Chapter Four

Electra sat in the corner of the main room, her tail curled around her small paws as she quietly observed the scene around her. It had been a week since the deaths of Cassandra and Bombalurina. The door to Tugger's room was shut, as usual. He hadn't been out for several days—one would think that he'd died in there, if not for the occasional muffled bouts of weeping that could be heard through the door. They hardly ever saw him—Misto and Cetty took turns bringing him food, but he didn't speak to them. Late at night, Electra had seen him creeping out of his bedroom window; she knew he was going to the rooftop to look at the stars and cry some more. He still wasn't ready to be comforted by others.

Etcetera was at the window, staring blankly into the grey sky. Mungojerrie was pacing the floor; Lecs watched his movements with worried eyes. Mistoffelees was sleeping in the next room; he did that a lot now. Pouncival hadn't been back to the loft since the night he walked out. No one knew what had become of Teaser. Lecs felt a shiver of fear.

Something must be done. They were too crippled by their grief; now they were wasting away like flowers in winter. Electra understood their pain—she felt the loss of Bomba and Cass just as acutely as the rest, but she also felt that they did not die in vain. Their deaths should have been the cataclysm to turn other Jellicles against Munkustrap, not the event that ended the rebellion altogether. Besides, if one believed the teachings of Heaviside and the Great Rumpus Cat, then Bombalurina and Cassandra would soon be reborn into new lives—what reason did they have to weep?

Electra rose to her feet and went into the next room. She shook Misto from sleep, "Get up. We've got work to do."

Misto blinked his bleary eyes, but did not refute the statement. He knew that she was right—the war was far from over.

"We've got to find Pounce," she stated. "We have to bring him home."

Misto nodded, stretching his limbs. He motioned for her to lead the way, and the two quickly climbed out the window and into the evening light.

Electra wasn't even sure where to begin searching for Pouncival, so they simply stopped at every place they could think of, systematically combing the streets.

"He could be anywhere," Mistoffelees pointed out. They'd been looking for hours and their nerves were beginning to wear thin. "For all we know, he could be in Timbuktu by now."

"We have to keep looking," Electra replied stolidly.

"This is hopeless."

"You got a better idea?"

"No."

"Then shut up," she growled, not even bothering to look back at him. Misto simply shook his head and followed her down yet another alleyway. The dark queen motioned to a small pub at the end of the alley. They entered and went straight to the bar.

"Excuse me," Electra motioned to the bartender, who came over to them.

"What'll it be?" He asked dryly.

"We're looking for someone, actually," she replied.

"Aren't we all?" He gave a wink. Misto smiled—he liked this cat's humor.

Electra would not be deterred, "A young tom. White, brown patches."

The barkeep jerked his head to the corner of the bar, "Sounds like that 'un over there."

The two Jellicles glanced over to see Pouncival, huddled in the corner with his drink.

"Pounce!" Electra rushed over. The young tom looked up, his eyes already blurry from the alcohol. There was a moment of shock as his mind registered the fact that Misto and Lecs were standing in front of him.

"How'd you get here?" He asked slowly.

"We came looking for you," Misto said simply.

"It's time to come home," Electra added with a soft smile.

"That place ain't my home anymore," Pounce retorted stubbornly. "I've got me a human who lives a few blocks up. Nice place—kitty door an' everything."

"Is this how you want to spend the rest of your life?" Misto motioned to the glass. "A pampered housecat with a drinking problem?"

"Leave me alone," Pounce growled.

"There isn't enough alcohol in the world to forget what happened," Lecs said gently.

"You didn't love her like I did!" Pounce slammed his fist on the countertop. "Don't stand there and preach to me—you have no idea what it's like!"

"She was my mother," Misto said evenly, his eyes drilling into Pounce's. "I loved her differently, but don't you dare say that I didn't love her just as much."

Pounce looked down shamefully; Misto was right and he knew it. Electra moved forward, wrapping her arms around Pounce's shoulders, "We've all lost, Pouncival. Cass and Bombie—they were our family. But we're still here. And we're still a family. Don't lose us, too."

Pounce sat back, taking a moment to stare at both of them. He knew that Lecs was right—the others were just as hurt as he was. And yet these two cats had pulled themselves out of their grief to come looking for him—because they loved him, because they still needed him.

Bombalurina and Cassandra were dead. The other rebels weren't. And neither was the war.

He nodded slowly, standing to his feet. Then he turned back to the barkeeper, "Could I get a round for my friends, sir?"

The barkeep smiled and poured two more glasses, quickly refreshing Pounce's pint as well. Electra and Misto looked at him, slightly confused, however they took the glasses that he handed to them.

Pouncival lifted up his mug, suddenly solemn. "To Bombie and Cass. Good comrades, great felines. May we serve their memory well."

The other two Jellicles gave bittersweet smiles and raised their glasses, "To Bombie and Cass."

The glasses gave a solid clink! as the three toasted. Over the rim of her mug, Lecs' eyes traveled between the two toms—her brothers in arms. And for the first time since the battle, she felt the faintest glimmer of hope.

Cetty watched the rain drops roll down the windowpane, her mind a million miles away. She'd spent the day in Electra's room, cloistered away from the other mourners. It was cold and dark and hunger gnawed at her stomach, but she couldn't bear the thought of food. The main door creaked as it opened; she heard footsteps down the hall.

Pouncival's voice greeted her, "Hey, Cetty."

She turned around, surprised to see the young tom standing in the doorway, "I thought you were gone for good."

"Me, too." Pounce admitted quietly. He opened his arms and gave a meek smile, "Aren't you gonna welcome me home?"

A smile blossomed on the queen's face as she embraced him. Pounce held her tightly as he whispered, "Things are about to change, Cets. We've still got a war to fight—you know better than anyone how awful Munkustrap really is. We can't let that happen to the others."

Cetty nodded, still not pulling away from his embrace. She blinked back tears, "It's all so scary, Pounce."

"I know." He gave a deep sigh. "But we've got each other—that's all we got, I suppose. We can make it."

She stepped back, taking a moment to look in his eyes. Somehow, she believed him.

He offered one last lopsided grin, "I'm going to bed. See ya in the morning."

"Pounce?"

"Hmm?"

"You're drunk, aren't you?"

"Yes."

Cetty shook her head with a wry grin. No wonder he'd been so friendly and philosophical.

He apparently read her mind, "I still meant everything I said, Cets. Every word of it."

She leaned forward and lightly kissed his forehead, "I know. Sleep tight."

With that, the young tom wandered down the hall and into his own room, where he flopped upon the bed and immediately began to snore.

Electra entered the room, giving a light laugh, "Oh, Pounce. I can't imagine life without his crazy ways."

"Me either," Cetty smiled. Her expression then turned serious, "What do we do now?"

"I don't know," Electra admitted softly, leaping lightly onto the top bunk. It used to be Cassandra's bed; the dark queen could still smell the traces of her and found it comforting. She gently ran her paws over the ridges and valleys of the crumpled blanket. "Rumpleteaser was head of strategy, so to speak. And Bomba and Tugger were our leaders. We've lost them all."

"Tugger is still here," Cetty reminded her.

"We've lost him, Cetty," the dark queen spoke gently, trying not to upset her friend. "He may come back to us, but he may not. We need to prepare for the worst and hope for the best."

"You can't just give up on him like that," Cetty replied hotly. "You didn't give up on Pounce—why are you so quick to let Tugger go?"

"It's different," Electra answered.

"How so?" The striped and spotted queen demanded.

"It just is," Lecs whispered, wrapping her tail around herself and turning her face to the wall, signaling the end of the conversation.

Cetty gave an angry sigh and climbed into the bottom bunk. After a long silence, Lecs spoke again, "I don't want to give up on him, Cetty, really, I don't. But I don't know how to help him—he won't even speak to us. I know how to help Pounce. I can save him. But until Tugger starts letting us in, there's nothing we can do."

"He just needs time," Cetty whispered back. Electra could hear the tears in her voice. She repeated it again, like a prayer, "He just needs time."

Electra fought back her own tears as she stared up at the ceiling. She didn't want to upset Cetty any further, but the truth was that they didn't have time. Munkustrap was busy rebuilding the Junkyard, but soon he'd turn his attention back to the rebels. They had to be ready—and they had to be prepared to leave behind the ones who weren't.

"We need to move you," Alonzo announced as he entered Teaser's hiding place. The petite tabby sat up, her large ears pin-pricked in curiosity.

"Wot's wrong?"

"Nuffin," Alonzo replied. He suddenly smacked his forehead, "Jeez, now you've got me talking like you, too!"

"Oi dohn' talk loike that!" Teaser retorted angrily.

"Oh, yes, you do," he replied with a laugh. She reached out and smacked the side of his head with lighting speed.

"Dohn' make fun," she said, prissily smoothing the fur on her chest.

Alonzo playfully cuffed her ear, "I'll make fun all I want."

She batted back. Soon they were engaged in all out combat, as cats are wont to do when playing.

"Ow! No claws!" Alonzo yelped.

"Croiy baby," Teaser retorted, disengaging and stepping back. She laughed at his disheveled appearance and gently smoothed the fur on his forehead. "The others are gonna wonder wot you've been up to."

He laughed at the comment, but sobered at the touch of Teaser's paw. He took a moment to study her. She noticed his scrutiny and stepped back.

"Wot?"

"Nothing."

There was a moment of smiles and silence. Teaser suddenly cleared her throat and became very business-like, "So, Oi've got to move. Where to?"

"I was thinking the opposite end of the yard," Alonzo suggested.

"But there's nuffin there."

"Exactly. Well, not exactly—I mean, there's a few tin garbage cans, some old crates. It's the perfect hiding place."

"Oi thought this was the perfect hoiding place," Teaser said softly, her large green eyes scanning the cubby hole.

"Not anymore," Alonzo gave a heavy sigh. "Munkustrap's already talking about re-establishing patrols. The closer to the edge of the yard I can get you, the better—it'll be easier for you to leave, when you've healed enough to make the journey."

"When Oi leave," Teaser repeated, more to herself than Alonzo. Over the past week, she and Alonzo had become closer friends, and a part of her felt a pang at the thought of leaving him behind. Sometimes, whenever they were simply talking quietly or laughing over silly things, she would almost forget about wanting to leave at all.

Almost, she reminded herself. She still missed the other rebels, still missed the weight and the warmth of Mungojerrie as he lay next to her, his back perfectly fitted to her back as they slept. She missed the morning runs, slicing through the thick mists and bounding over the rooftops of London. She missed card games and laughter and warm pints at the local pub. She missed her sister—the thought caught her off-guard, but it was true. She missed her deep, quiet talks with Bombie as they sat on the roof beams, discussing everything from their mother to the next morning's plans. Tears filled her eyes as she realized that even if she made it back to the rebels, her days with Bombie were gone.

"Where'd you go?" Alonzo asked quietly.

Teaser's head snapped back to reality, "Wot?"

"Just now," he made a gentle motion with his paw. "You slipped away. Where did your mind go?"

"Oi was thinking of my sista," she replied, wiping away a tear.

"I didn't know you had a sister," he admitted. "What is she like?"

"Infuriating," Teaser quipped, giving a small laugh as she thought of the rocky start of their relationship. "But very koind. Most cats didn't see the softer soide, but she had one."

She gave another bittersweet smile, "Always remoinded me of a porcelain doll—a lovely, broken doll."

"You keep referring to her in the past tense," Alonzo pointed out. He took a breath before asking, "Where is she now?"

More tears. "She doied. About a week ago, maybe fifteen metres from this spot."

Alonzo suddenly understood, "Bombie? She was…?"

Rumpleteaser nodded. The black and white tom gave a low whistle of surprise and shook his head, "I never knew."

"Very few did," she admitted.

"But…but you hated each other," Alonzo was incredulous.

"That was before we left the Yard," she corrected him. "Afta' we ran off, we became closer."

She gave a humorless laugh, "Oi suppose Oi should be grateful for the damned war—Oi would never have gotten to know my sista if it hadn't happened."

Alonzo offered a weak smile, but he knew that there was nothing he could say that would lessen her pain. So he simply took her paw, "C'mon. It's time to get you one step closer to home."

She nodded and gave a small sniffle, gingerly stepping out on her injured leg. It was dark, and a bitterly cold wind blew through the Yard, but Teaser enjoyed the open air—her last escape attempt had elicited such violent disapproval that she had judiciously stayed inside the chest of drawers since then.

"Gory," she looked around, her large green eyes taking it all in. "You've been working hard."

The Yard had already begun to reform—humans had rebuilt the fence surrounding it; the cats had begun setting up their makeshift metropolis, stacking tires and milk crates once more.

Alonzo smiled softly, nodding in agreement, "We've got a long way to go, but it's certainly looking better."

Teaser's wound had improved greatly over the past few days, but it still wasn't fully healed—the journey across the yard took much longer; they occasionally had to stop to let Teaser regather her strength. Finally, they reached the corner, where the humans had stacked the charred remains of the original fence. Alonzo had set up a small milk crate with cushions beneath the fence posts, creating a nest.

"I'll try to bring some extra blankets," he said, gently helping her climb into the small opening between posts. "We lost so much in the fire, we're a bit short on bedding for everyone."

"Oi'll be foine," she assured him. His attentiveness was annoying and sweet at the same time.

"Promise you won't try to run off."

She gave a light chuckle, "Oi wohn'. Besoides, you're such a good nursemaid, whoy would Oi ever wanna leave?"

Alonzo's expression changed, and Teaser couldn't decipher it. He offered another smile, but this one didn't reach his eyes, "Sleep tight, Tease. I'll be back in the morning."

The black and white tom disappeared into the dark, windy night. The tiger-striped queen recoiled at the cold air that replaced his warm body. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, willing herself to slumber.

"C'mon," Pouncival nudged Mungojerrie. "Time for the morning run."

"Teasah's not 'ere anymore," Mungo morosely reminded him.

"No, but Munku's still out there," Pounce spoke quietly. "And we have to be ready."

Mungojerrie gave a heavy sigh. Pouncival was right. The tiger-striped tom rolled out of bed, rubbing his tired eyes. He looked up to see Electra, Cetty, and Misto anxiously watching him from the doorway.

"Wot are ya lookin at?" He motioned to the window. "Get ta' movin."

The four younger cats grinned as they scurried out onto the rooftop. Mungojerrie followed at a slower pace, taking one last look at Tugger's door, which still remained closed to the world.

Misto didn't realize how many colorful expletives could be used in a sentence until Cetty started training. The kit had a mouth like a sailor, as the saying goes—and even then, there was a chance that she used words that even sailors hadn't heard.

She swore again as her sore paws slipped on a drainpipe. Electra just shook her head and gave a silent laugh; her eyes twinkling as she sent a grin in Misto's direction. She kept his gaze, but her voice was for Cetty, "How's it going back there, soldier?"

They were greeted with more unrepeatable pleasantries. They could hear Pouncival, who was at the very back of the group, give a loud laugh at Cetty's remark.

"You'll survive, Cupcake," Pounce assured her.

Misto listened to their exchange for a few moments, smiling as the two cats insulted each other—the words were harsh, but the tone was playful. He looked back at Lecs, whose grin took on a hint of nostalgia.

"It feels good to smile again," she said softly. Misto nodded in agreement—after so much darkness, so much grief and terror, so much time spent playing this elaborate game of searching and hiding, the simple pleasure of a smile seemed like a luxury, a distant memory from a previous life.

"Pick up tha pace, felines!" Mungo's voice rang out—he was already two rooftops ahead of them. Despite his initial reluctance, he had thrown himself back into the exercises with a gusto that surprised the others.

Inevitably, Misto's thoughts turned to Rumpleteaser. No one knew whether she was alive or dead, and no one could remember when they had last seen her, or if they had seen her at all. Misto had thought everything about that day would remain crystal clear to him, like some timeless painting—every movement, every sound, every scent, every blow—but suddenly, it was some crazy, jumbled up mess that he couldn't sort out, no matter how hard he tried.

Lecs noticed his silence, saw his troubled expression, but she didn't speak. Mainly because she knew—she knew because she was thinking of Teaser, too. So instead, she doubled her pace, darting across the rooftops as if her tail were on fire. She eventually caught up to Mungojerrie, and from increased volume and frequency of Cetty's curses, she knew the others were closing the gap as well.

Mungo slowed his pace down to a walk, breathing deeply and allowing his muscles the oxygen that they now screamed for. Electra matched his pace, reigning in her own gait and turning back to face him with expectant eyes. Their usual circuit was much longer, and she knew Mungo wasn't slowing down simply because he needed to breathe.

"We need help," Mungo said quietly, so that only Electra could hear. She wanted to make a joke out of the statement, but she recognized the seriousness behind the words and instantly knew that Mungo already had some kind of plan brewing, so she simply listened. He opened his mouth to continue, but Pouncival bounded up, interrupting the conversation.

"I think we should head back before Etcetera kills herself," he announced cheerily. He was having fun at his friend's expense.

"Right-o," Mungo matched the young tom's light-hearted tone. He called over his shoulder, "About-face, let's head back to base!"

As the others scampered back towards the loft, Mungo held Lecs back, "We'll 'ave a chat about it all later. Oi jus' need you to know that from 'ere on out, you're comin' in as my second-in-command. Oi'm gonna need you to back my move."

Electra's heart stopped for a moment, "Y-y-you're second? You want me to be your second?"

"Whoy not?" Mungo asked, his tone just a little too casual. He was baiting her, but Lecs was too scared to notice.

"Well, what about Pounce? Or Misto? I mean, they're just as good—"

"They're 'ere because you held 'em together," Mungo said pointedly. And Lecs knew he was right. "Besoides, these are Teaser's orders, not moine."

"Teaser's orders?" Lecs' brain slowly tried to comprehend the strange turn of events.

"She knew you could 'andle whatever came your way," he said easily. "We've 'ad contingency plans in place since day one. If somethin' 'appened to Bombie or Tugger, Teaser would step up. After Tease comes me, after me comes you."

"Who comes after me?" Lecs asked quietly.

"Misto," Mungo replied. "No offense to Pounce, but you and Mista' Magic are a better team. You would be the two who could carry this thing on, if need be."

This thing. Their struggle, their terror, their loss, their training, their motivation, all boiled down to two words. Two insignificant words, and yet, they held the weight of the world.

Lecs hadn't really planned for the future—at least not a future that included the rebellion. Even when she joined the rebels, she hadn't thought of how long it would last, or how many they would lose, or which ones would die before her, or who would be left to carry on. Suddenly, she felt old—so very, very old and tired. She felt the weight of the war on her shoulders, in the creases beneath her eyes, and she realized that she may have to go the rest of her life feeling this way. There was no guarantee that they'd ever win. For some reason, she'd never truly contemplated not winning the battle. When Tugger, Bombie, Teaser, and Cass were still there, everything seemed wonderful and golden—they were so untouchable then, so full of life and hope and light.

Now everything's changed. Everything's changed and there's no going back.