HEY ALL! Unlike my first fic, this one is going to be the happy fluff-fest that I promised Violaunte. Accordingly, this story is dedicated to her….

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Les Misérables. I own a copy of it, but not the rights to it. I do not own CATS that right belongs to a mister T. S. Elliot, shared with a mister Andrew Lloyd Weber. I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, that right also belongs to our dear friend Mister Weber.

I was wandering through the Jellicle burial ground. It was desolate, yet stiflingly crowded. It was empty of the living, full of the dead. Except for me, Mistoffelees. The only tom to live through our attempts to revolt against Macavity, I can't help but feel guilt over my survival. I went to the barricades for all the wrong reasons. Skimble was about to bring Jemima to France with him, and I couldn't stop thinking about the fact that I'd never see her again, and I wanted my life to end. Fortunately, or unfortunately, for me, Skimbleshanks saved my life. That night, I lost my very best friends in the world, and my cousin, Pouncival. Not to mention Alonzo, who treated me more like just another one of his brothers… In the days that followed, Jemima and I were mated, but it did little to ease the sorrow.

Wishing you were somehow here again

Wishing you were somehow near.

Sometimes it seemed, if I just dreamed,

Somehow you would be here.

Wishing I could hear your voice again,

Knowing that I never would.

Dreaming of you won't help me to do

All that you dreamed I could

All of a sudden I heard the crunch of solemn footsteps. I looked up, to see Jemima, tears streaming down her face. "Who?" It was all I could force out through a throat closed by my own tears.

She gestured at me to come over to where she was. When I did, she pointed at the gravestone, the newest in the entire park. Skimbleshanks. We both knew that he was ill, but his death was still a shock.

"It's going to be ok, Jemima. I'll be there for you if you need me." He gently pulled her into a hug, knowing that she would need comfort. "I know, it's a terribly cliché thing to say at such a time, but I guess he's finally at rest."

She buried her head in my chest fur, sobbing softly to herself. I slowly stroked her back, wishing I could make things better for her, and biting back my own grief.

"There's something else, Misto…I'm pregnant."

"That's great!" I immediately immersed myself in the news. I honestly wanted to throw myself wholeheartedly into it, but it was, after all, an incredibly bittersweet moment.

"And listen to this…already, cats around the world are congregating to take on Macavity… he can't kill everyone…we're going to win after all!" She looked absolutely radiant, and I was reminded once more of how I fell in love with her.

"That's wonderful…I suppose."

"You suppose?"

"The other's deaths…what if they were all for nothing?"

"Not so, Mister Mistoffelees, and you know it!" she said, teasingly. She laughed her clear, bell-like laugh. "I don't suppose you actually know where we could go to get a decent breakfast?"

"I know a place." And just like that, she had lifted his gloom, and he hers. Neither really knew how the other did it, and neither really cared. Truly, their love was true.

A/N I know, this isn't the best example of fluff, but what can you do when the best ideas you have are focusing on Les Miserables, the graveyard scene of Phantom of the Opera, and a recent family tragedy? Anyway, feedback would be appreciated.