A/N: Okay, okay, so there was a little bit of a wait for this chapter. But at least it was quicker than last time! ^^

I've been getting some guesses as to what's going on . . .

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He needed a distraction; of that much he was certain. But where to seek it was far beyond him at this point. All he knew was that going to his brothers for help wasn't a favorable option. So, this left him wandering around the junkyard aimlessly, looking for something, anything, to get his mind off of his "fire".

"Then Genghis gave the signal to his fierce Mongolian horde." Munkustrap's ears perked and angled towards the voice. Gus, seated upon his old paint can, was telling the story of Growltiger to the kittens. "With a frightful burst of fireworks the Siamese they swarmed aboard!" He noticed that Jemima was there, her large eyes twinkling as she listened intently. He padded over to the elderly tom and his audience, thinking that listening in on the story would provide a nice, light diversion from his troubles.

"Abandoning their sampans, their pullaways and junks, they battened down the hatches on the crew within their bunks!" He glanced up. "Hello, Munkustrap, how are you this morning?"

The kittens all looked up too. "Hi, Daddy!" Jemima chirped, grinning and waving at him. "Wanna listen to the story with us?"

Munkustrap nodded at Gus in greeting before addressing his daughter. "Sure, Jemmy, I can spare a few minutes." Secretly, however, he was immensely relieved that she had invited him. He remained standing behind the cluster of kittens as Gus continued.

"Then Griddlebone, she gave a screech –" he cracked his voice, causing the kittens to giggle – "for she was badly skeered. I'm sorry to admit it, but she quickly disappeared. She probably escaped with ease, I'm sure she was not drowned, but a serried ring of flashing steel Growltiger did surround."

Pouncival raised a paw. "How did Growltiger surround all those Siamese by himself?" he blurted out.

Jemima rolled her eyes and elbowed him gently. "He didn't. That means that the Siamese surrounded Growltiger with their swords and stuff, silly."

" 'Toasting forks and cruel carving knives'," Tumblebrutus corrected.

Pouncival shook his head fervently. "No, it goes 'a sorry ring of flashing steel Growltiger did surround'. It means Growltiger surrounded it."

Jemima sighed. "The word is 'serried', and it's just put like that so it rhymes with 'drowned'."

Munkustrap gazed at her, tipping his head the slightest bit to one side. Had she always been that smart?

Gus nodded and smiled, though Pouncival didn't look convinced. The elder went on: "The ruthless foe pressed forward, in stubborn rank on rank. Growltiger to his vast surprise was forced to walk the plank. He who a hundred victims had driven to that trop, at the end of all his crimes was forced to go –"

"Ker-flip, ker-flop!" the kittens all finished in unison, and they collapsed into a fit of giggles. Munkustrap smiled at their energy and cheerfulness, though it was a rather interesting concept to him how they could still manage to find such enthrallment in a story they had heard countless dozens of times before.

"Tell us it again, Grampa!" Etcetera requested. "Pleeease?"

Gus chuckled. "I think it's time you young'uns heard something else." He thought for a moment. "Did I ever tell you the story about Old Deuteronomy and the strange kitten?"

There was silence as they all exchanged an intrigued glance. The sound of the story piqued Munkustrap's curiosity as well, for he couldn't recall ever hearing that one either.

"Well then," Gus murmured, "I might just have to."

The kittens leaned forward expectantly and Munkustrap shifted into a more comfortable position.

"It was late one night many years ago," the story began. "Long before any of you whipper-snappers can remember. I must have been around your age, I suppose." Here he indicated Munkustrap. "Old Deuteronomy wasn't the leader yet; in fact, at the time he was the Jellicle Protector –" he looked at Jemima – "just like your daddy, and his father – your great-grandfather, he would've been, Jemmy – was the leader. Because Old Deuteronomy wasn't the leader, back then he was just Deuteronomy."

Jemima cocked her head. "So when Daddy becomes the leader, will his name be Old Munkustrap?"

They all turned around to look at the tabby, who responded with a nod. "Yes, it probably will." But to him, the name sounded a bit strange, as if it hadn't originally been intended to have "Old" put in front of it.

"Anyway," Gus went on, "one dark night Deuteronomy left the junkyard, but he was being verrry suspicious about something." He stressed the word very for emphasis. "He said he was just going out for a late-night patrol to make sure there was no trouble, but there was something strange going on, we could tell. Besides that, the previous day he had learned that his mate was expecting their first litter." Munkustrap noticed that he had said "litter" instead of referring to a singular kitten, but he shrugged it off, finding the story rather interesting.

"And when that happens, a tom usually doesn't like to leave his mate. Deuteronomy was gone for an unusually long time, and everyone was getting worried. But then, suddenly, he came back . . . and he had a kit."

Gus's audience looked at each other, whispering amongst themselves at the new information.

"Looked to be about two months old, the little scrap did, and obviously didn't have a clue what was going on. Deuteronomy said he'd found him outside the junkyard, as if abandoned by his parents. The kitten didn't have any scent he could recognize, so he took him in."

Munkustrap blinked. If this strange kitten had been about two months old when the "first litter" was conceived, that would make it approximately four months older than the litter. Icy claws gripped him inwardly as a gnawing suspicion formed in his head: he was older than Alonzo and Tugger by about four months . . .

"What did the kitten look like?" Electra piped up.

Munkustrap felt his heart rate increase slightly.

Gus, however, just closed his eyes and shook his head. "I'm afraid my memory fails me here," he murmured. "I'm not as young as I used to be."

The silver tom flicked his tail in mild annoyance, but deep down, something told him he didn't really want to know the truth.

"What happened to him?" the little tortoiseshell persisted.

Gus shook his head again. "I don't remember that either. He might have died, he might have run off . . ." he looked at the kittens and smiled as he finished in a whisper, "or he might even still be with us today."

"Kittens!" came the voice of Jenny. Munkustrap, who had been leaning forward intently without even realizing it, jumped at the sudden interruption.

"It's time to come in! It looks like it's going to rain!"

Munkustrap glanced up, and realized she was right. The sky was gray and cloudy, and the wind carried the damp, humid smell of rain. There was also a sort of tension crackling in the air, as if there was a storm coming too.

The kittens all got to their paws to return to the oven, bidding Gus goodbye and thanking him for the stories. As Jemima passed Munkustrap, she mewed, "Bye, Daddy!" and hugged him sweetly. She then followed her friends, calling over her shoulder, "Don't forget to visit me tomorrow!"

He just nodded once, his head now swimming with questions about the story of the "strange kitten". Was it possible that he – no, it couldn't be. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head to rid it of the undesirable notion. He had been born to Old Deuteronomy just the same as Alonzo and Tugger had; in fact, he was Old Deuteronomy's eldest son. His father had told him so. The statements in the story must have been pure coincidences.

"Something troubling you, Munkustrap?"

He turned around. Gus, still seated on the paint can, blinked at him curiously.

He cast his eyes towards the ground awkwardly. "Oh, it's nothing, really, it's just –" he looked Gus right in the eye. "Do you remember who the kitten was? You can tell me."

But the old cat just gazed back at him, his countenance betraying nothing. "Do you not trust me to tell the truth, young tom?"

He looked away. "No, I just –"

"I said I didn't remember," Gus cut in, his voice patient but firm, "and I still don't remember. Good day, Munkustrap."

The tabby sighed and began to stalk away. He clearly wasn't going to get any more information out of the elder. But unbeknownst to him, Gus was watching him walk away. Once he was out of earshot, the veteran Theatre Cat murmured to himself, "All that experience from my old acting days sure does pay off sometimes . . ."

Munkustrap paused and looked around, his eyes falling on his father's den. Once again, questions began flooding his head. What secrets could his father be hiding from him? Was he really his father at all? Did he really even want to know? He swallowed hard and padded towards Old Deuteronomy's den.

"Father?" he called once he arrived at the entrance.

"Munkustrap," the wise old voice responded.

He poked his head inside. The Jellicle Leader gazed at him as if he had known he was coming. He drew in a breath and let it out again before finally beginning: "Father, am I . . ."

Old Deuteronomy blinked patiently.

"Am I really your son?" He braced himself for an interrogation as to why he would ask such a thing, but the big brown tom didn't seem surprised by the query at all. Munkustrap wondered if that should be disconcerting to him.

"Of course you are," he answered simply.

Munkustrap nodded slowly. "Okay . . . j-just making sure . . . thanks . . ." He withdrew his head from the den and stood absolutely still for a moment, trying to let everything sink in. With a sigh, he slowly shook his head and trudged back to his own den, feeling the little plops on his fur as the first raindrops began to fall . . .