Disclaimer: The only characters that I own in this story are Orlando, Grimes, and Ascanius. The rest belong to The Really Useful Group, T.S. Elliot, and whoever else has the power to throw a lawsuit at me!
Haunted
Death row is a state of mind.
--Doris Ann Foster
The sky seemed lower than usual. The clouds were dark and growled in angry protest. It was almost as if they knew that something was brewing, but had no control over it.
Mistoffelees watched them for a moment, curious about the strange energy in the air. The elements seemed to be warning him.
"Mistoffelees?"
He jerked his attention back to the cat in front of him.
"You're not even listening to me," Jemima accused.
"Yes, I was," he lied.
Jemima looked at him sadly. Mistoffelees stifled a shudder. He hated it when she did that.
"I was asking if would walk me home," she repeated softly.
He rolled his eyes. "You don't need me to walk you home, Jemima. You're old enough to get there on your own."
She squeezed her eyes shut, obviously fighting for patience. "Mistoffelees, please."
"I have better things to do," he grumbled, thinking of Victoria. She was waiting for him now, in their secret place.
Her large eyes took on a hurt expression. "You used to like walking me home."
It was true. Once, Mistoffelees would have given his right whiskers to walk Jemima home. When they had first become mates, they had spent every waking moment together, unable to get enough of each other.
But things change, he thought wryly.
"Misto, please," she pleaded. "I'm afraid! Someone's been following me!"
Mistoffelees swatted at his tail impatiently. Victoria had been waiting almost an hour for him.
"No one has been following you, Jemima. You're just imagining things," he told her.
Jemima shook her head viciously. "No! I know someone's been following me! I can feel them," she insisted, wrapping her arms around herself in a shudder.
"What are you talking about? How could you feel them?" he asked dubiously.
"You of all cats should believe me. You can sense someone from a block away!"
"But you're not a magic cat, Jemima."
"I don't have to be magic, to know I'm being followed!" she cried desperately.
Mistoffelees sighed and stood up. "I don't have time today. And I really have to go now-"
"You can't! Please, Mistoffelees!" Jemima begged, jumping up. She touched his arm and added in a softer voice, "You don't have to stay this time."
He looked at her paw on his arm, remembering all of the times that he had walked her home and ended up staying. He felt a tinge of guilt for lying to her. She looked so vulnerable, her eyes brimming with tears.
But Victoria was waiting for him, and he quickly shoved the feeling aside.
Gently removing her paw from his arm, he said, "I have to go."
She stared at him silently, her eyes slowly fading in defeat. Mistoffelees turned and began walking away, trying to distance himself from the painful feeling that he was letting Jemima down.
To distract himself, he pictured Victoria and eagerness filled him.
Her silky white fur... The exciting rebelliousness of their secret relationship...
The way she looked at him... Kind of how Jemima had looked at him in the beginning...
He glanced back at her. She looked so small...
A couple months ago, that very sight would have caused him to instantly rush back and to beg her to forgive him. Her size was one of her most endearing qualities to him. When he had first begun to think of her as more than a friend, they had been the two smallest Jellicles in the tribe, which gave them a common bond.
Now, she looked so pathetic that he almost couldn't stand the guilt.
Turning away, he tried to shake off the odd feeling that this was an incredibly important moment, as if a choice were being made. A sick feeling suddenly invaded his stomach.
Without warning, everything faded to black.
Mistoffelees whipped around, just in time to see Jemima slowly shimmer out of focus. Her eyes were last to go, large and frightened. A pair of yellow snake eyes appeared next to them for a brief moment, and deep laughter filled his ears.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
Mistoffelees woke with a gasp.
"Jemima!" he called, his eyes darting around the room.
Silence filled his ears.
Confused, he struggled to normalize his breathing.
He winced as a dank stench penetrated his nose. Mistoffelees looked down at the empty bottles surrounding him. Where was he? This wasn't his house. Why was it so dark? Where was Jem-
He stopped.
Oh.
The deep depression that had become his constant companion settled back over him.
A dream.
It had only been a dream.
Now, he remembered.
Clutching his head, Mistoffelees groaned at the sudden pounding between his ears. Angrily, he shoved some of the bottles away from him. Catnip. He had drunk himself into a stupor the night before. Now, the punishment for the crime.
He looked around again. A warehouse. The perfect place for a cat to privately drown his sorrows.
"You had the dream again?"
Mistoffelees nodded and turned to her. He felt no relief at the sight of Jemima, but depriving him of relief was her purpose now. He didn't deserve to feel anything but emptiness and pain.
"No, I never wanted you to feel anything but happiness," she said quietly. "Drowning yourself in guilt is your own doing."
"How could I be happy now?" he asked. "If it wasn't for me-"
"Mistoffelees? Who are you talking to?"
Mistoffelees leaped up and sprung around, his fur standing up around him. He relaxed when he realized it was Munkustrap. His relief was short-lived, though. His sharp movement caused a sharp shock of pain to shoot through his head. Clutching his ears, he groaned.
"What are you doing here?" he moaned, squinting at Munkustrap.
"Looking for you," he replied. Munkustrap looked around and grimaced. "Is that catnip?"
"What do you think?" Mistoffelees grumbled. He wasn't usually so rude to Munkustrap, but the pounding in his head left him with little patience.
Munkustrap shook his head. "Misto, you can't keep doing this. Catnip won't make the pain go away-"
"What do you know about pain?" he snapped.
Munkustrap's eyes filled with sorrow. "You're right. I can't imagine how you must be feeling. But you aren't the only one who lost her, Misto."
Mistoffelees glanced over at her. Jemima stared back at him.
"He doesn't understand," he mumbled to her. She shook her head sadly.
"No. But he does feel his own guilt."
"What guilt could he possibly feel?"
Munkustrap was looking at him strangely. "Misto, who are you talking to?"
"He, like everyone else, feels responsible," Jemima replied, her eyes on Munkustrap. "You're hurting him, Misto, with your behavior," she said, motioning to the empty catnip bottles. "He knows that a good guardian wouldn't have allowed this to happen, especially to someone he cared so much about. Therefore, everyone's pain is a result of his failure."
"But we both know who is really to blame," Mistoffelees whispered. Jemima remained silent.
"Mistoffelees?"
He turned back to Munkustrap, who looked almost terrified.
"Misto, are you still seeing Jemima?"
Munkustrap squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, as if just saying her name was like a stab in the heart.
Mistoffelees didn't answer. Munkustrap suddenly grabbed his shoulders and shook him gently. "She's gone, Misto! You do realize that, don't you? Don't you?"
Munkustrap's eyes pleaded with him, begging him for reassurance. Mistoffelees yanked free of his grasp. Of course he knew. How could he not realize? His dreams replayed the last time he saw her night after night. Never relenting. But even with this bit of knowledge, he also knew Jemima was right next to him. Staring at him.
"Why did you come here, Munkustrap?" he repeated.
If it was possible, Munkustrap's face seemed to sink even lower. "Don't you know what day this is?" he whispered. Mistoffelees turned away from him. "Her funeral, Misto. Her funeral is today. I came here to escort you."
"Did you hear that?" Mistoffelees mumbled. "Your funeral's today."
Jemima nodded. "I know."
"Stop it!" Munkustrap cried angrily. "You can't do this, Misto! Skimbleshanks and Jenny won't be able to take it. Especially not today."
"I can't go to her funeral," he muttered to Munkustrap. Munkustrap's eyes immediately softened.
"I'm sorry, Misto. I shouldn't have snapped at you. But you should go. It might do you some good. You know, closure."
Jemima was glaring at him. "You're not going to my funeral? After everything... Don't you think that you at least owe me that much?"
Mistoffelees's throat tightened. Jemima was right. She was always right. If it wasn't for him, she might still be alive. If only he had walked her home that one last time... Maybe... Maybe his soul wouldn't be deteriorating quite so painfully.
"Okay, Munkustrap. Let's go," he said numbly. Munkustrap looked startled at his sudden change of mind.
"All right. But, um, Misto? I think that you should give yourself a bath first. It's just... Well, the catnip..."
"Whatever," Mistoffelees sighed. He dropped down and began to halfheartedly bath himself.
Jemima crouched down next to him. "Do you remember how we used to give each other baths? Remember how shy you were the first time?" she giggled.
Her laughter was contagious, and Mistoffelees chuckled softly. Yes, he remembered.
Jemima had volunteered to be his assistant during one of his magic experiments. He had meant to make her coat shimmer with tiny sparks. Nothing that would hurt her, of course, just an illusion for her entertainment. Somehow, his experiment had gone haywire, and Jemima had ended up covered in cream sauce! Horribly embarrassed, he had stammered and stuttered apology after apology, until Jemima had finally burst out laughing. "Mistoffelees, it's okay!" Then she had blushed, and added, "But could you help me get it off?" Mistoffelees's face had burned so red that he could have passed for a traffic light. It had felt like a millennium had passed by the time that he had finally got up the nerve to sidle up to her. His first lick was so fast that Jemima had wondered if he had done anything at all. Then, after a few more shy licks, he had gotten into it, and after a moment, she was cradled in his arms, purring as she received probably the most thorough bath of her entire life.
"Why are you laughing?" Munkustrap asked in disbelief. Mistoffelees snapped back to the present.
"Nothing," he mumbled.
Munkustrap shook his head, obvious misery showing through his eyes. Mistoffelees could tell that he was blaming himself for Misto's apparently lost grip on reality.
"Come on, Misto. Everyone will be waiting for us."
Mistoffelees stood up and followed Munkustrap, his eyes low to the ground.
Jemima's funeral was being held at the far edge of the city's greenest park. Jemima had liked to go there to gaze at the moon. The humans who came to the park, because it was beyond thick brush and low trees, rarely violated the spot.
When they arrived at the spot, Mistoffelees was greeted by the sight of dozens of somber looking cats gathered around the mound of dirt that Jemima's body lay under. He shuddered. Jemima hated to be dirty. Had he been consulted, he would have strongly objected to her being buried in the ground.
"But I'm not down there, Misto," Jemima whispered into his ear.
Several eyes turned to stare at him, and a small group of Jellicles moved to clear a path.
Munkustrap gently nudged him forward, and Mistoffelees slowly made his way to the front. He dutifully took his seat next to Skimbleshanks, for it was customary for the mate to be with the parents. Although Jenny and Skimble were only Jemima's parents in name, they had both raised and loved her, and she had therefore, always called them her parents.
Munkustrap sat on Mistoffelees's other side.
Skimbleshanks gave him a slight nod in greeting, but he was busy comforting a sobbing Jennyanydots.
Mistoffelees's heart pulled. Skimble's eyes were bloodshot, and his ears hung flat on his head.
He quickly shifted his eyes, unable to see his dear friend in so much pain. Skimble had always been like a father to him.
"Look at my mother. Do you see her cowering in the back?" Jemima asked blankly.
Mistoffelees turned and saw Bombalurina sitting behind Pouncival and Tumblebrutus, who had their heads hung low. The Rum Tum Tugger had his arm slung across her shoulders, and was whispering into her ear. Tears were streaming down her face, and Tugger was obviously trying to comfort her.
"She's almost believable, isn't she? It almost looks like she really cares."
Jemima locked eyes with Mistoffelees. "It's too bad it's all a farce. I used to live for the day that she would show me any attention at all, but even now, she's just using my death as an excuse for sympathy. Mostly from him," she said, motioning towards Tugger.
"Tugger ignored her, but he included you. In his own way, he cared. Everyone loved you," Mistoffelees mumbled.
"Not everyone," she replied, her eyes still on Bombalurina.
His thoughts were broken when Victoria suddenly appeared in front of him.
"Oh, Misto! I'm so sorry!" she wailed as she threw her arms around him.
Mistoffelees stood stiffly, staring at Jemima over her shoulder as Victoria clutched him. Jemima shook her head sadly.
"My own sister means to dance with you on my grave."
Mistoffelees started, horrified. "No!" he cried.
Victoria pulled back. "No? No, what Misto?" she asked, confused.
Everyone was staring at him, startled by his outburst. He pulled out of her arms roughly. Victoria gasped as she stumbled backwards.
"You're wrong!" he accused. "We never wanted this! It wasn't like that!"
Jemima's eyes hardened. "No? Then how was it, Mistoffelees?"
He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his paws to his ears. Jemima persisted.
"Well, Misto? Tell me! How was it when you made love to my sister? What did you two have to tell each other to make it all right? Hmn? Tell me! How was it, when you left me alone at night, wondering where you were, and if you were all right? Do you want to know what I had to tell myself to make it all right when you didn't come home?"
"Stop it!" he cried.
Strong paws gripped his shoulders.
"Misto! Snap out of it!" Munkustrap commanded sharply.
Shocked, Mistoffelees blinked his eyes open.
Everyone was still, watching him with a mixture of sympathetic and horrified expressions. Even Jenny was quiet, an odd look of understanding on her face.
Munkustrap gave him a few more good shakes before releasing him. Mistoffelees's body began to tremble so hard that he crumbled to his knees, unable to continue standing. Keeping his eyes glued to the ground, too embarrassed to look anyone in the eye, he said quietly, "I'm sorry... I-I shouldn't... I..."
Skimbleshanks, having let go of Jenny, scooted closer to Mistoffelees. He gingerly laid his arm over the cat's small shoulders.
"It's okay, Misto." Skimble's voice cracked. "This never should have happened, Lad! I'm sorry I haven't spoken to you since... Since..." Tears shone in his eyes as he struggled to keep his voice low. "It's just... It's been so hard..."
Covering his face, Skimbleshanks broke down and began to sob.
"Shall we begin?" Old Deuteronomy asked patiently. Munkustrap nodded, but Etcetera quickly stated, "We can't. Macavity isn't here, yet."
There were several hisses, one being Munkustrap's.
"He shouldn't be here!" Demeter growled. "After what he-"
"Jemima would have wanted him to be here," Etcetera said firmly.
That stopped all the hissing. The Jellicles lowered their heads, ashamed.
Jemima gave Etcetera a small smile. "Thank you, Et."
Macavity.
Yes, Mistoffelees thought. He has a right to be at his daughter's funeral.
"He's here," chimed a deep voice.
Several cats jumped in surprise as Macavity stepped out of the brush.
There was some involuntary hissing, which really couldn't be blamed. It wasn't every day the Napoleon of Crime came to join his prey for a mid-day funeral. Not to mention that he was a brilliant contrast to the somber colors that made up the clearing that day, further isolating his presence.
Jellylorum and Asparagus, who were sitting closest to Macavity, quickly moved away. The other cats eyed him warily.
The brush behind Macavity rustled.
Before anyone could blink, Macavity was surrounded by a small legion of scurvy looking strays.
Electra screamed, but Etcetera quickly covered her mouth.
With a low growl, Munkustrap moved in front of them, a warning flashing in his eyes. Macavity's ears flicked back, and his eyes darkened. Everyone held his or her breath, waiting for the attack to come. But although he was obviously annoyed, Macavity gave a slight nod, signaling a truce.
Munkustrap nodded back, but remained where he was, eyeing Macavity's companions, who shuffled their feet self-consciously.
"There won't be any fighting today," Macavity told him. His eyes flicked to Jemima's grave. It could have been Mistoffelees' imagination, but his eyes seemed to dampen. "Today is for her."
Obviously unsettled, Munkustrap returned to Mistoffelees's side without another word.
Jemima moved to Macavity's side wordlessly, standing with her back to Mistoffelees. She appeared even more pixie-like next to her towering father.
For a moment, Macavity gave the illusion that he could actually see her, but than he shifted his eyes away and the illusion was shattered.
Old Deuteronomy cleared his throat, obviously ready to begin. "It has been a grim responsibility of mine over the years, to attend so many funerals of so many loved ones. Today is no exception. I wish with all my being, that my beloved friend could still be with us. But a lesson I have learned is that we, as mortal felines, cannot begin to guess what the design is of the Everlasting Cat. Jemima was a brief blessing to all of us, but her presence was obviously desired in the Heaviside Layer. We should not mourn for her, but envy her-"
Mistoffelees tried to listen to Old Deuteronomy's words, but they kept sliding away from him. Besides, Jemima wasn't in the Heaviside Layer. For whatever reason, she was here, with him. Maybe the Heaviside Layer didn't exist. Perhaps it was just a comforting fable that was passed on throughout feline generations to give some relief to those who were so unfortunate as to be left behind.
Victoria was desperately trying to catch Mistoffelees' eye, but he resisted. He couldn't even bear to look at her anymore. To do so brought on a heated wave of self-loathing and guilt. He couldn't stand it anymore. But in avoiding her eyes, he met another pair.
Alonzo quickly looked away, but not before Mistoffelees saw the expression of pure animosity on his face. Jemima was now sitting next to him, stroking his head. It was unnerving the way Alonzo's body seemed to move in rhythm with her, as if he could actually feel her. Watching them put a sick feeling in his stomach.
Alonzo looked like hell. His fur was matted, and his eyes were bloodshot. Even from across the clearing, Mistoffelees could smell the familiar scent of catnip.
"What are you doing?" He spoke in barely a whisper, but he knew that she heard him.
Jemima glanced at him and shook her head sadly. "You used to be best friends."
"That was awhile ago..."
"Not so long ago."
"Look, you were there. He grew cold to me and didn't come around anymore. We grew apart. That happens."
Mistoffelees didn't like where this was going. He attempted to re-focus on Old Deuteronomy, but he couldn't block her out.
Jemima snorted. "Please! You're lying to yourself."
Mistoffelees' throat tightened. "No-"
"Let's' be honest, shall we? For once. You saw it. You knew what was happening."
Mistoffelees gritted his teeth. She was forcing thoughts into his mind that he had worked hard to suppress.
"I don't know what you're talking about!" he hissed.
"Misto?" Munkustrap whispered nervously.
Jemima sighed and shook her head again. "This would all be over sooner if you would just stop avoiding the facts," she mumbled darkly.
"What? What do you mean?" he asked, quickly refocusing in on her.
She looked at him. "Why do you think that I'm here? You're keeping me here because you can't face reality."
"I'm not keeping you here," he hissed. "You can leave anytime you want to!"
"What did you say, Lad?" Skimbleshanks asked quietly.
Mistoffelees started. "I didn't say anything."
Jemima glared at him. "I guess that would make it a lot easier for you, wouldn't it? You'd be rid of me, and you and Victoria could get on with your lives."
Mistoffelees flinched. "That's not what I meant..."
Skimbleshanks was staring at him. "Misto?"
"I'm sorry..."
"For what, Lad?"
Jemima smiled sadly. "I loved you so much, Misto."
Guilt returned its hold on his throat. "I know, Jems."
Munkustrap was fidgeting apprehensively.
"I almost couldn't do it to you, even though you were with my sister. But then I heard her. I heard Victoria talking to Cassandra about you, Misto."
"Couldn't do what?" he asked, although he already knew the answer.
There was a peculiar glint in her eye. "Alonzo loved me, Misto. Right until the end, he looked at me the way that I always wanted you to look at me." She sighed. "But he loved you, too. You were too big a part of him, and the very idea of throwing it away was unbearable."
"Obviously not," he muttered angrily.
She smirked. "But that changed, obviously. Because of you."
"Who is Misto talking to?" Demeter whispered to Munkustrap.
"There he was, tormenting himself with guilt about his feelings for his best friend's mate, and then he finds out about Victoria. You guys weren't nearly as clever as you thought. At first, he was in denial- just like you. But eventually he couldn't lie to himself anymore- unlike you. It drove him insane, to watch you take everything you had for granted. To see that sad, pathetic expression I always wore. You remember it, don't you?"
"But he was supposed to be my friend!" he cried, interrupting Old Deuteronomy's eulogy.
Everyone jumped, startled by the sudden yell. All eyes returned to Mistoffelees, who looked completely mad. The fur stood straight on his back, and his eyes were crazed. Mistoffelees' body was shaking with anger.
Alonzo had no right! No right! And, oh yes, he had seen the way that traitor had looked at her. He was so obvious that he might as well have proclaimed it out loud. And, yes, he had seen the way that his friend had gone out of his way to be around her, or to touch her in some small little way.
But, no, Mistoffelees had remained stubbornly in denial. Alonzo had been there his entire life. His best friend and a brother in every way except biologically. He wouldn't do that to him. No, Alonzo would never betray him. Not after everything they'd been through together.
After everything!
And even after Alonzo had begun to grow cold to him, judgment beginning to leak out of his gaze, Mistoffelees had dismissed it as pertaining to some other explanation. Any reason other than the obvious one.
"Enough!" he screamed.
Clutching his head, another screech rising in his throat, Mistoffelees met Macavity's gaze. Although they were all staring at him, he didn't see them. But he saw Macavity. A chill went through him. Those eyes held something different. While other eyes carried terror and confusion, Macavity's were dark. They were narrowed in... Concentration?
Cats were gathering around him, touching him and calling to him. They were shaking him- No. Munkustrap was shaking him, again. Victoria was crying- or was it Etcetera? He didn't know. He couldn't look. Macavity would see the truth if he- No, he already knew. He was looking into him right now. Down inside his soul-
No! No! No! No! No! No!
Tearing away from the arms, he ran.
Away from Macavity.
Away from Alonzo.
Away from Victoria.
Away from Jemima.
Away from everyone and everything.
He pushed himself until everything around him became a blur. His heart pounded in his ears, blocking out the voices. Where were all the voices coming from?
Mistoffelees finally skidded to a halt at the end of an unfamiliar alley. He bent over, clutching his knees. A sharp pain shot through his chest as he gasped for air.
Normally, a run like this wouldn't effect him, but apparently all the catnip lately had gone to his system.
What was happening to him? Nothing made sense! Mistoffelees was hearing and seeing things that couldn't possibly exist. Everyone thought that he was crazy. Heck, he knew that he was crazy! Was this all a punishment? He just had an affair for crying out loud! Did he truly deserve to lose his sanity?
A sudden noise at the alley mouth caused him to jump.
Geez, his senses must really be messed up if he couldn't hear- or smell- someone coming up behind him. First Munkustrap, and now this. He turned, expecting to see Jemima, but Tugger stood there instead.
"Hey Misto," he said, sounding uncertain. Tugger shifted his paws, obviously unsure of what to do with himself. "You left before we had a chance to talk."
"I really don't feel like talking," Mistoffelees said, turning away.
Tugger took an uncertain step forward. "Come on, Misto. We've always talked before."
Mistoffelees sighed. Yes, they had always talked before. Tugger was actually the one who had encouraged him to pursue an affair with Victoria. The only cat other cat that had known- or so he had thought. He had known that Tugger was probably the only one who could be objective about it. It wasn't that he liked Jemima less than anyone else, but Tugger held a negative view on monogamy.
Mistoffelees leaned against the nearest wall and closed his eyes. Tugger took the opportunity to move closer and rested his back against the wall next to his friend.
"You know I would never judge you, right?"
Mistoffelees nodded.
"Good. You also know that Munkustrap thinks that you've lost your mind?"
He smirked. "I had a feeling."
"Good. Now, have you?"
"I have no idea," he said tiredly.
Tugger nodded solemnly. He was silent for a moment and then said, "You haven't, Misto. You're fine. It's just the grieving process. I tried to explain that to Munkustrap, but I think that he's a little unplugged these days himself. You know how he always blames himself for every little thing that goes wrong around here."
Surprised, Mistoffelees opened his eyes and looked at Tugger. "You don't think that I'm crazy?"
Tugger smiled. "No, I think that you're about as sane as I am. Although, that isn't really saying much..."
Mistoffelees laughed, and then stopped in shock. He hadn't truly laughed since before Jemima had died.
"Hey, I've got an idea," Tugger said suddenly. "Let's go to a pub! There's this little place I know, and it isn't far from here. I'm pretty tight with the bar tender. He usually doesn't like to give anything to kits, but I think he'll make an exception after he knows you're with me. What do you think? After today, I think that you could use an escape for awhile."
Although slightly annoyed at being called a kit, Mistoffelees considered it. Why not? It wasn't as if he had anywhere to be. Or anyone to go home to...
"Okay, let's go."
He followed Tugger down more unfamiliar streets and allies until they were standing in front of another warehouse. A foul stench came from the building that Mistoffelees was glad that he couldn't identify.
"Just stick close to me, Kit, and no one will bother you."
Mistoffelees nodded, slightly nervous. He was hardly in a state to be of any help in a drunken brawl. His magic hadn't worked since before...
Tugger jumped through a ground window. Apparently the pub was in the cellar of this warehouse. He followed Tugger inside and was immediately hit by a cloud of something else that he- gratefully- couldn't identify.
Boxes were stacked against the walls, some scattered around the room in a mock imitation of the human pubs with tables. Thankfully, the room wasn't crowded. A few scurvy-looking toms glanced over from a box they were huddled around, but they quickly went back to their conversation.
"Go order two catnip bottles, and I'll get us a spot," Tugger ordered, already heading for a box in the back.
Mistoffelees went to the bar, and signaled the bar tender who was working out of a few large, open boxes filled with who knows what. A large gray tom blinked at him.
"What'll it be?" he asked, his voice gruff.
"Two catnips."
The tom blinked. "You planning on drinking them both, Kit? You hardly look old enough to handle-"
"Of course not!" he said, indignant. For crying out loud! He had already been to a Jellicle Ball and had a mate. He was as adult as anyone else was.
"The other one is for my friend," he said, pointing to Tugger. "You know The Rum Tum Tugger, right?" If Tugger was as tight with the bar tender as he had suggested, than there shouldn't be a problem.
"Yeah, I know Tugger." The tom gave him a funny look, but handed him the bottles.
Mistoffelees grabbed them and made his way back to Tugger.
Tugger was laughing. "I guess you'll always look like a kitten, no matter how old you get."
Mistoffelees glared at him. "Just because I don't have a huge main like you- "
Tugger laughed harder. "That sounds more like my friend Misto!"
Mistoffelees sat down and took a swig of his catnip. Immediately, the warm liquid caused his head to grow fuzzy. Tugger didn't pick up his own catnip, but he stared intently at Misto.
"Did Jemima ever talk about her father?"
It took a moment for Tugger's words to sink through the fuzz. "Maybe- I don't know. You know that I was busy with Victoria."
The pain had dulled into a warm feeling. It didn't hurt anymore to talk about Jemima or Victoria. They were just names.
"That's right," Tugger responded slowly, a funny look in his eye. "You didn't spend very much time with her after she found out about Macavity. Were you ashamed of her? Is that it?"
"What- No. I mean, I didn't, but I wasn't ashamed." Mistoffelees words had become slurred.
The toms from the only other occupied table were staring at them strangely.
"Are you sure? I mean, who wouldn't be? One day, you think that you're seemingly perfect mate is the daughter of the esteemed Railway Cat, and then you find out that she is actually the spawn of the hated Macavity. That's why you took up with Victoria, isn't it? She didn't have the devil as her father. Victoria is well bred, not a speck of questionable blood in her. Am I right?"
Mistoffelees giggled. Everything had taken on a happy pink tint. What was Tugger asking him? Oh, right. Victoria, again. "You told me to get with Victoria! I did not- I didn't- I mean, um..." He was having some trouble focusing on Tugger. His bottle was almost empty. He would need to get more...
"It's not like Jemima came from a respectable family before, anyway," he slurred. "She was Bom... Bom... ba... Bomba..-" He giggled, again. She had a funny name.
"Everyone thought that she was the result of an affair," Tugger finished for him. Mistoffelees nodded.
"Yep. Jellylorum-" Another giggle. Jellylorum had a funny name, too. "She was real mad! She kicked him out-"
"Did he go back to Bombalurina after Jellylorum kicked him out?"
"Nope. She didn't want him. He's with Jenny, now- You know that!"
"Of course, I do. Jenny was the one who raised Jemima, isn't she?"
Mistoffelees laughed. Tugger was being funny. He knew all of this.
"I need more..."
"Have mine," Tugger said smoothly. Mistoffelees didn't hesitate before grabbing the other bottle.
"So, Jemima never talked about any of the strays that worked for Macavity?"
What was he talking about? Mistoffelees wondered. Maybe he shouldn't have taken Tugger's catnip Thetom could clearlyuse some. Maybe then he would stop talking so much. He took another swig.
"Misto?" he insisted.
"What? Oh, right. Um, maybe. One, I think. Some tom named...We need some more of this..."
"You haven't finished what you've got. What was his name?" Tugger's eyes were bright with... Anticipation? He reminded Misto of somebody...
"Mistoffelees!" he snapped.
"Don't know! Some tom with a scar. He was bothering her. Stop moving like that!"
Tugger, who hadn't actually moved, growled. He mumbled something under his breath.
"You're really furry, you know that?" Mistoffelees asked seriously. "Sure you don't want any?"
Tugger waved him off. "You never asked about what Mungojerrie found when he came across Jemima's body," he said quietly.
Mistoffelees attempted to growl, but ended up hiccupping loudly. Why was Tugger being such a downer? Wasn't the point of this visit to give him an escape? Isn't that what Tugger had said? Of course, he couldn't really remember what anyone had said...
"It must have been quite a shock for him. Mungojerrie was very fond of her, I understand. He always hung around her when she visited."
Visited? Visited where? What was he talking about? Where had all of his drink gone?
"Didn't you care? Weren't you even curious?"
"My drink is empty..."
"She was beaten and bruised, like some rag doll. He did some disgusting things to her. Why didn't you ask about her, Mistoffelees? Too busy with Victoria to care?"
He sounds like Jemima, he thought suddenly. Where was she, anyway?
Tugger sighed. "Everyone has to pay for their crimes, eventually, Mistoffelees."
"Why did you bring me here?" Mistoffelees demanded. "To guilt me like everyone else?"
Tugger actually laughed, but his eyes were cold. "It's time to go, Magical Mr. Mistoffelees," he smirked. "You've served your purpose."
Mistoffelees wasn't listening, anymore. Specks of color were dancing around Tugger's nose. Had his paws always been so small? Why were those cats still looking at them? He giggled and tried to swat at some of the specks, but ended up falling over his own paws. When he looked up, he blinked.
Tugger was gone.
He looked around quickly, but the movement made him dizzy, so he fell over again. Giggling on the floor, Mistoffelees wondered where his friend had gone.
After some extended moments of similar inanities, Mistoffelees wandered out of the pub. Jemima was waiting for him.
"There you are," he said gleefully. "I was wondering when you'd come to ruin my fun."
Now, which way had he come from?
Jemima smiled. "We used to have fun, Misto."
He started down one of allies, which looked as good as any of them to him. She followed closely.
"Do you remember when we were younger and you turned Etcetera's fur blue?" She laughed. He laughed, too, and almost lost his balance again. That had been funny.
They came out of the alley and found themselves between two green lawns. Even in his current state, Mistoffelees was surprised that humans who lived in this area cared about their lawns. This area had just as many scummy humans as it did scummy cats.
The sky was growing dark, and the moon was beginning to make itself known. Shadows were stretching their forms, hungry for victims. Jemima moved onto the nearest lawn and made a small twirl.
Mistoffelees laughed, and attempted to do his own, but tripped on his tail. Stupid grin on his face, he stayed sprawled on the ground, watching her prance around the lawn.
"Tugger didn't mean to make you feel bad," she said, continuing her dance. Mistoffelees' whiskers twitched.
"How do you know what he meant?"
Jemima didn't falter. "I know what you know."
Well, that made sense. Mistoffelees lay back on the grass, and closed his eyes. He could hear the mosquitoes buzzing hungrily, and car engines growling angrily. Maybe he would stay drunk from now on. It beat that stupid guilt-depression that attacked him when he was sober.
Jemima lay down next to him. "Misto?"
"Hmn?"
"What happened to us?"
Mistoffelees thought for a moment. "I was afraid. You found out about Macavity, and that's all you wanted to talk about. You didn't care about my new magic tricks, anymore. And with Alonzo sniffing around, I just didn't want to deal with it."
She was silent for a moment, and then said quietly, "You're finally being honest."
It was true. The catnip had loosened his tongue and his mind. "I thought that you would realize that you'd grown out of me and eventually leave. It made sense to be the first one to go, rather than to be left."
"I would never have grown out of you, Misto."
"I know. You're dead, and you're still here."
"You don't want me to go, do you?"
"No," he said sincerely.
She laughed and jumped up. "Dance with me!"
He blinked up at her. Was she serious?
He lumbered to his feet, which took some effort and a few failed attempts. Jemima did a cartwheel before looking at him expectantly. He laughed and tried to follow suite, but fell over.
Giggling, she frolicked out into the empty street.
"It was always you, Mistoffelees!" she called. "I knew before even you did."
Still smiling, he ran to join her. He hadn't felt so blissfully happy in a long time. Victoria had never made him feel this good. She had merely, and temporarily, satisfied a need. But she didn't matter anymore. He was here. With Jemima.
Laughing, she held out her arms to him. She had never looked so good to him. He ran to her, but before he could touch her, she ducked away.
"Everything was perfect. You. Me. Us," she said. She was now farther down the street, almost hidden in shadows. "We were perfect." She twirled, again.
"We are perfect," he yelled, imitating her twirl. What else existed but now? He couldn't even remember the last hour, or, heck, the last month. Only her. He ran after her.
"Dance, Misto! Dance!" she cried, turning fan kicks around him.
He laughed and began doing flips. Whatever she wanted.
But every time he got close enough to touch her, she would suddenly be farther down the street.
"Come here!" he cried desperately.
Two stealthy lights appeared at the end of the street.
"Catch me," she giggled.
They grew brighter, only Mistoffelees didn't see them.
He followed her further down the street, never feeling more young and carefree. Why had he wasted so much time being unhappy? He had always had everything he needed to happy.
Jemima.
"I love you, Jemima!" he cried.
She didn't respond, but held out her arms, again. He reached for her, and she didn't move away this time. Instead, she looked sad.
"Too bad you didn't realize it sooner."
Mistoffelees didn't see the car until he was flying above it.
For the second time that week, the Jellicles were forced to attend a friend's funeral. After another beautiful eulogy by Old Deuteronomy, which didn't include any of his behavior after or right before Jemima's death, the cats began to scatter.
Staying behind, Munkustrap stared at the earth that now contained the bodies of two of his friends and former charges.
"What went wrong?" he asked the graves. How had these two young cats, who had their whole lives and bright futures ahead of them, ended up here? It didn't seem right.
His ears perked at the sound of Tugger's approach, but he remained still. Tugger moved to Munkustrap's side and stood silently.
Finally, Munkustrap asked, "Did you find out what he was doing out there?"
Tugger scratched his ear thoughtfully. "Well, I finally found someone who saw him that night."
Munkustrap finally lifted his eyes from the graves and looked at him. "Well?"
"Funny thing, actually. This cat I know, Grimes- He's a bartender in that area- says that Misto went into his pub."
Munkustrap flinched. "What's so funny about that? Misto started drinking heavily after Jemima passed. Didn't you know? That's probably why he didn't see the car coming right at him."
"That's not the funny part, Munk. Grimes said that Misto was acting strange. Even the other cats there noticed, and they pride themselves on minding their own business. Supposedly, he claimed to be there with me,but he was clearly alone. They said he was talking to himself, like someone was there with him."
Munkustrap flinched, again. "Is that all?"
"Pretty much. Munk, I knew that it was our boy. Misto seemed insane at Jemima's funeral, talking to himself."
"Yeah. It was him, all right."
His eyes returned to the freshly disturbed earth. "Do you think that I should have gone after him? Or, at least appointed someone to watch over him? I would have, but everyone was so upset after Misto ran out on the funeral-"
Tugger shook his head. "Stop, Munkustrap. It wasn't your fault. Neither of their deaths was your fault. Nobody knew how far gone Misto was."
A tear trickled down Munkustrap's cheek. "But I did know. He was seeing and hearing Jemima, Tugger. I knew he wasn't facing reality about her death, but I didn't realize it would lead to this..."
Tugger shivered. "This is all too much. They were both so... They didn't deserve to die so young."
"Is Bombalurina all right?"
Tugger's mouth formed a tight smile. "Yeah, she's being a real trooper. I'm not too worried about her."
Munkustrap nodded. "I'm sure she'll pull through. Skimble and Jenny are the ones that I'm worried about. They have other kittens they need to worry about that are still with us."
"Don't worry. They'll start the healing process and get back to their lives. Everyone does, eventually."
"Not Misto," Munkustrap said sadly.
Macavity stared coldly down at the still body of his former agent. For all his tough pretenses, Ascanius hadn't been above screaming for mercy at his end.
Macavity kicked the body over and traced the long scar that went across the cat's face with his toe.
Orlando took in the dead body without blinking. "Why did he do it?"
"He didn't appreciate rejection, especially when it meant losing to a pampered house cat like Mistoffelees."
Macavity's young apprentice shook his head. "I always knew he was a ticking time bomb."
"Why didn't you say something?" Macavity asked curiously.
He shrugged. "Who isn't, that works for you?"
Macavity chuckled. He had a point.
They were silent for a moment, reflecting. The large ginger sighed. He was tired, but now he could rest. It was over.
"Did you take care of everything that you needed to do?" Orlando asked quietly.
Macavity nodded. "Yes."
"The magician?"
"Dead."
Orlando flinched. "Why? I thought that you were just going to get information from him about her killer."
"I was. But then I looked into his mind, and I knew that he had killed Jemima just as much as Ascanius had."
"How did you do it?"
"I used his own guilt against him."
Orlando sighed. It wasn't exactly a straight answer, but after all this time together, he had learned to read between the lines of what Macavity said. "You drove him insane? How?"
"I gave his guilt a form. Actually, two forms. Jemima and The Rum Tum Tugger."
"You had him seeing his dead mate?" Orlando asked, surprised. Well, no wonder. "But how? I mean, wouldn't you have needed to know personal stuff about their relationships to pull that off?"
"Yes. I prodded his mind while I was creating the illusions. It wasn't difficult with the state that he was in."
Orlando nodded, appreciation shining through his eyes. "I shouldn't have asked."
"I considered going after Victoria, too, but she's suffering more by staying alive. Guilt can have a powerful effect sometimes."
"Apparently."
Finis.