A/N: Long time no update. Sorry about that guys. I'll be honest, I slacked. I'm going to work to get you the next update soon, tho, okay?

lunareclipse3: I'm sorry! It's all for plot's sake, tho.

should-log-in-sometime: ..P-pff- I'm sorryyy. Like I said, it's for the sake of the plot...

saddening: Meep. You're write-in name worries me. Don't be saddd.

KleineVogel: I know where you live, woman.

just another fma fan: Thank you! I try very hard to keep them in character. Though I hope Gilbert doesn't come off as OOC in this chapter...

yi-chan: Thank you..! I do love Catstria. He's so cute!

The Phantom Devil: Ja... I wish there was more of it, he's so darling!

Phamenia: Aha, you'll see. Just wait!

Read on!


Francis and Antonio had searched the seventh animal shelter when they found him, learning that the cat had managed to get from Gilbert's apartment, to the other side of the city in Central Park. How the cat had survived was besides them, but the fact that they found him, Roderich, the cat that Gilbert, hater of cats, was so head over heels for. It was a miracle.

A Christmas miracle.

When Gilbert saw the brown cat, looked into it's eyes, and knew this was the cat, he cried. For the first time in almost four years, the albino cried. Tears spilling from his striking red eyes, the man picked up the cat, it's violet eyes staring at him curiously. Gilbert hugged the cat to his body tightly, sobbing happily, a large smile spread across his face, and he decided that this was the best Christmas ever. Even better than his first Christmas after the Berlin wall had fallen, and Ludwig was born, and they were a happy family, before his mother passed, then his father, and eventually his dear younger brother. After all the loss he'd been through, losing this cat had somehow been the worse, and finding Roderich had brought him so much peace with his heart that he thought, maybe, he would celebrate his birthday again. Maybe.


Roderich took no time in getting back to their previous routine. Waking up Gilbert at 6 AM for food, getting thrown off the bed on the first three attempts, but persistently returning. By the seventh attempt, Roderich had the Prussian awake, barely, but at least having him awake enough to put food in his bowl, which was all he wanted. Then Gilbert would feed himself, and start to get showered and ready for work. It took him even longer to get ready since getting Roderich because in some weird way, the cat did not like the amount of body hair he owned. So to please the cat, for some odd reason, he shaved his arms and legs, and his face if he deemed it needy of a shave.

Then Gilbert left for work, and wouldn't come home until almost six o'clock, leaving Roderich to laze around the apartment and nap on numerous occasions until his master returned. Which meant he was bored and usually kind of hungry.

So everyday he invaded the counter tops and cabinets, looking for food, creating a large mess of fallen boxes and foods. Never did he go after the rats in the apartment, finding them disgusting and unsanitary. One day during his food search, he managed to open the refrigerator, finding many foods for him to eat, nothing too fancy, unless it was in a black box. Generally he went for the black boxes, finding them full of leftover foods, like crab, chicken, and salmon. As much as he feared the sea creatures, they were delicious once dead.

Though, for some reason, every time Gilbert came home when he at the food from the black boxes, he was angry. He didn't like it when Gilbert got angry with him. So every time he ate from the black boxes, he hid when Gilbert came home. He hid somewhere new each time so Gilbert didn't find him as quickly. It was like a game!

"Roddy, I'm hom… aw, shit, cat!" the albino groaned, throwing his apron onto the couch and stomping into his kitchen. He assessed the damage, closing the fridge and picking up the take home box. Stepping out of the kitchen, his glared, eyes sweeping the room.

"Roderich, where are you? Come out you little bitch!" he snarled, searching his apartment for the cat. Roderich quivered from his hiding spot under the sink, realizing Gilbert was really mad at him.

"Dammit, Roderich. Don't you fucking hide from me!" Gilbert shouted from the hallway, slamming his fist into the wall. "I swear, when I find you, you're going to regret it, you little fucker.."

Roderich ducked his head into himself, curling into a ball. His shaking increased when Gilbert opened the cabinet doors.

The Prussian glared fiercely at the cat, grabbing him by his nape and pulling him roughly from under the sink.

"You little shit, why the fuck do you keep getting into the food? You hide each time, so you have to know it's wrong!" he barked, walking into the main room.

Gilbert picked up the cat's leash, clipping it on the Roderich's collar. Kicking open the front door, he stepped outside, tying the leash in a knot around a post and dropping the brown-furred cat to the ground.

"You sleep here from now on," and went back inside, slamming the front door.

Roderich whimpered, sitting in front of the door and staring up at it, waiting for his master to open it and let him back in.

He waited all night.


Gilbert was late for work the next day, not having Roderich to wake him up. He was in such a hurry to make it to work that he didn't feed the cat. He came home from work angry at being kept later as punishment for being late, so angry that he didn't feed Roderich before he went to sleep. He didn't even acknowledge the cat.

This pattern repeated for two weeks, and each night Roderich waited for Gilbert to open the door, feed him, acknowledge him, love him.

Each night, he was disappointed.


On January the 18th, Gilbert's birthday, Roderich disappeared again. The leash wasn't broken, wasn't cut, just there. He had been released. Someone had unhooked him.

And then, Gilbert realized, that someone had saved him. He remembered how much he neglected the small cat. For almost three weeks he did not feed or water the cat. He didn't give the cat any attention. He hurt Roderich. Left him to die while he wallowed in hate for what? Some stupid food? Gilbert disgusted himself.

He didn't eat for three weeks to punish himself.