The sun rose lazily, like a rose reluctant to bloom; its light crept across the junkyard and seeped through the nooks and crannies of various trinkets and objects. They gleamed and rusted at the appearance of morning, lighting up every leaf, eye, and dewdrop it began to touch.
"Mmmmmph." Jemima groaned, pressing her head further into the corner between her cushion and the oven walls.
"Get up." Electra's raspy voice rang out from next to her, the sounds of shifting could be heard.
"Please, Lecty."
"Get up!" She smirked and grabbed the nearest piece of yarn, balled it up into a fist, and quacked it against Jemima's hip.
"I'm up, I'm up!" Jemima rose quickly and yawned again - despite her apparent sweetness, she definitely wasn't a morning person.
"What's the matter? It's only dawn." She mumbled, gazing at the other half-asleep cats strewn throughout the junkyard.
"Mum's punctual, Jem. And you know how she gets when Dad isn't here."
"Skimble's gone already? Poor Jenny." Jemima listed her head to one side and went about smoothing the inside of the oven, tidying up the mess the two tired kittens had made in their slumber. Electra did the same and polished the outside handle.
"You think we can get everything done without waking up anyone?"
"It's a junkyard." Electra grumbled. "Why does it need cleaning anyway?"
"It builds character, I suppose." She mused, carefully considering a certain spot on the roof which refused to away, no matter how much she scrubbed. Suddenly, a blur of silver and tan dropped in from the outside, causing both of them to squeal.
"Pouncival!" Electra hissed, swatting at his shoulder. "You scared us to Heavyside."
"Why are you up so early?" Jemima asked, half-shocked, half-amused. Pouncival turned to his best friend and grinned.
"Bit of fun down at the lake. Me and the boys are gonna try to catch some fish of our own while Skimble's not around."
"Jelly might catch you though." Jemima warned.
"Wanna join us?" He swatted at his ears and waggled his eyebrows. "Tumble's gonna be there..."
She blushed and scrunched her face up while Electra laughed. "We can't, Pouncival. We have chores to do, don't we Electra?"
"Well..." Electra's mouth twisted. "They're not here, are they? I don't see why not. Tumble's nearly old enough and we shouldn't get into too much trouble."
"Lecty...the whole yard's a mess from last night." Jemima moaned. "Someone has to clean it up."
"Let Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer do it. They'll deserve it too." She rolled her eyes. Jemima glanced at Pouncival apologetically.
"I should stay. Sorry, Pounce." He nodded sympathetically before bounding out of the oven, headfirst. "And - " She glanced pointedly at Electra. "I'm not explaining anything if you get caught."
She shrugged. "We won't. It's only a bit of fishing." Electra flashed a grin before following Pouncival's lead, heading south down to the marsh. Jemima sighed and continued to polish, her eyes glazing over as she dreamed.
From the safety of trunk, Demeter silently gazed across the junkyard as Munkustrap snored next to her. She loved the way the sun gently lifted up each thing it touched, calming the winds of the wild and reckless night. Her legs still ached from the Ball before, her heart still pounded with stress from the moments of fear, anger and later, forgiveness - but the joy upon everyone's face made it worth it. She was with her tribe, and the feeling of exhilaration, the feeling of love that came with that was beyond compare. Demeter shifted and her sight fell upon a distant kitten, gently polishing her way through the yard.
"Dem." Munkustrap groaned and shifted as the light awoke him. She moved to slide a hand onto his chest and watched through the window as the little one tiptoed over a sleeping Rumpleteazer, carefully moving her arm in order to scrub at the ladder next to her before smiling fondly. The gesture made her breath short. Munkustrap followed her gaze. "Jemima's up early."
"Mm hm." Demeter nodded gently and tensed.
"She did good. At the ball. With Grizabella." He grunted and stretched.
"No full sentences yet, hm?" She half-grinned and settled her head on his shoulder. Eventually, the kitten danced her way out of her frame of sight, surely ready to spread some semblance of joy to anyone she could reach. Demeter bit her lip.
"It was her first ball."
"You should be proud." He hesitated. "Really." Her forlorn look only burrowed deeper, raw regret and wistfulness the first emotion to hit her refreshed body.
"It wasn't my doing." She shifted and turned uncomfortably. "So, Jelly took Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer home today?"
"They might never've gone otherwise, but don't change the subject." He whispered firmly. Munkustrap could see how the sight of Jemima pained her, and in light of her newfound maturity, saw fit to address it at least once before Demeter pushed it away. "She did good. She showed us all, she...has something different."
A long stretch of quiet overtook the space before she found the strength to whisper, "Like him."
"No." He responded immediately. "No, not like him - like Coricopat and Tantomile. Old Deutoronomy chose her for a reason."
She sat up out of his grip and sighed. "If - if she does." Demeter paused. "Then it's only a matter of time before she senses...something. You know how mystics are."
"Jemima would never intentionally..." Munkustrap shook his head. "You don't know that."
"She knows Macavity is her father. Bombalurina told her months ago." She hissed. "And now - " She faltered.
"She's still the same Jemima. She's young and bright. " He met her gaze a put his paw on hers. "It wasn't your fault, Demeter." Time and time again, she had heard this. "It wasn't - "
"I know." Her features set themselves into various stages of worry, grief, and finally, reluctance. "She's growing." Demeter's voice caught."She's going to know sooner or later."
"Demeter..." Munkustrap began. "She deserves to." Demeter whispered softly. "She deserves to know that I'm her mother."
"Where you off to, honey? Back to the house" The drawl came from above the ladder rung as she winced, her sneaking mechanism apparently failing at its first try.
"Nowhere." Jemima mumbled, springing up to face the speaker. The Rum Tum Tugger grinned at her and winked, fluffing his mane.
"You woke me." Another wince. "Don't worry, I don't need sleep to be beautiful." The comment was so cliche Jemima almost giggled. "The question is, what are you doing up so early?"
"Fishing." She brightened up a bit. "With Electra and Pouncival. Don't tell Jenny. Please." She gave a pleading smile.
He furrowed his brow before breaking out into a grin. "Of course not, 'Mima. Just don't tell Ectetra I'm heading over to Bombalurina's den."
She wrinkled her mouth. "Tugger..."
"Sorry, darling. Long night. You - " He pointed a gloved finger. "surprised us all, by the way. Old D really took a shining to you.
"It was...just the moon, I guess." She muttered; Jemima hadn't have enough time to fully absorb the events of the ball yet, but had looked forward to digesting it during a relaxing morning with her friends, even if it may have been against the rules.
"Huh. Keep it up, sweetheart, and we might just have another cat to sing about." She shook her head and grinned sheepishly. Tugger tickled her under the chin. "Have fun." She spun around and took off towards the like. Tugger sighed and twirled a hair. "Sweet kid."
"Isn't she?" Quaxo offered, dressed in his-day-to-day decal rather then his magician jacket, usually lit-up with sparks.
"Well, if it isn't, the magical -"
"Yes, yes. Did you take my scarf?" Tugger raised an eyebrow.
"Did I take your what?"
"The rainbow scarf in a cup."
"Scarf in a cup." He repeated.
"The one I handed to Jemima last night."
Tugger sighed. "Wouldn't she have it then?"
"It's not in her den and you two were just talking."
"You're suggesting I stole it?"
"I've suggested a lot of things."
"Everylasting Cat, Mistoffelees - " He huffed. "I don't have it. Now calm down before you get the rest of the kittens in your hat all up in a twist. Electra's at the lake, if that tickles you fancy."
"Hmmph." The smaller cat sat himself down on top of the pipe and glared off into the distance. Tugger sighed and grinned.
"Why the long face, hm? You dazzled at the ball."
Quaxo looked at him dazedly. "Macavity."
Tugger tutted and threw his hands up. "What about him, Mr Magic?"
"He kidnapped Old Deuteronomy." He half-whispered, eyes flashing. "And I brought him back."
"Yeah." He huffed impatiently.
"If my magic was strong enough to bring him back..." Quaxo swallowed. "Wouldn't it be possible that he just made it easier? On purpose?"
Tugger leaned back and glared at the tuxedo cat, desperately wanting something to hit his nephew with. "I'm sorry, did you not hear the entire tribe literally singing your praises last night? Especially once I told them to?"
"You didn't - " Quaxo broke off. "Fine. Thank you, Tugger." He gave a mock bow in return. "I know you're not Demeter or Bombalurina, but - do you know why he came?"
He frowned. "Nobody knows why Macavity does anything, Misto. He's mad. Clever, but mad. Don't trust him."
Quaxo looked at him strangely. "Has he come before?"
Tugger paused, visibly tense - unusual for his typical character. "Once, The year you were born, after Demeter joined the tribe." He lowered his voice. "If I were you, I wouldn't talk about it. Cats will get distressed. Stick with the tribe, okay kid? Your magic's good enough for now." Quaxo nodded, slightly pained, and disappeared back into his pipe.
He sighed and leaned his head on his paw, in a rapt contemplation - not of himself, but on what Quaxo had asked. Macavity hadn't made an appearance at the ball since before Jemima was born - he, alongside the rest of the adults, knew of her true parentage - to retrieve Demeter, but Old Deuteronomy had presumed he hadn't known about the daughter he had fathered at any point, much like he had with his son. Until this year - her first ball. Tugger swallowed and shook his mane once again, disliking to think of such things, and made his way over to where Bombalurina had kipped for the night.
The lake glittered like silk underneath the sunlight, smooth, shining, interrupted only by the sound of Pouncival's sharp claws and frustrated groans.
"Try again, Pouncy." Electra giggled. Tumblebrutus lay back against a log, popping a berry into his mouth and grunted in encouragement.
"Eugh!" He gave a frustrated sigh and collapsed dramatically onto the grass. "I can't. These fish won't listen. It's like they don't even know I'm a Jellicle."
"They're fish, stupid." Tumble snapped, making his own way towards the shore. "Watch this - " He perched himself on a rocky ledge and bent down carefully. In a split second, his nose had shot in an our of the water. Somehow, a salmon flapped within air, trapped in his mouth. It moved rapidly until Tumble chocked and hurled it out, coughing. Electra and Pouncival laughed harder. "Hey." His voice was strained. "At least I tried."
"Nice one, Tumble!" Jemima crept out from the trees, grinning. Electra gasped and one of Tumblebrutus' ears reddened.
"Thanks, Jem." He muttered begrudgingly. "Electra told us you had chores."
"I did, but Jelly said she'd do it for me - apparently there were a few messes I wasn't meant to see." She almost gagged, thinking of how she had almost walked straight into Cassandra and Alonzo's den without thinking. "Anyway, she's distracted, so we're all clear."
"Fantastic." Electra declared. "My turn." She skirted the edge of the lakebed, careful, calculated, before plunging in her claws and grabbing at the first fish she saw. She yelped and threw it back in the water, slime covering her paw. Irritated, she turned to Jemima. "Can't you sing to them or something?"
She stared at her, half-annoyed and smirked. "That's not how it works. And I have no interest in getting wet."
"You sound like Victoria." Pouncival teased.
"So what?" Jemima lounged next to him on the patch of dry grass, examining her elbow. "It was sweet, with her and Plato last night."
"Yeah, sweet. Did you see the way Bomba was scratching at me?" He grinned. She swatted him with her paw and Tumble rolled his eyes.
"Leave her alone, Pounce. She'll never go for you anyway." Electra retired, eyes still on the water. Tumblebrutus grabbed a pebble and threw it into the lake, Pouncival following suit. "Hey! You're scaring them off!" Pouncival sniggered. "Hey!" Her voice grew shrill.
"Hey, what's going on here?" A deep voice sounded from behind her. Plato's stoic form came into view, an eyebrow raised. Jemima grinned and bounced up immediately. For the months she had known, he had been a stellar older brother to her - and now he was mates with Victoria, her very best friend. She really couldn't've been more thrilled.
"Nothing." Tumblebrutus coughed and stopped throwing the small stones, Electra darting away from the water's edge. "Just, spending a lovely morning. By the lake. And whatnot."
"Smartcat." Pouncival coughed.
"Plato!" Jemima poked him gently and nuzzled his shoulder. "How's Victoria? I haven't seen her all morning. And, er, we weren't doing anything. I didn't see anything, honest."
He laughed. "Alright, Jem. But yes, she's well, still sleeping, I'm afraid. But - " Plato's smile grew wider. "We're mates now, which is different - in a good way." Pouncival coughed once more.
"I know!" Jemima exclaimed. "Congratulations. I'll drop by later to say hi, yeah?"
He nodded. "Sure, she'll probably be up once I get back."
"Where are you going?" Electra piped up. He drew himself up, slightly.
"To visit Munkustrap, talk about last night's ball." Jemima's ears perked up immediately - it could mean any number of things, but the look in Plato's eye meant it probably regarded what had happened to Old Deuteronomy, and almost, to Demeter. She bit her lip.
"Alright. Good luck." She affirmed. He nodded and bounded toward the Junkyard. Jemima turned toward Tumblebrutus and broke out into a grin. "How about a round two? Whoever catches the most, no matter if we drop them, gets an extra piece of bacon from Toria's house."
"Of course. Pounce, will you moderate?" He asked. Pounce sunk further into the grass and groaned. "Excellent!"
"Are you crazy?" Bombalurina's voice boomed throughout her den. Munkustrap winced. Her sleeping place in the yard was composed of a rather large, decorated refrigerator box stuffed against the metal-object jungle, and obviously didn't provide the best protection against prying listeners. "Are you? Really? Because I'm beginning to think you are."
"Bomba..." Demeter's voice, quieter and tired, rang out from the corner. "I'm not. She's getting older. You know that. For Heavyside sakes, you gave her a collar for her birthday last week."
"It was a gift!" Munkustrap remained silent, which wasn't easy, and folded his paws against his chest.
"You know, if anything, I'd think you want me to tell her. After all, it was you who told her about her father."
"It was -" Bombalurina's expression tightened. "It was necessary. Rumor had it that she and Plato were related, and she needed time to digest it before the next ball. She did brilliantly last night."
"Exactly! So it's only a matter of time before she senses the rest of the story!" Demeter's voice quivered. All of the sudden the front of the box burst open.
"Honey, I'm -" The Rum Tum Tugger's voice stopped abruptly as he looked around in conclusion. "What's going on?" Munkustrap shook his head. Demeter glared at him.
"Demeter wants to tell Jemima that she's her mother." Bombalurina announced plainly. Demeter winced. Tugger paused, clearly surprised.
"Bomba don't you - don't you want, don't you see - " Her voice grew strained. "She has to know. She has to know before she finds it out herself. From Coricopat or Tantomile or Mungojerrie or you or whoever else." There was a pause, as the silence stretched out from across the room. Demeter's heartbeat increased, trying not to let emotion take care of her. True, she had dreaded this day from the moment she had agreed to keep her secret - letting Jenny raise her as a stray, keeping the girl at an arms length, these were all things necessary for Jemima's own good. Demeter had simply been too young, too damaged, to raise the kitten on her own. But she knew, that she still loved the girl fiercely - from the way her heart swelled up when she sang to the moon, to the all-encompassing fear she had felt when Macavity first arrived, it wasn't herself she had thought about first but Jemima she had darted to before the kitten had put herself underneath Munkustrap's leg, within Jenny's line of sight. She met his eyes from across the space.
"I think Demeter's right." He said quietly, raising his head. "She deserves to know. I think she can take it." Tugger scoffed.
"I'm sorry." Demeter snapped. "Is there something you would like to say?"
"Yes!" He retorted, leaning against the frame of the exit. "I think...you may be overestimating her here." Bombalurina made a sound of indigence. "Listen, she's a sweetheart. Really. But she's still the youngest member of this tribe."
"She knows about her father." Munkustrap pressed. "She knows the most evil thing this tribe may ever have produced is her father. Demeter is nowhere near - they already know each other. It's a chance for her to know the truth. To start over."
"Who are you doing this for?" Tugger turned to her. "Yourself? Or Jemima?"
"Tugger..." Bombalurina scoffed exasperatedly. "When I told her about your brother -" Both toms visibly flinched. "It was out of necessity. And, she got a brother out of it. It's not like she'll be alone."
"Just because she's part of your possy of kittens doesn't mean she isn't strong." Demeter sneered. Tugger shook his head.
"Either way, it's your decision, Demeter." Munkustrap said quietly. The golden queen nodded and muttered a thank-you to her sister before gracefully exiting the box. Before he could follow, Tugger stopped him.
"Be careful." He warned. "Jemima's our niece too, you know." Munkustrap bit his lip and lept after her, his thoughts swimming in and out of his mind. In the distance, he saw Plato waiting for him.
Unlike many other Jellicles, Victoria did not have a resident spot on the Junkyard to take up during lazy days or post-ball activities. When she did happen to grow tired, she simply shared the pipe her brother had most vigorously claimed. Instead, she was loyal to her Kensington estate and owners, often creeping in during the early hours of the morning and slipping in and out through the servant's door as she pleased. None would worry except the baby three-year old that tried to pet her with chubby fingers wherever she went, much to her annoyance. She was nervous, showing Plato her house for the first time - they now occupied a specially built cathouse placed on the front porch, which was a new luxury for him but one he appreciated all the same. Victoria had slept in late that morning, exhausted from the ball, while Plato had slipped out to run errands. She awoke not to the sound of his steady pawsteps but, to the shaky noise of somebody trying their best to be silent, but failing. Victoria opened her eyes to the sight of a maroon tortie kitten tiptoeing her way through the structure, her face twisted in concentration. She laughed horsely as Jemima jumped at the sound, almost knocking over a feline jungle gym.
"'Toria!" She whispered, despite her best friend already being awake. The white cat's face split into a wide grin as she leaped up to nuzzle her friend, still bursting with joy from the night before.
"Jem!" She grabbed at her paws. "What are you doing here? Did you come to see me or Plato?" Unlike most kittens, Victoria knew about her true parentage - as she did everything about her life, in fact. Some were hesitant to trust her due to her background and apparent inhibited nature, but Jemima knew of the warmth and empathy beneath her cool exterior. She, alongside the rest of the tribe, had seen proof of it last night.
"Both! Congratulations, by the way - we're sisters!" Jemima half-squealed, sounding almost as excited as Ectetera.
"I still can't believe it." She shook her head. "Everything feels palpably different now, both for worse and for better. It's strange, really - in a good way." She looked around and saw the evidence of Plato's existence - the dent he had made in her cushion, the half-eaten bits of bacon on the floor, the ghost of his kiss goodnight still on her cheek. And yet, everything felt different too - as if the universe had sensed her maturity and warped itself accordingly, everything seemed to move in a more vivid detail, in slow motion.
"You were brilliant, 'Toria." Jemima's voice softened. "Grizabella never would've made it to Heavyside without you."
"Or you! The way you sang with Old Deuteronomy took my breath away, really." She grinned with pride. The flap at the entrance fluttered and Plato, taller then the both of them, made his entrance with an amused grin.
"Hope I'm not interrupting anything, ladies!" He nuzzled the both of them, Victoria sneaking in an extra rub against his shoulder, which caused both of their smiles to bloom. "Jem! What's going on?" He offered her a piece of bacon and she accepted it with a smile, albeit more forced then it was previously.
"What's wrong?" Victoria furrowed her brow.
"Nothing!" Jemima said quickly. "Nothing, it's just that," She chewed her bacon thoughtfully and turned to Plato, speaking slowly. "you know, last night - I mean I knew Macavity was, our father. I knew. But I just, didn't know...how bad it would be. In person. I mean, I heard from Bomba and Munkustrap but -" She broke off. "I still can't believe it. How he almost took Demeter away. How mad he was. And he's our father." Victoria made a sound of concern and Plato put his paw over hers protectively.
"I know, Jem. I know. It was hard for me too." He swallowed. "But...we're nothing like him. I promise."
"I know." She repeated. "Months ago, I thought - I thought I could deal with it. It's still sinking in, I suppose. I just...do you think..." Jemima looked at the pair almost fearfully. "Do you think, the moonlight thing, the words - do you think I got that from him?"
"No." Victoria said flatly.
"But he's a mystic-"
"So is Mistoffelees!" Plato exclaimed. "You're nothing like him, 'Mima. You weren't raised by him. He doesn't even know you. He only helped bring you here."
"You're good." Victoria said softly. "You are both some of the kindest, bravest cats I've ever known. It doesn't matter who your father is."
Plato gazed at her fondly and sighed. "Yes. And don't forget, you're not just his daughter. You're also Tugger and Munkustrap's niece. We're Old Deuteronomy's grandchildren. We have pride in our blood, no matter how far."
She murmured in agreement. "I suppose. I'll deal with it." Bonding with Tugger had been easy - he was popular within her friendgroup, able to keep a close eye on her without them being embarrassed, and had advised her much about her first ball, such as basic dances and which cats were most fussy where. Jellylorum, apparently, would be the most frustrated around Skimbleshanks' number - no use talking (or flirting) with her then. Plus, he never ratted her out and made her feel less nervous about most things, probably due to his carefree attitude himself. Munkustrap, despite his position as protector of the tribe, was harder. He obviously cared for her, and rarely let her out of his line of grip when Macavity had attacked; he had too advised her on the ball and instructed her not to mess up any carefully made plans - which Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer did anyway. Munkustrap had always seemed more restrained, though - as if there were a line he was unwilling to cross, for whatever reason. But anyways, speaking of the twins -
"What happened with Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer last night?" Jemima asked. "You seemed much more irrtated then the other cats, and kept trying to keep me away from them." Victoria raised her eyebrow quizzicly.
"What's the matter, Rumpleteazer's alright-"
"But Mungojerrie used to work for Macavity." He finished, somewhat bitterly.
"Emphasis on used to." Jemima pointed out.
"Jem - you're too forgiving."
"I heard the story." Victoria said. "He was young, and foolish, but he's with us now. We should respect that."
Plato grumbled. "Still. Don't get too close with them until he proves himself."
"How?" Jemima giggled. He glared darkly.
"I'll come up with something." Victoria joined in with Jemima until Plato finally cracked a grin within his solid demeanor, soaking up the joy like a sponge.