AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you all very much for the reviews! I'm a little sad to say this chapter is my suckiest yet. I have a little plan for each event that'll happen in each chapter, and I guess this one moved too slowly. However, I hope you enjoy the bit of Munkustrap/Demeter fluff, because ANY fic that features Munkustrap/Demeter always needs some good ol' sappy sweetness. MJ and RT's first Macavity report, the introduction of an all-too familiar character, and some increasingly wordy looks into the past. Uh... enjoy?


The Pariah Heroic

CHAPTER 7


Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer leaned quietly against the Junkyard fence, waiting for their signal.

"Red curtains," Mungojerrie pointed out.

"Red door."

"Red wrapper."

"I saw that one first," Rumpleteazer whined.

"I said it first."

"Fine, fine, but dibs on the next red thing." Rumpleteazer slumped back against the fence.

The couple of cats had been waiting for the messenger since nine-thirty. The Big Ben in the distance chimed eleven, and Mungojerrie buried his face into his knees. He had learned to loathe that sound – to hear it every hour, to count its every ring. It kept him and Rumpleteazer lying awake in the nighttime, and they could do nothing but talk idly to each other about whatever could block out that dreadful chiming. Last night was a conversation about the abundance of red objects.

"Who do ya think's the messenger?" asked Mungojerrie.

"What I'd kill t'know," Rumpleteazer shrugged, lazily picking at the fur on her shoulder. "It can't be Ventis because the bloke's too old to walk half a yard."

"It can't be Yowler because the hero always wants him in Headquarters."

"It can't be Kieva because he's always busy studying London areas for him."

"It can't be Limenlink because he's a right moron."

"What about Jyx?" suggested Rumpleteazer, and Mungojerrie shuddered slightly. That was the henchcat he'd scratched between the eyes the evening Yowler had found him as a kitten. If he was the one coming to fetch them for Macavity, Mungojerrie's amount of blood would probably be reduced by half by the time they got to Headquarters.

"What if it's the boss himself?" Mungojerrie joked, smiling slyly at his partner.

"You dolt. He told us he'd send someone, not his-self. You never pay attention. Pay attention!"

"I'm just saying, give it a thought!" Mungojerrie laughed. "He'll be all slow and suave and smile at us sweetly. He's going to say, Teaser, dahling. Teaser."

"Oh flippin' Bast," the queen grabbed her ears. "You do his voice horrible."

"Rumple, my dahling, how are you?" Mungojerrie continued his poor impression of the hero. He edged closer to Rumpleteazer, trying his best to irritate her.

"I'm plenty fine," the calico queen fluttered her eyes in a sickeningly sweet manner. "I'm having such fun with my stupid partner, Jerriemungo!"

"Teaser darling!" Mungojerrie cackled.

Rumpleteazer lunged forward to pin him to the ground, but this time Mungojerrie was wiser. He grabbed her wrists before she could reach him, and they began to wrestle on the pavement. Rumpleteazer swiped at his face with her unsheathed claws, and he barely dodged it every time. As he twisted his head side to side, something silvery gray caught the side of his sight.

He grabbed Rumpleteazer's wrists again, and directed her to the old, bent over queen who had arrived in front of them.

"Are you… the messenger?" he inquired.

The gray queen, in her shabby coat and downcast eyes, nodded. She held out a paw, with flecks of old red polish on her dulled claws.

"Macavity calls," she croaked. She blinked, in a slow, practiced way.

"Really now," Rumpleteaser said bemusedly, and looked at Mungojerrie. He also turned to her, and nodded.

"Macavity calls," he repeated, shrugging. They took each other's paws and began to follow the old queen to Headquarters.


At first glance, she was the same color as a warm night, black and yellow. She carried herself humbly, not gracefully, and the only time she ever pulled her eyes from the ground was when someone called out her first name. She had no second name, and if she had a third, no cat would be able to find out.

When she spoke, her mouth barely moved, but somehow you could hear her voice at the subtle twitch of an ear. According to cultured Jellylorum, that signified that she sang beautifully.

She had not yet adapted to a Jellicle's life from a regular cat's – she still slept most of the day and was tense and quick in the latest hours of night.

And when she had nightmares in the early morning, Munkustrap was always there to soothe her.

Demeter had come to the Junkyard about ten months ago, and she was beginning to laugh again. What brought her there, nobody yet knew, but as long as she smiled, nobody minded.

Munkustrap liked her very much. She was close and loving, and had an absolutely magnificent sense of humor he was certain showed up more often back before she'd been hurt. A full year younger than him, she was a queen of quiet wisdom, and surprisingly turning out to be a fitting new mother to his aloof Electra.

"I used to wish cats would live forever," Demeter said, as the pair sat together atop the car hood, keeping watching over the Junkyard. "I thought: we were smart enough to handle eternity, yes? We had a lot we could do."

"And what changed?" Munkustrap asked, affectionately brushing a paw at her cheek. If Alonzo was best at distracting him, Demeter was best at making him forget the rest of the world was there.

"I came here," the golden black queen answered, touching her fingers to her mate's wrist. "This Heaviside Layer you have… it's a much more beautiful idea."

Munkustrap nodded slightly, and using his paw, he tipped her chin up to look directly into her blue eyes. "You're not considering going up there so soon, are you?"

For several moments, they gazed at each other.

Demeter broke away with a bright laugh.

"We're both unbearably sentimental, aren't we?"


A week away from Headquarters made Mungojerrie eagerly welcome its familiar dimness. The scruffy gray queen brought them in through the entrance of the abandoned butcher's shop, and he and Rumpleteazer rejoiced in seeing their real home again. Fallen objects, decrepit ceiling and all.

They stood before the passage into Macavity's main quarters, and the old queen stepped back.

"He'll be in there," she said simply, and padded away into the shadows.

"We're finally seein' the hero again," said Rumpleteazer, grinning at Mungojerrie.

"Well, let's have a look, yeah?" he replied, and pushed away the curtain to see the boss.

Instead of a dark red cat sitting upon that infamous throne, they were greeted by the Hidden Paw in a trance, his eyes closed, his hands spread open at his sides. He faced slightly upwards, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration.

And he was floating several inches above the ground.

Rumpleteazer's cry of shock was drowned out by Mungojerrie's bewildered yell of several curse words.


Old Deuteronomy sat heavily by the vicarage wall. It was almost time to go home.

He'd sent a message to his son, Munkustrap that he would be returning by tomorrow from his mourning. This period of solemnity, which was more for formality than anything else, admittedly brought him quite down. Then again, Noily had been a particularly lovely wife.

A few meters away, a mouse was trapped inside a paint can that had fallen over on top of it. Old Deuteronomy raised his paw and lifted it off him, letting the animal raise its nose, verifying its freedom, and scurry away. He'd always told himself to reserve his magic for important occasions, but, Everlasting Cat strike, he was Jellicle Leader. Who would do something about it?

Noily Prat had been sweet, and impossibly polite. When Old Deuteronomy had selected her to become his ninth mate, she'd clasped her paws in front of her, performing a slight bow, saying, "Thank you, sir."

However, after the formal ceremony of declaring her as Leader's Mate, in the privacy of their home she did everything she could to keep him happy. In the late afternoons when he would return, tired from conferences with the Thoron and Ret tribes, she would have fresh fish prepared for his dinner. He would lie down on his bed to find his cushions pre-fluffed and his mattress well-cleaned. She bore him several litters of kits, some died, and some lived, and some left. When he was gloomy over one or two of his kittens leaving the tribe to pursue a life of their own, she would offer an elegant, bright-orange paw to stroke into his fur, massage his head. Her fur, he remembered, glowed fire under Jellicle Moons.

Most said she'd died from her inherent weakness; she was born without fight in her blood. As they advanced in years Noily lacked Old Deuteronomy's resilience in old age, and only months after the Jellicle Ball, she passed away on a peaceful Junkyard morning. She'd missed the next opening of Heaviside Layer. And that meant Old Deuteronomy would not be able to find her again.

Old Deuteronomy sighed and closed his eyes, humming absentmindedly. He was going to miss her, brilliant fur and impossible politeness and all.

The wife before Noily Prat was a gorgeous, vivacious young queen named Grizabella. She wasn't a Jellicle, actually; she roamed from one tribe to the other, spreading her legend. Old Deuteronomy's marriage to the famed Glamour Cat was more for status than anything else. He would have what every other tom in London wanted. He'd been much older than she was, but at that time he was still quite handsome – his fur not yet lazily unkempt, gravity more merciful to his belly and his wrinkles. And, being a London cat so powerful, Grizabella of course adored him.

It was only after she bore Munkustrap that her infatuation faded. According to their writings, the Everlasting Cat punished couples who were incompatible by granting them only one kitten instead of the usual two to five. Grizabella realized that she had lost the adventure she'd so loved, and with Munkustrap not yet even weaned she left one night to again travel the world. The last time anyone ever saw the Glamour Cat was when she boarded ship with a feline pirate named Growltiger.


Macavity opened his eyes, and as he did he came slowly back to the ground. Before him were two young and utterly confused cats. Uncharacteristically, his mouth spread into a smile.

"How excellently the two of you have grown," he said proudly, as a father would tell his kits. "It's only been seven days and both of you are carrying yourselves like true cats would." He advanced, and saw that the calicos were still rather stunned from his previous position.

"Levitation is a common effect of deep meditation," the hero said matter-of-factly. "…but only for cats who know magic. However, what you just saw now was learned magic, as opposed to inborn magic, which is much more powerful." And then he simply stood there, as if he were waiting for a greeting.

"Boss…" Rumpleteazer breathed, nearly speechless, but soon she broke into a grin as well. "It's great to see you again, boss!"

"And it's wonderful to see you again, Rumple," replied Macavity, who took a step back to look at her. "You've grown excellently." He extended a paw and, in the usual fashion, petted her head. Rumpleteazer purred with kitten-like delight.

Macavity cast a slight smile at her, but soon his gazed moved to settle on the young tom to her left, who had not yet said a word.

Mungojerrie breathed a little. The hero was still incredibly tall, so he had to bend his neck partially backwards to look back up at him.

"It's great to see you, boss."

"And the same for you," the hero said. "You look outstanding, Mungojerrie. Have you been continuing your training?"

"We both of us run every day, boss," Rumpleteazer piped up in place of her partner. "And we like to practice sneaking."

"Good, good," Macavity nodded, and then he retreated to his throne, seating himself regally. "And now begins your report. Rumpleteazer, what have you learned of the Jellicles?"

"Plenty things," she answered eagerly. "Um, uh… they worship this sort of being… the Everlasting Cat. I'm not just yet sure if it has something to do with the Heaviside. Jellylorum records every single tidbit that happens every single day, and she keeps her files somewhere in Munkustrap's office-sort-place. And, uh, every Jellicle Ball they do two main things: they choose an outsider cat to join them officially as a Jellicle, and they choose a Jellicle to go to the Heaviside Layer."

"And who are they considering presently to join their tribe?"

"Um… whowassit… Bustopher Jones. Bustopher Jones o' the Meladou tribe."

Macavity nodded. "Excellent work, Teaser, but of course we have far to go." He turned to Mungojerrie once again. "And, good Jerrie, what have you found?"

In the split-second he had to think, Mungojerrie racked his brain for any information he'd gathered. Son of a Peke! He'd spent all his time hanging around those toms. What could he talk about? Munkustrap? Jennyanydots? Electra, maybe?

"Their conjurer, Mistoffelees, keeps it low," he started, recalling everything he'd talked about with the young toms. "He doesn't do any magic 'less it's called for. Old Deuteronomy's returning from his mourning tomorrow. And, well, after Old Deuteronomy dies, Munkustrap'll take the lead, and after him is his kit Electra."

Macavity sat up a bit, seeming intrigued. "Munkustrap, of all cats?" he said. "You'd think, to continue opening the Heaviside, they'd elect Mistoffelees…"

As Macavity contemplated this, Rumpleteazer and Mungojerrie traded glances with each other. This was their first report, how were they to know if they'd done well or not?

"This will be enough for now," the hero suddenly said, looking back at them. "But be forewarned that our next meetings will not be as brief. I will interrogate you, extract every piece of information you gather. I expect the two of you find plenty of it."

"Yes boss," the duo answered simultaneously, caught off-guard with his sudden graveness.

"It is admirable that you are continuing your training in the Junkyard. I urge that you add to it the continuation of your reading lessons. Remember your alphabets. I want to know what Jellylorum has in her files."

"Yes boss," answered the calicos, though a little less enthusiastically.

"I have said it repeatedly, but I admire how the two of you have grown in such a short span of time," said Macavity. "You may go. I will see you again in seven days. Oh, and Mungojerrie – clean up your language a bit."

"…Yes boss," Mungojerrie said, embarrassed. He made a mental note not to be frightened if ever he saw another cat floating in mid-air.

"Goodbye, then."

"Goodbye, boss!" Rumpleteazer replied cheerily, and danced out through the exit. Mungojerrie turned to follow her, but paused.

"Boss?"

"Yes, Mungojerrie?" the hero said, calmly.

"I just wanted to know… Rumpleteazer knows her past, knows how she was born… would ya know anything about… me?"

Macavity raised an eyebrow. "You, Mungojerrie?"

"The night you found me. Did you know anything? I just want to know anything."

"Well," Macavity leaned back in his throne, considering this. "There are many reasons you would find a stray in an alley. Your parents might have abandoned you. You were old enough to walk then, so you must have wandered out on your own accord. And worse, but still possible, your mother and father might have been killed."

"I… okay," said Mungojerrie, just disappointed that there was no certain answer. "I'll… I'll go now."

"Goodbye, Mungojerrie."

"…Goodbye, boss."

Mungojerrie emerged from Headquarters, where Rumpleteazer was waiting. She turned to see him and smiled.

"I can't wait for the next meeting," she said.

"Why in blimes?"

Rumpleteazer thought about this. "I don't know."

He took her arm, still thinking about how Macavity had answered his question about his past. "That's okay. Let's go home."

Rumpleteazer stared at him. "Home?"

"I – I mean - … let's go back to the Junkyard."

She nodded, looking off at the street that stretched on into the rest of London. "That sounds good to me."

And the thought of relaxing for another seven days sounded wonderful to Mungojerrie.