"What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from."
T. S. Eliot

She found him near the train tracks. His body, once lithe was now twisted and battered. The arguable king of deceit and felinity lay broken in the ditch and Demeter was troubled when a pang of happiness shot through her.

His head moved slightly and the black and gold queen backed off a few steps, tail raised in caution, hair standing on all ends along her spine. He was able to move his head somehow and his yellow eyes caught sight of her figure. The figure he had known so well during those dark years. There was still a bit of smugness about his expression as if he knew even in dying that she would never be rid of the memories.

She had been his prisoner and now he lay dying at her feet, unable to defend himself. There was a surge of pity that she didn't understand but that urged her to crawl forward a few feet. Now she was crouched beside him, now the tip of her nose went to push gently at his abdomen. He growled and would have swatted at her if there had been any strength left in his limbs.

A smirk of satisfaction graced her snout. She was no longer at his mercy, prone to his likes and dislikes, subject to every whim of his fancy. Oh she had declared her freedom in part when she had taken Munkustrap as her mate, but there were still memories that turned into nightmares at night. Those times when her silver tom would wake her with a rub and lay awake with her until the light of morning chased all the shadows away.

He was trying to speak, wetting his mouth with his tongue, "Shust…" she bet her head closer to hear what might be the villainous tom's last words, "Just rewards," he finally managed head lolling without his consent.

She tried not to nod too vigorously. After all Demeter was broken inside and as such she knew what it must be like for him to lay there with his world evaporating. How Bombularina would scoff at her mercy. The scarlet queen would have passed on by and she would have been right to do so. Her own relationship with Macavity had not been the same as Demeter's and so she didn't know the deep primal strings that bound her to him even now. She wouldn't understand the scars or the need to be with him as he died.

To her own surprise, she bent her head, forcing her body to draw closer. Their heads touched and his wild mane looked slightly less foreboding after a firm rub. He didn't cry out in pain and she knew even now he must be numbing, drawing away from this life. Even now she knew if he could be well in a second he might jump up and carry her away, force her to be the slave he desired as he had before. In his dark mind it could even be a plot to get her to come close to him of her own accord.

But no, now the wetness in his eyes betrayed him. He inhaled sharply and his forepaw twitched, "Dem," he muttered softly, "don't forget me."

She sat watching, tail swinging in slow easy intervals, "I couldn't, even if I wanted to," she answered in a whisper as his body stopped moving and his eyes closed forever.

It was true…the bonds would be there forever…but now, as she walked away, Demeter realized that the nightmares would not be waiting for her at night. The conjurer was dead, his reign cut short by the 7:47 from Boston. She did not feel the need to inform anyone for several days of what had transpired near the train tracks.

Munkustrap, however already knew of the death, though not of his mate's meeting with the dying tom. He purred contentedly and nuzzled at his sleeping queen's neck. After all, someone had to have lured the hellion into the path of the speeding train. Skimbleshanks had been more than willing to help.

The silver tom told himself he didn't feel guilty, after all, in the nights since then Demeter had not said the dead cat's name once…even in her sleep.