I'm really mortified right now D:. Because I'm experiencing this CATS resurgence that happens every now and then, I've already finished another chapter and am working busily on another! Sadly, I know this will probably not continue. However, I will try and update continuously if not frequently (see my profile). Anyway, a hundred thanks to raptoregg64 for reviewing! It's so nice to know someone's actually reading this after the long delay :P.

Chapter Ten

Teen Troubles

The summer days passed slowly, sunk deep in sun and the occasional rainfall. The nights were a blur of movement and play as the Junkyard Jellicles teased, cavorted, and loved away the summer. Bombalurina finally snared Admetus; and, although he still slept with the rest of the Posse in the daylight hours, the two of them often disappeared when dark fell. Munkustrap and Demeter announced their mateship, which was received with great delight, and Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer continued their usual tricks. Victor was accepted heartily into the arms of the adolescents and younger "tweeners." Mercy spent much of her time in the Infirmary, silent and stoic as she rested and fought the inner battle against depression. The other new additions to the Junkyard, Moonface and Shadowheart, got on quite well, although the gray tom was never heard to speak to anyone except Victor. As the end of summer's long, lazy hours drew near, nothing more was heard from the Mystery Cat – and, by and large, Junkyard life returned to normal.

For one Jellicle in particular, however, life was anything but normal. Jemima was in a dilemma. The Summer's End Ball was quickly approaching, the last big to-do of the season before the Autumn Equinox. It was one of the few yearly affairs in which Jellicles paired off with a member of the opposite gender, and she was torn between who she wanted to ask her more: Pouncival, whose uncharacteristic charm and very characteristic cheerfulness tugged at her heart; and Victor, whose often standoffish manner was no match for his solemn and mysterious good looks.

Sighing, Jemmi rolled over onto her back, staring up at the darkening sky from the back deck of the Oldest Inhabitant. It was a lovely wooden porch, with ceramic pots overflowing with herbs and flowers, and stone steps leading to the dilapidated little church. A packed dirt path cut across the yard to the overgrown greenhouse. At the glass building's farthest corner, the gnarled apple tree reached like a hunchback for the sky.

"It looks like it's going to rain," she said aloud to herself.

"Really? Do you think so?"

The pre-teen princess jerked upright, startled by the unexpected voice. She peered around at the empty deck, tail lashing, as she tried to find the source of the voice. "Who's there?"

Out popped a brown-and-white face, freckles stretched into a grin, making the tall grass at the edge of the porch sway. Jemima's inquisitive nose poked forward. "Pounce? What are you doing here?"

Glancing about to make sure no humans were around, Pouncival leaped onto the porch and slid with a blur into his Jellicle form. "Hullo, Jemmi. I just came to see what the Oldest Inhabitant was up to." He paused to scratch his nose, eyes following a fly as it buzzed past and disappeared. "What are you doing here?"

Like a bolt of lightening, Jemima had an epiphany. Here was her chance to get a partner for the Summer's End ball. A flash of Bomba-like sass prodded her good-girl heart, and in the blink of an eye, her decision was made.

"Oh… just thinking," she replied. She glanced down at her paws demurely, eyelashes fluttering.

Pouncival was entranced immediately. A preteen "tweener," the patchwork tom was young yet, and little versed in the ways of the other sex. Despite the unschooled nature of Jemima's attempts, he was proving to be an easy conquest. "Thinking about what?" he asked eagerly, sidling a little closer.

As she answered, Jemmi tried for a slightly huskier tone; the older toms always fell all over Bombalurina whenever the red queen used it. "Just the Summer's End ball. I haven't been asked yet, and I was just thinking that – that maybe I wouldn't go this year."

"Aw, Jemmi! You can't do that," her companion protested. He hesitated briefly before continuing, however, feeling a little out of his depth. "Tell you what. If no one asks you in the next few days, you can go with me."

Despite the half-heartedness of the offer, Jemima's little heart soared. Still, she kept herself composed, looking up with a more wide-eyed expression than she normally wore. "Oh Pounce, that's so noble of you. But please don't worry about me – if you have someone else in mind, don't fell like you have to take me."

At this, Pouncival felt a surge within him, and he put one paw over hers where they lay at the lip of the deck. "It's no trouble at all, Jemmi. I'd be happy to take you."

Now, she decided, she was safe. The doe-eyed princess flung her arms around him and nuzzled his cheek. "Thanks, Pounce !" she exclaimed, all husky flirtation gone. "You're a real pal."

The Infirmary was warm and stuffy in the late summer heat, and the sun beating down on it made the interior almost beyond bearing. Leaving Jennyanydots to snore faintly in a corner, Mercy crept out slowly and found a spot in the shade near the entrance. If the Gumbie cat discovered the princess' absence, she could always slip back in and say she was relieving herself.

Not that the good-natured matron was likely to believe her, Mercy reflected glumly. For the past two weeks, Jenny and Jelly had kept a close eye on their charge, going so far as to help her do her business whenever it was needed. The whitish kitten scooted farther back into the shadows, wondering whether to laugh or cry.

Two weeks ago, she had been a happy, carefree kitten, playing with her brothers and sisters and cousins under the watchful eye of the nannies in the Blue Room of 666 Dragon Boulevard. In the space of one day, she had seen her entire family ritually executed in front of her, been raped by five Hellcat toms, and left to die in a hidden corner of the back Yard. That horrible evening was the last thing she remembered before waking up twelve days ago in the Junkyard infirmary. Since then, Mercy had spent all her time there, healing by increments from the wounds she had received. A few nights ago, after her twice-daily examination, Jellylorum had declared with much relief that she should have no problem bearing kittens to full term in the future. Mercy wasn't entirely sure what that entailed; all she knew was that she had been dragged from kitten-hood before her time, and she was not enjoying it.

Across the open square, Mercy watched with chin on knees as a pair of Jellicles danced and tumbled in the refreshing breeze. Most of the others who lived at the Junkyard were lazing about, sleeping or chatting in the shade. These two, however, could not seem to stand still. They looked almost exactly alike: striped from head to toe with black, orange, and white tiger markings, the only difference was the string of pearls around the female's neck. That one was Rumpleteazer, Mercy knew. The young queen spent a lot of time in the Infirmary, especially whenever Moonface was around. Mercy shuddered and buried her face in her arms. That tom had Hellcat written all over him, no matter what he said about being "cast out" by his former employer. Mercy felt sure she would never be able to look a black cat in the face again – except maybe Misto. The tuxedo Conjurer was always kind and playful whenever he brought supplies for the infirmary; but Mercy had noticed a strange melancholy lingering behind the showy magic and infectious laughter. She would have to remember to ask Jenny about it later.

Rumpleteazer suddenly exploded into her signature raucous laughter, and Mercy wrinkled her nose, ears flattening at the sound. Teazer was so friendly, but her unique habits could sometimes get on her nerves. Someone else had noticed it too: a sock came flying from behind an old clock, catching the tiger queen right in the face.

"Croipes! 'Oo threw dat?" Teazer cried, flinging it away from her. Her twin, whose name Mercy didn't know, doubled up laughing as his sister balled up her fists and bounded for the clock.

"Oh no, here she comes!" someone shouted, and suddenly a pile of Jellicles boiled out from behind the clock, scattering in all directions. Mercy recognized Plato, who spent a lot of time helping his mother Jenny in the infirmary, and the princesses Victoria, Jemima, and Electra, but the others' names were lost to her as they escaped Rumpleteazer's wrath.

Mercy let a sigh escape her as she looked down at her paws, locking them around her ankles. With all her heart she wished she could join the others in their play. Age didn't seem to matter here among the youngsters as it did back home – there, the oldest and toughest took charge, and the adults encouraged it. If only she could get clearance from Jelly to leave the infirmary, and live with her cousin and uncle in the free, open Junkyard. Feeling sorry for herself, Mercy laid her head back down on her knees and tried not to cry.

"Hello. You must be Mercy."

The white princess jerked back, terrified, as a lean black tom materialized from the shadows beside her. Seeing her fright, he held out white paws palm-forward, attempting to placate her.

"I am sorry, I did not mean to frighten you. I do not what to hurt you."

Mercy had never heard a Jellicle speak like him before. His words were soft and perfectly formed, without contractions like "didn't," or "don't." Looking closer, she realized he wasn't entirely black: white, tan, and striking orange markings broke up the darker colors into hatching on his body, and his face was kind, if withdrawn. She nodded to show she understood and sat back against the bureau behind her.

"Yes, I'm Mercy. Who're you?"

"They call me Coricopat." The tom's amber eyes glittered briefly, and he smiled. "May I sit?"

She nodded, still wary. He seemed to sense this, for he sat with his back to the square a good foot or two from her crossed legs. "I am surprised to see you outside without a chaperone," he ventured when she remained silent.

"Jenny's sleeping."

He simply nodded. Coricopat's silent acceptance of her brusque responses made her regret her rudeness, and she made an attempt to be friendly. "Do you live here?"

"In the Junkyard? Yes." He gestured with one white paw to one of the many mountains of castoff items that encircled the square. At its peak, a shining metal garabage lid was propped an angle to form a small cave. "I live there, with my sister."

Mercy perked up at this. Maybe she knew his sister, and would therefore have a better idea of who he was. "Who's your sister?"

Coricopat blinked once. "Tantomile. We are twins." His voice was short and tight, and Mercy shut her mouth at once. He turned again to look at her, those amber eyes penetrating. "Enough small talk. I have come to speak with you about a serious matter."

She remained silent, but looked at him questioningly. What "serious matter" could be important enough – or trivial enough – to entrust it to a kitten?

"You are unhappy," he said. It was a statement, not a question. "In fact, I fear you are more than that. Jellylorum and Jennyanydots are kind souls, but their understanding of the mind and the Jellicle soul is limited, as it is with most of us."

Mercy thought she knew what he was getting at. "You're an Empath," she said flatly. She was well acquainted with those. Macavity kept three or four in his service: measly, half-starved creatures with small animal bones in their manes and clumps of fur and bags of crushed leaves hanging from their belts. All ploys to entice their dangerous employer, to convince him that their predictions, their advice, were always right.

Coricopat leaned away from her, nose wrinkling. Her hatred and disgust for the Jellicle "magicians" was so strong it nearly overpowered him. "I am most certainly not one of those creatures. And 'Empath' is a loose term. My sister and I are sorcerers, yes, but our magic comes from within ourselves, not through the casting of bones or the burning of leaves. It is a Gift from the Everlasting Cat."

Reluctantly, Mercy nodded. "All right. Go on."

"As I said, I am not entirely an Empath, but I do have skill in the sensing and deciphering of other's emotions. You might say I read auras. So it is very easy for me to see the confusion and hurt that is boiling under your skin."

He was so matter-of-fact about it that Mercy edged away again, ears twitching in anger. "Well, so what if I am? What do you know about it, anyway?"

Realizing she wasn't going to open up to him that easily, Coricopat stood fluidly and gave her a bow. "More than you know. But if you will take my advice, I will say this: do not keep your feelings inside. If I were you, I would speak to Demeter. I am sure she would be happy to spend time with you."

With those last formal words, the sorcerer-cat nodded and left the way he had come, growing faint until even his shadow was gone.

The summer day drew slowly to a close, and Mercy eventually returned to the Infirmary. Rumpleteazer gave up chasing the teens and found a patch of cool stone where she lay panting from the heat. Jemima, Electra, Victor, and Pouncival gathered in a giggling mass in the shade of the pipe, poking and prodding one another in an effort to get comfortable for the last snooze of the day.

Victoria, however, did not join them. The fun of the chase had proved only a temporary respite from her problems, and she didn't feel like hanging around her kittenhood friends anymore. Queenhood, she was discovering, was not as simple as she had thought it would be. She was still a princess in many ways. Her ballerina's shape had not altered in any way since the courtship. Her ears were still a little too large for her head, and the inborn innocence of a kitten's Jellicle soul had not yet been totally wiped away. It was true, the dance had rid her of her kittenhood for good, but she often forgot that she was technically no longer a princess. One of the few things that reminded her was the the memory of Admetus' quick change to Bombalurina. It was rare that a princess' Courtship lasted beyond a few nights. Vickie knew that all too well. But that sharp pain in her ribcage whenever she caught sight of him never failed to make her eyes sting a little.

In fact, they were stinging now. The white queen rubbed them harder, trying to force the tears back down before they filled up inside her lids and spilled over. Crying about it wouldn't do any good. At least, that's what she told herself. Allowing herself to cry would only make things worse, especially if someone saw her. Victoria bundled herself further against the inner hub of the lorry tire and took deep breaths to stave off tears.

It would have been unbearbly hot in the lorry hood except for the breeze that stirred through the openings where the headlights had once been. In a pile of blankets, Demeter snuggled closer to her sleeping mate, relishing the swell and fall of his chest under her cheek. The faint remnants of a purr started up in her throat, though she strove to keep it to a minimum. A truly rumbling purr might wake Munkustrap, and Heaviside knew he needed his sleep. Instead she breathed in deeply, relishing the scent of his silver-white fur, and paused. There was another scent mingling with his, a scent she recognized.

Carefully, trying not to wake him, Demeter detangled herself from Munkus' lax grip and left the blankets. The gaping hole in the corner of the cleared-out hood showed where the metal had once formed a ring to accomdate the axle, snapped off long ago in some violent accident. It was through there that the scent was strongest. She sniffed again, filling her nose with it. Jellicle… queen… sorrow…

Deme shook herself, trying to think. It certainly wasn't Bomba. Her alluringly musky fragrance was just another of the red queen's trademarks. This scent was more subtle, and the sorrow was pale gray, somehow… muffled and understated. Victoria? Of course! Reassured, Demeter left the car hood softly and looked about her. There, against one of the rear tires, the white queen was curled into a tight quivering ball.

"Vickie?" Deme whispered. "Are you okay?"

Victoria's heart-shaped appeared, eyes red-rimmed and dripping ears. "Oh, h-hi Deme… did I disturb you?"

"Of course not, sweetheart." The older queen's motherly nature kicked in as she crept to Victoria's side and began grooming her delicate pink ears gently. "What is the matter?"

Victoria looked down at her clasped paws, trying to find a way around the question. "I'm afraid to tell you."

Alarmed, Demeter let her fingers still in their stroking. "You… you're not pregnant, are you?"

"No! No, of course not!" Victoria exclaimed, blushing profusely. "I haven't… been with anyone since the… the Ball."

Demeter had a flash of intuition, and her paws picked up the consoling grooming process once again. "I see. No, don't worry about me." Her voice hardened. "I know quite well that Bomba can be rather… insensitive, sometimes. Please don't think I'm condoning it, but you must understand that she has a rather selfish mindset."

Victoria tried to meet her eyes with a smile. "I've tried not to let it bother me… in fact, it's not entirely Bomba I mind. It's…"

"Admetus," Demeter filled in for her.

"Yes. He was so gentlemanly and suave on the night of the Ball. And it's not that I didn't enjoy the attentions of the others – Alonzo, and Tumblebrutus – but he was… different." The white queen frowned, trying to find the right words. "And yet, after Bomba lashed out at me and started showing him all this attention, it was like he forgot I even existed."

"Oh, Vickie," Deme sighed, taking her into an embrace as the tears returned. "I'm terribly sorry. You know, if I'm any judge of character, he won't be charmed by Bomba for very long. And then, maybe…"

Victoria was already shaking her head. "I already made my decision. He was unfair to me, and if he comes crawling back, I'll let him know: he's too late."

A faint smile stole over Demeter's face. "You're sure? What if he's really, really sorry?"

The white queen wrinkled her nose. "Right now, I feel like slapping him in the face it hurts so much. I guess feelings change."

"You're right, they do. But when you really love a tom, well – that feeling never changes."

"You sound so sure of yourself," Victoria sighed, half-teasing. "And you've been mated, what – three weeks?"

"Something like that," Demeter agreed, laughing. "Come on – it's still a little while until sunset. Why don't you come and nap with me and Munkus?"

Startled by the offer, Victoria's ears swiveled this way and that. "Are… are you sure? What about Munkustrap?"

"He won't mind," Demeter shrugged. "He's sleeping, anyway. Please?"

Victoria had to give in. Shyly – the Guardian of the junkyard seemed to be so much older and wiser than she – the white queen followed her new friend into the lorry and snuggled up in the pile of blankets beside the other two Jellicles.

And so, when Munkus awoke slowly an hour or so later, he was startled to find two feminine shapes curled up with him in slumber.

Voila! :) Tell me what you think! By the way, I'm not just a writer; I'm also something of an artist. If you'd like to see what my own characters look like (Mercy, Moonface, etc.) or how I view the original characters (Admetus, Victor, etc.) let me know in a review and I'll put up a link to my blog.

Also, concerning "original" characters. Since I've never seen the live show (and each show is a little bit different), I'm going by the video for most characters. However, Admetus and Victor are "swing" characters and do not necessarily appear in the video. (I think "Admetus" is the brown and gray tom who doubles as the Rumpus Cat, but I don't like that version of him :P) "Asparagus Jr." and "Quaxo" make appearances in the next chapter, so I'll just let you know now: in the video, they have a younger version of Asparagus as a swing, since Sir John Mills was too old - that's how I see Asparagus Jr... Quaxo is a variation of Misto, but I'm still working on it. If there's any confusion about anything I've just said, just note me! XD

DR