AUTHOR'S NOTE: Alright, alright, here's where I come crawling back blubbering for forgiveness. I can't believe I published this more than a year ago and neglected it up till now. My only excuse is I went on a brief Cats high and it went away for a while. But! I finally got to watch it live and now the high feeling is back again! I hope enough people will forgive me for this to still be alright. Please, enjoy, and I hope the next interval between chapters isn't as long as the last. :P

The Pariah Heroic

CHAPTER 2

"Stay still!" Rumpleteaser pushed down on Jerrie's head as they both tried in vain to get a clear view through the crack in the dusty wall. "Lousy louse!"

Three months in the Headquarters brought a bit of quiet hostility from the other henchcats to Jerrie, and a lot of loud bullying from Teaser – Rumple- whatever it was she was officially named. Aside from adjusting, life had been mildly boring. While each hour cats were rushing in and out to follow Macavity's orders, Jerrie hadn't even started any form of training. Today, though, was special. Today, there was a visitor.

Peeking through the hole, all Jerrie could see were faint shafts of light, and two figures. There was Macavity, his hero, sitting easily in his throne of metal and plastic, and someone else.

"Who's that?" Jerrie asked.

"His name's Tugger," Rumpleteaser sighed dreamily. "Ain't he the handsomest?"

Before Jerrie could answer, the hero interrupted him.

"Ah, my dearest friend," Macavity said smoothly, almost happily. "It's thrilling to see you again. How's your queen?"

"No stupid small talk, Macavity," the figure retorted, and stepped out of the dimness. Jerrie peered through, and the inevitable stab of jealousy struck through him. Rumpleteaser was right, alright – the tom was handsome. At least, he was handsomer than the scruffy old henchcats to be seen daily. Tugger continued, "I'm here on Munkustrap's orders."

"Munkustrap!" Macavity said in some strange version of surprise. "It's been so long since we've last… spoken. How's my dear brother eldest?"

"Incredibly angry," the tom with the large, golden mane responded, irritated. "Says he's seen your cats on Jellicle territory. What you choose to do with your empire is no longer our business, but he prefers you stay out our circle and keep our cats out of danger."

"My men?" the hero said, feigning shock. "Knowing how they are, I would consider that deplorable. But still – routes in your territory are most convenient. Surely, as long as they pass through, with no harm done to your darling Jellicles – all is well?"

"They're scaring our cats and your theatrics isn't making this any better," Tugger scowled as he leaned against the wall. Then he seemed to soften, and sighed. "Macavity, find another passage for your… goons. Ties between you and Munkustrap are bad enough. If your henchcats continue to threaten us there's no stopping him from declaring an all-out war."

Jerrie switched his view back to Macavity, who finally straightened up in his throne. His expression was decidedly solemn.

"If that's what dear brother eldest demands," he said with a melodramatic sigh.

"Good," Tugger relaxed and placed his hands at his hips, looking around. "This place looks the same. You don't do much cleaning, do you?"

"We rarely have visitors," Macavity replied casually. "And the visitors we receive frequently become… residents." His dark eyes darted to the wall, where the two were silently peeking through. Panicked, Jerrie ducked, and Rumpleteaser above him toppled over in a string of hissed swear words.

Tugger mouth formed a smirk – he appeared so relaxed in this dark, dangerous place that it was peculiar. "You aren't suggesting I join you, do you?"

"This business has accomplished great things," Macavity rose from his seat and advanced. "My friend, imagine if we both had it. You cannot deny that your past is… flawed." He reached out a paw to rest on Tugger's shoulder, but the black-and-yellow tom stepped back, his easiness gone.

"Past is past," Tugger answered rigidly. "It's all been erased."

"What's he talkin' about?" Jerrie whispered to Rumpleteaser, but she slapped a paw onto his mouth and shushed him.

"And you think you can erase it by continuing to lie?" Macavity asked, his tone mocking. "You are not a prim and proper Jellicle, you know that. You are the Rum Tum Tugger, the object of desire for queens and the object of abhorrence for humans. Is that little ruined junkyard truly where you belong?"

"I'm leaving," Tugger sharply turned away.

"Then Ventis shall show you out," Macavity retreated to his throne, but his eyes were glued on the tom. Somehow, a sly smile came to his lips. "You escape your past just as well as any enemy escapes this fortress – with plenty of scars."

The Rum Tum Tugger's profile peeked slightly from behind his shoulder. "If anything new happens, send for me, because Munkustrap can't stand you." He slipped into the darkness, and the last thing Jerrie could see were glints off his bright gold mane. He heard Rumpleteaser sigh in dreamy delight, and pulled her away from the crack in the wall.

"So who's this Tugger?" Jerrie asked, incorrigibly curious. "And this Munk bloke? And why does the hero have a brother?"

Rumpleteaser stared at him, and then blinked out dust falling into her eyes. "Who's the hero?"

"Macavity."

"Tugger comes here every once-and-then," Rumple shrugged, and then grinned. "Ain't he something to sniff at! He called me princess once." She fingered a Woolworth pearl on her necklace, biting her lip in joyful reminiscence. Jerrie rolled his eyes.

"Anything else, besides, uh, handsome?"

"He's Macavity's best friend. Well, I suppose he is. He's the only tommer that ever shows up here. He talks for Macavity's brother, Munkustrap, 'cause he doesn't wanna see him face to face."

Jerrie blinked, surprised. "But why? What's he ever done?"

"What I'd kill t'know!" Rumpleteaser shook her head. "Jellicles never make good sense."

"Jellicles?"

Rumpleteaser turned her head to him, narrowing her yellow eyes. "You really got no brains where you came from, do ya?"

"Jellicles?" Jerrie persisted.

"They're the tribe living in the junkyard down at Wellington's. Strange right bunch of cats. That's where Tugger comes from." Rumpleteaser stretched in her place, and then wheeled around in the direction of the living quarters. "Walk with me, I'll tell more to ya."

Macavity's headquarters were an abandoned butcher's shop at the very end of Forest Street. There was no longer any electricity, but holes in the roofs and ceilings provided them with the light they needed. Past storms brought wooden beams and shelves to the floor, leaving plenty of material to build out of. And of course, the rusty metal hooks and knives never ran out of uses.

"Macavity used to be with the Jellicles," Rumpleteaser continued as they ducked through and under fallen boards. "He and the Tugger got into plenty of trouble with them. The rule was, never step outta the junkyard. The thing was, they always did."

"What for?"

"Uh, stealing, I guess?" Rumpleteaser frowned, digging into her memories for any last bits of information. "I reckon that's more for Macavity's case, though. Tugger… he just liked the queens." She sighed dramatically, fluttering her eyelashes at Jerrie. "You think he'll come back here for me one day?"

Jerrie rolled his eyes. "Tugger fancied everything that moved, I understand. But was that so bad?"

"Bad enough to get him nearly kicked out," Rumpleteaser replied, twirling a claw through the fur on her head.

"Wait, what?"

"Boss and Tugger went here and there, went farther away from the junkyard than the elders would ever have liked. But it got worse – Tugger, well…" Rumpleteaser paused, ominously lowering her voice, "from what I hear – for the queens he found, he didn't ask permission."

Jerrie's ears flicked, his idea of Macavity the Hero a little rocked. "What do you mean?"

"What I'd kill t'know!" Rumple threw her paws up, laughing a bit and removing any previous gloom. "All after about, the Tugger felt awful and came back to the tribe, but I guess the Boss did something worse because they never let him back in."

"But what'd Macavity do?"

Rumpleteaser smiled at him mischievously. "Dare ya to ask."

"Damn, no!" exclaimed Jerrie, horrified in imagining his reaction. Rumpleteaser simply giggled and continued on her way.

"You ask a lotta questions," she said as they entered the main quarters. "I reckon it's because you don't come from us or the Jellicles. Don't you know anything for yourself?"

"Myself?" Jerrie stared at her. "I don't think I know much. I only know about heroes."

"Heroes!" Rumpleteaser scoffed, trotting her way to Jerrie's makeshift bed of tattered meat cloths and poster ads. Jerrie had lovingly collected them in his few travels outside Headquarters, pulling them off brick walls and windows. They said all sorts of strange human things: VOTE JOHNSON, APARTMENT FOR RENT AT 35TH STREET CALL THIS NUMBER, SAINT MUNGO OF SCOTLAND AND GLASGOW, MISSING: NELL FLATLEY.

"Heroes… that's all you ever blubber about. Back before you I never even heard of the thing. What's a hero again?"

"He helps the nee-" before Jerrie could finish, his left shoulder crashed into the side of a burly, black henchcat.

"Mungo!" the giant thing roared at him. "You'd best watch your path, nasty runt!"

Jerrie hissed, "I'd have that easier if ya made way!" Then he stopped, and gulped. In the three months he'd been here, he had been able to bear all torment without complaint. What was with the sudden disrespect?

Jyx narrowed his eyes, the scratch marks between his brows going crooked. "All sharp with claws and tongue, but nothin' to fight with. Watch for us, kit."

He trudged away in heavy steps, leaving Jerrie in shivers and Rumpleteaser in awe. She took his shoulder and turned him towards her.

"Aw, Jerrie," she cooed, in her own version of kindness. "You'll get used to the place." She smiled for a moment, but stopped to think. "Why's he calling ya Mungo?"

Jerrie shrugged. "Everyone but you and Boss calls me Mungo. It's because of that." He pointed at one of the wrinkled posters sitting on his bed, a brownish-orange rectangle with white letters and the image of a glowing, bent over human.

SAINT MUNGO OF SCOTLAND AND GLASGOW

"According to the smarter henchies it reads something Mungo something," he said. "They made fun of me because I brought home all these human things. Then they saw this paper bit that says Mungo."

"So you have now two names!" exclaimed Rumpleteaser, amused. She took him by both shoulders, grinning. "Then you to me an' me to you. I'm going to call you… Jerrie… Mungo… Jerriemungo."

The bright orange tom frowned. "I don't like it."

The young queen bit her lip and wrinkled her nose, thinking of all possible combinations. "Then I'm going to call you… Mungojerrie."

"Mungojerrie. That's actually… not a slight bad," he let it mull over in his mind, then grinned as wide as she did. "I'm Mungojerrie."

"And Rumpleteaser."

"Mungojerrie."

"Rumpleteaser."

"Mungojerrie!"

"Rumpleteaser!"

"Mungo!" "Rumple!" "Jerrie!" "Teaser!"

Rumpleteaser tackled Mungojerrie to the ground, yelling her name into his face. Under their playful arguing the low buzz of other cats' voices faded away.

Mungojerrie thrashed violently under her tickling, laughing until he realized that she was no longer looking at him. On the floor, he craned his head to gawk at the feet that had newly appeared before him.

"Um. Hello, boss?"