Mr. Mistoffelees, though once again that proved to bring her no closer to understanding how he became 'magical'. He felt it was something inherent, and offered her sage advice by suggesting that her 'thing' did not matter. But then again, as far as Etcetera was concerned, it really did. Mistoffelees was not to know that Etcetera wanted something to describe herself so badly that she was beginning to get depressed.

Everyone had something, as far as she could tell. Jennyanydots was the Gumbie cat. Gus was the Theatre cat. Even Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer were a notorious couple of cats.

Etcetera did not have an adjective to describe herself. She had tried a few times to get noticed, but the only thing that had ever worked was screaming at the top of her lungs when near the Rum Tum Tugger. And even that was hardly a 'thing'. She did not want to be the groupie cat, and had since stopped being quite so over-excited when around Tugger.

As far as Etcetera was concerned, whenever she looked in the mirror all she saw was Etcetera: The Nobody Cat.

She had friends, though she could hardly call any of them 'close' friends, let alone best friends. Just friends. Lots of 'just friends'. This had begun to bother her. Victoria and Mistoffelees seemed to be best friends. There were so many cats that just 'went together', like Pouncival and Tumblebrutus, Tantomile and Coricopat, Demeter and Bombalurina... the list went on. Sure, some of those were siblings, but it did not change the fact that Etcetera wanted that kind of closeness in her life. She wanted someone whose name immediately followed hers.

For a long, long time, Etcetera had truly believed that the Rum Tum Tugger would be the cat everyone associated with her. But that was not how things had turned out, instead she had simply become the cat that endlessly bothered him and got nothing in return. She was tired of 'nothing in return', especially after it had worked so awfully to her detriment.

A few months earlier, Etcetera had almost completely gotten away from her attachment to Tugger and even had a brief 'thing' with Pouncival. The problem? In a strange moment of jealousy, Tugger had convinced her to stop hanging out with Pouncival. As it turned out, the moment she obediently followed Tugger's orders, he completely lost interest in her again. She found herself unable to convince either tom to find her interesting again and suddenly she went from having two cats liking her to no cats liking her. That was a decision that kept her awake at night.

Pouncival still wanted to be friends, of course, but he had moved on. He wanted to be friends like everyone wanted to be friends. Nobody wanted to be best friends.

After all, who would want to be best friends with The Nobody Cat?

Certainly, Etcetera's parents had not been interested in continuing their relationship with her past childbirth. She had been found as a tiny kitten, alone in a box in an alleyway, shivering and crying. Jellylorum once told Etcetera that she had no parents because she was an unwanted kitten. Unwanted. It was relatively common in the Junkyard, many of the cats there did not know their parents, but that fact did not make it any easier. Those who did know their parents seemed so much happier to Etcetera. She wanted parents. She wanted someone to tuck her in at night who truly loved her.

Not the kind of love that Jennyanydots or Jellylorum showed her. They were two cats that spent most of their time looking after the various kittens and teaching them good values, letting them know they were loved. It was a generic love. It was not a bespoke love. Not the specific, unique, individual love that Etcetera yearned for.

It was hard for the queen to really describe her feelings. She did not even truly know her age; as noted before, Jellylorum was certain that Etcetera was 16 whilst Jennyanydots was equally certain that Etcetera was 18. Or was it the other way around? Either way, the arbitrary date on the calendar that had been prescribed as her 'birthday' had been fast approaching for a while – May 15th. The day that Etcetera became the first Jellicle in history to simultaneously celebrate both her sixteenth and eighteenth birthdays at once. Of course, she had been the first Jellicle in history to celebrate her tenth and twelfth birthdays at once, her eleventh and thirteenth birthdays at once, her twelfth and fourteenth birthdays at once...

"Happy Birthday, young soldier." Munkustrap chuckled as he placed his paw on Etcetera's shoulder. It had been a long day for her, she had spoken to almost every cat in the tribe. Only a few had not managed to see her, one of which being the protector himself. "You are now literally eighteen. Well done. I'm impressed."

"Yup..." Etcetera shrugged away the fact that nobody seemed capable of remembering that she might actually be sixteen, and glanced at the paw on her shoulder. "Are you hitting on me? Because, y'know, I wouldn't say 'no'..." She laughed and Munkustrap almost immediately withdrew his paw.

"Don't be a child." He snapped, folding his arms. "Especially now that you're eighteen - in which case, I have a wonderful present for you... you get to start contributing to the tribe! Hooray!" Munkustrap grinned a beaming smile and unfolded his arms to give Etcetera two thumbs-up.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh my days, Munkustrap. I was warned about this."

"Warned about what?" Munkustrap's tone was infectiously upbeat. He appeared very positive, holding himself in a manner that reflected his patter. "Finally, Etcetera, you get to be a big part of this tribe! I am going to go back to my den, have a long think, and return to you tomorrow with a whole list of things you can do – oh wait, I did that already."

Munkustrap produced a sheet of paper from behind his back. It was rolled up and tied together with a bow, giving it the appearance of a scroll. "Like I said, happy birthday!" He handed the paper to Etcetera, who begrudgingly accepted and opened it up.

The paper was complicated. It contained around twenty different roles and duties that Munkustrap felt could help or otherwise improve the tribe – 'nightwatchcat', 'den fixer-upper' and the ominously-named 'Jennyanydots assistant' were the top three. Etcetera had only read half of the duties before Munkustrap spoke again, interrupting her dumbfounded silence.

"Etcetera. There is literally nothing that would please me more than to listen to you think. However, I have about a billion things I have to do before I go to bed, including run a short half-marathon to keep up my stamina. Anyway, have fun with the list, decide on something you like, and tomorrow you can come see me to talk about it! Et-ceter-ceter-ceter-rah! See you tomorrow!"

And with that, he was off.

As Etcetera watched Munkustrap jog away, she considered that he was far more odd than she had ever given him credit for. She inwardly sighed, the day was almost over. A few more cats came to give Etcetera some gifts before the night-time air got too cold (it was Winter, after all), which included a particularly bizarre gift from Coricopat – a Corico Pat. As he explained numerous times, a 'Corico Pat', is a high-five from Coricopat. He claimed they were incredibly rare, but then immediately offered one to Tantomile, who rolled her eyes and gave Etcetera a hug.

Etcetera immediately took back all the things she had thought about Munkustrap being weird. If he was a bit strange, the Twins were beyond mad. Still, a high-five (sorry, 'Corico Pat') and a hug were better than nothing and she was grateful to receive all well-wishes. By the time most of the tribe had retreated to their dens, Etcetera caught herself acting strangely too.

Sat on the tyre in the middle of the Junkyard, Etcetera looked up at the night sky and wondered what she had been expecting to happen today. She was either 16 or 18-years-old, she reckoned that meant there was a fifty-fifty chance that she was now an adult... and yet the answers to the questions on her mind where not forthcoming. No big solution, no higher plan. Just plain old Etcetera, one step closer to death.

She made a mental note to stop being quite so dramatic.

With a big stretch, Etcetera sat up and got to her feet, giving the Junkyard one last survey before heading back to her den. It was nothing much, she hardly spent any time there. Certainly she never had any visitors, and the tiny bed in her tiny den was only just about big enough for her.

So one can only imagine the surprise that rocketed through Etcetera's mind when she entered her den to find a queen sat cross-legged on her bed – Rumpleteazer.

"Happy birthday!" The intruder exclaimed with a loud voice, jumping to her feet. "Sorry for just coming in here like whatever, but you were being all mopey on that tyre and I figured I'd just wait for you somewhere warm. That's okay, right? I'm really good at opening locks."

Etcetera had to bite her lip to stop herself from screaming.

"I mean, I didn't break your lock or anything, I just opened it because I'm really good at that, that's like my thing or whatever," Rumpleteazer continued. "So I've just been sat here with your present, waitin' for you to rock on by. You have no idea how bored I am! You don't even have anythingin here I'd want to steal and my kleptomania is driving me crazy!"

Etcetera did not laugh.

"Okay, uhm, that was a joke, and you haven't said anything yet." Rumpleteazer spoke to the silent cat opposite her.

Etcetera stared for a moment, her mouth agape. It took a little while for the words to formulate properly, but eventually when she did speak, it was something along the lines of: "Nobody ever comes in here ever..."

"Oh my gosh Et-cet-trah take the darn present, and have a happy sixteenth-eighteenth birthday already!" Rumpleteazer repeated in her broad London accent, holding out the gift once again.

Just when Etcetera was convinced that this day could not get anymore confusing.