Rating: R (M)

Genre: Romance, Drama, Angst, some Humor, Sap

Warnings: Slash, Het, mention of sex, some blood, swearing, incest (they're cats, there's nothing unnatural about it)

Pairings: Misto/Munku, Tugger/Bomba, mention of Munku/Dem, some Cass/Munku, past Bomba/Munku,

Timeline: two weeks from the Jellicle ball in the movie.

Description: Love cannot exist for a magical cat; in fact, it's fatal if it does.

Disclaimer: I do not own CATS, or any portions thereof. None of the following events took place in the original CATS plotline, and I do not claim that they do.

Songs to Read With: (not mandatory) Take on Me (Ah-Ha), If You Could See What I See (Geoff Moore and the Distance), I Must Be Dreaming (Frou-Frou)

Between Death and Love

Chapter Nine

By Edenrising

(Recap. From chapter eight)

"Yes, it is a secret." It was almost in disbelief.

Mistoffelees sat timidly, his body curled in on itself and very aware of Bomba's eyes bearing into him. It was almost as if time had stopped for the black tom, his breathing was slow and his heart seemed to have stopped momentarily. There are moments in every living being's life, where everything becomes suddenly clear and simple; this was one of those moments, and Mistoffelees didn't like what he saw.

He was in love, with everything he had to give. Munkustrap had captivated him entirely and he found himself no longer caring whether he lived or died, even for the tribe, but instead of the betrayal that Munkustrap would eventually commit against him and the betrayal he was already committing against his lover. And as he looked around at Bomba, and took in her stunned gaze and the sadness creeping into her eyes, he wished he hadn't said anything to her in the first place. He was selfish.

He had no right to bring this kind of pain upon others; he had no right of the kind. He'd bonded with Munkustrap without his permission or knowing, and committed him into a relationship with no end, one that the tabby would never know about in the full extent (if he could help it). He'd fallen in love with the very cat he'd eventually hurt and would break his own heart from it, and cause unnecessary pain from the people he cared about- like Bomba.

'But no,' he thought, 'You had no choice; you had to create the necessary time to ready the Jellicle tribe from your eventual death… You had no choice.' He stared into the eyes of the red queen, awaiting her reaction. And as her distress increased, and the anguish began to form, he wondered (not for the first time) why Bast had given Magical cats such a death trap, why he had ensured their death from birth to such and extent that it could destroy all those around them in the process.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, "I shouldn't have said anything." He stood and turned away from her, staring at the bookshelf where he kept all of his magical references.

Bomba's breathing quickened, and her heart beat faster, "Don't be an idiot," she said, "This concerns me just as much as it concerns you- don't be selfish!" She reached to put a hand on his shoulder, and wasn't surprised when she found the hand roughly shrugged away.

"I am being selfish; I should have kept it to myself." He turned to her, and stared her hard in the eyes, allowing both arms to limply hang at his sides. "You didn't have to know. It was unnecessary."

Her eyes narrowed, and then, with a rough movement, she took him by the shoulders and forced the small tom back into his previous seat, "That's a load of crap Misto! Come on, I know you better than that. Don't try to make things easier for other people when you're the one who's going to be hurt the most- stop trying to be so selfless and helpful all the time!" her words fell on deaf ears, as Misto's eyes unfocused and stared beyond the red queen, lost in another thought.

He was going to die; take his last breath, feel his heart stop moving and most likely be in pain while it happened. He knew that before this time, the thought of death had never really bothered him- he was prepared for when it would happen, at least he thought he was. Now that he was presented with the actual occurrence, he felt frightened. He loved his life, with all its stress and hard work; he loved doing magic, babysitting the kittens, talking with Bomba and kissing Munkustrap. And someday soon, in all likeliness, he would close his eyes to lung-shattering pain never to open them again, and the tribe would wonder where he'd gone. Pouncival would cry, Bomba would cry, Munkustrap would cry, Tugger would be very very sad, Jelly and Jenny would cry- everyone, even Cassandra, would feel the absence. He didn't want anyone to feel like their family was incomplete, because no matter how close or distanced the Jellicle tribe was, they mourned when they lost a member of their already small tribe.

He didn't want to be the cause of pain.

"-Misto, your not listening!" Bomba's voice penetrated his thoughts, "Please listen to me." she stared at him, with the strangest look on her face. "Why are you dying? What from?"

Misto sighed; she'd had to have asked that eventually, "Love."

"What?"

"I'm dying from love, Bomba." He caught her incredulous look, and decided he needed to clarify, "Magical cats have what is known as a 'magical core', it feeds the magic into our system and fuses it with our blood." He looked at her to see if she was listening, and continued, "Much like how your blood is filled with oxygen, mine is filled with a delicate mixture of oxygen and a magical substance called Tadre.

"This substance keeps us alive, since our bodies are developed specifically to run on this substance, air alone can not sustain me. Magical cats are very weak physically, as you know, and are very lean and small when male because they rely on magic to fire their immune system- our bodies are more about the inner and not the outer strength. Even so the 'magic core' within us remains unstable and unsure, because it must focus on keeping us from getting sick or being cut, which would occur much more easily if the core was not there. (1)

"This instability thus searches for an outside source to lend its strength- a mate, to be specific. Usually one of good physical abilities and intelligence, and use his-"

"His?" Bomba, interrupted.

"Male magical cats almost always have male mates. Anyway, the magic seeks to capture the source and have it as its own, and then forms a bond with the individual. This bond is brought about by a show of affection, like hugging or a pat on the back, and the core begins to pour Tadre into this bond, strengthening it and making the magical cat more dependent on the bond. Our blood begins to need less Tadre to remain useful by our bodies, and we begin to strengthen because of it- while still being able to use our magic.

"But the bond is very fragile; it relies on constant shows of affection to remain stable, and consummation to become stable in the first place. If the bond is betrayed by an act of unfaithfulness on the non-magical mate's part, the bond will rupture and break sending all the magic back into the magical cat at once."

Bomba stared at the magician, "And this is bad because?..." she motioned with her hand.

Mistoffelees sighed, "After the bond becomes stable, the magical cat's body becomes accustomed to only having oxygen in his/her veins and the veins shrink in size. The core, which is placed in the heart, slows down, causing the heart to beat slower."

"Oh, right- your heart used to beat really fast when you were younger." Bomba muttered, remembering.

He nodded, "Right. So, if the bond is broken, the Tadre will enter my blood stream instantly, and the blood will gain mass, the magic overflowing into the 'magic core'- which has gotten used to working at a slower rate than before. And then," Misto took a deep breath, "The veins increase in size immediately, sending increased amounts of blood to the heart and increased amounts of blood to the core, causing the heart and the veins to burst and killing me almost instantly."

Bomba's reaction with expected, her first reaction was to bring a hand to her mouth in disbelief and begin to breathe heavily. There is no way to describe the emotional tearing that occurs when a loved one close to you tells you how they are going to die, and that it was going to happen somewhere in the near future. But it was like her world was falling apart; life without Misto? Impossible.

"… how come you never told me?" Bomba said in a slow and deliberate tone, "Why did you keep it a secret?" her voice rose, and tears came to her eyes. Her (adoptive) brother, her baby brother was going to die, or was likely to die, and she couldn't do anything about it!

"Because I didn't want to hurt anybody-"

"I'm hurt now!" She yelled, tears falling, causing Mistoffelees to lean back. "You could have done something, I could have helped you! Stop trying to make things better, stop trying to protect the people around you..." she trailed off, realizing the extent of her words, and whispered to him, "Ignorance causes more pain than the truth, Misto." She forced a smile on her lips. "It's a hard fact of life."

Mistoffelees clasped his hands together over his knees and stared at them, "Then, what am I supposed to do, Bomba?" he said, "I'm stuck in this now."

Bomba was about to say something to further the subject, but the look on Mistoffelees' face was painful and she stopped herself. "C'mere." She said, holding out her arms and beckoning the small tom towards her. The magician reluctantly allowed the red queen to comfort him, her arms warm and soft he could feel the slight bump of her stomach where her two kittens rested soundly. "I'm sorry I yelled, sweets, I'm not helping much am I?"

A tear made its way down her cheek and fell on the black head. Mistoffelees remained silent.

"Well, it seems we can do one of two things; allow things to run their course," she paused, sniffing, "Or, make Munkustrap so in love with you that he wouldn't dream of wanting anyone else." At Mistoffelees' bewildered look she giggled half-heartedly, "Oh, come on, you know I could never stay mad at you for long- you're too cute, Misto." Then she tapped the side of her head thoughtfully, wiping her cheek as she did so, "Alright, well, we wouldn't want to freak him out with the whole 'Love more or I die bit', but we can try and get him to commit a bit better. After Tugger, it can't be so hard."

Mistoffelees didn't know what to say, he hugged her tighter, and stared at the floor of his old den. He couldn't bring himself to smile, for all that he wished he could, and was secretly glad that the red queen couldn't see his face at the moment. All at once, it seemed, everything was completely overwhelming and his breathing became ragged- overpowering any control he had previously. He was just so sad.

And much to Bomba's expectancy and the magician's astonishment, he began to cry and his stress, worries and fears took form as his eyes overflowed and tumbled down his face. His shoulders shook and his throat was raw from the routine sobbing and he could hardly breathe in between; but he just couldn't stop, however much he wanted to. The black tom couldn't remember the last time he had cried so profusely, he couldn't recall when his throat hurt from convulsing non-stop; he didn't think he ever had.

He lay there, against Bomba's chest; sorrow exposed, and wondered why she didn't cry. She had been so close to it, he knew; he had felt the wetness on his brow. His arms tightened against her and she was still, neither encouraging nor prohibiting, and once again, he found himself thanking Bast for Bomba. Slowly her hand moved up and down his back, and she whizzed breath through he teeth, it comforted his mind.

Absent mindedly, Mistoffelees realized he was still crying, and that his eyes were raw from the amount of fluid that had fallen from them and his cheeks stung with the salt. His heart beating quickly, he almost didn't notice that he was whispering something unknowingly, but it can to his attention.

"I don't want it anymore." He sobbed, Bomba didn't hear him it was so quiet. No, he did want it, him. He wanted Munkustrap so bad it hurt, "I don't want it anymore." He didn't want to have no control, to be bound by restraint and fear and responsibility, "I don't want it anymore." It just made sense to say it, but what could he do? Unless he took his own life, which he had no plans on doing, he was stuck with it. "I don't want it anymore." And slowly but surely, the compulsion left him to repeat it, because now he accepted it.

Slowly, the sobbing which had long run out of tears subsided, and he could breathe again, "Bomba?" he croaked, on the verge of tears and calm. He had so little control.

"Yeah?" her hand still rubbed his back comfortingly.

"You're wrong, it can be hard."

Bomba sighed, "Yes Misto, it can be hard. But only if you let it."

The black cat breathed a chuckle, "True." And that was all there needed to be said.

(1) much like the butterfly disease