Within the first week, Tugger found himself hacking up more fur balls than he'd ever done in his life, some with sparkles… most with sparkles, in fact. Compared to the stories he'd heard about kitten-raising though, Quaxo wasn't nearly as bad - he didn't misbehave (that much), he listened to Tugger (most of the time), and he was extraordinarily good at staying clean… the main problem he had putting him to sleep. He didn't know if it was the magic in him keeping him hopped up on energy, but Quaxo was impossible at naptime. That was the main reason for the excessive (furballs) bathing - the only thing that could calm Quaxo down was a long, long bath.
Nevertheless, kitten-raising was not as frightening a task as he had expected, and Quaxo's presence was a surprisingly welcome distraction from his darker moods. Tugger found Quaxo's boundless energy endlessly entertaining - it was exhausting, but worth it for the moments when Quaxo tripped and went tumbling tail-over-ears, or that time when he got stuck in an old tin can… Tugger hadn't laughed that hard for a long time.
However, there was one thing Tugger was finding difficult, and that was choosing the right time to introduce him to the tribe.
There was nothing holding him back - he heard Munkustrap calling him an 'old Griz' at the back of his head for hiding him away, and whilst this accusation didn't bother him too much - it was more the effect his seclusion might have on Quaxo that worried him. Socialising was very important to a kit's development and he didn't want Quaxo to suffer for him... him and his reclusive habits.
A week had passed and Quaxo was becoming quite sick of being cooped up inside. He took a deep breath and decided it was time. And so… they left the den.
It was chilly outside and whitewashed with blinding sunlight. Quaxo trotted behind him, ever a faithful shadow - however, in his eagerness he tired himself out prematurely and leapt onto Tugger's tail and let himself be dragged along upon it.
Quaxo was a very odd little kitten.
Sometimes when he did things like this it made Tugger even more anxious thinking what the others' might think of him acting this way. He was used to it by now, but that was after a full week of adjusting to Quaxo's strange view of the world. There were so many things to worry about with revealing Quaxo to the tribe - he didn't even want to think about how he was going to tell them about his magic. Nuh-uh, that was a no-go-zone for now.
It was daytime when most of the adult Jellicles were at their human homes, leaving behind only the junkyard kittens and a few retired older cats to mind them - it was therefore, (theoretically) the perfect time to test Quaxo out on the Jellicles.
But it was quiet - far too quiet, and too early for the kits to be napping - which made Tugger suspicious. Tugger scooped Quaxo up cautiously, his ears straining to hear anyone at all - but then, he relaxed when he heard a very familiar voice singing the tale of the Great Rumpus Cat - the ending reworded to be a little less frightening to the kits, and sang on a merrier note by a much-too-cheerful voice for such a horrific story. Tugger crept upon the gathering - again momentarily taken aback by how many kits there were this season - and gently set Quaxo down.
His arrival caught Skimble's eye just as the railway-cat finished singing and he watched him scan his audience for anyone still awake - apparently he was successful in lulling them unconscious, because he grinned victoriously at Tugger and tiptoed his way towards him.
"It's been too long since I last saw you, son!" he whispered, nuzzling his ear affectionately and regarding him with a fond look. Skimble was everyone's favourite uncle - much adored by the kittens for his playfulness and appreciated by the other cats for his willingness to kitten-sit whenever he came by. Tugger smiled back rather sheepishly, accepting a gentle bite to the nose as punishment. "Have you been busy, or were you just…" Skimble shifted on his paws awkwardly, "…you know, are you still…"
"Sulking?" Tugger sighed, "Yes, I was Skimble. I've been pretty down,"
"I actually meant to say 'adjusting'," Skimble gestured to Tugger's grown-up body, "But yes - it's so unlike you to be so miserable, my darling boy," Skimble remarked softly, ruffling his head-fur, "You've had all of us so very worried,"
"Yes, well… that's over with now, I suppose," Tugger shrugged with deliberate nonchalance, "I'm back - I had to come back, for the sake of my burden,"
"Burden?" Skimble grabbed him and spun him around, patting his shoulders, as if to find a physical weight on them. He always had a tendency to take things too literally, so Tugger helpfully pointed Quaxo out to him… rolling his eyes when they found him sniffing the ground at their feet like it was catnip.
"Meet my burden, Skimble - Quaxo, you little weirdo, come here…"
Quaxo's head snapped up and he rolled over towards them - stopping on his back with all paws in the air and his white belly exposed, practically begging for a rub. Tugger did so, already knowing how fussy Quaxo would get if he didn't.
"Quaxo, you say?" the ginger tom bent down to sniff Quaxo curiously. They touched noses in greeting, and then Tugger forced Quaxo upright for a proper introduction.
"Quax, say hello to Skimbleshanks - you can call him Uncle Skimble, well, you could. If you could talk…" he teased. Quaxo could only make noises so far. He offered Skimble his most demure mewl which was met with a delighted chuckle and a hug. As he was lifted up, his eyes bugged out and he squealed in excitement, winding his arms around Skimble, he squeaked,
"Skimboo! Skimboo!" at the top of his voice - his first words.
Tugger's heart swelled with pride, and despite outwardly looking gobsmacked (jaw-dropped, bug-eyed) - it suddenly made sense to him that his first word would be Skimble's name, as he was the first cat he'd sung to Quaxo about, and it had become his favourite song. He was impressed by Quaxo's memory, and even more so by how quickly he'd warmed up to Skimble simply from knowing of him.
"Well hello there!" Skimble smiled, utterly charmed, "What a delightful burden he is, Tugger! He's quite sweet, isn't he? What a clever tom! How old is he? How long have you had him - wait, why do you have him - "
"I've only had him for a week,"
"You mean he's in your care?"
Tugger grimaced and nodded, "Old Dee and Munk insisted. He likes me a lot you see, and with the queens overloaded by this…" he eyed the sleeping kits warily, like the ticking time bombs they were, "…army of drooling ankle-biters, I kindly accepted,"
"That's marvellous, Tugger!" Skimble exclaimed, scratching Quaxo under the chin, "You must be doing well to have him behave so nicely. I'm impressed!" Tugger preened under the praise, "But if you've been watching him for this whole week, have you had any time to yourself? I know all too well how raising a kit can take over your whole life - oh! I would be glad to mind him if ever you need a rest - "
"That's kind of you to offer…" though he was glad to be given this offer (he'd been dreaming of getting some sleep for days), Tugger couldn't help but feel a little panicky at the sight of Quaxo in Skimble's arms. He couldn't explain his sudden irrational thought that - that in the brief time that they had known each other, Quaxo now preferred Skimble over him, but he wanted him back in his arms so much that he itched for it. It was a completely irrational, and yet - the jealousy - the fear that Skimble was going to keep him -
- stirred up something inside him, like a stomach ache after eating some rotten fish.
Everlasting, how had Quaxo managed to get under his skin so fast?
"It's important to have good balance in life, you know," Skimble carried on, completely oblivious to Tugger's little emotional constipation. "I suppose you haven't spent a moment away from him, have you?" his tone was annoyingly knowing, as was the look he sent him. "Tugger,"
"Yes?" he answered tightly, unnerved by how unexpectedly perceptive he was being. Sometimes he forgot that Skimble spent a lot of time with Jenny and Jelly - their intuition might be rubbing off on him.
"Even though we've barely seen you for a while, I'm sure you've been managing to keep tabs on your human from time to time, but that was without your 'burden' to look after - so I'm guessing that you've probably forgotten about that what with the new addition, haven't you?"
Skimble clamped his paws over Quaxo's ears just in time.
"Shit,"
"You know how important it is that we take care of our humans. They get very distressed when we don't check in with them often enough, and when that happens their more likely to start looking for us - "
"- which increases the likelihood of the junkyard being found,"
They both spun around, startled by the appearance of Alonzo - the black and white tom, and Munkustrap's self-appointed second-in-command. He was very good at creeping up on cats despite his distinctive markings and liked to demonstrate this skill at every given opportunity, much to the chagrin of the whole tribe. He slid down the side of TSE1 and landed soundlessly, brushed himself off and promptly stuck Tugger with a pointed glare. Tugger honestly didn't know what he'd done to make his brother's two favourite cats hate him so much.
"You know that if they find us here they'll start messing with things. Humans always ruin everything," he spat acidly, wrinkling his nose for good measure. Since his humans up and left, Alonzo had become very bitter towards humans in general.
"But…" Tugger shot Quaxo a forlorn glance, receiving nothing in return, "… my girl has grabby hands, and she insists on combing my fur till half of it's gone!"
"Do you see me caring, Tugger?" Alonzo sniped haughtily, only then noticing Quaxo. He approached the kitten slowly, his whole demeanour sweetening to appear more welcoming to him.
"Last time she tried to ride me!" Tugger squawked. "Like... like a horse!"
"That's because like your ego, you are far. Too. Big," Alonzo sniffed dramatically, "Like a damn pollicle…"
"If I become bald… and crippled it will be on your conscience, Lonz!"
"Oh poor, poor me - now stop being so vain and hop to it, Tug!" Alonzo hissed, swatting him on his ass, "She'll put you in a tutu too if you don't hurry!"
"Don't worry, I'll watch little Quaxo for you," Skimble promised him with a wink.
Tugger felt like he'd somehow been ganged up on, especially when he spotted Quaxo purring in Skimble's arms quite happily. He pouted at them and departed with great haste and even more reluctance.
When he finally returned (from far too much grooming - he felt like he had at least five pounds less fur!), he could honestly say he'd never missed home so much in his life. It wasn't that he hated his girl - she was a sweet kid - but she tired him out with all the chasing and grooming and bloody tea parties. He leapt over the boundary, crying out in elation as the tingling sensation of re-entering the junkyard hit him and he landed on his feet in a crouch. There was no one there to witness his un-Tugger-like neatly combed fur so he shook it off and groaned happily -
"Mm, oh my," someone purred from the side, "What's this I see?"
He whipped around, sighing in relief when he saw that it was only Bombalurina reclining on a broken lamp with a smirk painted on her lips. She grew more beautiful each day, more queen-like and sinfully curvaceous. She was drawing the attention of many toms already, but her attentions were more directed towards Tugger as of late - this was his reason for avoiding her in particular, since he still somehow couldn't fathom thinking of her in such a way, and yet he shuddered to think how she might react to his rejection (a.k.a. violently).
"The Rum Tum Tugger has finally decided to show his face again," she slid off the lamp and sauntered over to him, hips swaying like a dance. Her tail curled around his hips, "And his fantastic ass as well," she whipped said ass with another flick of her tail.
"Bomba!" Tugger squawked. He appreciated her good humour, though he could already tell that she was mightily pissed off at him underneath it all. He just didn't want to lead her on, but he missed spending time with her just as friends. They had always been good friends since their kittenhood - born of the same litter - so it was pretty cruel of him to have cut her out of his life without any explanation at all. "…how've you been?"
"Bored, Tug. It's so boring here without you! Where have you been?" she demanded, swiping him across the nose with her sharpened claws.
"Ouch! Claws in! There's no need for violence, you despicable pom!"
"Answer me now, sweetheart, or I'll make a pom look like a canary in comparison!"
He shot her a startled look and hissed, "Let me show you what I've been up to instead!" he made sure to keep a distance between them cautiously as he led her back into the junkyard, gallantly enduring her withering glares.
"It'd better not be a queen, Tugger! I'll claw out her teeth if it is!"
"I wonder if I'd best keep you away from him then, if you're gonna act that way," he paused in mock-concern, a few yards away from where he'd left Skimble with Quaxo. Bombalurina just rolled her eyes in exasperation and marched onwards - and then she let out a startled gasp. He darted after her, "What? What is it?"
The kittens were all still sprawled out everywhere, nothing was amiss -
"It's Bustopher, you fool. Quieten down," she whispered.
"Show some respect," another cat hissed at them both.
It always struck him as rather odd that the tribe revered Bustopher Jones as much as they did - all that was really special about him was that he was still able to walk in spite of his tremendous girth. He ate a lot and visited infrequently - what was respectable about any of that? Tugger supposed it was his mostly rebellious nature that refused to worship this fat-cat-in-a-suit, but just this once - now that he wanted to slip back into society unnoticed - he would follow the crowd to draw less attention.
So he entered the junkyard with his head held high - but not too high to be arrogant - his stride precise and stately, his tail carefully held upright. Bustopher was facing away from them, so he couldn't appreciate any of this anyway, but then he stopped -
When he heard a very small voice pipe up -
"- you're not my father?"
"Certainly not," Bustopher asserted, though his voice was uncharacteristically patient.
"But… but look like me,"
Tugger's jaw dropped. Quaxo - that was Quaxo's voice! He could talk? How could he be talking like that already? Had he been pretending all this time that he couldn't? Tugger peered around Bustopher, amazed to see the fancy-pants-cat squatting to be at a better height to speak with his little Quaxo. The kitten was sniffing and pawing at him with his usual curiosity - but the real curiosity was that - that Bustopher Jones was allowing it!
(Not to say that Bustopher was a particularly hostile cat - but he was hardly the cat you went to for cuddles. Come to think of it - where was that cuddly-cat Skimble?)
"I… suppose we do share a passing resemblance, little one, but that does not mean that we are related," Bustopher jerked back when Quaxo tried to lick his tail. "Please don't do that,"
"Sorry," Quaxo stopped trying to monopolize Bustopher's tail and sank back on his haunches, his head tilted ever so dejectedly - Tugger was about to cut in just then, but then Bustopher spoke.
"Though…"
Quaxo peeked up at him, his ears flicking back nervously.
"… I suppose I possibly might be related to you… in some other way…" he had to give Bustopher some credit for trying to appease little Quaxo, as he floundered for some way to forge a viable relation between them.
Quaxo's ears sprang up, "Like… like an uncle or something?"
"Yes, quite! An uncle!" Bustopher latched onto the idea immediately and daubed at his forehead for perspiration. He was very unpractised at dealing with kittens it seemed, and was under a great deal of stress to do it right - what with the audience his visit normally gathered watching.
"Uncle Bus!"
"Bustopher,"
"Bust… bust-o…"
"Alright then, Uncle Bus," he agreed, perspiring a little more as Quaxo stubbornly continued to botch his name up. His eyes darted around the yard for some assistance, no doubt wanting to escape Quaxo's interrogation as quickly as possible. Tugger was rather pleased with the outcome of the conversation he'd heard, so he decided to help the fat-cat out - Bustopher had suffered enough for one day.
"Yo, Quax - you talking now?" he strode over and ruffled Quaxo's head-fur, letting him head-bump into his legs as he was greeted happily. His heart swelled a little at the enthusiasm his return was met with. "You didn't tell me you could talk, kit,"
Quaxo giggled, "No,"
"You never talked to me either," he pouted jokingly.
Quaxo's ears flew back again. "Sorry…"
"Hey, hey now!" Tugger grinned widely, "Don't use that word too often. You're being raised by the Rum Tum Tugger who never apologises for anything!" He could practically feel Bomba rolling her eyes at him, but only grinned wider knowing that.
"But if you sorry?"
"Then you try to fix what you've done before it gets bad - and if you can't then… then I suppose you have to say sorry," he finished rather lamely.
"Oh,"
Tugger quickly spun the conversation around, "Hey - what's this on your face?" Quaxo licked his lips though Tugger had to finish the job, and in doing so found his answer - "Hmm, rice pudding. Not bad,"
"Uncle Bus give me," Quaxo explained, his eyes curving up as he beamed, "Mmmm," he purred and let Tugger drag him in for a quick bath.
"Didn't know you were in the neighbourhood,Uncle Bus," Tugger muttered offhandedly between licks, loving how Quaxo's whole body melted bonelessly in his arms. "Have you come back for Jenny to… you know?" he waggled his eyebrows suggestively. It was only when Bustopher glanced pointedly at Quaxo that Tugger realised - now that Quaxo was talking… he'd have to watch what he said.
He clamped his hands over Quaxo's delicate, innocent ears too late. Damn it.
"I was just passing through the neighbourhood when Skimbleshanks asked that I mind this kitten," Bustopher replied, "I think he needed a bathroom break, but he's been gone for well over an hour, so… I think I shall take my leave now. Toodle-pip," he chirped and briskly saluted them farewell. Tugger rolled his eyes at that, even when Quaxo called out a sweet, "Bye Uncle Bus," and whispered to him, "I like him," he rolled his eyes at the whole bloody spectacle.
He almost forgot Bombalurina was there -
Until she came into view, eyes blazing with… with what, he wasn't quite sure...
He froze, tongue out mid-lick, and grinned at her whilst doing this. "Uh…"
Bomba's astounded expression folded as she leant down to coo at Quaxo, though her lashing tail told Tugger he had some explaining to do later on. The fact that she was holding out on the chat they were going to have did not comfort him, for it only meant they would have no witnesses to her abuse.
He hid his face in Quaxo's stomach and groaned.
So much trouble for a kitten…
And yet - he felt Quaxo valiantly attempting to lick himself and Tugger clean at the same time and failing at both - totally worth it.
News that the new kitten was staying with the Rum Tum Tugger spread like wildfire and soon Tugger was struggling to fit all the visiting cats in his den. On top of this, he had to withstand Bomba's looks… though she was helpful at keeping the others at bay. He only had to mention Quaxo looking a little tired from everything and she would spring into action. It was brilliant. She lured toms away with a 100% success-rate and drew the queens away for hunting or a chat with her effortless charisma…
It was the blasted kittens that were the biggest problem.
They sprang up out of nowhere, they wouldn't shut up, they asked too many questions… the only consolation was that this litter of kittens didn't know that much about Tugger.
(Yet)
They were a litter down from him and had been born or adopted into the tribe during the time of his isolation, so all they knew was that he was 'the' Rum Tum Tugger, but not that he was known by everyone and regarded as a celebrity by most. He was glad they didn't swamp him with the attention people who knew him would.
He couldn't say the same for Quaxo.
The kit clammed up when the first lot of kittens tried to get him to play with them. It wasn't normal for kittens to be reluctant to play, but… well, Quaxo had always been different, and he barely knew these other kits, and… he was shy and under-socialised. He barely knew where to start with his peers pawing at him and Tugger far out of reach across the sea of kittens from him…
"How's it going?"
"Huh?"
Tugger was licked on the nose for his ignoring Bomba - he'd forgotten that you never ignore the Red Queen when she was talking. But Bomba's eyes weren't shooting holes through him - instead she was watching Quaxo with a rather pensive expression, her mouth curled in a small, curious little smile.
"With Quaxo," she nudged him, "Is it difficult, having to watch him all the time?"
"Well, no… not really, I don't - he…" Tugger frowned, turning to catch a glimpse of his charge - who was caught in a swarm of kittens. He couldn't help but smile at the panicked expression on his face. "He's really quiet, well-behaved - the most un-kitten-like kitten I've ever met. Doesn't really need much watching over,"
"But I heard you spent all week looking after him. Like, all week?" she wrinkled her nose, "Don't you get bored?"
Tugger blinked slowly.
"No,"
"Huh," Bomba chewed on her lip, "That wasn't the answer I was expecting. Who'd have thought the Rum Tum Tugger could be tamed by a kitten,"
"I am not tamed, and…"
"…and…?"
"…and I think, perhaps… Quaxo might not be as much of a kitten as we think,"
"Pardon?"
"Look at him, Bomba," he pointed at where Quaxo was sitting, having somehow managed to escape the sea of kittens and seek refuge under a rag hanging from a tyre. Only his white-tipped tail gave his hiding place away, but apart from that he could hardly be seen. "Have you ever seen a kitten behave like that?"
She watched Quaxo's tail also slip under the rag so he was completely hidden.
"Honestly, I don't think I've never seen any cat or kitten act like... that,"
"He's far too clever to be a kitten," Tugger continued, "Too smart - and also he can suddenly talk, just like that,"
"Maybe he's just really, really mature for his age. Or a genius,"
"Or maybe he's older than we think. He has the energy of a kit, but the way he thinks… he's just as smart as a full-grown tom,"
"But he's so small," Bomba frowned, "Only kittens can be that small,"
Tugger sighed, absently wondering when he might have to rescue Quaxo from their guests, "I think he will always be small, even when he's all grown up,"
"Well… being small does have its advantages,"
He watched Quaxo's hind-legs scrabbling desperately against his perch, trying to hold onto the narrow ledge. It was a lot like a scene from that film he watched with his girl once - where the lion was hanging onto the cliff edge. The only difference was that Quaxo was a squirming ball covered with blanket and his stampede was more like a swirling maelstrom of kitten excitement. He barely could anticipate the moment when Quaxo lost his grip, but everything that happened next went in slow motion - the rag swallowed him up and he dropped like a rock into the sea of kittens that crawled over him - very much like the time in the queen's den.
Tugger leapt into action then - his pulse racing in fear. Why did Quaxo have to be so small? The kittens were too young to realise swarming could crush a kit to death!
"Off! Move out of the way! Shoo, rapscallions!" he hissed, clearing the floor with swipes of his tail.
But as he moved closer to where Quaxo had fallen, he started to hear the kittens squeaking more than squealing - the clamour changing from excitement to collective fear so suddenly that Tugger felt his stomach drop. Had Quaxo been hurt? His fear turned to anger, and he let out a fierce yowl that scattered the kittens, many of them hurried out of the den but Bomba blocked the way of the others before they could escape. There was no escaping the Red Queen. That was for sure.
The problem became very obvious to them once the floor was visible again.
The rag was crumpled on the floor - nothing beneath it. Tugger flipped it over anyhow, just to be sure. At first he couldn't understand what he was seeing. He kicked the rag to the side and pawed at the ground where Quaxo should have been.
"Tugger?" Bomba's voice was shrill and the kittens she was minding were whining in fear. "Tugger, is he - "
"I don't know, Bomba! Just give me a minute,"
He said he didn't know what happened - but he was lying.
He did - it had to be the magic - Quaxo had disappeared using his magic! A shiver of excitement, fear and something like wonder crept up Tugger's spine as he marvelled at the younger tom's amazing abilities. But at the same time he was afraid - this wasn't how he'd imagined himself revealing Quaxo's powers to the community. He wanted it to be better planned - more planned, he meant - because something like this - a spectacle like this would only evoke fear in everyone. Fear that was uncalled for - for Quaxo was not someone anyone should fear. He was a good kit, well-behaved and kind and loving, and… and Tugger couldn't bear the thought of the other cats shunning him for being different.
"Tugger, where is he?" Bomba's voice had dropped lower as she attempted to reassure the kits that everything was alright. He respected her for that, but also heard the accusation in her tone - that was the downside to her knowing him so well - she knew when he was hiding something.
"I really don't know, Bomba. He's… he's gone,"
"Gone where? Gone how?"
"Do any of you know? Did you see anything?" Tugger turned onto the kittens, who all shook their heads adamantly - but then one tilted his head in thought, and then nervously raised his paw. "Yes?"
The kitten had a brown patch on his left eye and… and purple lips? He was nudged by another kitten with the same brown patch but on his right eye - they had to be brothers.
"I saw something Mr The Tum Tu… Tugger sir," it seemed the purple-lipped kitten wasn't very good at remembering names, which didn't give Tugger much confidence in how reliable his account would be.
"Yes, go on," he prompted nonetheless.
"I saw the new kitten fall out of the sky and he almost fell on top of me, sir. Almost squashed me flat!"
Tugger narrowed his eyes, "What do you mean by 'almost'?"
But before the kitten could, another swarm of uninvited visitors burst into the den - this time the kittens were led by a very flustered Jennyanydots, who pinned Tugger with a stern look. Since kithood that look had always worked on keeping him where she wanted him.
"Tugger!" she squawked indignantly, "What is this I hear about a flying kitten?" her eyes landed on the kitten he was interrogating and she rolled them despairingly, "Pouncival, I've told you to stop eating those blueberries! They make such a mess!"
Tugger whipped around, pinning Pouncival with his own look. "Flying? What do you mean you saw Quaxo fly?"
"Well, he never touched the ground, sir. That's why he flew,"
"And then the cloth thing opened up and he wasn't there!" the other kitten added excitedly.
"Ay caramba," Tugger moaned, rubbing his face exasperatedly. What a disaster explaining this to them was going to be - but before he could start thinking about that problem, he had to find Quaxo first. How on earth was he going to do that? There was nowhere to start!
"What aren't you telling us, Tug?" Bomba demanded, "Do you know what happened to Quaxo?"
"I do, or at least I think I do, but you're going to have to trust me to explain everything later. Right now we need to find him - he's probably quite afraid, wherever he is…"
"Do you have any idea where he might be?" Jenny asked, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. He sighed, shaking his head wearily.
"I don't know - my den is the only place he really knows,"
"Let's split up - we'll check the junkyard top to bottom for him, okay? No need to worry! We'll find him, Tug," Bomba nudged him and started dividing the kittens into searching groups.
Jenny squeezed his shoulder, "I'll go tell Munk, alright? He'll have the others looking too, and we'll find your kitten in no time, and then," she leaned closer to him, her forehead creased in worry, "If the explanation to how he's managed to disappear and fly is what I think it is, I suggest you tell everyone about it sooner rather than later, son. It's better than hiding him away like he's something to be feared. That will only make everything much worse in the long run,"
He was surprised by how accepting Jenny was being, since she was one of the ones who he knew hated magic the most. He nodded at her advice and cast a weary glance over the squads of kittens being sent out of the den in frightening precision by the Red Queen. She shot him an encouraging smile and hurried out with the last group, Jenny following behind her. Tugger was about to follow too, but he saw a little movement in the corner of his eye.
Obviously, he expected it to be Quaxo, and so he hurried over to it - but found that the kitten there was completely white and obviously a queen, not a tom. She was facing away from him, hunched over in the corner of a broken laundry basket. Tugger cleared his throat… he cleared it again, louder, but she didn't even turn around.
"Hello?" Tugger reached out and poked her gently on the shoulder.
She shrieked, jumping out of the box like her tail was on fire, and when she turned to face Tugger she was spitting and shaking like a leaf. He hushed her, but she wouldn't calm down - not until he smiled and crouched down slowly. Only then did her shaking stop, and she peeked up at him with trembling whiskers.
"Hey, I'm not gonna hurt you," Tugger cooed, carefully reaching out to pet her head-fur. "See? I'm just a big, fluffy tom. Sorry if I scared you, kit,"
She mewed up at him, much to his surprise - she didn't look as young as Quaxo, and yet she wasn't speaking? She mewed again - but even the noise she made was not a normal mew. It was raspy and more like a howl.
"O-kay," he grinned awkwardly, "Well you're a strange one too, aren't you?" she blinked blankly at him, "…yeah, so do you want to come with me? Want to help me find Quaxo? You know who he is, right? He's the little black and white tom who everyone's going crazy over,"
All of this he mimed - drawing Quaxo's fur markings on himself to show her what he meant, and cupping his hands to show how small Quaxo was. Her eyes lit up in understanding - as did Tugger's, as he began to realise why she might be behaving in this way - and she nodded enthusiastically, and then -
She dropped on all fours and pressed her nose to the floor.
Tugger blinked.
"Wow, you and him are gonna get on great together," he remarked, "You're both obsessed with the floor, for one. You're both weirding me out, for another…" But then he crouched down nonetheless to better see what she was up to. As soon as he got closer to the ground he saw what was what he exclaimed in delight, "You clever kit! I had no idea - this was what he was up to before…"
There were - of course - sparkles on the floor. Everlasting knew how or when or why Quaxo had put them there, but they were visible only at a certain angle, and… and they swept across the floor. The white queen pressed her nose to the ground and started off on the trail, Tugger following behind with a bemused expression, thinking that definitely - Quaxo was going to find a good friend in this queen.
The trail of sparkles led twice around the den and up the TSE1, over Skimble's favourite settee and down a very long pipe. Tugger's tracking skills were put to shame by the white kitten's nose - she expertly picked her way over the patchier areas where the sparkles forked and backtracked, and eventually Tugger could make a guess as to where Quaxo had wandered to.
There weren't many cats that lodged in the corner of junkyard they were heading in - not because it was particularly unpleasant - but perhaps because it bordered the edge of the Heaviside Layer which made the area a little more sacred than the average plot. However, there were two cats that lived there - two cats whose movements were so synchronised that watching them always sent shivers up his spine. They lived and breathed as one and no one - not even Deuteronomy - knew when they arrived at the junkyard or where they had come from.
Sure enough, Tugger spotted two long tails languidly flexing atop the great pile of broken automobiles. The twins were hunched over and he could hear their solemn voices - which meant they were speaking to someone else, otherwise they wouldn't have needed to speak aloud to communicate between themselves. Tugger just managed to catch the white queen by the scruff before she managed to scramble her way onto the first car, and placed her safely on the ground with a 'stay here' gesture - it was far too dangerous a junk pile for a kitten to climb.
He just managed it himself - Everlasting knows how the twins managed to get up there - when he reached the top he was huffing and puffing - and right at his eye-level with his Quaxo.
Tugger narrowed his eyes at him.
He hadn't even acknowledged his presence! Granted, he was facing the other way… but the Rum Tum Tugger did not accept this as an excuse!
"Wait for a moment - "
"- Tugger, we are still - "
"-speaking with young Quaxo,"
Tugger scowled at the dismissal, but took pleasure from the way Quaxo tensed and darted a wary glance at him. His ears were already pulled back anticipating the colossal scolding he was about to get. Coricopat and Tantomile were crouched on either side of him, their dark, intense eyes boring into Quaxo - but he didn't flinch or shrink away from them like any other cat would. He didn't look at all alarmed by the unwavering attention of the two psychics, and their 'conversation' was more of a stare off than anything else -
Or were they… could it be that Quaxo was mentally speaking to them too?
He only spoke a few words every now and again, and the twins nodded at him as if they understood.
Well of course they did, but -
What on earth could they be talking about? It wasn't as if they had anything in common to discuss. He let them carry on for a few minutes until his patience ran out, but just as he opened his mouth to speak -
"It isn't his fault you know - "
"- magic is very difficult to control at such a young age - "
"- and at an age as young as his, and with so much power - "
"- it's a wonder he hasn't set fire to his whiskers - "
"- or disappeared to Russia - "
"- or spontaneously combusted yet,"
Tugger's head whipped back and forth between the two and then down at Quaxo, who was bashfully pawing at the box he was sat on. "I don't even know what the last one meant, but I'm guessing it's bad?"
Coricopat nodded gravely, "Fatal, actually," Neither twin had a shred of humour that Tugger had ever seen, which worried him since that meant it was likely all true.
"Right," Tugger said tightly, barely managing to hold back a shudder as Tantomile circled around him. Her eyes were knife sharp and yet… somehow mellow, "Well, thank you for taking care of Quax. I'll um… I owe you, I guess,"
Tantomile briefly tangled her tail with his and she froze.
Tugger also froze - he didn't know if he'd done something wrong, or…?
But Coricopat didn't follow his sister into the Sight. He was twisting his own long tail around Quaxo, and then he gasped as - apparently - another connection was made. He sprang away from Quaxo like he'd been given an electric shock, and then turned his moon-like eyes on Tugger.
"You must take him back immediately," he informed him, Tantomile herding Quaxo back into Tugger's orbit with the same sense of urgency heard in Coricopat's voice. Tugger halted Quaxo's tumbling body with one paw and frowned at the twins questioningly, "Take him to the tribe,"
"Make them accept him," Tantomile continued, nuzzling Quaxo's twitching ear, "Teach them to trust him,"
"They must - we all must make him one of us," Coricopat insisted.
"That's gonna be a little hard, you know, seeing as they all hate magic," Tugger drawled.
"You will have to change their minds then. Make them see him for who he is first - make them like him," Tantomile surprised him with a smile, "I don't think that will be difficult at all,"
Tugger glanced down at Quaxo who was swatting at a tuft of Coricopat's tail. He tilted his head, taking in all the positive attributes an "adorable kitten" such as Quaxo had, and how they could best use them to their advantage. If he taught Quaxo on how to win the hearts of the tribe - added to how lucky Quaxo already was with his looks - they'd get the tribe to love, not like, him - no problem!
He nodded at the twins, a Tuggerish smirk stretching his lips.
"This could actually work,"
Tugger hated tribe gatherings.
The main problem was space - every single space around the cleared "podium" was jam-packed full with cats. The air was stifling hot and unpleasantly muggy with smells and damp breaths - the noise alone was enough to make him want to hightail out of there. Everyone took "tribe meetings" seriously, which fortunately and yet unfortunately meant everyone turned up.
He only felt a little bad for pushing Quaxo in front of him like a tiny shield, because whilst he didn't look bothered, he could feel him trembling. The hundreds of eyes fixed on him - on them - were like a blinding flashlight, dizzyingly and nauseatingly invasive.
There was a small commotion as one cat pushed himself to the front - of course, it was Munkustrap, come to see what all the fuss was about. Tugger's unofficially announced meeting had involved him sending a bunch of his admirers off to gather everyone. No doubt Munkustrap had been told last - the messengers wouldn't want to incur the wrath of the Protector by interrupting his day with… with Tugger. When he made it to the front, first of all - he didn't look wrathful, only curious. And when his eyes landed on Quaxo, he actually smiled.
"What a surprise, brother," he murmured, shooting Tugger an unexpectedly impressed look. "You're actually doing your duty and being responsible,"
Tugger rolled his eyes and watched him step back into the crowd, and then he cleared his throat loudly…
And loudly again, and then he -
"SHUT IT!"
- twisted around to see Bomba storming through with a deafening bellow. She sauntered past the shocked cats and passed by him and Quaxo, letting her tail brush over them both protectively. The sudden quiet was deafening in itself, and Tugger cleared his throat once more, just so he could remember his own voice.
"Thanks for coming," he began, wondering when he'd ever found talking to an audience this difficult. He told himself he was just out of practice, but knew that it was really his guest who was making things different - he wanted to keep an eye on Quaxo to make sure he was okay and an eye on the crowd to make sure they wouldn't attack him at the mention of 'magic'. This was an unfortunately an impossible feat because Tugger couldn't squint.
"As many of you have heard, I have a kitten with me, and many of you know that I… I am looking after him. So I wanted to introduce him to you… Quaxo - step up, little buddy - "
Tugger moved to push Quaxo forwards, but then - his paw went through nothing - and when he looked down, Quaxo wasn't there.
"- hey, where the heck - ?" he swivelled around, but the gasps coming from the audience alerted him to the fact that - Quaxo wasn't hiding behind him, or anywhere -
And his sudden disappearance was not of the normal kitten-tuck-and-roll-under-a-cardboard-box variety.
And when he lowered himself - snout-pressed-to-the-ground - he could see a trail of sparkles twinkling at him, and leading off somewhere.
That little -
"Nice. Real nice," he grumbled under his breath, his complaint drowned out by the others as a terrible din started up again, the whispers of 'did you see that? He vanished!' crescendoing to a deafening uproar of 'magic! He did magic!'/'he flew! I told you he flew!' Tugger flinched as the crowd descended on him with questions and outrage, and he felt marginally better knowing that Quaxo was far away from the stampede, where he would have surely been crushed to death - but at the same time he cursed the little tom. Cursed him for bringing about this panic - this cacophony of hysteria that could have been avoided.
Oh who was he kidding?
This was bound to happen, so happen it had.
"…well that was rude. And really - really - was that necessary? No. All you had to do was stand there - I was going to do all the talking, but no. No, you thought 'Ol' Tug's got it too easy. I should leave him with an angry mob to deal with.' Thanks a lot pal, now I've got more people talking about me than ever before which I hadn't thought actually possible… and I've lost the hearing in one - no, both ears. Are you even listening to me-? Oh wait, you're not talking to me. Well…"
Tugger flounced over to a stained mattress and tucked a few springs back into the stuffing before laying over it. He was making a big show of ignoring Quaxo - they both knew it - and took extra time to sort out his ruffled head-fur and his bed before he finally acknowledged Quaxo's wriggling bottom… which was floating above his head.
"So you can fly,"
Quaxo floated in a rough circle around Tugger, falling somewhere behind him but appearing in front of him immediately, a bright smile plastered on his face.
Tugger hated how Quaxo was so bloody difficult to stay mad at. He blamed it on how adorable he was. Wait till he grew out of that "cute" phase - then Tugger would make good on all the trouble he'd caused him!
Then he noticed they were not alone - the little white kitten bounded up onto the mattress with them, her warbling noises breaking through his temporary deafness with how shrill they were - clearly she was excited. Quaxo was also piping up his piece, though his noises were more coherent than hers -
"- she can smell my sparkles, Tug! I don't think she's normal though - "
"Whoa, whoa! Rude, Quax. We don't say that about other cats, especially not while they're present," Tugger glanced at the white kitten fleetingly, "She can't hear, Quaxo. She's not weird, she's just different, as are you and I," he said, feeling very accomplished with the moralistic lesson he'd just taught him.
Quaxo cocked is head to the side, "Oh… that makes sense,"
"Yeah, now, are we gonna talk about that little show before? You left me there for dead, Quax! Not cool!" Quaxo's ears dropped back, "And the magic? Haven't we talked about the magic before?"
Quaxo cocked his head the other way, "…no,"
"Haven't we? Well - "
But then Quaxo playfully pounced the white kitten and rolled them around Tugger for a few seconds before stopping them so they were seated between Tugger's forelegs.
"I want to name her," he announced.
"She might already have a name,"
"Oh? What is it?"
"…uh, well-"
"She's called Victoria,"
Both of them whipped around to the den door, Victoria belatedly reacting to Munkustrap's presence when she realised their attention had shifted there. Tugger subconsciously curled his paws around the kits when he saw the murderous expression on his brother's face… and that he was sporting a few patches of wet fur, missing fur and generally because he was scowling.
The thing with Munkustrap was that he was neither a smiley person nor a frowny person - he wasn't generally that expressive with his face (unless he was story-telling… or kit-sitting), so when he did either, you knew you were in for something pretty big. That told Tugger that - whilst he'd endured being harassed by the cats after Quaxo left, he'd probably left Munkustrap in an even worse situation when he'd skilfully escaped the mob. And he was not happy about that.
Munkustrap jerked his head, successfully summoning Victoria from the toms - she trotted over to the Protector, respectfully nuzzled his flank, and wisely ran off somewhere safer. Munkustrap then turned his enraged eyes on the two.
"Do you have any idea what you've done?"
Tugger cringed, "Munk - "
"Don't you 'Munk' me - there is a - the whole tribe is in an uproar. Everyone's panicking - everyone's blaming and - crying - and - "
"Whoa bro, calm down!" Tugger leapt down to coax his brother back into breathing and surveyed the damage with appropriate wincing and hissing at the snot and tears matting Munkustrap's fur. He circled him, breathing in and out exaggeratedly in a mock-attempt to level Munkustrap's own breathing. He found him with an even stormier expression than before and actually stepped back, as if to exit the danger-zone, "It's all good, I swear - "
"It's not good! In no way is it good - they all want an explanation, Tug. They won't rest till they have one," he twitched in agitation, "They won't shut up until they have one… am I shouting? I can't hear in this ear anymore,"
"Well I don't have an explanation - I don't have one, and I'm the one raising him! I have nothing to say other than - yes, Quax has magic, but he's not going to be like him - not ever,"
"Like who?"
Quaxo's soft voice startled them both, but they reacted very quickly, answering at the same time -
"Nobody,"
Tugger shared a look with Munkustrap before he sighed. "No one you need to know about, Quax. I promise,"
"Tug," Munkustrap interjected softly, but backed down at his beseeching look, "Alright," he acquiesced, "Look, I think… I think it would be best for you to stay in here for the time being. Let me go check outside before you go out again, alright? Just in case. I don't want anyone getting hurt over this,"
"Are they mad?" Quaxo asked warily. Munkustrap forced a reassuring smile on his face.
"…a little - "
"Munk!"
"- but I think they're just… taking some time to get used to the idea of your… your…"
"Magic?" Quaxo sniffed, his eyes worryingly large and wet. Munkustrap flinched, nodding.
"Thanks Munk - "
"Don't thank me," he snapped, surprising them both when he bent to nuzzle Quaxo, "You keep an eye on him, champ. If he tells you he's in charge, you tell him I made you the boss,"
"Yes Munk,"
"Oi, don't side with him!" Tugger whined, nipping at Quaxo's ear which provoked a small tussle, and by the time they were done and he looked up, Munkustrap was gone. He levelled Quaxo with a mock-glare and jabbed him on the nose, "You are not the boss of me," he warned him playfully.
Quaxo grinned, causing both of them to fall into laughter.
"So it's all… sorted?"
"For the time being,"
It was finally quiet… or quieter than before, though Munkustrap's ears were still ringing from the noise. Thank the Everlasting Cat that Old Deuteronomy chose to step in and put things right - no doubt he was woken from the noise - Munkustrap was never more grateful for his father's excellent timing than then. His unexpected presence managed to quiet the crowd and calm the hysteria, and then he went on to explain how Quaxo came to be within the tribe (without everyone's knowledge beforehand) and how he was different.
They all struggled to listen - even to him - when he spoke about magic like it wasn't to be feared. They couldn't think of it without imagining fire and the stink of burning flesh and fur. To associate magic with a kitten - with innocence and hope, as Deuteronomy was begging them to, was too much to ask of a few cats who had to turn away when they could hear no more of it. Munkustrap followed each one out of the gathering in silence and got them home - he didn't try to reason with them. He knew their loss was still too fresh for them to accept magic back in their lives unquestioningly. It had tricked them once before, a second time they would not be so forgiving.
He made a mental note of which cats might not agree with Quaxo joining the tribe - and that he should warn Tugger about them.
The remaining tribe quietened down in collectively deep contemplation about the new kitten and his powers - whether they could accept him into their lives as easily as Tugger and their leader apparently had. If they couldn't trust the judgement of their leader and his son, where could they place such trust? It was in one way non-negotiable, in the other… undefined.
Munkustrap knew it would take time for each of them to accept Quaxo into their hearts, but he had no doubt that the kitten had the ability to work his way in there - after all, he'd already wormed his way solidly into Tugger's heart. He'd also managed to melt his own hardened heart, and evidently Deuteronomy had enough faith in Quaxo's goodness to convince him that he was good as well.
It was unfortunately exactly this that worried Munkustrap - the fact that Quaxo was so easy to love. It reminded him, very specifically, of another cat with the same magnetic charm - the very cat that taught the tribe to not trust magic - to fear it.
That cat had brought a world of pain to the people he'd once loved with his magic.
He hoped with all his hope that Quaxo could prove them different in their suspicions - he wished against all odds that he could change their minds about magic, because life without magic was just not the same as it used to be - it lacked the spark they'd all grown to love. Their world revolved around wonder and magic - after all, they worshipped the Jellicle Moon, did they not? They gathered together one night every year and danced for it, and sang for it…
Perhaps, in time, they would all learn that magic could be good.
