Tiny Dancer

by karapuui

It's no surprise to the Jellicles whenever Old Deuteronomy comes by with a new cat. It's the way their family grows - and after having recently lost one of their most beloved members, they find this addition - strange though he may be - quite welcome. The biggest shock is when Tugger is appointed his caretaker. Everlasting Cat, what was Deuteronomy thinking? (Tugger/Misto)

10. Chapter 10

Every year the same thing always happens.

["Places, everyone! Come on, now! Hurry!"]

Nothing is on time. No one ever listens.

Munk moults more fur during this time of year than any other (enough to knit a quilt and then some) because apparently —

["Can you please — get off that right now. And that does not belong to you. Put it back… put it back."]

— the stress of literally trying to herd a bunch of cats needs to be released via some sort of outlet, hence the tragic yet incumbent fur-loss. And the screaming. Oh, the screaming.

Munk despairs. Surely they should know the drill by now. Surely it's not that hard to remember this, when they've done it hundreds of times before.

["What are you — no, no, no. Get back to where you're meant to be. Don't look at me like that. You should know where you're meant to be — oh good lord is that the time?]

But apparently, so.

Apparently, all the numerous rehearsals Munk had poured his heart and soul into these past few weeks have been a wasted effort.

Tugger smirks at him from across the 'yard, being of no use to anyone — being of no help to him. Sometimes Munk swears his little brother lives to see him suffer, but getting all worked up over that is never worth it when Tugger has no concept of shame nor guilt. Trying to appeal to Tugger's conscience is like trying to describe music to Victoria: pointless, humiliating and again, a waste of his invaluable time and effort.

Thus, he takes in a deep breath.

And screams at the kits to shut up and sit down.

"Now listen," he tells them, Very, Very Sternly, "The Ball is about to start, so I expect you all to behave and do as you've been told. As soon as Jellicle Choice has been made, it's off to the den with you. No griping, no whining, no funny business. You're too young to last the whole night, and I won't have any of you ruining the night for everyone else. Is that understood?"

The chorus of reluctant yes sir's he receives don't fill him with much confidence, but he'll take what he can get at this point. Alonzo purrs from the side, swishing his tail playfully. He's definitely enjoying watching him suffering, much to Munk's chagrin.

"Alright then. So the thing to remember is that the Jellicle Moon is very much like us." Because this is a lesson he has to repeat every single year, it's so engrained in his memory he could recite it in his sleep. "By which I mean that She is like a cat in the way of her habits and what she does and does not like. Respect Her space, do not stare at Her with too obvious an intent — even if that intent is to worship and adore Her, allow Her movement where she wishes it… above all, remember that She is not one of us but above us in station, and thus we must treat Her with complete and utter reverence."

"Aye, you mustn't stare at her too openly, though given that She is utterly breathtaking, it can be a trying thing, loving the Moon," Tugger suddenly says, throwing Munk off with his sudden (uninvited) involvement. His eyes gleam with mischief as he springs off the crate, landing beside his brother soundlessly. The kits ooh and aah, suitably impressed by him. Munk eyes Tugger warily, wondering where he's going with this. "But it is a rewarding love. A love beyond any of our control — ere She reigns over us, but mostly in our hearts."

Tugger presses a paw against his heart, expression utterly sincere. Several queens in the vicinity swoon.

"Poetic," Munk mutters under his breath, mildly but mostly impressed.

"But Munk is right." Tugger glances up, meeting his brother's eyes and winking obnoxiously. "About knowing our place in regards to Hers. If you're confused on how to behave, either observe how your elders behave or maybe try to use some common sense."

Immediately, Munk panics — Tugger can practically hear his heart rate spike.

Ah, common sense. That's why. Jellicles don't tend to have much of that, even as adults, so the kittens —

"Or," Tugger says quickly, darting a glance between Alonzo's pained grimace and Munk's anxious fidgeting. "Or simply treat Her with due respect, as you would any other cat."

"Only better," Alonzo interjects.

"Only better," Tugger agrees, "And as goes tradition, only ever address Her indirectly to avoid incurring her wrath."

"How do we do that?" some dear, sweet little lass squeaks, blushing the moment Tugger's twinkling eyes land on her.

"Why, my dear — with song, of course," he drawls, winking roguishly.

Munk clears his throat.

"Yes, thank you." Waving his paw dismissively. "I can take it from here."

Tugger grins. "We sing Her The Naming of Cats," he ignores Munk, as if he hadn't spoken at all, "As an introduction, you see, to remind Her how it goes — "

"What the — " Alonzo sputters, bristling. "That is wrong, and you know it, Tugger. We do not start with the Naming song." (You utter clown, Munk silently adds.) Thankfully, after thwacking Tugger around the head, Alonzo motions at Munk to continue the lesson.

"We start with the Jellicle Song," Munk explains, "To remind Her that we understand that whilst we are Her tribe, She does not belong to us. It is important that each of us remember the main purpose of this celebration: not only to honour the Everlasting Cat, but also to think on what it truly means to be a Jellicle… " and on he goes, running autopilot, his mouth separate from his mind, his attention entirely elsewhere. Whilst he'd felt mild irritation at Tugger's interruption, he is grateful for his presence in that it means he's somewhat more committed to getting involved in the Ball than he usually is. His support is especially needed now, what with them seemingly having Macavity's full attention this year.

He's run over the patrol schedule what seems a hundred times with Alonzo already and each of his team leaders individually. Security this year is airtight. He's sure of it. There's no way Macavity will be able to mess things up.

However.

It never hurts to be extra careful, which is why he's also made Jemima promise to stay with an adult at all times. With her growing to look more like Macavity with each passing day, Munk worries that his older brother will recognise that, in which case… no. Don't think about that, Munk — he tells himself. Don't worry about things that won't even happen.

Jemima. His little blessing. The light of his life.

Munk knows he cannot favour her over the other kits — cannot show any favouritism towards her, even if he wants to… but it's difficult. It takes effort to refrain from smiling, winking or looking at her outright. He wants to. Everlasting Cat, he wants to. Oh, but she looks so sweet sitting there, watching them with sparkling eyes.

Munk's mouth twitches. She grins back at him.

His heart flip-flops pleasantly in his chest.

Ah, fatherhood.

Tugger watches with an apparent boredom, though inside he is buzzing. It's impossible not to feel warm and merryobserving his fellow cats getting all excited for the Ball. With music in the air, paws thundering the ground in a thousand different dance rhythms, last-minute-costumes being hastily shoved in Jennyanydot's direction, and nervous whispers about cloud-coverage-obstructing-the-moonlight… the 'yard is a maelstrom of joyous, if not hectic, activity.

Amidst everything, bordering them on all sides are the patrols Munk has set up. The usual faces mixed with unknown volunteer city-cats and those from their allied-tribes. Though he and Alonzo flank Munk in similarly seemingly relaxed, sprawled out positions, they're perfectly alert and keeping close watch over these cats in particular.

Meeting one tom's eyes, Tugger gives him a nod of acknowledgement. The tom blushes, ducking his head, which causes Tugger to shake with laughter. Alonzo rolls his eyes but smiles obligingly when Tugger subtly cocks his head, asking permission to leave. He rolls to his feet and saunters away, sleek and graceful as ever. The tom's eyes flash in the dark, but Tugger only gives him a fleeting smile. The reason for him leaving wasn't a rendezvous with him, handsome and willing though he may be — it was to rally the others before Munk deteriorates any further.

It's dusk already, the coolness of evening mixing with the smokiness of night.

Tugger blinks up at the murky sky, studying the cloud coverage for himself. It looks like it might rain, but there's always the possibility that it might not. Such is the weather in England, he thinks with reluctant fondness, just as temperamental and temperate as I am. He creeps down a narrow alley, squeezing his massive bulk through some very interesting junk-itecture, and finds himself climbing out a few yards away from where he intended to be. Such is the nature of junkyard architecture, he thinks with rather less fondness, always moving about and changing. Slightly more amused, he concurs: also a great deal like myself.

Ahead, he spots a flash of white. A smile bursts across his face at the wondrous sight of Victoria spinning around the small trapezoid of clear floor-space with her eyes closed, purely trusting in her routine and skills. She makes good use of the space, her movements smooth, her lissom body swaying like a ribbon caught in the wind, but something about her dance is… lonely.

She lacks a partner.

But not for long — tonight a lucky young tom will join her. Tugger already has a speech prepared for whoever that tom may be, keen to explain to the young lad (in great detail) exactly what will happen to him should he fail to make Victoria happy.

He thumps the ground thinking about this, hard enough to disturb the dust layer. The moment the vibrations reach her, she freezes, then slowly transfers her weight back to the ground, like a feather floating to the ground.

"Alright there sweetheart?" he asks, tilting his head to punctuate the question she can't hear.

Victoria trills harshly, eagerness and nervousness at war on her face. She has been chosen to open the dance floor after the Naming song, and is suitably anxious about her upcoming performance. As far as Tugger's concerned, she has no reason to worry — she is the best dancer of them all. Then again, it is her first Jellicle Ball, therefore she has a right to be slightly worried about it.

"All warmed up?" he continues, striding over to brush against her affectionately. Her body trembles against his, the tension in her muscles communicating her nerves. Tugger purrs, hoping to comfort her. "You've no reason to worry, my dear. You're going to be fantastic, I promise you."

The little queen shudders, but sags against him in defeat.

Before Tugger can usher her back to the 'yard, a scrape of claw-on-metal draws his attention to a drainage pipe nearby. Then, a scruffy brown-and-black head pokes out of the end, and Pouncival squints at him, orange eyes glowing the dark.

"What is it, Pounce?"

"'lonzo sent me to get you," he wheezes, wriggling around to get himself free. Once he's puddled onto the ground, groaning from the effort, he continues: "He said to tell you that you are useless at your job, where are you, you should have been back by now, where are you, really, he gave you one job, why can't you be more like Munk, where the heck are you — "

"Okay, okay, I get it."

Tugger steers Victoria over to the pipe, motions at her to get going, and then turns to his fellow tom, grinning down at him brightly.

Pouncival rolls onto his back, wincing again at the look on his face. "What?" he whines. "What's so funny?"

Tugger sniggers. "Someone forgot they're not so little anymore, didn't they?" He nudges Pouncival over, and then continues to roll him towards the larger passageway he used before. "It sucks, doesn't it? Forgetting you're not so small anymore." Tugger sighs dramatically. "All those nice little nooks and crannies you can't use any more. All those nasty places you get stuck in instead."

"You sound like you're speaking from experience," Pouncival says slowly. Curiously. Hopefully. He tries to catch Tugger's eye. "So where did you get stuck?"

Tugger shrugs nonchalantly.

"Nooo," Pouncival whines, being rolled along all-the-while, "Tell me. Please. You have to," his face hits the floor, "Tell me. Where," again, "Did you," (spitting out some gravel), "Get stuck?"

"Me? Get stuck?" Tugger smirks. "Whatever do you mean?"

Ah, how wonderful it is, no longer being one of the fresh-out-of-kithood 'youths'. Now that he his a proper tom, he can brandish his maturity proudly above Pouncival's head like a delicious piece of fish. He rolls the tom down the alley and back to the main 'yard. Only then does he notice that the sky is finally navy-blue-black, and the street lamps have been switched on.

"Goodness," he drawls. "Is that the time?"

"Yeah!" Pouncival leaps to his feet, suddenly pumped up with boundless energy. "Oh wow! Oh, it's time! It's time!" he cries, racing off to join his litter-mates.

Tugger shakes his head wryly. So easily distracted.

Youths.

"So, has his Highness finally decided to grace us with his presence?" an irritating voice calls from the side. Alonzo slips out of the shadows, his distinct white-and-black coat rippling in the low-light.

Were it not for Tugger being incredibly accustomed to being on the wrong end of Alonzo's particularly chilling stare, he may have cowered a little from receiving it. However — with that not being the case — he merely smiles.

Alonzo narrows his eyes. "I gave you one job, Tugger — "

"I don't take orders from you."

" — one job. Go make sure everyone's done with prep, remind them that we will be starting promptly — "

"That is in fact two jobs you supposedly gave me," Tugger cannot resist pointing out, quickly adding again: "Not that I take orders from you — "

" — this year will not be a repeat of last year. Or the year before that. Or, frankly, any year preceding this one. This year will run on-schedule — "

"Why is it that whenever I find you two, you are always, always bickering?"

Alonzo and Tugger freeze — both of them with their hackles raised, though their stances are more playful than truly aggressive. Munk stares at them, clearly unimpressed by their behaviour, nevertheless. He glares disapprovingly at Tugger, then at Alonzo slightly less disapprovingly. More longingly. Then more thoughtfully.

Tugger balks, panic scuttling up his spine when he recognises a similarly desiring look on Alonzo's face, his eyes darkening as he gives Munk a slow once-over —

"Oh hell no!" he squeals, leaping off his brothers'-mate like he is on fire.

Why on earth Alonzo thought it wise to start flirting with his brother whilst wrestling with Tugger is beyond him but he retreats immediately, glancing between the two mates anxiously. To be fair, Munk quickly schools his expression into something marginally more respectable, but still.

It's simply not good enough. Even an apology wouldn't be good enough. This is not the first time something like this has happened and Tugger can feel his ears flattening, sensing more to come.

He might be all-for Munk and Alonzo's relationship (in fact — if he's being honest, he's pretty thrilledthat they're finally happily together) but that does not mean they ought to take advantage of his loyalty to involve him in their shenanigans, dear god. He wrinkles his nose, thoroughly disturbed by the thick cloud of pheromones filling the air.

"Sorry, Tugger," Alonzo says, more for propriety's sake than out of any true remorse. He slinks up to Munk, possessively dragging his body along his as he does so. The sudden spike of pheromones prickles Tugger's nose, forcing him to take several hasty steps further back.

"Guys," he calls, desperate to bring them back to their senses. Curse this blasted 'honeymoon-phase'! It's ruined them. Gone are Grumpustrap and his faithful shadow Yawnzo, in their place — these two mindless rutting beasts. Where to look, where to look? Tugger flinches when a purr rumbles up from somewhere deep in Munk's belly, but when he starts licking Alonzo's ears — "Guys," he calls sharply. "You can continue your — your canoodling somewhere more private. Away from poor, innocent, unsullied eyes oh — come on!"

Despite being the 'yard's supposedly 'most eligible tom', Tugger balks at this sort of behaviour. Anyone could walk by and yet — Alonzo crouches down, tilting his head back, totally unabashed at how wanton he's being, or perhaps he means to act in such a way as to intentionally offend Tugger's delicate sensibilities? Either way, Tugger is scarred, Alonzo is pleased, and Munk is horny.

But apparently his younger brother screaming about his eyes and impressionable youths is finally enough to break him from whatever spell Alonzo has cast, because suddenly Munk seems to become aware of where he is, who he's with, and the fact that he was about to mount his mate in front of his extremely traumatised brother.

And then —

"Well, well! What do we have here?"

Perfect timing — Bomba sashays in, eyes gleaming with interest, hips swinging side-to-side in their usual figure-eight rotation. The addition of another pair of eyes — this pair far more interested in the proceedings — finally manages to truly snap Munk out of it. Even Alonzo finds himself chastened by Bomba's interest, curling his tail around his rump and assuming a more dignified position.

Tugger would bet on both toms' manly parts reverting back to their prepubescent states, were it not for the fact that he'd probably have to verify this, and as far as he's concerned, he has already seen far too much of either of them to ever want to.

"Mmm," Bomba purrs, sniffing at the air with a feral grin. "Smells like you boys have been having quite the party!"

Tugger sputters, appalled.

"No, no — we have not — "

"The party!" Munk shrieks (balls fully retracted) and barrels past Bomba, dragging Alonzo along and leaving them in a dust-cloud.

Before Bomba can take offence at this, Tugger hurries to soothe her with his best charming smile. Still, she bristles, puffing up like an angry chicken. "Well I never."

"Forgive him," Tugger begs, mentally cursing Munk for his atrocious lack of manners. "You know how he gets, especially with the Ball — "

"That's why I came here!" Bomba exclaims, "To tell Munk we're all ready and waiting on him, and this is the thanks I get!" She huffs. "Well I — "

"Never. Yes, yes," Tugger says, "But shouldn't we be hurrying along too? If it's starting — "

"Oh no," Bomba gasps, ears twitching madly — "Can you hear that? They've already started singing!"

Tugger swears loudly because she's right, and oh — his part is coming up soon! Too soon! He practically flies across the yard, tearing through backstage to get to his place — and just in time too. Somehow. Somehow he makes it and manages to sing his line without wheezing. Pouncival shoots him a questioning look from his place on the armchair, but otherwise no one apparently notices (or care) that Tugger seems to have appeared out of thin air.

Thank goodness.

Alonzo follows him, and then the song continues, their soft voices melding in chorus as they begin to prance around playfully. Not quite dancing yet, but almost. When Jellylorum's shrill voice contrasting with Coricopat's sonorous tenor draws Jemima out, Tugger's heart lurches, but then — then Deuteronomy does 'his thing' — and his heart soars.

There are actual shivers. Like — right down to his tail.

And the song keeps going — Tantomile, then Etcetera, then Bomba, then Quaxo.

Oh, Quaxo.

There he is, Tugger thinks faintly. Very short — his part — but that leap. That jump though. So light and elegant. Tugger blinks and he's gone.

Bereft for a moment, but then more and more cats come, and they're dancing now — really dancing. Somehow Etcetera gets her hands on some rope and goes literally swinging over them, giggling all the while. Whilst some poor elder-cat goes to get her down, Munk lifts Victoria over his shoulder, spinning her round to present her as their lead-dancer, and —

Tugger tries to concentrate on the dance. The chorus. The feeling of tribe and magic and song rushing through him. But the truth is… half his mind is on Quaxo. This is the first time he's seen him since their little 'excursion' to the barn, and it's frustrating seeing him here like this. Being close enough to hear him and see him, but not close enough to be with him — to talk with him privately like he yearns to.

It's easy to keep him in his sights, with his unique black-and-white patterning, and the way he moves making him stand out from the crowd… no, Tugger has no difficulty in keeping his eye on him. That is not the problem here.

The problem is that with the Ball in full-swing now, it will be impossible to get him alone. Tugger groans internally. That probably means he'll have to wait till after the Ball to get to speak to Quaxo. What a pain.

Ah, but anyway. Anyway — they gather, assembling together in the traditional pyramid, symbolising them reaching to the skies, worshipping the Jellicle Moon, yadda yadda yadda — point is, the pyramid puts him next to Quaxo.

All his mind can say to that is yay.

Tugger almost breaks character to grin at him, but Munk elbows him sharply, reminding him (rather ironically, in Tugger's honest opinion) to remain focused on singing. Just for that, he decides to throw himself even more into the performance than he meant to out of spite. Apparently Jenny has similar thoughts, or at least she really, really wants a solo. The note she screeches out. Yeesh. They recover from that, but only because they are professionals.

And then —

Silence.

What the heck is that?

Skimble mutters something about a what on earth a 'ruddyboot' is doing here, but otherwise they are utterly nonplussed. Munk tenses next to him, but then taps him twice with his tail — their signal for 'coast clear' or 'nothing to worry about' — so they carry on to the hymnal verse. Tugger's secretly favourite part. The solemnity, the tingle of magic, the crescendo, the drop — then an explosion of dance.

Drama at it's very best. From heights to plunges to pure ecstatic expression. Tugger loves it.

It is the only time he feels truly connected with everyone in the tribe. Through these mediums, they become one entity, and that's magic. That's what it's all about in the end — having fun together, showing off and entertaining their beloved Moon.

And then — another interruption. This time, Asparagus is the one who calls for silence, the older tom jerking away from the ensemble to point out a human staring at them. True, it's not often that humans wander into the 'yard at night. Normally it's their young who venture this far out, looking for trouble with their friends, but no — this one is an adult. More a threat, but not when he's this outnumbered. With the full tribe accounted for and the patrol-cats hanging around, Tugger feels very safe, especially when the look on the man's face tells him he has no intention of causing trouble. He scuttles away just as Munk jogs over to Asparagus' side, hovering over him protectively as he mocks the man.

"What's a Jellicle Cat?" Munk enunciates slowly, prompting them all to repeat it.

Tugger rolls his eyes, knowing this will lead into the next song, and the next and the one after that. Thus is the effect Munk tries for each year — he doesn't want breaks, pauses, interruptions, deviations or errors. He wants a singular stream of perfect performances. He wants to get through the night quickly and efficiently so it can be over, and so he doesn't have to think about it for a whole 'nother year.

Tugger really cannot understand for the life of him why Munk wants what he wants. By raising the bar so high, he's simply setting himself up for disappointment. It never works out the way he wants it to because they are cats. More than that — they are Jellicles. By their nature, things always go wrong. The one thing they can always bet on is that something will always happen. Always.

Usually that 'something' is Tugger ad libbing, or kits misbehaving, or elder-cats forgetting their cues.

Poor Munk never gets a break.

So long as it isn't anything dangerous though, then Tugger is fine with it. Munk can deal with high blood pressure — heck, he's probably used to it by now.

The Naming of Cats is a rather boring yet important song. It's hardly lyrical, more like a roll-call for the tribe, but it's nice to hear new names joining the roster. Quaxo's, in particular, but also those in his litter. The older, more experienced tribe members easily refrain from puffing up in pride when their names are mentioned — a definite contrast to Tugger's first Ball when his name mentioned, which provoked quite a memorable 'incident'.

Fun times.

Anyway, his name is now intentionally omitted thanks to this, but no matter. He has his own personal song to come later, so he doesn't mind.

The Naming continues. Tugger's mind wanders as it does. He always tries not to pay too much attention during this song, because firstly: he doesn't need to, he has heard it many times before and knows the process of Naming inside and out, thank you very much. Secondly… there are those whose names are no longer included in song. Those who have passed away, those who have left to other tribes, or those… those whose names do not deserve mentioning.

Thinking too hard stirs up ghosts. Gives the memories of those absent parties life.

Tugger tries very hard not to think about them.

Instead, he pays attention to Victoria — the lovely queen sneaking away from the tribe. No, not sneaking — Munk nods at her subtly as she leaves. She crawls to the side, to a place where beams of Moonlight band together to form a lit platform. Then, she rises onto the tips of her paws, balancing one one leg and spinning and… it's incredible, the stuff she can do. The smooth progression of her movements. It's more than dance, it's heart.

The Jellicles clear the floor, slipping backstage and to the sidelines to watch her.

And what a sight she is.

But then, Quaxo, who had been watching from the drainpipe suddenly appears above her, when a cloud passes overhead, quick as the night, and what's this? He's the one Munk asked to host the Invitation? Tugger tries to find his brother, wherever he is hidden among the audience clustered around the dance-floor, but when he does — ugh. There he is, making moon-eyes at Alonzo again, cuddled against him. Tugger quickly averts his eyes back to Quaxo, and when he does —

Quaxo is stroking Victoria's leg.

For a moment Tugger is certain he's entered some kind of twilight zone where cats known for not having the tiniest lick of what could in any sense be called a 'libido' are suddenly without inhibitions (Munk — who probably should have entered a monastery, is now practically humping Alonzo on the side-stage) and Quaxo, that sweet little strangely uninterested tom is suddenly groping his childhood friend in front of the entire freaking 'yard.

Tugger isn't sure what to make of it.

Well, he thinks, well.

Anyhow, the Invitation allows all the non-Jellicle cats to finally join in with the celebrations, and so soon the floor includes city-cats, country-cats, shipyard-cats, house-cats — all types of cat who have been invited to the party. A berating tail whips Tugger on the nose, a flash of white-and-black flickering in the side of his vision. Alonzo, of course, ever the vigilant vigilante determined to keep things running smoothly for the sake of his pernickety mate, not-so-subtly reminding him to stay alert. Many of these unfamiliar cats have been previously introduced to Tugger and the rest of the security detail, so they know who has been approved and who hasn't. The one thing Tugger can proudly say he has is a good memory — one particularly good with faces.

Munk spreads his arms wide once Quaxo is done and all eyes turn to him.

Perfect. Time to get to work.

With all their faces turned to watch the Protector, Tugger scans everyone he can get his eyes on. Part of Munk's sermon drifts through Tugger's head: the part about Choosing. Another cat will go tonight. It happens every year, so Tugger should be used to it, but he always feels sad thinking about one of their own leaving them. Even if it's to a better place, even if all the other Jellicles rejoice in wonder at witnessing such a mystical event, it's still at the end of it: a loss.

Funny, how everyone else seems to forget that. Not Tugger though — then again, he's always found it difficult to let go.

Anyway.

The Jellicles thank Munk for the sermon, many a cat pawing at him (much to Alonzo's annoyance), and Tugger cannot help but smile when he spots Jemima manage to steal a moment of his time. Atta girl, he thinks, bopping her on the nose as he passes by. Then Munk's favourite Auntie Jelly embarrasses the Everlasting Cat out of him (Tugger can't help but snigger), prompting the other queens to fuss over him too. Thankfully Skimble moves things along, Demeter briefly nuzzling his paws (to keep up appearances), and then — Alonzo gets his moment, brief though it may be. A quick cheek-nuzzle which gets a few quirked brows from the elder-cats, but thankfully no one says anything.

Did no one give Quaxo the schedule? What is he — Tugger cringes watching the little tuxedo tom make a fool of himself, mistaking it as his cue. Munk, quite naturally, gives him a harsh glare for that, but channels his irritation into composing an elaborate introduction for Jenny's song. It makes Tugger's cringe deepen as he heaps more and more praise on his mother (laying it on pretty thick there, bro), and then Quaxo assists Munk by opening the car boot with his mind to reveal the wonderful Jennyanydots in all her magnificent… frumpery.

What a Gumbie Cat indeed, he thinks, as her entourage of queens start up a chorus. He doesn't mind Jenny. In fact, he's quite fond of her. It's hard not to be — the elder-queen is so, so… so motherly. She mothers everybody, even those in her own generation! One problem Tugger has with her is that she is too like Munk in the way that she cares too much, and that means she's always poking her nose into other cats' business. Her heart's too big, her generosity too much, and — and she's a little odd at times. Tugger can appreciate weirdness but there comes a point —

(Are those mice? Mice? No, she can't be serious.

Well, obviously those are kittens in mice-costumes but really.)

— where weird becomes plain demented. Because — mice. And cockroaches. And tap-dancing beetles.

Like, come on.

Even he isn't that weird. Tugger would like to point out that these are vermin! Mice are food, but insects are pests — he shudders thinking about their tiny tapping feet. Watching her directing the enthusiastic kittens' dance is rather hilarious, but it gives Tugger the willies when she bellows at them when they mess up the choreography. For a second he sees Munkustrap in her face — in the way her eyes spark with righteous anger and her voice takes on a lilting warble — but when it's this potent it can only be from the original source!

The Jellicles both love and abhor Jenny — loving her kindheartedness but mocking her habits and strange little 'projects'. Tugger loves her too, but in an odd sort of… unrequited way.

Not in a romantic way (ugh!), but with definite longing. The thing is — even though she mothers and is willing to open her heart (and den) to any lost soul looking for some TLC… she has never extended that warm welcome to Tugger. In a way he can understand that — he is not her child. But then again, neither are any of the others (apart from Munk, obviously), so why is he different?

Why does Jenny not like him?

It could be down to many reasons, or simply because he isThe Rum Tum Tugger — an attention-hogger and fickle fur-ruffler. A hooligan and ruthless heartbreaker. Jenny doesn't approve of Tugger's habits, but what she doesn't realise is that is all for show and the true Tugger is not like that at all. In all the years he's known her she's never made much effort to see past his wayward reputation, and therein is where the root of that problem lies: she will never know until she tries. She will never see, and even if she eventually does, she may not believe her eyes.

It took a while for Tugger to realise another possible reason: he may not be her son, but it makes a world of difference that he is Deuteronomy's.

That he is Deuteronomy's, born from some other queen.

He knows Jenny isn't jealous of that unknown queen, nor does she have reason to worry for Munk's inheritance since Tugger is the youngest son. Tugger isn't given any special treatment from Deuteronomy, nor any of the others either, especially given that it's so clear that Munk is both his and the 'yard's Favourite Son.

But alas — pondering the why's is useless when he knows knowing the answer will change nothing, and so Tugger tiptoes around the edges of the Gumbie Cat's song, watching her with wistful resentful longing, eyeing Munk with sharp-bitter envy. He does a patrol around the yard and when he comes back — when he comes back to find Munk proudly joining in with the final number, he cannot help but think no — no, that's quite enough of that.

Now it's time for some Rum Tum Tugger.

The previous numbers were good but this is his time to shine, and by golly does he! Taking centre-stage, he feels like a king reclaiming his throne. All night he's been building up momentum, swinging his hips and draping himself across the junkyard furniture in the most alluring (albeit genuinely unintentional) of ways, drawing many a cat's eye and relishing in the attention.

This is the sort of attention he likes — when it's a performance. When he's putting on a show.

Not when it's about family or family drama involving exiled brothers etcetera, etcetera.

This is Tugger's natural state — when he's dancing and purring and rolling his hips. He catches sight of Jemima and oh — the girl has stars in her eyes! The only logical response to that is to coax her along, and so he jerks his head and she eagerly staggers after him, as if tugged along by a leash. Oh, he so loves teasing dear Jemima. She's such a little sweetheart! Teasing the kittens is always done kindly and in good fun (which should be a given, and all of his fans know), so when he feels the weight of two pairs of familiar disapproving eyes on him —

He almost snaps.

Disgusted and enraged at the implications (she is his niece, and a kitten, for goodness' sake!), Tugger kicks a ball directly at Quaxo. Unfortunately the option of hitting two cats with one ball is beyond his capabilities, so Munk gets away scot-free. Still.

It was worth it for the look on Quaxo's face.

Tugger rocks his hips in a wide circle, shimmies his ruff and flicks his tail.

He can practically feel Munk's blood pressure rising as his performance leans ever closer towards something truly, deliciously indecent, toeing the line between what is acceptable and not. He cannot resist pushing these two annoyingly stuffy toms a little further, and so beckons Jemima again, managing to halt her in her tracks with a single dazzling smile and curl of his finger.

Hook, line and sinker.

Then, out of nowhere: Quaxo appears, and oh, he is furious. He has no right to be, but he is! Tugger knows what that face means — it's the same one he used to make when Tugger would go out and leave him alone in the den. Waves of anger-jealousy-resentment would roll off Quaxo the moment Tugger came back, and he'd give him that look.

Tugger cannot help but laugh at the irony of this: the fact that they are singing about him and his contrary nature when Quaxo is much the same. As is Munk, and all cats really.

What a bunch of hypocrites.

It stings though, when Quaxo calls him a 'bore', never mind that it's hardly the worst thing he's heard. Tugger doesn't let it get to him though and carries on with the song, letting Quaxo's insult roll off him like water off a duck's back. The more he dances, the more he sings — the more the others join in, unable to resist the pulsating rhythm. It's just the icing on the cake when Jemima assists (rather enthusiastically) with some moves, much to her father's despair.

Whatever.

Quaxo, Munk and whoever else refuses to join in — they're all a bunch of wet blankets as far as Tugger's concerned!

The dance-floor gets the best Moonlight, so when Tugger sees that the tom gyrating in front of him is the same mysterious patrolling tom he saw from before (and had assumed to be a city-cat), he is stunned to find that he is, in fact, a Jellicle.

Granted, a fairly recently inducted Jellicle, but a Jellicle nevertheless.

He only gets a split second to look him over, but then the name comes to him: Plato. Wait. Isn't this is the tom Victoria is keen on? Does that mean it's possible for a tom to like both queens and toms?

Tugger ponders this curious thought as he swivels around, his body on autopilot whilst his mind runs riotover this new nugget of information. He scratches Jemima's chin idly as Bomba joins in the song, still pondering this bizarre notion. His own retinue of back-up dancers are all toms: Asparagus, Pouncival, Tumblebrutus and Plato; but only Plato is looking at him with that sort of interest. Pounce and Tumble are more like little brothers to Tugger, and Asparagus a fond-yet-long-suffering uncle, but Plato… Plato definitely isn't.

And while Tugger doesn't reciprocate Plato's interest, he can't help but feel… flattered by it.

More-so than he would be were Plato a queen.

Just as he thinks this — Bomba slides up against him, arching her back against his. He really has no choice but to reach back and give her a friendly grope. It feels nice. Good. Hot. There's the familiar plume of pheromones in the air when he does so, the usual tingle of heat in his loins. The comfort of this old attraction — feeling what he knows, and knowing it's alright — absurdly reassuring. He always feels safe with Bomba, knowing that they share chemistry and mutual attraction, but more importantly, beneath that he can always count on her as a friend.

So, maybe he can like queens and toms too, like Plato? He didn't know that was an option until now — until he saw a burning hunger in Plato's eyes as they trailed up his body and found that he liked seeing it there. Until he stroked Bomba's arse and found that he still liked that too.

Fascinating.

With a hand on Bomba's waist, her weight leaning against him, her fiery eyes half-lidded seductively — Tugger feels like the ruler of a new land —

No, a new world.

He drops her, laughing to himself (it's an ongoing inside-joke with them) at his new self-discovery, at this new side to himself he didn't know existed before.

All found in this one song — in this unexpected encounter and unforeseen realisation.

Tugger shines with enlightenment, or at least it feels that way. He must be gleaming or sparkling at the very least, because the Jellicles can't take their eyes off him — apart from Jelly and Jenny. Hm. Apparently these elder-queens don't find him very interesting. Apparently 'doing a cross-stitch' is more interesting than him.

Well. That simply won't do.

He takes immense pleasure in sliding himself between them and kissing their cheeks. Immense pleasure in waggling his arse in front of the younger-queens and encroaching on Demeter's 'personal space'.

This is what his song — and him — and all that he represents, is about: fun, and curiosity, and doing whatever you damn well please.

No dance choreography. No planning. No rehearsal — just a pure, unadulterated impromptu performance and living in the moment.

'Keep them guessing' is Tugger's motto, as well as a bunch of other things, but essentially always that. A 'rockstar', is what Alonzo called him one time. He as no idea what rocks have to do with anything, but stars? Yes, thank you and please! 'Leave them wanting' is another Tugger-motto that he fully approves of, and he decides to make a good example of it this time by rocking and shaking his hips so fast that the queens start actually screeching.

He knew it'd be a hit (Jemima certainly seems to love it, and he spots a few toms trying the move out for themselves), but Everlasting — it's Etcetera who truly takes the cake, shrieking for so long he worries that she'll pass out. Luckily, she doesn't (once he physically stops her), but then, just as he's about to go for an encore —

"What the — urk!"

Tugger stumbles off-stage, dragged away by Bomba as an old, scruffy thing scurries into his vacated spot. He hisses, and is about to lay into Bomba for stealing his limelight, but then he sees her expression and holds his tongue. She doesn't look scared, but insanely cautious of whoever that other cat is. Intrigued, Tugger squints from the sidelines.

It turns out it's a queen, though from the state of her coat she's unlike any other queen Tugger has ever seen. Ragged and filthy and perhaps even mouldy judging by the smell. No self-respecting queen, or tom for that matter, would ever let their fur fall into such a pitiful state.

It's no surprise that Munk is there, standing in front of the others protectively. Tugger understands him taking precautions. She was definitely not on the approved guest-list, that's for sure. He would have remembered that face (and that smell) — but really. She's tiny, obviously malnourished, and probably wounded or somewhat sick, which would make her weak — point is, she's no threat to any of them.

So why then is Munk so tense? Why are there others crowding in, like she's some kind of danger to them? It's not just the patrol-cats either (which is the curious thing) but the elder Jellicles. Cats who eye the queen with disgust rather than fear, skirting around the edges of the yard in short, cautious bursts. Even Skimblehas such a hostile expression on his face that is bad enough to have Tugger properly concerned.

And then, the queen starts to sing.

Her voice.

Tugger's heart starts beating, faster and faster.

He can feel it there in his chest, beating like the wings of a bird about to take flight. His reaction makes no sense. Her song isn't joyous, in fact it's the opposite of joyful. A slow, sad anthem to a lonely past, full of pain and regret.

It moves Tugger, though, but in what way… he can't be certain.

There's something about her voice.

Jellylorum has to grab two kits by their ruffs when they creep forwards, wanting to investigate this mysterious queen. It's only when she turns that Tugger sees Jelly's expression. She looks like she's seen a ghost. Body shaking, claws out, ears folded back. Fear? More than disgust, there's fear. Tugger's sure of it.

"Who is she?" he asks Bomba in a whisper. When she doesn't answer, he follows the line of her gaze, finding Demeter at the end of it. She, along with Alonzo and Jennyanydots, flank Munk at his back and sides. None of them look like they want to fight the queen, but the way they're keeping her at a distance and the fact that Bomba seems to know why they're doing what they're doing is mesmerising to watch, like a red flag being waved at a red-eyed bull. "Bomba."

Bomba slinks out onto the 'floor, shadowing Demeter's footsteps as she stalks the queen.

A shiver goes up his spine.

The way Demeter's moving doesn't suggest an imminent attack, but coming up behind another cat like that… it's not good manners — and then. Then Munk surprises Tugger even more by blatantly glaring the queen down as if she were the lowliest of pollicles!

Amazingly enough, the queen brushes past Munk, staggering away from Demeter on unsteady paws, but still with her head held high. Despite not knowing who she is or what she's doing here (or what the heck is going onwith the others), Tugger has to respect her for that. She's got balls to scoff at their attempts to cow her, gazing off into the distance, setting her eyes somewhere above the other cats as if to tell them they are not worth her while. So cold. Haughty. Distant. Above them.

Whatever she's done to piss of the family, he can't help but be amused by her behaviour. It's totally not his style, but hey — it works, and it's fun to watch the drama unfold as she proudly stumbles onwards and her audience edge away in panicked ripples of movement. He might even admit to being impressed by her, if only for the fact that whatever her beef is with the Jellicles, she's come here outnumbered but doesn't look frightened at all.

Fearless. Suicidal, perhaps, going by the way she seems not to care about her safety. Tugger has to say that his curiosity is definitely piqued — especially when she then finally reacts to Demeter's taunting song. A dreamy sway of her head, and a smirk. A smirk. Oh my. So feisty!

Tugger's eyes catch on the way her whiskers twitch as her mouth twists up at the corners. Something about it. Something about it is familiar. A trickle of memory.

The queen pauses, but then moves on, with even more swagger in her steps. Emboldened by something. But then —

"… you'd really had thought she ought to be dead…"

The queen folds over, contorting in pain. No — not pain. Well, maybe pain, but not the physical kind.

"… and who would ever suppose that that…"

Tugger cannot tear his eyes away from the repulsive queen now, so invested in her and her story that every one of his senses has honed in on her, wanting to know who she is —

"…was Grizabella, the glamour cat?"

Say what now? Tugger gapes.

This is Grizabella? The infamous Grizabella? He's heard about her before. Been told stories many, many times by the elder-cats, and warned about her… but he'd never imagined she'd look like this or sound like this or act like this.

All those stories painted Grizabella as some horribly grotesque, despicable, evil monster. In reality — she isn't pretty, but she's nowhere near grotesque. Most of the damage he can see is due to a lack of hygiene and a poor diet. Once again, he has to remark on the fact that she is tiny, and whilst that little smirk may have hinted towards a rather wicked sense of humour… evil is too strong a word to attach to someone he knows nothing about.

Well.

He knows that she is thought of very poorly by the Jellicles because she did something so terrible to be exiled from the tribe a very long time ago. He knows she hasn't been heard from since — until now. He wonders why she would choose to come back now? At this very moment of time, at this Jellicle Ball… during his song? It's such an odd coincidence.

When Bombalurina joins Demeter's singing, this time when the queen — when Grizabella — saunters further away from the tribe, her expression is more forlorn. Defeated. And the others… Tugger watches in horror as the others gang together and move towards Grizabella like a rushing tide. Step by step, menacingly, their voices rising to an earsplitting crescendo.

Even Quaxo soaks up the same emotions as the crowd and joins them, jeering at her till she finally shuffles off-stage. That rattles Tugger more than anything — seeing little Quaxo mimicking the others' unkindness.

Gosh, but that did bring back some rather awful memories of another time with another shunning of another much-loathed cat. Tugger drifts for a moment, lost to the memories of that dreadful scene — watching family turning against family, so stunned by the fact that this was happening that he was made a useless bystander, unable to stop them. Unable to do anything.

This time too, he does nothing but watch as his family bullies this — this Grizabella into leaving the tribe once more, so overwhelmed that he finds he can't move, or perhaps doesn't want to —

Before he can concern himself over this deplorable facet of his cowardly nature, a beat picks up and suddenly it's like the winds have changed. The dark, heavy emotions swamping the Jellicles before are swept away by light, bouncy music. It's utterly preposterous — simply mind boggling that they can change moods like that, at the drop of a hat!

Then again, they are Jellicles, and this is the Jellicle Ball. With the Moon playing Her tricks on them, it's normal for things to not be so normal this time of year, with all the strange energies messing with their heads. It's the kind of magic that plays tricks on you. The type of magic that moves your belongings when you're sure you put them somewhere else. Mischievous and inexplicable and maddening as hell.

Normally Tugger can roll with punches. Normally he excels at being changeable, and enjoys spontaneity.

But not this time.

This time he stumbles from Grizabella to Bustopher Jones, and the brightness of his song is too garish to his ears. Too upbeat and off-colour that it almost seems nightmarish. Jenny is trying (boy is she trying) to lure them back into a merrier mood after Grizabella's untimely interruption, but she's pushing too hard and everyone's still reeling and it doesn't really work because no one buys it.

Personally, it could also be that Tugger generally doesn't like Bustopher much that's giving him the bias, but that's neither here nor there. Neither is the fact that Quaxo appears delighted to see him, nor that Jenny is besotted with him either. No. It's definitely not that. When Munk goes to greet Bustopher with a salute of all things, Tugger decides it's time for him to go. Not to sulk. He'd never lower himself to sulking of all things, but merely to… to observe. From a distance.

All of the Jellicles become fools, tripping over themselves in their eagerness to please Bustopher. Tugger cannot understand it. All he's got going for him is his money, but that's all he needs (apparently) to gain status amongst the cats. Other than that, the only thing remarkable about him is his girth.

Seeing Quaxo and Munk at either side of Mr Tubby, listening attentively to his boring, superficial drivel about whatever pubs or clubs he frequents is quite frankly nauseating. It is the same story every year. What do the Jellicles get from listening to tales about enormous quantities of strange food they will never get to taste? Maybe it's the illusion that they're rubbing elbows with the fancy upper-classes that's appealing, but for what reason, Tugger cannot honestly say.

It's disturbing, watching his family acting like this. Watching Quaxo preen under Bustopher's attention as he tosses careless words around, basking like a flower seeking sunlight from some mediocre lamp. Tugger snorts when Quaxo licks his lips at the mention of rice pudding though — it's probably the only food he recognises from the long list Bustopher pulls out. Maybe he's hoping to get some rice pudding out of this. If he is, he's in for a great disappointment. Tugger hopes it's only that that's driving him.

He hopes he doesn't actually admire Bustopher, or look up to him as some of the others do.

Imagine if Quaxo were to follow in his footsteps — eating so much that he balloons, tripling in size till he can't even see his own feet! Quaxo is so short with such a small frame that he'll be swallowed up and probably end up perfectly spherical if he goes that way, instead of being the bulbous pear-shape Bustopher has assumed. Bizarrely enough, the picture of a fat Quaxo in Tugger's head, whilst unnerving and fairly comical somehow manages to… not be repulsive. Round as a football, but with the same twinkling eyes, the same neat tuxedo coat (if not rather stretched) and dazzling smile —

Tugger is pulled away from his musings by a sudden crash, like thunder. Sirens blaring out, coming closer, closer —

"Macavity!"

Car breaks screech on the asphalt, grinding into it for traction. Puffs of smoke and red light that turns to amber and then green.

It's not magic. It's not Macavity.

This time Tugger is literally pulled away when someone grabs him and tugs him away, pinpricks of claws piercing his skin. He twists in their grip, turning to glance behind at the emptied 'yard, hissing when their claws dig in deeper. That noise — it was just a car, not Macavity. The cats are so wary that even this spooked them, when it was nothing! When… when Tugger squints through the dark, he spots two orange-and-black blurs squirming onstage.

Two.

Orange-and-black, but not Macavity —

"It's okay, you see? It's just those two clowns. Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer," Tugger says, turning to face the other cat. "See, they're always playing pranks on us — oh."

It's Grizabella.

He blinks. Unsure what he should… what he should do.

She retracts her claws hastily. Absently, Tugger wonders whether he'll need shots after that. He immediately feels guilty for thinking that — for being so selfish when she looks so afraid. Maybe she doesn't understand what's going on —

"It's Macavity!"

— well, maybe she does. Tugger frowns down at her. Could she be in shock?

"No, it's not him. It's just Mungo and Rumple," he repeats deliberately slowly, trying to project as much calm into his voice as he can. "Seriously. They do this like, at least three times a week — "

"No! It's Macavity," she insists, milky-blue eyes wide and moon-like. Much to Tugger's displeasure, she returns to clinging to him, her voice low and urgent. "You need to listen to me. I came here to warn you — the Jellicles have to leave."

"What?" Leave? Tugger tries to shake her off him. Crazy queen! "What are you talking about?"

"You have to tell them," Grizabella says, "Tell your brother — tell everyone! You are all in danger. You all need to leave."

Then a scuffle of cats darting in and out and between, separating them. Tugger gets ploughed into by a couple of hysterical kittens. Tufts of fur are torn out as Grizabella is yanked away from him, pulled away by the mayhem. Above all the confusion and panic, Munk's voice rings out.

"False alarm, everyone! Please, please calm down!"

Then, when that doesn't work.

"Okay, everyone — SHUT IT!"

They all fall silent under the impact of Alonzo's mighty bellow.

The tom nods approvingly, turning to Munk with a grim smile.

"Thank you," he says, flustered — and then: back to business. "As I was saying — that was a false alarm. Whoever started it," he narrows his eyes, "Will be getting a very stern talking to. Let's… let's all take a break and calm down for a second. A ten minute break, and no more! Mungo, Rumple," he turns to the sister-brother duo, "Since this untimely interruption is partly both your faults, I think it's only fair you entertain us whilst I deal with the perpetrator." Eyeing their gleeful expressions, he adds quickly, "Nothing too racy, understand? There are impressionable ears and eyes about."

"Aye, aye, boss!" they salute in unison. Munk's smile looks a lot more like a grimace, but then Alonzo coaxes him away, and the two of them go on the hunt for whoever cried wolf.

The Jellicles still look rather shaken, hiding away from the main-stage and reluctant to properly watch Mungo and Rumple's ridiculous impromptu song-and-dance. Tugger flinches when he hears a high-pitched cackle followed by a loud crash. According to Munk, they are what you get when you mix Jennyanydots with Skimbleshanks: pure, unadulterated mischief and chaos, and two for the price of one. Neither one has never grown out of their kittenish ways, most especially by the way that they never run out of energy, no matter how athletic their dancing or extraordinary their acrobatics are.

It's exhausting just watching them play around, even for only a few minutes.

With a sigh, Tugger peers through the darkness, across the yard to where he saw Quaxo last. Unfortunately he is no longer there, however Alonzo is — his white-and-black coat threw Tugger off for a second, but those sharp glowing eyes are unmistakably his. Tugger raises his chin, silently asking him 'how's it going?', to which Alonzo looks momentarily surprised by him actually bothering to ask, before answering 'alright so far' and motioning to meet up with him soon.

Tugger considers the eight minutes remaining.

Not much time, yet maybe enough to find Quaxo and —

…and do what exactly? Tugger falters. Half in shadow, hidden from the rest of the world, Tugger suddenly feels incredibly small. Unimportant. Easily forgotten. Especially as he debates the likelihood of him looking for Quaxo and actually finding him. He knows he has no right to force his friendship upon him, even if he longs to make things right between them. Their last conversation did manage to clear up the air on some of the many, many misunderstandings they'd been having lately, but the way they ended it was pretty disastrous, with Quaxo magicking himself away, leaving Tugger pawing pitifully at the ground… god help him, all he wants it to make it up to Quaxo. To apologise for whatever way he upset him and make him smile again like he used to be able to do so easily.

Suddenly he sees it — exactly what he wished for. A white crescent glinting in the dark, Quaxo's mouth turned up in a wide, instantly recognisable grin. Straight across the 'yard from Tugger, as if to taunt him, he sees him smiling at some of the younger cats. Smiling at them, not Tugger. Something twists in his chest at that, something small and deadly — the knowledge that Quaxo's smiles no longer belong solely to him.

Probably feeling Tugger's gaze upon him, Quaxo looks up — their eyes lock together for a single moment — and then Quaxo turns and scurries away, and Tugger shudders at the wave of misery that hits him. The longing that is as palpable in the air as all this celebratory music.

He should let him go.

He should.

Tugger gives chase.

His paws fly barely touch the ground. His heart pounds the same rhythm. The world blurs around him. Five minutes. Tugger knows — he knows where Quaxo has gone.

And sure enough, he finds him in his den. In their old den. Evidently Quaxo only arrived moments before himself as he's panting up a storm, and he whips around, glaring at Tugger with flustered panic.

"Yes?" he growls, hackles raised.

Tugger flinches, thrown by his hostility. They didn't end their last conversation on the best of terms, but this anger… no, it's not anger. It's caution. It's wariness. Tugger sucks in a calming breath, refusing to rise to the bait.

"Are you alright?" he asks, running eyes over Quaxo for no other reason than he wants to.

Quaxo shivers, eyelids fluttering shut for a moment. He nods. Opens his eyes with more confidence than before. More hope than before.

"It was just a car," Tugger says, then adding as explanation: "The loud noises. It was humans. Not Macavity."

Quaxo nods again. "I know," he says carefully, and then, "But if it was Macavity…"

"We have an entire army of cats here, at our disposal," Tugger says, trying to be reassuring. "Even if it was — "

"Cats haven't been able to stop him yet, and kittens died before."

How can he argue with that logic?

Tugger swallows thickly. "Yeah — "

"If it was Macavity," Quaxo continues, "If he does come… I'll be ready for him."

Tugger's blood runs cold. I'll be ready for him.

"What do you mean by that?"

In answer, Quaxo raises his paws. Light crackles around them in tiny sparkles, vines of lightning twining around his claws, tickling his fur. All of a sudden Tugger can picture it: a death-match between the two magicians. Fire against lightning. Red against white. Darkness against moonlight. Blood everywhere and screaming —

"Oh no," he breathes, struggling to find his voice. Louder: "No, you can't."

"I have to," is his reply. Not an answer, an excuse, an argument — just the truth. "I'm the only one who can."

"But that's not what magic is for!"

Quaxo laughs — a bitter, lonely sound.

"How would you know what magic is for, Tugger?" he says sadly, turning to leave the den, "You have no idea…" his voice trails off, then disappears up the chute that is the den entrance.

Tugger is rooted to the spot by the stark realisation that this is all he can do. This is all he can ever do — beg others not to fight, step in when it's too late, give his opinions and watch them be ignored… Quaxo doesn't care what he thinks. He doesn't have to listen to him.

He runs after him though, heart pounding against his ribs. If the only thing he can do is try, he'll never stop trying.

He'll never give up.

"Quaxo!" he calls, catching up to the tom quickly. Two minutes. Quaxo doesn't stop running — neither does Tugger. He talks loud over the thundering of their paws. "Quaxo, listen to me. You're not like him. You couldn't be him if you tried. Magic is safe with you. You treat it right. You'd never use it to hurt someone, I know you wouldn't — "

"You don't know anything, Tugger," Quaxo says harshly, turning a corner, leaving him behind in a cloud of dust. His voice echoes in Tugger's ears: "You have no idea…" how dangerous magic can be.

The thought of using magic for violence sickens Tugger. He stands by what he said: that's not what it's for. He'll tell Quaxo that as many times it takes for him to believe it, but for now — his time is up.

Munk doesn't need to summon them — the Jellicles slowly crawl out of the shadows, cautiously returning to the lit stage. Reluctantly, Tugger slides down the side of the strange piece of junk-itecture he was left on, but just as his paws touch the ground —

"Old Deuteronomy?"

Quaxo is there: centre-stage, sniffing at the air, eyes closing in concentration, and then.

The old patriarch had joined them earlier for the first Jellicle Song, but as usual he had to leave to do whatever needed doing elsewhere, being the busy cat that he is — but he's come back. It's not always guaranteed that he'll come back for the rest of the night's celebrations (though he'll make sure to come back to decide who's going up-top next), but the times that he does are always special. Maybe Quaxo thought he was done for the night? He looks surprised by Old D's return, glancing over a Munk and Jellylorum for confirmation.

Instead it's the twins who confirm it — breathing slowly, as if to taste the air. They start up the song to welcome him, hearts filling with joy as he approaches. Munk motions to Quaxo to go meet him at the 'gate'. As tradition dictates: it must always be a younger cat who goes to greet Old D if he chooses to rejoin them for celebrations. It's symbolism of sorts — the new greeting the old, the old embracing the new. A reversal of roles, the changing of tides.

Ah, then it is Munk singing.

Tugger has to say, his brother has one of the nicest voices he's ever heard. Deep and rich and melodic. It constantly features in Tugger's dreams, weaving in and out of bright sparks of colour and magic, banishing cold-blue nightmares from his mind and bringing him back home safe. Tugger sighs, leaning back and closing his eyes to listen. Munk always sings best when he's singing to or forsomeone he loves.

The kittens huddle around him, sprawled and curled in commas and parentheses all over the 'yard, no doubt overwhelmed by the boost of magic suffusing the air. The Moon is almost at Her peak, and with Deuteronomy moments away from joining them, the atmosphere is abuzz with excitement. It's all so lovely and yet… Tugger remembers when he was a small kit, and it was Macavity and Munk singing Deuteronomy's greeting-song. Despite being younger, Munk still would take the first verse, solemnly describing their father's fame and longevity, and then Macavity would take what is now Tugger's part: a teasing ode describing how exactly Deuteronomy spent his youth (sowing many wild oats — enough to plant a whole field of cats!).

Thus, it's with great love and sadness that Tugger steps into the light. Sometimes he has refused to sing before, mostly when he couldn't bear to stir up old memories (or take Macavity's place), so Munk never knows whether to expect him or not. Keep them guessing indeed.

His own voice is rather lower and naturally tends to rumble, as if he's verging on a purr. Much more sultry and far less wholesome than Munk's at any rate, but somehow, the intimacy of his timbre works to create a warm and intimate blanket of sound. Tugger's heart swells when Munk's head whips around, his eyes brightening as they meet his. He steps towards him hesitantly, and then with more confidence, practically bouncing up stacks of boxes to meet Tugger, a wide smile stretched across his face. It takes so little to please Munk — just this.

Tugger tilts his head at the end, prompting Munk's next verse. The kittens roll around, trembling in pleasure, and both brothers stand together, watching over them — princes of their realm.

Singing together is a rare and lovely treat, and Munk cannot resist shuffling a little closer, and Tugger lets him. With a shake of his ruff, he smiles at Munk as a sudden burst of affection washes over him, sweetening his mood from his little spat with Quaxo. Then, just as he turns his head, he sees him.

Munk also turns, probably wondering what caught his attention, and — they point, they beam, they sing!

The Jellicles move together as one, scrambling onto their feet and gazing at their father, hearts almost bursting out of their chests. A deep breath, then they pause again, staggering under the weight of their joy. Munk grabs the nearest two kits and shoves them ahead, letting them have first go at him, content enough to grab Deuteronomy's paw and squeeze it quickly in passing(selfless enough to share him with the others without a hint of jealousy).

All but Tugger have moved to meet Deuteronomy halfway. He has his own tradition of letting him come to him. There isn't even a pause between wading through the sea of kits (taking time to hug and kiss each one) and Deuteronomy lifting his head to look straight at Tugger — knowing exactly where he is. The moment he spots him, a spark flies through Tugger.

Sucking in a deep breath, he cocks his hips and puts on his best bored expression. In turn — Deuteronomy tilts his head back and mirrors it back, with a mock-disappointed shake of his head.

Tugger breaks first.

(He always does.)

An enormous grin splits his face, his arm flying up to wave excitedly at his father — but he quickly turns it into a swift bow, which is returned with just as much enthusiasm. Munk takes their father by the paw to help him up the boxes — his immense size not conducive to climbing to such heights — and then the Moon sees Deuteronomy and rejoices.

The clouds part and silvery light cloaks him.

When he sings, his voice is a mix of Tugger and Munk, and is deep, rich, warm and achingly sweet.

As soon as Deuteronomy is done though — not less than a second later in fact — Munk starts the night's programme again, eager to continue with the festivities, no doubt terribly conscious of how far behind schedule they've fallen. The Jellicles scurry off, all equally as keen to return to the Ball. A mad scramble ensues during which Munk speeds through last-minute-enquiries, and then: their annual telling of The Aweful Battle Of The Pekes And The Pollicles.

Victoria wisely chooses to stick to Deuteronomy's side, far away from the ridiculousness of this too-oft-told tale.

In Munk's defence, he gives each retelling of it just as much enthusiasm as he did the first time he did, and much though Tugger hates to see a repeat performance, each retelling is so chaotically different from the other that it manages to be somewhat original.

(And in fact, it is one of the more entertaining songs of the Ball, according to the yearly poll.)

The best thing about this song is seeing how wrong it can go each time, because just when you thought it couldn't get any worse… somehow it does. Poor Munk tries to uphold tradition and stick to what he knows, mistakenly thinking The Aweful Battle's popularity was reprised year after year due to popular demand, if only he knew why it was so popular with everyone (though Tugger thinks if anyone told him it was mostly because they enjoyed watching him get all flustered as things progressively snowballed each time, he might be rather upset), he might decide to change the number for something less chaotic.

Alas, the barking begins — then Munk goes on narrating the events, swinging his tail in a hilarious imitation of a police-dog, and — what on earth.

Rumple and Mungo again? Acting as the opposing dogs? Tugger squints, trying to see through the hessian sack mask. The one with the boot on his head is definitely Mungojerrie, and by the markings on the other one it has to be Rumpleteazer. Unsurprisingly, the two clowns manage to botch up pretty much from the get-go, well — firstly it's Mungo who barks twice.

Munk tries to correct him but it's a wasted effort. He bops Mungo on the head once he realises this, and then the twins skitter off. Rumple — who seems to be strangely enamoured of Munk as of late (It's probably to do with the Jellicle Moon's powers. They tend to transform the usually priggish tom into someone far more irresistible than normal.) — rubs her arse on his hip, but gets hip-checked all the way over to get scolded by Jenny for doing so. Ever-determined, the queen persists with her flirting, crawling under Munk's legs, but once again gets rolled away without so much as a moment's consideration. Poor girl.

When Munk's like this, there's no getting through to him.

Then Mungo starts to lead the brigade of 'pollicles' on their march.

Not the brightest idea Munk's had, in Tugger's opinion — just as he's thinking this, the brigade ploughs into Munk's side. He manages to dodge them on their second lap, but it's a near-miss. Ooh, Tugger can practically see the steam building up inside Munk like a pressure valve. He plants a paw on poor Tumblebrutus' head, halting the procession, and then Quaxo and Skimble are on — standing slightly too close to Munk for the space they need to dance, but… anyway.

Showtime.

Tugger wedges his bagpipes under his arm, hoists it up on his hip, and blows.

His excuse: he saw an opportunity and took it.

Feeling absolutely no shame in doing so, he proceeds to skip straight through the other kits' and cats' dance choreographies, brandishing his bagpipes with pride and parting the sea of cats like Moses. From the corner of his eye he sees Munk's mouth hanging open, the steam building up in his ears.

He knows he's going to pay for this later, but heck, it's worth it.

Munk reluctantly opens the 'freestyle barking' segment, immediately regretting his decision to do so when the cats, barking up a storm. He shouts, "NO!" and they fall silent.

The fun is in pushing Munk to breaking point but never actually pushing him over the edge. Teasing him, if you will, yet always in good fun. Their dutiful Protector shoots them all a despairing glower, but then remembers his father is present, and so continues to direct the song. Deuteronomy kindly gasps at the appropriate moments, even though he's heard this story a million times before.

Finally, the end of the play comes with the 'Rumpus Cat's (a.k.a. Admetus wearing goggles and an old mop-head for extra fur) Grand Entrance'!

…which ends up coming from the wrong side of the stage. Adme— no, the Rumpus Cat, crash-lands loudly, and probably very painfully. Munk groans, rolling his entire head instead of just his eyes, before hurrying to herd his directionally-challenged 'lead-actor' back to the front-stage.

Admetus loves playing the Rumpus Cat. The only reason Munk allows him to reprise the role every single year is that he shares the same passion for the play that he does, so as the playwright — Munk cannot help but feel obliged (and flattered) to acquiesce his request. The two of them get very into their roles during this portion of the song, which lends to some rather impressive high-kicks (from Admetus) and equally expressive feints and dodges (from Munk). Their synchrony though… never quite works out. Munk chases after Admetus just a half-beat too late, the dance otherwise perfectly memorised —

Then Tugger blows his bagpipe again, sensing it's time to do so right at that moment.

Munk is too out-of-breath to do more than roll his eyes before they carry onto the finale, praising and bowing to the Rumpus Cat and then Deuteronomy.

The patriarch applauds, but briefly criticises the message of Munk's play, reminding them that Jellicle cats are not so different from pollicles, nor so far above them as to look down on them as lesser beings. Just before lecture ends, another loud crash startles them all into hiding.

Everyone is accounted for onstage, which means something else must have caused that noise.

Macavity.

Even now, after this funny, crazy, hilarious musical number, he's there.

Tugger watches from the shadows, Jemima tucked by his side. She was the only one he managed to grab before they dispersed, and now she shakes in his arms, utterly terrified. Munk and Deuteronomy are the only ones left onstage, Munk assumes a low crouch in front of his father, ready to pounce at a moment's notice. Every muscle in his body taut like a live wire, his eyes flitting from side to side and all over, scanning the shadows for their eldest brother.

At first Tugger thinks Deuteronomy is shaking too, trembling in fear — but then Quaxo tumbles out of his furs and the shaking stops. Tugger would offer him his other arm to hide in, but before he can think to — Jemima stiffens in his hold. Her ears raised, alert. He tries to see what caught her attention, ah — Victoria.

Brave little queen.

Despite being frightened, her frantic movements are hypnotically expressive. Jemima shivers and shrugs off Tugger's arm, flying out of his arms and into Victoria's in a burst of speed. Her expression is strange, as if she is under a spell. Tugger's eyes track his niece, intrigued by her odd behaviour, but then he tastes it in the air — magic.

The queens dance in perfect synchrony, and then Munk joins them, with Deuteronomy accompanying them in song — Jellicle song.

One by one the other cats return to the stage. First Alonzo, swinging his hips in wide circles — he's always found himself more seduced by Jellicle magic than the others who merely find themselves invigorated by it. A breathless Pouncival, and then Skimble and Gus, Quaxo next with a graceful leap — more and more cats come back, drawn by the power of the Moon, that overpowers their fear of Macavity.

The magic is more intense than it has been all night. The energy, frenetic. To them it feels like they've been strung up like puppets and are being moved around by some otherworldly force. Swirling magic and the pull of the Moon. Tugger swaggers through the mayhem with a smile on his lips, watching his fellow cats squabbling over what Jellicle cats 'are' and 'do', all of them infected by raw magic. It's tearing down their inhibitions, magnifying their thoughts, opinions and personalities.

Intoxicating. Liberating. Abrasively honest. Their songs and thoughts and ideas rub against each other, never reconciling or surrendering to one another. It's chaotic yet mild, elaborate yet simplistic. A building up of speed, of passion, of momentum — then, a brief moment. A split second where a three-cat chain of Tumble, Skimble and Quaxo slides across, and Tugger walks right up to them.

Quaxo pauses on one leg, eyes moon-like in his blank face as he stares up at Tugger.

Tugger gazes back down at him, utterly captivated by him.

For one as magical as Quaxo, this influx of foreign magic must be both terrifying yet unbelievably exciting! For one as un-magical as Tugger, its quite the opposite — to him he feels like he's in a bubble. A lone soul who can see through the mist of magic, who can see the puppet-strings, the Moon's face, the fog clouding their heads.

It's like swimming but not feeling the water. Not getting wet. Not having to hold your breath.

Tugger locks eyes with Quaxo for a split second, an entire world between them.

Something flickers in Quaxo's eyes. A realisation.

He knows.

Tugger shudders, feeling flayed open.

Moments later, Tugger rocks his hips back lazily, moving on as if the moment never happened. His kitten-fans feast on his presence, Etcetera squirming happily between his legs. The song rises, and Tugger follows their dance-routine with a well-practiced eye. He's done this every year, so reading and mimicking the dance is nothing new to him. Quaxo's eyes burn through him though. He can feel the magician's attention on him, can feel that connection between them, now that Quaxo knows he isn't under the Moon's spell.

It's a disapproving look, Tugger thinks.

Disappointed.

Because Tugger is doing exactly what Quaxo doesn't want him to do — or at least, what he's doing reinforces their conflicting opinions on whether Tugger should 'be himself' around the Jellicles. For years he's pretended to be as affected by the Moon's magic just like the others when really he's an outsider. A spectator to it all. Abnormal. Quaxo can see that, and knows Tugger is acting.

Ah well.

It is what it is — they must agree to disagree. Tugger suspects his father also knows about him being… 'magically-challenged', but as of yet he hasn't said anything about it, so why make a big deal about it?

The dance slows, their movements shrinking to small, nervous things.

Then a cloud plunges them into darkness, and the infection becomes a fever.

They split into groups. Clawing, swaying, jerking and watching — always looking out for the danger the magic still acknowledges, the danger they all still feel. They move like an ocean wave, rippling in one smooth stroke. The dance-floor clears again, only Quaxo and Alonzo staying on with Pounce. Alonzo's hips go crazy again — a definite contrast to Quaxo's gravity-defying leaps and twirls. The two black-and-white toms dominate the floor, with Alonzo teasingly flirting with Bomba, rolling his tail around and shaking his arse.

He takes Cassandra by the paw, affectionately leading the younger-cat to the floor, and then Bomba steals the stage and beckons her fellow queens on. The division between queens and toms is primal, but effective. Tugger can feel it leading them towards the Mating Dance. The primitive instinct to find a mate synonymous with the Jellicle magic. Amplified by it, even. He follows Alonzo and Plato into the toms' dancing-line, partnering with Bomba as the two lines merge.

The toms whisk the queens away, this time Quaxo returning with a different tom — this time Pouncival. The young toms' sinuous, elegant movements are beautiful, but the eye is drawn specifically to Quaxo, perhaps because of his striking tuxedo-coat, but probably more because he has become the music. 'Poetry in motion' sounds too cliche, but it's true. It's as if he's absorbing the raw magic from the music and feeding off it, glowing from within.

Tugger can't tear his eyes away from him, even as he twirls Bomba around in his arms.

He can tell she is annoyed by his lack of attention, but cannot bring himself to care because Quaxo.

Then, Old Deuteronomy returns to the 'floor, and a new kind of gravity is brought onto the scene. He is representative of the Moon to them, drawing them around, but an inverse metaphor for Her — instead, they circle around Deuteronomy in orbit, his presence sending them spinning on their axes. The Jellicle Moon shines upon them all, but most of all on Deuteronomy and his personally selected Chosen Few — the cats who he has deemed worthy of special Honours this Ball.

This year one of those special cats is Victoria. The Moon paints her a ghostly will-o'-the-wisp white with lilac flame. She has been Chosen to be Mated, and her chosen Mate — Plato. The tom dwarfs Victoria, but strangely enough, they look good together. Plato bends to Victoria's height, rakes his claws down her back as she stretches tall. He lifts her high above his head and turns slowly, displaying and declaring her proudly as his and he as hers.

A 'Mating Dance' brings to mind a sexual display, but this is purely symbolic. Intimate, yes, but chaste. A celebration of two souls joining together in spirit. Whilst Victoria and Plato may grow up and drift apart in later years, whilst they may eventually take other partners and have kittens with other cats — they will always have this. They are Mates now and forever, which is a permanent bonding of souls.

As Old Gus is to Jellylorum. As Bustopher is to Jennyanydots (a long, long time ago).

As Demeter is to Macavity.

Is, not was. This sort of thing lasts forever. The Moon ensures it.

No one watches the two Mates' dance directly (except for Deuteronomy, of course, to chaperone). They lounge around in pseudo-casual sprawls, curled up and stretched out loosely like scattered leaves across the 'yard. Altogether they watch them surreptitiously with little sideways glances. They make a beautiful pair, irresistible and generous in their performance. Soon Plato invites Skimble to admire Victoria's beauty, and then every Jellicle gets in on it, squirming around the Mates happily, sharing in their love.

It's electric and sublime. The sharing and coming together of cats, rejoicing of their love and the Jellicle Moon. It takes a lot out of them to pour out their souls like this, and so they all snuggle down for a nice little nap (much to Munk's chagrin, though he had planned for the possibility of possible catnaps, so he isn't too peeved).

Tugger has just got his head tucked into Bomba's voluptuous bosom when —

The twins spring up in unison. Jemima squeaks, the movement startling her, but before she can react further — Quaxo also bobs up, sniffing the air, his paws trembling. Skimble is the next to cotton onto something being amiss, but not long after, they all rise and scan the surroundings for the intruder, and — there she is. The intruder.

Grizabella.

Tugger almost forgot about her lurking around.

Quaxo rolls his paws in a forwards spiral, rising to his hind legs, stretching to his greatest height — a burst of sparkles. Etcetera leaps at Grizabella with a high-pitched yowl, scaring the bejeezus out of her.

And then they break out dancing again, this time even livelier than before — energised by their 'nap' that was more like a slow blink than anything truly restful. Part of it is a dominance display, intended to shun Grizabella, to convince her to take her leave from the party. The other part is sheer excitement. The Mating Dance went off without a hitch, the Ball is still running despite the various interruptions they've had, everyone is safe and accounted for. The only problem currently is Grizabella hanging around, putting a dampener on the festivities.

Tugger scrambles up the junk-pile to check on his dad, leaning on his huge shoulders and gesturing at the dancing cats, mischievously nudging him towards the dance-floor. Deuteronomy levels him with a droll stare, puffing out his chest to show how inflexible his massive bulk is — how impossible it is for him to dance like any of the others can. Tugger grins, thinking about the stories Skimble told him about Deuteronomy in his youth. Apparently before he was a father, he was the best dancer the 'yard had ever seen. Sleek, long-limbed and fast — an urban panther with glossy fur.

It's pretty inconceivable for Tugger to imagine his father like that. He's only ever known him as he is now — with his thick woollen fur and cuddly physique.

However, it's nice to think about it. Deuteronomy loves to watch his cats dance, no doubt remembering doing so himself a long time ago. His vicarious gaze fills them all with purpose, and Tugger thinks — they are his legacy. Not just him and Munk but all of them: the other Jellicles and any other cat adopted into the extended family.

With that luminous thought in mind, he quickly nuzzles his father's ear and then slips back down the junk-pile to rejoin the dance.

Racing straight through to the front, with Plato and Alonzo on both sides, he draws inspiration from the impossibly magnificent spectre of Young Deuteronomy dancing in his mind, bolstered by the idea that his blood flows through his veins. To his delight, Jemima joins them, unintimidated by the larger toms — she throws her arms up to the Moon, eyes scrunched up happily. He glimpses her out of the corner of his eye, her short limbs whip-fast compared to his much-longer-ones, but —

No matter how big or small any of the cats are, they all swing their bodies together in perfect time.

Yes, Tugger thinks, delighting in the silver light, the bright-fizzy magic buzzing through him, the glimmering silhouette of his Younger-Father dancing in his mind's eye. Yes.

They dance fiercely. Freely. Passionately.

Liquid motions interspersed with scorpion-like strikes of their tails. Claws lashing out and curling, muscles twisting and stretching. Every atom of Tugger's body is alight, and even if he cannot become one with the waves of magic coursing through the 'yard, he does his best to ride them till they die, fizzling out as they all collapse at the end. Exhausted.

Tugger laughs internally, catching sight of a twitching paw inches in front of his face. He lifts his head just high enough to see his family all splayed around him, their bodies heaving for breath like a bunch of beached whales. His heart is pumping a mile a minute, but it feels good. It feels fantastic.

And then.

They drag themselves up slowly, crawling over to be closer to Deuteronomy, and further away from… blast it. She's still there. Tugger cringes, eyeing Grizabella as she hobbles after them, dragging her ragged tail limply behind her.

Why is she still here? She's ruining things!

It all felt so good after the dance, but now — ugh. Tugger glowers at her from the shadows, an ugly sneer taking over his face as he finally starts to understand why the others loathe her, if for no other reason than she cannot take a hint.

The twins hiss as they pass her, but stay at a distance. Then Tugger stalks past her too, shaking his mane in such a way to convey his disgust. He can feel her eyes follow him, strangely heavy on his back. Trying to brush off any feeling of guilt, he keeps his head up and his steps slow and confident.

Sweet little Jemima doesn't understand why they are shunning Grizabella, and so she reaches towards her with a smile but Skimble quickly intervenes, shooing her away from the old queen. Tumblebrutus flies across the stage and mockingly rubs against Grizabella before shoving her aside, and then Demeter follows her daughter's lead — this time managing to get close enough to touch her. Something about her expression suggests that she sympathises with Grizabella, but her nose twitches madly and her eyes flash with shame and her grip on Grizabella withers. Before Tugger can question this reaction, Demeter is gently pulled away by her sister, and she and Munk share a worried glance.

Bombalurina spirits Demeter away, and then Munk looks to Deuteronomy for instruction on what to do with Grizabella (who is trespassing, Tugger mentally stresses again). As he does this, the old queen stares up at him, her face scrunched up in distress. Perhaps she is afraid of Munk? But no — it's more than wariness. Grizabella steps closer towards Munk (Alonzo and Tugger both jerk forwards at this, ready to intervene), her eyes widening with — with recognition, Tugger realises —

Just before she can reach him, Munk turns and strides away stiffly, like he's trying to escape a foul stench.

Then Jellylorum's shrill voice rings out. Hardly a song, more a mocking sneer at Grizabella. She yanks Victoria back before she can touch the other queen, just like Skimble did with Jemima. Jelly chases Victoria out just as Jemima creeps back in, the little queen eagerly (warmly, kindly) reaches out to Grizabella again, her mouth curved up in a welcoming smile. Jennyanydots, who has been watching from nearby, grabs Jemima and ushers her away, spinning around to hiss at Grizabella before she leaves too.

When she turns around and Tugger catches a glimpse of her face, her eyes are deadened things.

What's startling is how visible it is that this callous rejection has hurt her. For once, she's letting it show.

Tugger's stomach clenches, because he did it too — he joined in with the shunning this time, mostly due to irritation at her persistence than with any real hate, but in the same vein as the others… a bolt of shame weighs on his conscience when he realises that no matter his reasons, he still joined in. He still added to her pain.

Whatever the other Jellicles' motives for exiling Grizabella, whatever it is she has done to deserve exile, does that justify treating her like this? Like she is a disease? It's cruel.

Grizabella turns her head slowly, staring her audience down with grim determination, steeling herself for more abuse.

Then she lifts her chin and arms, paws twisting like she's twirling invisible batons, and she turns her head coquettishly. Is she… is she trying to dance?

Tugger gapes as she moves her bad leg in a small circle, pointing her paw and casting her forepaws to the Moon. A glimmer — no, a sparkle of magic twinkles in her eyes. She almost smiles, but then as she raises her eyes towards her paws, the moment she sees them all scarred and matted — the illusion shatters. Her mouth twists down in sadness.

She's too old, and must realise that trying to dance is painful, and alone, it is pointless.

She drops her arms.

Her head too.

This is when Tugger notices that she has a ruff around her neck, only barely raised from the rest of her tattered fur. He doesn't know why this catches his attention, but then — then she is singing.

The only one left onstage with her is Deuteronomy, who watches from afar, huge but not imposing. A soft silhouette gazing on her with the Moon at his back. Tugger's eyes are on Grizabella, though he is mainly listening. Mainly listening and… and feeling oddly nostalgic.

Almost homesick.

Not surprising, given the context of her song. She sings about her past, about… about the life she's lived, or to be more accurate, suffered. Sad tales of wandering cold, lonely streets at night time. The thought of being subjected to such a life fills Tugger with grief. It's impossible to not be affected by her story, but — Tugger looks around.

Only he and his father are left watching her.

The others — well, he sees a few pairs of eyes catching the light here and there — have mostly left her to sing without an audience. He supposes they aren't affected by her story, but only because they aren't listening.

Turning back to Grizabella, Tugger listens to her, her vibrant, clear voice glistening like dew on spiderwebs. His heart feels heavy, his head muddled. This feeling… this homesickness — he cannot shake the idea that it might not be just empathy, but that it belongs to him too. What does it mean that he feels a longing at Grizabella's words? Something hidden deep inside him yearning for recognition, aching for relief?

He has no connection to her. He doesn't know her at all — and yet, he feels like he does.

Maybe it is just the power of music?

Before, it was something about her voice that called to him. Now… now it's many things.

Old Deuteronomy reaches out to her as she finishes her song, his face full of melancholy.

What on earth —

The tom doesn't leave his perch, doesn't move other than to reach out towards Grizabella's retreating back, but his expression… is wrought with anguish. He looks the very definition of heartbroken.

But why?

Even though Tugger also feels like his heart is being squeezed, something about his father's reaction seems far more visceral. He knows her, Tugger thinks, but that isn't much of a revelation to draw from this. Of course Deuteronomy knows her — he knows everyone.

Something though… something about this is different.

He feels like he's only scratching the surface of something much deeper.

Grizabella was in the process of shaking herself after her song, trying again to regain some dignity before leaving them, but then — she pauses. She doesn't turn around to face Deuteronomy, but she does tilt her head and reach behind her towards him. Tugger watches the exchange with great confusion. Why don't they just face each other? Why the distance? It seems like they both want to comfort each other, but something is holding them back.

A rustle pulls him from his musings, and acts to remind him the reason why: they are not alone here.

It may seem like they are, what with the others all hiding away in the corners of the 'yard, but they aren't. There are eyes watching. Many scared, and disapproving eyes.

The old queen must be all too aware of this. She has already ruffled far too many feathers with her constant interruptions. Suddenly Tugger remembers the reason she came here. She came with a message: to warn them, to tell them to leave. He frowns. Should he tell the others? It didn't seem like she was fibbing before, and with Macavity about it would make sense to heed any warning, no matter how small nor random it may be.

Better to err on the side of caution, his conscience whispers. Better to be safe than sorry

But.

It's the Jellicle Ball.

And it's… it's Grizabella bringing this warning.

Would any of the other cats listen if he told them they had to leave — now, and with no reason as to why, other than 'Macavity!' — whom they already know is a threat?

No, they probably wouldn't, especially if they knew this warning came from Grizabella's mouth. The Ball hasn't gone smoothly at all this year. It's had several interruptions, false alarms and numerous mess-ups already, but despite all that, they are still unanimously determined to see it through, no matter how dangerous it may get.

Tugger considers how foolish their perseverance may prove to be. It may cost them in the long run, but Jellicles were made stubborn and desperate creatures. They instinctively cling onto the illusion of safety, they blindly follow their traditions, they always believe that things will turn out alright in the end.

Would it be cruel to force them to be realistic, or should he allow their ignorance to punish them in the end? To have this knowledge and the choice to share it or not… these cats are his family, he has a duty to protect them, but if they won't listen…

He stares at Grizabella, heavy inside, his whiskers quivering as he toys with his indecision.

Old Deuteronomy finally shuffles down from his perch just as Grizabella flees the scene. He watches his father gaze after her with such a forlorn look that… that he wonders who she was to him. A friend? An old lover? Slowly, the others return to the stage as Deuteronomy sinks, sitting down heavily — seemingly deflating in his misery, a song gusting out of every sigh that escapes him.

A song about happiness.

Tugger listens.

Happiness.

The lines on Deuteronomy's face are not his usual laughter lines, but long, deep gouges into his skin. Furrows filled with pain. With regret.

This is not happiness.

He sings with a crack in his heart. A deep, slow, rumbling voice rambling nonsense. Unhinged meanings. Nonsense.

Tugger has never seen his father so inarticulate before. What he's singing is an endless tumbling of words that simply hurt, but do not explain the reason for why they hurt. Frustrated, the Jellicles remain scattered all over the 'yard, slumped in various sprawls. As they all sink into a foul mood, Tugger notices that the twins are twitching madly, quivering and swaying. They've done this before — acting like a conduit between Confusion and Understanding.

They now act the same way, but instead working to channel Deuteronomy's energy into… Jemima.

Jemima, whose face lights up the moment she Understands. She grabs Tanto's trembling paw (her other paw held by her brother), and leaps to her feet.

Then a voice so sweet it sounds like silver bells comes out of her, and Tugger shivers at the magic vibrating in every note.

She sings of the Moon.

Of Moonlight. Embracing it. Embracing your past, your memories. Reconciling with the past, and accepting it.

This song isn't just about Grizabella, it's about all of them. Tugger sees some guilty glances being passed around, some embarrassed looks following those. He thinks about Moonlight — about the Moon. Such a simple analogy of the kind of happiness Deuteronomy failed to explain clearly, but the way Jemima described it makes sense, in an abstract sort of way.

On any given night Tugger glances at the Moon to track the time of month or to try to use its light to see by. He doesn't look to it for more than its function as a time-piece or lighting device, but now — on this Jellicle Moon — he does, and when he does… his heart aches at its beauty.

It is a cold light, lonely and far, far away.

It is precious though, and pure. Looking at it makes Tugger feel young and old at the same time. Timeless. Ageless. Happy, yet sad.

That is what Deuteronomy meant. That is what Grizabella and Jemima meant.

Moments of happiness.

The lesson learnt — the song they all sing, repeating it to remember. To not forget.

And then they spring to their feet as the Jellicle Moon surges forth, brightening in a wash of white — the lesson seared into their brains, never to be forgotten.

As the light fades away, Jellylorum turns to her Mate with a warm smile. Old Gus doesn't seem to notice, but she doesn't mind — they are all used to how he is nowadays. She releases him, and off he totters, shaking so hard his frail body seems to blur. Tugger gasps, recognising that Old Gus is Jelly's nomination to Deuteronomy to consider for the Heaviside Layer. After all these years together, she's decided to let him go.

Too much.

Too much sadness and happiness and sadness, all in one go.

Tugger cannot move on as quickly as the others. He is still stuck on Grizabella, even as they start to disperse into the next act, even as Deuteronomy scrambles down to try to help Old Gus settle down (and is snubbed for his efforts — Jelly having to take over and get him sat down)… he cannot forget her or her song.

Or the way that his family treated her.

Or the way that his father looked at her.

As Jelly rushes in to start the next bid for Deuteronomy's Choice, eager to persuade him her Mate is deserving of it, Tugger continues to wallow in second-hand grief, wondering who on earth Grizabella really is.

And what, by the Everlasting Cat, she did to deserve the life she got.

---

Author's Note:

Hi guys, sorry that this chapter is basically mostly retelling of the events of the Cats The Musical movie. I think the next chapter and possibly the one after that might also follow the movie-plotline, but then it'll carry on further than the canon too. I know it's all a bit boring to read stuff you've probably already seen, but I like to think it's important to the story. You'll have to tell me later if you agree with my opinion.

So I've based the details of everything on the movie adaptation, especially details of the dance choreography/direction. The reason for this is: however much I love and encourage you to go see Cats live in the theatre, however much I wish I could see it again and again live in theatre, the reality is that it is far more affordable and convenient to merely rewatch it ad infinatum via DVD. Also, to put it plain, sometimes you get really shitty seats in theatre so you can't really see who's doing what onstage, or sometimes the audio is too loud or interrupted by a horrible audience.

I really like the movie version too, for all the little interesting quirks and clips they've chosen to include, as well as their interpretation of the characters. It's fun to be able to study the interactions between the characters and think about why they're doing this or that, and by golly, the number of times I've rewinded to super-analyse things is rather worrying. Anyway, in summary, the movie-verse is what I'm primarily basing my story on because it's good for reference, I'm not made of money, and it actually does well to support my own spin on things.

Thanks for reading, sorry that I'm a slow writer!

~puui x