A/N: I was going to make this a really short chapter, but I changed my mind and made it really long instead! Aren't you happy? So read, enjoy, and –review- pretty please!
And before anyone (not saying anyone will, but I gotta take precautions here) makes a comment on it, cats lick each other to show affection! It's not some kind of crazy sexual gesture! It's cute. Get over it.
So yeah, I was nice and updated one last time before the weekend is over. ENJOYZ
Disclaimer: If CATS were mine I wouldn't spend my time writing CATS fanfictions…
Chapter Four
Headaches
The Rum Tum Tugger held back a gasp of surprise—he didn't want to give his hiding place away. Had shy, innocent little Quaxo just asked what he thought he'd just asked? Since when did the kid have any guts for that sort of thing? He was the one who went shamelessly after the queens; Quaxo was the one who sat back and laughed at his failed attempts.
But now… what would happen now? If Quaxo got up some courage… would he be outshined by his own best friend? No. That was impossible. No one outshined him. He was the Rum Tum Tugger after all: the curious cat, the daredevil, the king! There was no way a little tom like Quaxo would be able to take his place!
Right?
"Tugger!" The hushed voice made him jump. He looked up to see Jemima glaring down at him. "What are you doing?"
He smoothed down his fur, falling easily into his cool, charming personality. "Nothing much," he meowed back, trying to keep as quiet as possible, "Only eavesdropping."
Her eyes went wide. "Tugger!" she said again, more scolding than the first time, "Leave them alone!" She paused, tail twitching slightly. Curiosity burned in her eyes. "Who… are they, exactly?" She asked, cocking her head.
Tugger smirked. "Quaxo and Victoria."
Jemima had always been good at playing goody-two-paws, but even she was guilty of gossip. She slunk into the spot next to him, pricking her ears and looking disbelievingly at Tugger. "No way! Really?"
He nodded. "Yup. He just asked her to dance with him at the ball."
She flicked an ear in surprise. "You're kidding? Are we talking about the same tom?"
He shrugged. "I couldn't believe it either."
"Shh, shh, shh!" She batted him with her paw, "I'm trying to hear her answer!"
Tugger pricked up his ears as well; this would be interesting.
Much to the displeasure of the eavesdroppers, there wasn't much to listen to. Victoria's eyes shone with happiness and she nuzzled Quaxo ecstatically. "Of course!" she purred, nearly bouncing in excitement.
He grinned. "I didn't expect this much enthusiasm!" He brushed his head softly against her shoulder murmuring, "thanks," into her ear.
Instead of answering she swept teasingly at his tail, pouncing at it but missing when he whipped it out of the way. "Hey!" He laughed, tumbling onto his back and pawing up at her.
She giggled too and leapt out of his reach. Their play fight lasted several minutes as they tumbled over cats, trash, cars, and anything else that got in their way. Even when they stopped, both of them panting, the laughing continued. Many nearby cats watched them—the old toms and queens looking nostalgic, the young kits gleeful at the new gossip subject, but all of them smiling, all of them happy for shy, little Quaxo.
These headaches were getting annoying. Why did they have to interrupt his happiest moments? Why now, when utter piece of mind had filled him, did they have to come and shatter it all? He groaned. It was worse this time. He wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear until it stopped.
Victoria rolled over to face him, worry showing clear on her face. "Quaxo…"
He wanted to say "I'm fine", he wanted to say "we don't need to see Jennyanydots", but his mouth wouldn't form words. All he could do was tremble in pain. This was the worse it had ever been… no not quite… but something had relieved it the last time. What was it? If only something could stop this pain…
"Quaxo!" her scream was distant to him, as if she was far away or he was under water. He reached out searching for her warm pelt by his side, but his limbs would not obey his brain's command. He lay limp, wondering when the pain would end.
Sweet unconsciousness, when it came, was the greatest gift he could have asked for. He embraced the blackness, the numbness. Finally the pain could end.
Munkustrap's tail lashed viciously. This was getting ridiculous! The Jellicle Ball was so close. Macavity must have gotten near the junkyard by now, so why hadn't he been alerted of it? Quaxo was supposed to come to him the second he knew; he was supposed to change into Mistoffelees and protect the tribe from their enemy!
Demeter's soft pelt brushed against him. Her sweet voice purred into his ear, "Calm down, Munkustrap. It's fine."
He shook his head vigorously. "No! It's not fine! Macav-" Her tail pressed over his mouth.
"Don't do this to yourself. You know that Quaxo will tell you when he comes close."
"Shouldn't you be worried? Why am I the only one concerned?" He demanded.
She nuzzled him lovingly. "We're all concerned, but we trust Quaxo. You should too."
That hurt a little. Was she accusing him of not trusting each and every member of their tribe? "I do trust him I just… worry."
She laughed. "Look at you, you'll go white before your time."
He looked nervously down at his paws. Was he really getting white hairs already? He only saw gray and black mixed into his fur and white where it rightly belonged.
She bumped his shoulder with a giggle. "Come on, Munku; I was teasing."
"Right, sorry."
"You seem so distracted," she purred, doing her best to comfort him, to make him smile.
"I am."
"Honestly, you act as if you're carrying the weight of the world on your paws! You're not in this alone, you know. We'll all die to protect the tribe."
He frowned. "That's what I'm worried about."
Demeter let out an exasperated sigh. "Sweet Everlasting Cat, Munkustrap! Can no one get through to you?" She turned to leave him to his pessimistic musings, but he put a paw in her path. She looked up and saw a sad attempt at a smile on his features.
"I'm trying, De. I really am."
She sighed again and nuzzled into his shoulder. "I know you are; the whole tribe knows you are, and if any cat doesn't know then they don't deserve the name cat."
"I think you're overreacting a little bit," he purred.
"Hardly," she scoffed, "There's nothing wrong with loyalty, but don't you think you're pushing it a little too far?"
His mouth dropped open. "What?"
"You're no good to us like this; you're so panicky and frazzled out that the rest of the cats don't know what to do."
Munkustrap sighed. She was right. She was more than right, but it was hard to just forget about it—hard to put the life of his love in the paws of another. He leaned his head on her shoulder, trying his best to follow her advice and calm himself down. Trust Quaxo, he told himself.
Trust Quaxo.
Quaxo came into consciousness slowly. At first he could feel again, but he couldn't see. Gradually he opened his eyes, but was greet with blurry shapes that he couldn't make out. They were talking, he knew that much, but his mind garbled their voices until it was unintelligent noise. An occasional syllable could be understood, but nothing that could be made sense of.
He swatted listlessly at the annoying voices. Why wouldn't they just make sense? His head hurt; he didn't want to listen to babble. He rolled himself onto his side, groaning. These lights hurt too. They were too bright compared to his long darkness. Was everything out to bother him?
Something soft and warm rubbed against his shoulder. He purred with pleasure.
"Quaxo?" That word he understood. That voice he loved. He rolled back onto his back wiggling his front paws in delight. There she was—still blurry, but clearing: Victoria.
He craned his neck up and she bent down to meet him. He nuzzled her gingerly. "What happened?"
Victoria's smile contorted into a look of anxiety. Jennyanydots shook her head. "Honestly, boy, I don't know what's wrong with you. I've never seen anything like this before."
He couldn't, in all truthfulness, remember why he was where he was or how he had gotten where he was. "Um, like what before?"
"This condition of yours."
He cocked his head. "This what? What are you talking about?"
Jennyanydots sighed. "Your headaches—Victoria told me about them, the feinting spell…"
He cringed at the complete unmanly-ness of feinting. "I… passed out?" He substituted in the hope of saving what was left of his dignity.
Victoria nodded. "We were joking around, but then you started acting like you were in pain and feinted." Again with the feinting. He would never live this down.
"How long have I been out?" he questioned.
Victoria winced. "A few… days…"
"Munkustrap should be coming to check on you any time now," the other queen interjected with the usual cheer present in her tone.
Quaxo hadn't even heard Jennyanydots. He gaped at what Victoria had told him. "Days? How many?" How close was the Ball? Would he have to miss it just be cause of his stupid headaches?
"Only two," Jenny meowed brightly.
He breathed a sigh of relief. "Only" was stretching it a bit far, but at least he still had two days until the Jellicle Ball.
The white queen lay down next to him, resting her chin on his chest. "Thank the Everlasting Cat you're alright."
He licked her forehead affectionately. "I'm fine now," he lied. The pain in his head was definitely still there. What in the name of the Heaviside Layer had caused this pain before? He knew it was familiar; what he didn't know was why.
"All the same," Jennyanydots went on in that motherly way of hers, "You should probably rest up until the Jellicle Ball. We wouldn't want a relapse."
He moaned. Two days of being cooped up in his pipe wasn't a tempting offer, but when Victoria pressed her nose to his all thoughts of resistance melted away. If it made her happy he would do so without a second thought.
If only these damn headaches would leave him alone!
Tugger and Jemima moped pointedly on the hood of one of the many old cars in the junkyard. Spreading the gossip of Quaxo and Victoria had only taken half a day to complete, and now no cat donned a face of surprise when the news reached their ears for the umpteenth time.
Jemima glanced over at Tugger and asked, "Hey, Tug, shouldn't you be over with Jenny to see how Quaxo is? Maybe he woke up."
Tugger stretched. "I doubt it. He was out cold last time I checked."
"Shouldn't you be a little more worried than this?" She bristled. For Quaxo's so-called "best friend" he didn't seem concerned at all.
The tom only shrugged. "This isn't the first time something like this has happened. He was fine last time, so why should I get bent out of shape this time?"
Jemima's eyes went wide. "It's happened before?"
He nodded. "It was last year around this time. I think he just gets nervous before the Ball or something."
She scowled. "What if there's more to it?"
"I wouldn't know; he wouldn't tell me why it happened last year. Probably didn't know himself." For all of this, the Rum Tum Tugger looked unshaken.
"You're impossible!" She growled, pulling herself to her feet, "If you won't be decent enough to visit your own 'best friend' then I'll just go and visit him."
The Rum Tum Tugger waved his tail dismissively. "Have fun with that."
She rolled her eyes and leapt grouchily off the car. "When you grow a conscious in that tiny brain of yours let me know," she hissed, storming off.
Tugger let out a small "mrow" of distress at her comment, but didn't follow. Why should he worry about something that he knew would turn out fine? He sighed and settled back into his relaxed position. He purred lightly, flexing his claws and leaving scratches in what was left of the car's paintjob. Quaxo would be fine, and the Jellicle Ball was only days away. What was there to be upset about?
