Author's Note:
So this chapter concludes the Jellicle Ball. It's the last part of this story that follows the path of the canonical musical/movie. Everything after this chapter will be my continuation of that beyond canon, and therefore be original.
Thanks for being so patient, everyone!
Something Tugger never really pays much mind to is when cats become old.
Like, really old. Like, wandering-close-to-the-grave old.
Maybe it's the combination of being the son of Old Deuteronomy and the irony of life that means the concept of ageing is lost on him. So when he sees cats like Old Gus being nominated to be Chosen, it takes a moment for him to take in this fragile old tom in all his years and understand what the years have done to him. His story is one much regaled around the 'yard, and though his 'fame' was never quite as prolific as he'd boasted in his youth, he is remembered as having been one of the 'yard's most beloved entertainers.
But look at him now.
Withered and tattered with age. A sad and sorry sight.
But when Jelly tries to narrate his life for him, a twinkle returns to Gus' eye as he suddenly remembers, and then he cuts across her in song, and she lets him — she lets him. Gentle and adoring she is, mindful of his skittishness and mindless to his atrocious manners. Jelly is never like this with the kittens. Only with her mate — only ever him.
His voice is rougher. Less sweet than Tugger remembers, but to Tugger and many other cats of his litter it brings back fuzzy memories of the matinee performances he'd do that went on far past bedtime (much to Jenny's despair). Gus would give each one of them an important part in the play, and then the great actor would lead them himself…
Tugger watches and remembers with fondness and nostalgia, captivated as he ever was by this old theatre-cat.
"Tug."
A pebble bounces off his nose.
Tugger sneezes.
"Oi, Tugger!"
Pouncival flips his tail at him, ignoring the others trying to shush him as he waves Tugger over.
Much though he is annoyed by his interruption, he grudgingly follows the younger tom backstage, and surprise surprise — Munk and Alonzo are there. Pounce grins apologetically before darting away, leaving Tugger to deal with the two banes of his life.
Tugger wrinkles his nose.
"So, what is it you wanted me for?"
The two share a look, and then Munk decides to take the lead, delivering the news with his usual style of casually terrifying and blunt to-the-point-of rude.
"There's going to be an attack."
All the blood in his veins seems to freeze at this not-so-unexpected announcement.
"What he means is he thinks there's going to be an attack," Alonzo clarifies, shooting Munk another look before turning back to Tugger. "And I agree. After everything that's happened tonight it feels like something is definitely coming. It's only a matter of time."
He blinks slowly. "It's always been 'a matter of time'. What makes you so certain that time's going to be now?" Tugger asks, deliberately forgetting Grizabella's warning. He knows very well that denial is a fool's hope but doesn't care what that makes him.
"I got word from the patrols that when they went to check the source of the past two explosions they found nothing there," Munk says, his pupils as thin as needles. "They looked all over the place, and although they found traces of magic, there was no one there."
"Which means…?"
"Which means he's taunting us." Alonzo's whiskers ripple in agitation. "And with each explosion closer to the 'yard than the last, that means he's coming, Tugger — tonight."
He's coming. Tugger doesn't know why, but those two words are paralysing. He's seen his eldest brother several times since his banishment, but him coming to the 'yard tonight rings with such foreboding that he has to agree — Munk's right. With everything building so fast, there's going to be an attack.
"Are we calling it off then?" It would make sense to cancel the Ball before anything bad happens. It would be a damn shame and cause a right fuss with everyone, but safety matters more than convenience. What happened with the kittens last time is proof of that.
But then Munk surprisingly enough says "No," and all Tugger's ready-made plans to take the Jellicles to somewhere safe into the countryside fall apart.
"What do you mean 'no'?" Preposterous! "If he's out there and planning something, we need to leave — "
"What we need to do is finish him, once and for all," Munk says, eyes and voice as frosty as a winter's night. "This ends tonight, little brother. I won't allow him to terrorise our family any longer."
Tugger flinches. Finish him? Alonzo calmly meets his disbelieving gaze with a slow blink, equally as determined as Munk is to — to end one of their biggest problems, permanently. "So what's the plan, then?" he hears himself say with a shocking amount of derision. "You want to use the Ball to lure him here, and then you — you're going to…"
"We have this once chance, Tugger," Munk says softly, with an even-more-surprising lilt to his voice. When Tugger looked at his brother moments before, he almost didn't recognise him, but now there is a trace of him in his downcast gaze. He cannot imagine Munk killing their brother now, but before... less than a minute before, he could. Now, Munkustrap looks pained at the very thought, but there is a steeliness in his eyes that reminds Tugger that he isn't one to make empty promises.
"There is nothing he likes more than to hurt people," he says. "So to ruin our most special night of the year would be irresistible to him. He will come here, but once he arrives… he will not be leaving," Munk insists. "Not in the same condition, at any rate."
"Currently we have more cats at our disposal than we've ever had," Alonzo adds, ever-the-staunch-supporter of all Munk's decisions. "You know this, Tugger — you helped make the roster. We've done well this year. Should it come to it, we have a far better chance of winning a full-out battle than he will be expecting."
He's right — they do have a fairly good chance. Apparently Macavity's machiavellian activities have been affecting more than just their tribe which has meant that many cats have volunteered to join in the patrols for the Ball. Tugger wonders if he'd been so busy that the true reasons for those cats volunteering had completely passed over his head because it seems that what he'd assumed to be them offering their services in the spirit of being good, kindly neighbours was actually done with the intention of — of wanting to take Macavity down. A common enemy equals a common goal.
(Finish him, Tugger hears echoed in his head. For once and for all.)
They always knew this was coming, so why have Munk and Alonzo pulled him aside then? There are no further preparations to make.
Then Alonzo purrs, and both he and Munk move to flank Tugger on either side, and then they press against him, rumbling loudly. Comfortingly.
They came to prepare him, he realises, because they know Macavity's return will be hardest on him.
Tugger shudders and lets them lean against him. Lets their soothing purrs rumble deep in his bones. The banes of his life are equally a curse and blessing to him, always bringing such news to him but always as a kindness. He doesn't know what to think or feel, so lets them do their thing and then watches them leave: a shimmer of grey, black and white flickering under the lamplight like dappled light under a sunlit tree.
He takes a moment to gather himself, and then follows them back to the 'yard.
It seems they've missed something quite spectacular going by the wide, wet eyes of all the cats in the audience, but they've arrived just in time for the next musical number, this one being Deuteronomy's personal nomination…
… only Skimble seems to have nodded off sometime during Old Gus' song, and so Old D grasps his granddaughter Jemima's paws in his and begins the jolly song they've all written together. Light and joyous and bouncy, it can be for no other cat than Skimbleshanks! Tugger throws himself into it too, feeling his whole chest vibrate with how loudly he's singing, letting the music distract him from darker thoughts.
Still, his eyes keeps being drawn back to Munk, and Alonzo always seems to be hovering somewhere at the corner of his vision, like a warning.
It's obvious that Munk wants to watch over Jemima, but their old dad needs his help more to back up to his watching perch, so he leaves Alonzo to trail the young queen. Sadly, this makes sense to Tugger — of all the kits around, Jemima will be the one most in danger if (when) Macavity comes along. He keeps his own ears cocked towards his niece, and the rest of his mind split between song and surveillance.
The twins Coricopat and Tantomile meet him straight-on when his gaze sweeps over them, identically inscrutable expressions on their faces. It's eerie enough just having that, but then their firm nods of acknowledgement send shivers down his spine. They know. They slowly turn back to the performance, moving in perfect synchrony, and this — all of this is making Tugger too anxious to enjoy the music anymore. How can he, now that he knows what is coming? A quick scan of the 'yard shows him that there are less cats around than there were before, which means they must have gone to patrol.
He can't pretend that his hackles aren't fully raised after noticing this.
A hundred eyes watch over them. A hundred ears listen for that telltale crackle of fire, that long scrape of claws on concrete, that whisper of magic.
He cannot commit his heart to singing this distracted (which is a shame, given that it's for his favourite uncle) and... a flare of anger catches Tugger. A flicker of panic and then… then he realises there may have been another reason why Munk'n'Lonz took him aside to warn him about Macavity. Munk is the 'yard's Protector, Alonzo is his second-in-command — the two of them together are the core unit of the tribe's security-system. The tribe might not notice that the majority of hired patrol-cats have (seemingly) disappeared, but they would notice if their co-Protectors went AWOL too.
They might not notice though, if someone notoriously less-dependable, someone more prone to 'going off on his own' were to (appear to) abandon his duties.
It's uncanny how Munk knows to give him a sharp look right at that very moment. He's too busy helping the tribe assemble a ramshackle pretend-steam-train to wait for his answer but doesn't seem to mind. He knows Tugger will do what he asks — that he will do what is needed, regardless of who knows or cares. The fact that Munk trusts him is good enough. Tugger flicks his tail in silent acknowledgement and then slips away into the shadows.
He's been through everything backwards-and-forwards with both Munk and Alonzo. At first, he thought they were having him sit in the meetings to try and get him interested in what managing the 'yard's security plan entails, but now he knows that they were preparing him to take over the proceedings in the event that neither of them could. It means that he knows all the cats they've hired by face and name, and each of the posts they've been assigned. He knows where and when they will be. He knows it all so well that checking on each squad leader is easily done, even with him on auto-pilot as his mind whirs into panic.
He can't help but think that all of this... that all these preparations are pointless.
That they're falling into a trap.
Trying to keep Macavity out of the 'yard is like trying to keep pigs out of a mud puddle. All of the patrol-cats are manning their stations, there is not a single weakness in the entire bunch, and yet — all it takes is one small mistake.
One tiny opening, and he'll get in.
Tugger scoots around the edges of the 'yard, eyes flying all over the place as he scours the area for… for something. Anything. A glint of vibrant green eyes. A flicker of flame-red tail. Anything. But he keeps getting distracted by watching his brother and brother-mate playing with the rest of the cats at the Ball. To the untrained eye they'd look to be having tremendous fun, but to him — he can see them circling the area: one always close to the kittens, the other flitting back and forth between the tribe and Deuteronomy. As for Old D, Tugger is glad to see that he looks like he's cheered up and is joining in the festivities with all the vigour of a Moonlit Jellicle.
He and Skimble go way, way back. In fact, Tugger still isn't sure whether or not Skimble is, in fact, his blood-uncle. He looks several litters younger than Old Deuteronomy, but he can tell them marvellous stories about the Jellicle Leader that no other cat knows. Stories that make his father flush in embarrassment, but always with a twinkle in his eye.
Stories that only a brother could know.
Deuteronomy and Skimble frolick together arm-in-arm, one immensely large — the other remarkably prim, but both equally as buoyant in the Telling of Skimbleshanks.
And then the cat-built 'steam locomotive' goes spitting steam, and the whole thing crashing down piece by piece.
Tugger's heart climbs into his throat.
There is a moment where everyone freezes where they've fallen.
And then Skimble puts his hands on his hips and bows his head, shoulders trembling with laughter.
False alarm.
Good god, Tugger feels a swathe of relief hit him like an ocean-tide. At this rate he'll die from shock before Macavity even sets one foot in the yard.
Skimble and Deuteronomy share a long look and shrug together in unison before launching back into song, and then as they start crescendoing towards the dazzling finale — Tugger smells it.
Magic. Coming closer. Something growing stronger —
"Munk!" he calls, but cannot be heard over the singing. "Munk! Munk!"
Munk's ear twitches then, and he glances at Tugger just as he gives their uncle a paw up to stand on Alonzo's shoulders. He frowns at his panicked expression and then there is a flash of light.
The clatter of fallen things, the crash of broken glass.
Jemima hisses as the lights flicker on and off and the Jellicles all recoil as one. On and off, on and off, and then just off.
Off.
Darkness.
"Macavity!"
A low booming laugh.
A glint of teeth shine like a crescent moon in the distance that then fades away like smoke on the wind.
Tugger quakes in horror as Macavity leaps out of the shadows.
Munk is ready for him, claws and all.
But somehow, despite all his preparations, despite all the cats he has rallied together and trained to their peak — they are helpless to watch as two of Macavity's lackeys throw themselves at their father. They are small (barely a third his size) and yet they drag him down like lions on a wildebeest, and then he is dragged away, and then he is gone.
And Macavity is gone too.
"After him!" Munk bellows, and they give chase — dispersing in all directions. Tugger is torn between going after them or staying with the remaining Jellicles, knowing it would be foolish to leave them unguarded when Macavity is still about, but Deuteronomy… his father is gone.
But what about Jemima?
Oh god, Jemima!
Where is she? Tugger scans the crowd of blurry faces, but it takes three sweeps till he spots her nestled between Victoria and Jenny, her moon-like eyes fixed on her mother who is — what is Demeter doing? Tugger halts in his tracks, riveted by Demeter scuttling like an insect across the stage as she and Bombalurina weave in and out of one another's winding paths. Demeter's head spins each every which way, her ears pricking up at every rustle they hear. She looks both terrified and enraged.
Tugger has never seen her like this before.
He'd half-expected to find her curled up in a ball, hidden somewhere safe — but here she is: exposed to all and swinging around like a brandished sword. Bomba is, for once, the tamer counterpart to her sister, and further back a few feet Tugger spots Alonzo shadowing Demeter's steps. He also looks startled to see his usually-rather-timid-friend so fired up and watches in disbelief as she takes centre-stage and out of nowhere starts to sing.
Why… why is she singing? And about Macavity, no less!
This is not the time for singing!
Of all things — he's just about to pull her off-stage, but then Alonzo throws a paw out to stop him, eyes widening at Tugger as he tries to communicate something. Alonzo jerks his head towards Demeter and purses his lips. What is he trying to say…? Tugger squints.
Then he gets it.
Let her, Alonzo says with a twitch of his nose. He will come when he hears her singing. Let her draw him in.
It's cold, using Demeter as bait. Ice cold. But then again, Demeter is laying herself out in the open which she wouldn't otherwise do… maybe she's part of Munk's plan to draw Macavity out? Maybe even though it seems like they have all-but failed, so long as they get him where they want him they can trap him and then — and finish him.
Tugger bites his lip —
"What's mama doing?"
— and then almost bites through it.
"Great Scot!" He glares down at Jemima, and then bundles her under his arm. "Don't do that!"
"Why's mama singing like that?" Jemima asks, burrowing into his furs, but not taking her eyes off Demeter as she slithers around all sultry and such. It's such a provocative display that Tugger thinks most of the kits in the audience ought to be covering their eyes, but then again that's the point, isn't it? That's why Demeter's doing what she's doing — to catch Macavity's attention, knowing this is the only way she'll get it.
He huffs.
"She's… she's singing a… a very adult song," he says, wincing at his lame excuse. "And when you sing an adult song, you have to sing it… like that. Because it's so… naughty." Another wince.
"Oh," Jemima pouts. Ah, so innocent. So sweet — "Why's mama telling a story if it's naughty though? And where's grandpa gone? And who were those cats?" — so full of questions. Christ, how does Munk cope with this all day, every day? "And where's daddy? And why's Aunt Bomba dancing like that — "
"Okay, okay," Tugger babbles, slapping a paw to her mouth, "Shush now. Shush."
She blinks widely at him, and nods.
He pulls his paw away —
"And who's Macavity?"
Aw cripes.
"Not now!" he hisses, just as Bomba takes the next verse. "Just — look at auntie!" he pleads, pointing at said queen who swerves her hips in a wide arc as she tells them of Macavity's crimes. Jemima pouts again. "Look!" Tugger urges. "She's explaining, so listen."
Bomba's accusations are rather less… supernatural than Demeter's. She's mainly calling him out for stealing groceries or breaking windows, not like Demeter who claims he's behind every major crime in London, but then — Tugger realises that Demeter's tone is mocking, and he realises… that's the whole point of the queen's song. Where Demeter pretends to laud his name and all his wicked accomplishments, she's only setting him up for Bomba to tear down, belittling his work to be nothing more than mundane pranks. His ears twitch at the sound of distant twittering. Muffled laughter.
It's a dangerous game, baiting Macavity like this — and most likely riling him up too — but god if it isn't effective. There's both a releasing and building of tension. Laughter eases them from the shock of losing Deuteronomy, but mocking Macavity like this is also laughing in the face of Death.
Excellent work, girls, he thinks as the other queens join in. You're brave queens, he thinks when they titter amongst themselves. Much braver than me.
But then he catches sight of something. A flash of bright orange fur… but it isn't Macavity. It's too small to be him. "Wait!" he barks, but before he can stop her Jemima tears out into the 'yard and falls into line with Victoria and the others. Well great. Now Munk's gonna be made an only child by the end of the night.
(Hopefully not an orphan too, if all goes well…)
Despite Tugger recognising his impending doom, he has to admit: the dance and song are definitely working. Macavity won't be able to ignore being mocked like this. His pride won't allow it. To have not only his mate, but all the Jellicle queens jeering at him like this… it's only a matter of time. And then, as if summoned by this very thought, Munk slinks back into the 'yard. His presence is so sudden that for a moment, no one realises he's returned. The Protector's goes to check on Demeter and Bomba, before she can speak — that low, haunting cackle rises out of the side-alley. Munk instantly spreads himself out in front of them, shielding them from view.
There he is!
Macavity, atop the old water tower, bearing teeth and claws.
There! Over there!
Macavity, by the curtain drapes, crooked tail lashing side-to-side.
Munk yowls and turns to face him, rising to his full-height and lifting all the fur on his body. "Macavity!" he bellows, "Return father at once! If you don't, I swear I will tear you apart, limb from limb!"
"Daddy, look!" Jenny gasps, turning their attention to the other side of the stage, where… could it be?
"Father!" Tugger cries, rushing out to meet him. The old tom quavers a little, leaning heavily on the two hench-cats holding him up. "Oh, you fiends!" he howls as Etcetera and the other kittens take him. "What have you done to him?"
"Tugger," Munk calls sharply, tight like a whip. "How is he?"
He shakes his head, unable to answer. The relief of having their father back is near-overwhelming. His mere presence seems to minimise their woes —
"Tugger, I think he's…" Pouncival scrunches his nose up, and tugs at Tugger's arm. "… I think he's alright. I don't smell any blood, but — "
"Oh, my love!" Jenny exclaims, stealing Tugger's attention as she takes Deuteronomy's paws in her own and nuzzles them. "Oh, bless me you're alright! You're back! Thank the Everlasting — "
"Demi?" Bomba asks gently, her quiet voice somehow cutting through the Jellicles' cries of relief and once again catching his eye and ear (he is bouncing from person to person, from joy to wavering disbelief, to confusion and doubt). "What is it? What's wrong?"
The queen in question is trembling violently, and shrugs her sister off when she tries to touch her. "No," Demeter mutters. "No, no, no, it's not right…"
Jenny, spotting one of her favourite queens in distress, pauses midway in embracing Deuteronomy. "What is it, my dear?" she calls, sharing a puzzled look with Etcetera, who shrugs.
"I… I don't know, but…" Demeter suddenly turns and leaps towards Deuteronomy and the cats surrounding, "It's not him! Get him away!"
"Steady on!" Skimble yells, grabbing a couple of stunned toms who were sent flying through the air in shock. "What's got your tail in a knot, lassie?"
Munk hushes him and pulls Cassandra out of Demeter's warpath as she leaps at them too. Tugger grabs Bomba as she tries to calm the kits. "What's got into her?" he demands, and then — "Oh my lord!"
Because Demeter has hopped right onto Deuteronomy's back. And she's teeth-in biting him and claws-out scraping at his back! He whirls around, gaining speed as he tries to shake her off. Bomba gasps, clutching his arm, but he can barely feel it, too shocked by the chaos they are witnessing unfold. "Demeter! Demeter, stop! Have you lost your mind?"
Deuteronomy spins faster and faster, and that distinctive smell of magic fills Tugger's nose again, sending him reeling backwards. There is a blur of black-and-white at the corner of his eye and then Quaxo's voice crying out, "No — no, stop him! Stop him!"
And then Deuteronomy's ragged fur ripples all down the back, and his skin peels off his flesh and Demeter goes flying off with it, and then —
"Macavity!"
Then the screaming starts.
Tugger's mind freezes. He's here.
Bright, blinding, blinking lights. Not like lightning, but gunshots. Thunderous explosions of painful light —
He's here.
Those long, flame-licked limbs. That wild, fiery mane. Tugger's heart plummets. He can smell fire. He can taste soot. He can hear kittens screaming and sobbing in fear —
"Tugger."
It was a disguise. A trick.
They've been had.
Macavity, Macavity.
"Tugger!"
Something whips him across the face, and then he is staring into Alonzo's pale yellow eyes. The tom's claws dig into him, keeping him anchored with their cold, sharp sting. "Tugger, you stay with Jemima," he says, low and urgent. "Do not leave her side, do you hear me? Not for anything. I need to — no, Munk!"
Both of them cry out when the Jellicle Protector is slashed across the face with one vicious swipe of Macavity's paw. His whole body curls up in pain and he rolls along the floor like a bowling-ball, only stopping when he hits a rusting bulwark head-first.
Alonzo rushes to his side but Munk shoos him away.
"Demeter!" he wheezes, "Remember, he's after her!"
When they turn to look, Macavity is dragging her away by the scruff of her neck. She is biting and scratching him all the way, but there is a lost look in her eyes and her limbs move woodenly. She is weak against him through no fault of her own. Munk and Alonzo race over immediately and Munk manages to snag her by the legs. Then, somehow, Alonzo catches her by the middle and hauls her away from them both in one sweeping movement whilst simultaneously kicking Macavity in the groin.
For a moment Tugger can't breathe.
Macavity's face tightens in pain, but then anger overtakes him and he chases after Alonzo for his prize, but Munk is right on his heels and he grabs Macavity by the tail and hauls him back.
That draws a bloodcurdling shriek out of the larger tom.
He can't breathe.
Because this — this is it. The final showdown they've been waiting for. He can see by the way Munk's ears are pricked up that he's scared, but looking at him otherwise, you wouldn't know it. His eyes are slitted and unfathomably dark, his lips pulled back in a menacing snarl. His back is arched, coiled tight like a spring, and every fang and claw is exposed.
But despite all this making him a fearsome opponent, Macavity is significantly bigger.
He shares this physical attribute with Tugger — long, muscled limbs and thick, wild fur making him an urban lion. Compared to Munk, even without raising any hackles he's physically massive. Goliath versus David. A terrible thing to witness, yet not one eye in the 'yard can look away.
Munk rises up onto his hind-legs, and Tugger only has a split second to think no, and then Macavity strikes.
Swipe. Munk recoils.
Swipe. Macavity staggers back.
Like oil feeding a fire, the fight grows with each drop of blood shed. Circling each other, hissing and spitting like water splashed on a hot-plate. A spray of blood hits the ground and Munk falls onto his back. The yelp he lets out pierces the air, but he doesn't stop — not for a second — rolling right back onto his feet and throwing himself immediately back into the fray.
"Tugger, what did I just say?" someone growls, jerking him back to the present.
A flash of white-and black blurs past him: Alonzo. The older tom throws him a short glare as Tugger struggles to catch his breath.
Munk's eyes flash brightly, locking onto him for only the briefest moment. Even though it's barely a second, the urgency of Munk's gaze — the startling colour of his eyes — shocks Tugger back into his body. Right, he thinks, watching Alonzo drag Demeter away from the fight — right, Jemima.
Tugger scans the floor for her, but his eyes keep straying back to his brothers. Now Macavity has the upper-hand. Somehow he's leapt atop Munk and is biting at his ears. Tugger looks left and right. Munk throws Macavity off hard enough to land him flat on his back. Tugger catches Skimble's eye, and he gestures behind himself to where — ah, Jemima is. Thank the Everlasting — Munk does an acrobatic leap over Macavity, manages to slash him across the belly, and then tumbles to the side. They both face each other, both holding themselves awkwardly from injury. Munk's hindquarters shake, and then he launches himself at Macavity again — but this time he bounces right off.
And the sound he makes when he falls on the floor.
It seems to happen in slow-motion.
Tugger stares at his fallen brother.
Move, he screams in his head, for god's sake, Munk, get up!
But Munk doesn't move.
And Macavity climbs atop him, slowly grinding his paws into his tender flesh and sweeping dirt into his face with his tail. "Is that all you've got, little brother?" he drawls. Munk groans. "What was that?" he says, spinning around, and — oh, Munk is back on his feet, thank goodness — "What did you say?"
Munk grunts through gritted teeth.
And then Macavity laughs, and Tugger realises what it is he's doing. He holds his open paw above Munk's face and as he waves it side to side, and Munk follows him like a puppet on a string.
Hypnotism.
Macavity's laugh grows louder. "I'm listening, Munkustrap, tell me — what's wrong?"
"Stop it!" Demeter sobs, crying out louder when Alonzo tries to shove her behind him. "Leave him alone!"
Macavity tilts his head to look at her, pretending to consider her plea. He looks deliberately bored. He shrugs, and then releases Munk. "As you wish, my dearest."
Munk falls to the ground, convulsing and writhing in harsh, jerky movements. He rubs at his ears, and shakes his head about like a wet pollicle. Before he can even get to his feet Macavity is upon him once more. They tangle together in battle, clawing at each other's backs, but Macavity is at a far greater advantage. Munk shrieks as his skin is flayed open whereas Macavity doesn't seem to feel any pain. All he does is laugh and laugh and laugh.
"Enough!" Alonzo screams as Munk is tossed head-over-tail again. The Protector rolls to a slow stop in front of the queens who immediately rush to his side.
"Oh, Munk," Jelly whimpers, licking at his ears. "Oh, my poor baby — "
"Enough, I said!"
While Tugger was watching the queens tend to his brother, Alonzo jumps out from the shadows — and that is from there he strikes, leaping high up and bearing down on Macavity with an almighty roar.
Demeter. Where is she? Jemima. Where is she?
Keeping track of everyone has become his biggest headache. Demeter was with Alonzo last, but where is she now? Tugger only ponders this for a microsecond before she appears at his side, the first thing alerting him to her being the shaky sound of her breath. "He's not moving," she whimpers, her eyes wide and wet and fixed on Munk. "Oh lord, he's not moving."
A scream drags him back to where Alonzo has climbed onto Macavity's back and is clinging to him with fierce determination. The larger tom is spinning around, trying to throw him off, but Alonzo has dug his claws and teeth in deeply. He holds on for a remarkable length of time, but then Macavity stops and the momentum flings Alonzo to the ground. Macavity doesn't falter for a second.
"No," Demeter whispers as he aims a swipe at Alonzo's soft underbelly.
But before he can deal this finishing blow, Mungojerrie springs into action.
The sudden addition seems to shock Macavity.
He turns his attack towards him, and so Mungo falls down.
But then Pouncival steps forth, and so he strikes him down too.
But then Cassandra steps forth, and Carbucketty too. Macavity turns to face them —
Then, surprisingly enough Jennyanydots steps forth, and even Jellylorum. By this point Alonzo has managed to get back to his feet, thanks to Pouncival shielding him from the others, and Etcetera pulling him by the arm — all of these cats.
All these Jellicles.
Tugger watches his family rally together, and then the patrol cats come, and then everybody comes, and it's amazing. Macavity draws back with a ragged snarl and skitters up the side of the 'yard furniture. They follow him — the Jellicles actually give chase to Macavity. Such a thing has never been seen before, and Tugger cannot believe his eyes.
Amazing.
They chase him up to the very top, where he then rises to his hind-legs and —
"Back!" Tugger roars, finally finding his voice. He can sense it coming, like storm-clouds darkening the sky ahead. "Get back, all of you!" he shouts. The Jellicles have already retreated, recognising the urgency in his voice, but the patrol-cats don't understand.
They don't know magic like the Jellicles do.
Tugger practically flies across the 'yard. He hasn't time to pull each one of them down to safety, so he throws himself upwards instead, spreading himself wide open —
And then there is a flash of light.
A crackle of lightning, and a shower of bright, blistering sparks.
"Tugger!"
He blinks, stunned. Immense pain. Burning. That was Quaxo's voice.
Then he realises that it is his fur burning, and quickly drops to the ground to smother out any embers trapped in his singed coat.
He blinks again once he's not in danger of bursting into flame. And blinks. And blinks.
It's dark. Even darker than it is when they are without functioning streetlights. Even darker than it is when the night's sky is clouded over, blocking out the moon and stars. For a moment Tugger wonders whether he's gone blind or not. Funnily enough, he finds himself more baffled by the thought than panicked by it. The 'yard is tense and silent for a moment, and then it explodes in a cacophony of frantic chatter.
This is not normal darkness. Somehow, Tugger is certain it's Macavity's doing. Out of nowhere he remembers that his brother was born in a darkness like this — during a solar eclipse.
But how do you know if there's an eclipse or not when it's night time?
How can you tell?
You can feel it, he thinks. You can sense it. The night feels colder.
"Tugger!"
Quaxo comes barrelling into him. Tugger groans as he slams right into a fresh bruise.
"Oh, sorry!" he squeals, patting over Tugger's limbs gingerly, probably trying to work out which body-part he struck. He carefully feels along Tugger's back till his paw meets the back of his neck, and then he curls his arms around him and Tugger can feel the sweet curve of his nose against his throat and his breath puffing unevenly, rustling fur. "Tugger," he gasps.
"I'm fine," he says automatically, even though his leg is screaming the opposite. He must have tumbled down the side of all that junkitecture when Macavity's magic exploded out. He must have blacked out for a second, because he can't even remember falling. "And you?"
"I'm fine," Quaxo says, laughing shakily. "I'm… it's so dark though, Tugger. What's happening?"
"He did something." He doesn't know what Macavity did precisely, but he knows whatever it was, it is what caused this darkness. "Come on," he huffs, though he grabs onto Quaxo for support. "We need to get back to the others."
It takes a couple minutes for Quaxo to work out which part is Tugger's arm and then he wedges himself under it, curling up against Tugger. He's so careful not to hurt Tugger, so gentle with him, it… it feels nice. Almost like a hug.
Tugger shakes his head.
Must have knocked it somewhere on his way down. It's not the time to be thinking such… thoughts.
"Tugger," Quaxo starts, but Tugger knows exactly what he's going to say.
"No," he says immediately. He doesn't need to consider it, doesn't want to consider it —
"Tugger, you know I am the only one who can stop him!" Quaxo's fur bristles, rising in waves against Tugger's arm. He grits his teeth as a crackle of magic shudders through his own fur, zapping through like static electricity. "Don't argue with me. You can't change my mind on this."
"Neither magic nor brute strength work against him, Quax. The only thing…" Tugger's mind flickers back to the way Mungojerrie came to Alonzo's aid — to the way the rest of the Jellicles fell behind him, and the collective force of all of them was enough to drive Macavity away. "… the only thing that seemed to work was when all the Jellicles turned on him together. Not that it's worked before, so… I don't really understand why it worked. Maybe it was karma?" Tugger suggests. "I mean, after the nasty beating Munk just took for all of us — "
"That isn't funny, Tugger," Quaxo snaps. "He almost killed him." Under his breath: "He almost killed you."
"'twas only a little tumble down a junkpile, Quax. Nothing to cry over. Munk's the one we really ought to be worrying about — "
"Don't," the tuxedo tom pleads tiredly, "Please, just… don't."
Tugger falls silent as they make their way back to the others. He must have toppled off the other side of the junk-built wall when he fell, which is why they're so far away from the main 'yard. God knows how Quaxo knew where to find him, but thank the Everlasting Cat that he did! Despite being cats, it seems the unnatural darkness has the better of their excellent night-vision, so they have to strain their ears and pick their way blindly through the 'yard, sticking to the best-remembered routes. Tugger hears Quaxo sniffle a little, and suddenly feels every one of his bruises throb simultaneously.
(Or is it just that hearing his little friend crying in the dark is more painful than the bruises themselves?)
Probably that. Tugger has never been good dealing with tears, but with Quaxo he is especially lost as to what he should do whenever he starts to cry (which isn't often, mind you). He leans a little more heavily on Quaxo's shoulders, hoping to comfort him via this contact, but then —
"We must hurry," Quaxo blurts, picking up the pace. "We need to get you seen to. Do you think you can make it to the 'yard? If not, I can try carrying you — "
— maybe Quaxo mistook his comfort as him being more injured than he really is.
"I'm fine!" Tugger squeaks, pulling away from Quaxo to prove this. "See?"
Oh right.
"No," Quaxo says dryly. "I can't even see my own damn whiskers in this cursed darkness. Come on, put your weight on me — "
"I'm fine, Quaxo, honestly — "
"I said lean on me, damn it!"
Tugger flinches, and leans himself against Quaxo who immediately starts to purr. The soft rumble is broken in places, stifled by the even-softer whine caught in Quaxo's throat, and sometimes interrupted when Quaxo has to sniffle. It works though, calming the loud, frantic booming of Tugger's pulse and soothing his chaotic mind.
They hear the clamour of cats long before they make it to the main 'yard entrance, and then they can finally see, thanks to the lone flashlight Alonzo has managed to switch on (which came from the rubble of Skimbleshanks' 'train' props). When Tugger steps into view, several of the patrol-cats turn to bow to him, and two — the two he'd shielded from Macavity's magic — come to thank him directly. He waves them off, flustered by the attention and disgusted that it took him so long to actually do something during the fight. Why should they thank him when what he did was done at the very end of Macavity's attack, and throughout the rest of the scuffle all he'd done was stand there watching? Tugger ducks his head, ashamed.
Then he sees Munk sprawled on his side, lying still under the attention of Demeter and Jemima.
And his heart almost stops.
But then he hears them.
"-ddy, I was so scared."
"I know sweetheart, I'm sorry," Munk, that's Munk! Sweet, merciful god, he's awake, he's alive, thank god. "I didn't mean to scare you," he says tenderly, and reaches up to wipe Jemima's wet cheeks.
"You stupid, foolish tom," Demeter weeps, nuzzling his face and paws. "What were you thinking? You almost died, fool!" She licks at a scratch on his nose, and then tilts her head to look at something. She hums, and takes her daughter by the arm. "Come on, pet. Let's leave daddy to rest."
"But — "
"You don't have to leave on my account." Alonzo smiles politely at the queen, but his whole frame is so tense, Tugger wonders whether he's had a chance to check up on Munk yet. It doesn't look like he has. A long, wet gash over his nose that would have been licked clean by Munk by now, had he taken the time to do so. He's probably been running around trying to calm everyone down, probably not had a second to himself —
Demeter shakes her head, and leans over to lick that very wound, stopping a bead of blood from dripping into his eyes. "No," she says warmly, "I… I'm sorry I was so difficult earlier. I just — I didn't want there to be a fight. I wanted to stop him myself."
"But we couldn't let him take you, Demi," Alonzo says reasonably, ducking down to let her clean his ears. "If you were the price for peace, then a fight was inevitable."
"He's right," Munk calls out, prompting Alonzo to huff a laugh.
"Take care of him," Demeter murmurs, giving Alonzo one last lick before she drags Jemima away to join the other kittens.
Finally Alonzo turns to face Munk and his stoic mask cracks in the presence of his wounded mate. He scoots closer to Munk and carefully turns him over. "Oh hell," he gasps, his tail lashing agitatedly at the horrible lacerations covering almost every part of Munk's body. The worst one is a deep cut that stretches from chin to navel — a perfect line, almost surgical from how neat and precise it is. "Oh Munk…"
"It looks worse than it feels," the Protector says, grinning weakly through a split lip.
And suddenly Tugger understands how Quaxo must have felt when he laughed off his own wounds. They are nothing in comparison to this.
"You were so brave," Alonzo says warmly, leaning down to start licking him clean. "And so stupid."
"And you were magnificent," Munk replies, gazing up at him with equal adoration. "I'm going to remember that," he says, smiling. "How you looked like when you came to my rescue. You shone like a beam of moonlight, like the light of an avenging angel — "
"I think someone," Alonzo chuckles, "Might've hit his head, to be saying such things." Munk shakes his head and then groans. "Ah, see? And now, shaking it like that is only gonna cause that small brain of yours to burst. Lie still."
"How is everyone doing?" Ever the Protector, Munk ignores Alonzo's warning and tries to lever himself up. "Is anyone hurt?"
"Other than you? No."
"But Tugger — "
"Tugger is fine," Tugger announces, startling the two rather badly. "Sorry. Didn't mean to make you jump — "
"Tugger!" Munk exclaims, a brilliant smile spreading across his bruised face. "Oh! Come here," he says, flapping his arm at him, "Come. Right now."
Tugger approaches warily.
"You're not in trouble, silly old bean," Alonzo laughs fondly. "Now listen to him before he strains himself any further."
That forces Tugger to move a little faster, and he limps over to lie down beside Munk. Alonzo takes up the other side, and then... it's like when Munk and Alonzo came to comfort him earlier on in the night, only this time it's Tugger and Alonzo purring to get Munk to calm down.
"What happened, Tugger?" Munk slurs. "Why's it so dark?"
"Mac turned off the lights," he answers wryly. "That's why."
"So how do we turn them back on?" Alonzo frowns, thinking whilst he watches the others play with the flashlight he's relinquished to Pouncival. "That thing isn't gonna last all night, and if Macavity's still around — "
"Oh he's around, alright."
" — we need these lights back on."
"We need to get Old Deuteronomy back!" someone nearby adds.
"We need to sing... maybe the Moon will come back?"
"We need to — "
"Alright, alright!" Alonzo booms, rising to his feet. Munk struggles to follow, but he shoots him a warning look that halts him in his tracks. "We all need to calm down first before we do anything. Skimble — have you finished your rounds? Is everyone accounted for?"
"Yes and yes," the older tom chirps, his fine waistcoat flashing green as he walks through the flashlight's beam. His voice wavers. "Except Deuteronomy."
Tugger shivers. It can't have been more than an hour since he was taken and yet it feels so much longer. For some reason, even though Deuteronomy is hardly the best fighter in the tribe, his presence is a comfort to them. He makes them feel safe. And now that he's gone…
"We have to find Old Deuteronomy," a kitten whimpers somewhere from the shadows. He is hushed by the queens, but his small, heartfelt plea lingers in the silence that follows.
Alonzo sighs. "We do," he agrees. "But… how?"
His question isn't without merit. In this crushing darkness, with their Protector beaten, with their Leader stolen… it seems too dangerous for any one of them to go looking for Deuteronomy on their own. It seems foolish for any of them to leave the 'yard. The instinct is to believe there is safety in numbers, but Tugger remembers the kittens that were hardly kept 'safe' in their den the last time Macavity came.
Tugger remembers how they investigated the ruins of the fire later on and discovered that there had in fact been a way out for the kittens through one of the old pipes. He remembers how they found all the kittens' charred bodies bundled together in a heap at the centre of the den, and it dawned on them that the only way they would've been able to reach the pipes at that height was for someone to stand below and boost the others out. That someone would have been left behind, unable to reach the pipe on their own. That kitten would have died all alone, were it not for their fellow kittens choosing to stay with them and die together. Brave, loving, and loyal to the death.
They were too young to have made that terrible choice.
But that is the loyalty of family. That is the price of love. And whilst the Jellicles may be a self-obsessed, overly-conformist lot, buried beneath all the layers of propriety and tradition is a (highly dysfunctional) family who loves one another fiercely. Leaving the 'yard to search for Deuteronomy may be a fool's choice, but can they afford to abandon one of their own so easily? Can they live knowing they chose their own safety over his? Looking around, Tugger knows that in moments every able-bodied cat in the tribe will be volunteering themselves for this task, but… but what if that's what Macavity wants?
He takes a step back to examine the situation, and…
The thing is, Macavity must have kidnapped Deuteronomy for a reason. There's always a reason behind every choice he makes. Despite his madness, Macavity has remained a skilled and meticulous strategist. He took their father, came back disguised as him (to taunt them), and then fled again. It feels like a trap to Tugger. It feels like Macavity is teasing them, trying to draw them out on purpose.
"I will go."
Tugger clenches his jaw, squeezes his eyes shut. Wait, goddamn you, he wants to snap. Just for a moment, just for once — won't one of you idiots take a moment to think instead of charging blindly ahead?
"No, I will go."
The protest is met with more protests, more fervent cries and declarations. He can't help but notice that no one actually makes a move to go. They're all-talk, no action. The desire to help — to be brave — is there, but there is no conviction behind their trembling voices.
They are all so frightened.
"Enough," he says, but this falls on deaf ears. "Enough, damn you!" he calls more loudly, but this is swallowed up in the noise. If any of them goes out like this, all they'll end up doing is getting themselves killed —
"Tugger."
He moves as quietly as a shadow, appearing at Tugger's side in an instant.
"Please," he begs.
Quaxo. Why does it always have to be him?
"Why are you asking my permission?" Tugger hears himself ask, his voice hoarse. "It's not like you need it anymore." It's not like you ever did, goes unsaid.
"Tugger, please," the tuxedo tom croaks, turning in to face him so tenderly. His dark eyes are shimmering, like stars reflected on a lake. "I need you to Name me."
His mind stutters.
"What?" he asks, dumbfounded.
Quaxo's lips quirk up a little, and something warm flutters in Tugger's chest. "Right now I need everyone to be fully on-board with me using my magic before I put my plan into action and cause widespread panic. Otherwise it might scare them, given the current uh — circumstances."
"Use your magic for — wait, what plan?" Tugger asks curiously, and then it dawns on him and he growls. "You cannot be serious!"
"Why not?" Quaxo frowns. "I'm only offering to do what needs to be done."
"Going after Macavity at a time like this?" Tugger snarls. "When my father is out there? How can you be so — "
"Hold up." Quaxo cocks his head to the side. "I think you may have misunderstood me."
Again, his thoughts come to an abrupt halt.
"How so?"
Quaxo smiles again, though with less ease than he did before, and his heart clenches at the way Quaxo eyes him with something bordering on shame. (Tugger hates himself for jumping to conclusions so readily.) "When I told you that I was going to use magic," he says, "You took that to mean using magic to fight Macavity, which… well, I'll come back to that later — "
Tugger opens his mouth.
" — but as of now, what I meant was using magic to bring back Old D."
Tugger blinks.
He hadn't considered that an option.
"You can do that?"
Quaxo shrugs. "I guess we'll see."
"You can — you can just try things like that? Just magic things into happening?" Though he'd consider himself well-versed in magic, having learnt a lot about it at Macavity's knee, he'd always assumed there were certain rules about what you could and couldn't do with it. He'd always thought there was a limit to what magic could achieve.
"How else do you think I do the things I do?" Quaxo asks with a quizzical smile.
"I don't know. I just… assumed."
"Tugger!" he laughs, shaking his head. "Of the two of us, I would have thought you'd have a better understanding of magic than me, but apparently not!"
Tugger huffs irritably, yet cannot hold back a bashful smile. Quaxo's laugh is one of the best sounds in the world. "So you think you can magic him back?"
The magician's smile slides a little off his face, eyes flitting side-to-side. "Maybe? I don't know. It's worth a try though."
"But what does that have to do with Naming?" Tugger asks, still bowled over by his request. Is it really the right time to be Naming anyone? His ears flicker sideways, catching a sudden crescendo in noise coming from the tribe. They are all so frightened.
"I want… I need you to help me." Quaxo shifts from paw to paw. "You, Tugger. I trust you, and I… I'm afraid I'm lacking in confidence myself. If I cannot trust in my abilities, how on earth am I going to convince any of them," he gestures to the quarrelling Jellicles, "To believe in me?" He sighs heavily, his breath misting in the frigid air. "Please, Tugger. With you by my side, I can do anything. You're the best showman I know of, and the only one who can pull this off. What do you say?"
"But Naming."
"Yes, Naming."
It's not a thing to be taken lightly. Once Named, that is your name, forever. Of course, cats being cats, they each must have at least three names by the end of their lives, but still. It can completely, drastically change the way others perceive you. Of the three names you have, only two of those names are ever given. The third is for a cat to know only to him or herself. It is something akin to a… a soul-name, or name-of-the-heart. A profoundly personal and private thing.
So Quaxo — his most commonly and conventionally-used name, is one of his two public names. As for the other… apparently he wants the other to be chosen by Tugger.
Goodness gracious.
"I… I…"
Quaxo's whiskers twitch. His tail droops. He can hear what his next words are going to be. It's alright Tugger. I understand.
And suddenly, just like that, a new name springs to mind.
Mistoffelees.
Wait. That's not right… Mister.
Mister Mistoffelees — yes!
"I've got it."
Quaxo's head whips up. He stares at Tugger for a second, and then his face splits into a wide smile. "You do?"
"I do," he nods, something bright and effervescent expanding in his chest. "I have the perfect name for you." Tugger ducks his head. "At least," he adds quickly, "I think it would suit you perfectly, is what I mean…"
Fantastic. Now he's babbling like a proper moron.
The tuxedo tom says nothing, but he can feel him smiling at him. He can see that gorgeous smile glowing like a candle in the darkness of his closed eyes. Warm and wonderful and bright. "I can't wait to hear it," Quaxo says softly, and Tugger almost jumps out of his skin when he presses his pointed nose up into the cleft under Tugger's jaw. He is much too close much too fast in the best and worst way simultaneously, and all of a sudden Tugger can feel his body heating up. He can smell a change in his blood. A tingle in his… his…
"Great," he croaks out weakly, carefully extracting himself from the — the situation. He moves faster than he's ever moved in his life, and once he's at a safer distance, he lets out a shaky breath. "So."
"So," Quaxo says, his voice deep and sweet, curling around Tugger like an audible hug. "I'll be watching you for a signal, and then I'll join in. Will you Name me in song?"
"Of course." The best way to do anything is in song, therefore he'd never allow Quaxo to be Named in any other way.
"Excellent," Quaxo beams. "Really appreciate this, Tugger."
"The pleasure is all mine." All mine, Tugger's traitorous mind gloats to itself, mine, mine, mine — "Before you try to bring back my father though, do you think you could bring the lights back on?" The darkness isn't helping matters. Tugger remembers the frightened little faces of the kittens. If Alonzo hadn't managed to get that flashlight on, he doesn't like to think how much more panicked everyone would have been.
"I was just thinking that myself," he agrees. "And maybe I'll do some other tricks to warm-up first."
Tugger eyes him. "Tricks?"
Quaxo nods. "Just something to cheer everyone up. Sparkles and whizz-bangs. You know the sort."
He eyes him a little longer, boring his gaze deeper till Quaxo starts to squirm uncomfortably under his scrutiny. The layers peel themselves away, and Tugger can read him as easily as he did back when they shared a den.
"You plan on fighting Macavity," he says quietly. Sadly. Disappointedly.
He can read between the lines. The 'little tricks' Quaxo wants to do and his plan to bring Deuteronomy back will all require magic. A tremendous amount of magic. Enough to draw Macavity back. Enough to tempt him into a fight. It's not that Tugger doesn't want them to defeat Macavity. He just wishes there was a way to take him down without violence. A way to subdue him that won't end in death. He wants his family — all of his family — to survive this dark, dark night. He wants his loved ones kept safe, and without blood on their hands.
He wants he wants he wants.
But what he wants doesn't have any impact on what is going to happen. What happens will happen regardless of what he wants.
"Tugger…" Quaxo says, and Tugger aches for him.
He aches to have him huddled under him, covered by his larger body, protected from the cold, darkness of the night. Safe. Warm.
"Do what you want then," he finally says, too tired to think of better words to say to him. Be safe, is stuck in his throat. Be mine, repeated over and over in his heart. This time he doesn't try to imagine Quaxo's face because he knows what it'll be like, and how it will stop him in his tracks. How it will change his mind. "It's not like I can stop you either way."
He needs to walk away from this.
He needs to walk away from him.
Quaxo has a destiny and a world of dreams to pursue. He has a golden future ahead for him. He has more bravery in one whisker than Tugger has ever had in his entirety. He cannot get in the way of Quaxo's life.
He cannot decide for him what he can and cannot do.
"Tugger," Quaxo calls.
He forces himself to continue onwards — forcing his mind to focus on composing Quaxo a Naming-song, on walking away from his heart and slapping a half-convincing smile on his face. You're the best showman I know of. The show must go on.
It must.
He must.
Impromptu dance. Improvised song.
To some, the thought of having to do either of these two things (let alone both of these things together) is a daunting one, but to Tugger? It's as easy as breathing.
All the noise from before has died down by the time he slinks back to the 'yard and he peers through a tattered old curtain, squinting down at the sorry lot his family have become with some concern. The Jellicles and all their guest-cats are in a slump. Going by the tense atmosphere, it seems that their arguments from before weren't resolved. Someone must have called called them all into silence, or else enforced a truce. Tugger cannot imagine that someone to be anyone other than Alonzo.
An anxious, fidgety silence, wherein they cannot look at one another without provoking more arguing.
Tugger sucks in a slow breath, rolls his shoulders back to loosen them up, and then slips through the curtain.
Showtime.
He scrambles down the side of the junk pile till he finds a comfortable bit to lounge on and then drapes himself across it. Perfect. The way a performance starts is of utmost importance — setting the mood, captivating the audience. Without further ado, he calls out: "You ought to ask magical Mister Mistoffelees." The name rolls nicely off his tongue. He adds, when the Jellicles' confusion becomes apparent: "The original conjuring cat. There can be no doubt about that."
Pouncival has spun the flashlight around to spotlight him, and grins at him from behind the device, quick as ever to keep up with Tugger. The others are slower, and he hears mutterings of "Mistoffa-what? Who's that?" as they struggle to connect the dots. Rolling his eyes, he decides to nip their rising panic in the bud before it becomes full-blown.
"Please! Listen to me," he calls out louder. Thankfully, they simmer down. He squints through the dimness, trying to find Pounce amongst the crowd, and then locks gazes with him — gives him the subtlest of nods, and receives a wink in response. Tugger grins. "And don't scoff! All his inventions are off his own bat…" There's a sudden bam that startles Tugger rather badly, but then he spots Tumblebrutus right next to Pounce. He's gotten hold of a bin lid and is drumming his claws against it. He has an identical grin to the one on Pounce's face, and Tugger thanks the Everlasting Cat that he has such willing, intuitive co-conspirators. "There's no such cat in the Metropolis — he holds all the patent monopolies for performing surprising illusions." Tugger smirks. "And creating eccentric… confusions."
At this point, the Jellicles finally catch on, and the relief is palpable.
"The greatest magicians have something to learn from Mister Mistoffelees conjuring turn!" he croons, rising up on his toes and spreading his arms out like a circus ringmaster. And then he drops down into a crouch and continues the song — praising and polishing Quaxo's new name to a dazzling shine, and describing him in every recognisable facet until it becomes impossible to mistake him for any other cat than The (newly dubbed) Magical Mister Mistoffelees.
In his mind, he isn't even boasting. He's simply describing Quaxo — no, Mistoffelees — for all that he is. The good and the bad and the… the downright marvellous.
He grins as his audience starts enthusiastically bobbing along to the rhythm, Rumpleteaser sticking her tongue out cheekily and then pouting at him when he raises his brows. He feels a sudden urge to move, and so he leaps down from the junk pile to the 'yard-proper and sashays to centre-stage. Whipping his tail in Etcetera's face, she giggles and plays along with his antics, crawling after him as he dances back and forth. Then the queens — Demeter and Bombalurina — join in, their velvety voices silky smooth as they back him. He is both surprised and unsurprised by this, and flashes them a swift yet genuine smile before returning to Etcetera. A second glance reveals (much to his delight) that Munk is seated next to the queens, grinning proudly at Tugger and clapping along.
To have his approval is all the support Tugger needs.
[With you by my side, I can do anything.]
Well, maybe not all.
To have Quaxo — Mistoffelees — entrust his name to him is the greatest gift Tugger has and will ever receive.
Tugger can feel his eyes watching him, though he doesn't know where he is hiding. Even though he didn't tell him where he'd be coming in, Tugger can sense him like a whisper of magic. The urge to return to centre stage is like a fishing-line reeling him in, and so he lets his instincts take over, and follows them. The smell of magic grows stronger there. The air fizzes with sparks. This magic isn't threatening, but as beautiful and precious to Tugger as the rare sound of Quaxo's laughter.
"…you've seen it one moment, but then it is gone! But you'll find it next week laying out on the lawn…" he spins his arms around, a bolt of energy striking him like lightning, "And we all say...!"
The Jellicles ripple backwards in one smooth wave as Mistoffelees spins down from up-above, clinging to a rope somehow — the logistics of 'how' don't matter, because how do you explain magic? How do you describe the indescribable? Mistoffelees' coat is shimmering with so many sparkles that he has become starlight. He is lit up from within, twinkling as he matches the stars —
Oh, stars.
The night's sky which was cloudy and dark before has cleared up, and there are so many stars above and below now that Tugger feels like he's floating up among them. Now, he feels like he's flying.
He scoots to the side to give Mistoffelees room, and then prowls towards him, drawn by a magnetic pull he cannot refuse. With his back to the audience but his face obscured by shadow, Mistoffelees cuts such a mysterious figure under the harsh spotlight Pouncival shines upon him — but his smile. Tugger sees the silhouette of his whiskers either side of his face, the angle of them unmistakeable. There is a crescent-moon-smile, and then the twinkling lights caught in Mistoffelees dark fur flicker faster and faster. He throws up his arms and declares, "Presto!"
And the lights fly out of him, and then the 'yard is lit again.
The Jellicles cheer and join in with Tugger's chorus, and though everyone is glad to be able to see again, Tugger knows his audience — he can see the disbelief on their faces, the relief warring with natural wariness. They skitter to the sidelines to observe Mistoffelees from a safe distance.
Tugger is fine with that.
That means the stage is his and Mistoffelees' alone.
His heart leaps to his throat when the lights surrounding Mistoffelees flicker again, building up till he has to shoot them at the ground. That seems to quell them for the moment, and Tugger smiles at Mistoffelees when he darts an anxious look at him — you're fine, he tries to tell him, don't be scared. Even if his magic is a little out of control, never be scared of it. Somehow, Mistoffelees seems to understand him. His confidence makes a stunning comeback, and he starts dancing and shooting sparks, a coy smile dancing on his lips. Tugger follows him easily and mirrors his dance-moves back to him, reading each cue so naturally that the dance appears to have been choreographed when it is purely improvisation. He finds himself having fun dancing with Mistoffelees, even when the magician gets waylaid by his magic and has to shoot off a few sparks to get it back under control. Whenever this happens, Tugger actually gets a thrill out of it, leaping onto the still-smoking ground and loving the way the the pads of his feet tingle from the lingering magic.
He loves the smell of magic, the crackle of electricity on his whiskers.
He loves…
It's then that Tugger realises he's not been happy like this for the longest time. Ever since Quaxo left the den there's been a block on his emotions. He cannot rise as high or sink as low as when he's with Quaxo. It's only when he's with him that he is the happiest he can be, or the most miserable.
He's missed him. He's missed his magic. He's missed his company, his constant presence in his den.
This is the moment he knows. This is the moment he'll never forget.
He matches Mistoffelees on autopilot, leap-for-leap, and somehow it works — even with his long limbs dwarfing the magician's compact frame, they move seamlessly together. Mistoffelees does a string of elegant twirls and throws his arms out… but there are no sparks. He turns to Tugger with a confused frown, to which Tugger gestures: try again, and when he does — it works.
It's working. It's working. Tugger can feel the magic building up within Mistoffelees, growing and yet becoming more malleable and obedient in his capable paws. He can read it in the way Mistoffelees' body language has smoothed out, in the way that he moves and smiles, that he is almost ready.
Almost, but not quite. There is a moment where Tugger can almost predict what is going to happen: Quaxo will remember himself and trip over the law of physics and reality, and lose faith in himself. He will hesitate and things will go wrong. He can see it happening, and can see the fall-out: Quaxo's failure will be his undoing, he will lose the will to challenge the impossible, he will claim he doesn't deserve Mistoffelees and… and…
Tugger knows how he can fix this. He is struck by a random, ridiculous idea.
The magic Mistoffelees needs to master is conjuring — summoning Old Deuteronomy out of wherever he's being held captive, bringing him back to here. But he's lacking in faith, and to a magician that's like trying to climb a tree with no claws. He's also sorely lacking in experience. Well, what if he got some practice in first with something a little less… large, and alive?
"… and not long ago, this phenomenal cat," he cries out — Mistoffelees falters, uncertain, and turns to Tugger with a confused frown — "Produced seven kittens right out of a hat!" Tugger insists, widening his eyes, urging Mistoffelees to play along.
Sometimes white lies are… necessary. He hopes this time Mistoffelees will agree.
Then again, he's always been a stickler for not bending the truth.
Oh well.
Thankfully Mistoffelees only purses his lips and then does another twirl — a habit of his, to buy him time when he's thinking — and Pouncival (Tugger could kiss him in that moment), with his usual impeccable timing, lobs a tin mug at Mistoffelees. The magician looks momentarily flummoxed by the prop, but then peers into the mug, and a smile grows on his face. He reaches inside, and then he's pulling streams of — of rainbow out of the mug! A liquid scarf, shimmering and glittering! He loops around Tugger, the fabric flying out behind him, and hands the mug to the kittens to play with.
Conjuring the rainbow scarf seems to have done the trick. Mistoffelees' whole demeanour has seemingly changed, his confidence bursting out of him in an entrancing dance, full of fluid high kicks and deadly, piercing eyes. Tugger almost shouts with joy when he spins around and suddenly conjures Victoria out of nothingness, sparks fizzing off the ends of her whiskers. She blinks, shocked by the transition, and heads whip back and forth between her and where she was last sitting.
He did it.
He did it!
The sisters Etcetera and Electra press against Tugger's sides, twittering and squealing in excitement, yet seeking comfort from him. He curls his arms around both queens, sharing a brief, proud (smug) smile with Mistoffelees as he continues to dance and dazzle. The psychedelic twins gape at their mystical friend, both amazed and unsettled by the extent of his transformation. Tugger isn't concerned with their reactions. If there was anything to worry about, the Twins would be the first to know.
He welcomes and embraces the changes in Mistoffelees with all the enthusiasm there is to be had, and cannot help but share in his newfound joy — it's contagious. It always has been, for Tugger. There has always been a compulsion hardwired into him to seek out magic and the excitement of the unknown. Those are two things he has never been afraid of.
Mistoffelees conjures another thing out of nothing: a large red blanket this time, which Cassandra chases after as he swings it around himself like a cape. Tugger has seen men in twinkling suits (similar to Mistoffelees' coat right now) on the little box his girl Poppy liked to watch, swinging red cloths in front of enormous, enraged bulls. This is a little like that, albeit far more civilised. Cassandra follows Mistoffelees eagerly, and when he chooses her to be his audience participant, she squeals and follows his lead.
Once again, Tumblebrutus — who is someone Tugger realises he's greatly underestimated, along with Pouncival, on account of their timeliness — starts a drum-roll, and… this is it.
The moment they've all been waiting for.
Even without knowing what Mistoffelees is up to, the audience is enraptured.
He lowers the red blanket over Cassandra, and she seems to melt into nothingness underneath it. The blanket dips down, flattens against the ground, and then everyone gasps as it starts to rise again, ballooning upwards. At first the hidden form is a shapeless mass, but then there is a blurry line similar to a cat there, and then that cat-like-shape grows and grows —
It follows Mistoffelees as he pulls the blanket across the floor, and then it becomes something that is visibly crawling. Something alive. Mistoffelees drops the blanket like it's on fire, and draws back to be shoulder-to-shoulder with Tugger. He only glances at him fleetingly, face drawn into a tight, nervous smile. He turns away before he can see Tugger giving him a firm nod — but he keeps darting anxious glances at Tugger. To keep him there with him, in the moment, Tugger follows him step-for-step and never takes his eyes off Mistoffelees. Never lets a trace of doubt cross his face, because there is no doubt in his mind that he can do it.
With one last flourish, one last sprinkle of glittering stars — Mistoffelees pulls the blanket away.
And there he is.
Tugger forgets how to breathe, because that's his father.
That's his dad.
Old Deuteronomy.
The old tom spreads his arms wide and heaves a deep breath, gasping for air and clearly thrown for the loop. As the Jellicle Leader spins around, struggling to collect himself, struggling to understand how he's suddenly back home and not wherever he'd been taken… all Tugger can do is split his attention between him and the breathtaking smile on Quaxo's face.
He's never been so proud in his whole life.
So full of relief and thanks and awe.
The song trickles out of him.
"And we all say…" he can feel his voice rattling in his throat, shaky with so much emotion. Shaking his head at the wonder of this miracle, he simply stares at his father, his singing pitched low and sweet. When Deuteronomy reaches an arm out to him, Tugger grasps onto it and pulls them closer. Paw-to-paw with the massive tom, something finally eases in his chest, and when he slides his arm around those massive shoulders he feels torn somewhere between wanting to laugh and cry.
He is the only cat whose presence has ever made Tugger feel small and precious. Safe and loved.
Tugger gently nudges Deuteronomy around, turning him to face his saviour. Mistoffelees is facing away from them, and Tugger can picture him with his head bent over, eyes wide in amazement and disbelief as he studies his paws. He can see him so clearly in his mind's eye. And then Mistoffelees turns around, spinning on one leg and flinging one arm upwards, a beatific smile on his face. Tugger shoves his father at him — at the same time, Mistoffelees flings himself straight into his arms. The patriarch raises their magician up towards the starry skies so easily that he almost launches him into the air. Mistoffelees has never looked so small, nor so happy as he does right now — that his magic was a success and Deuteronomy is back —
And that he now has a marvellous name to suit his newly-improved powers —
And that when he meets Tugger's eye there is nothing but joy between them, all the bitterness washed away...
The Jellicles sweep in, harmonious and euphoric, surrounding the trio and marching towards them in unison, a rosette of arms and tails and smiling faces. Paw-in-paw, the rings of cats raise their arms as they congregate in the middle and then pull back in a wave, revealing their hero: The Magical Mister Mistoffelees.
Tugger's face hurts from smiling.
He was so right to Name him. He's never felt so proud, so glad, so honoured and humbled.
And Mistoffelees — never one to forget anything or anyone — skips across to the other side of the stage, where he holds his arm out to the darkness, and from the darkness Cassandra returns. Her sleek coat gleams like metal, her beautiful Abyssinnian markings rippling as she graciously allows Mistoffelees to escort her back onstage. He bows to her and she curtseys back, and then (as any good magician would) they bow together to Old Deuteronomy. Then — once freed from his duties, Mistoffelees springs high up in the air just for the fun of it. Hopped up on the high of his success, he performs five consecutive jumping splits without pause. Then Tugger rushes in for the finale — spreading himself wide in front of Mistoffelees and their audience, he declares:
"I give you: the magical, the marvellous… Mister Mistoffelees!" and turns to point to him, every atom of his being brimming with energy.
Mistoffelees grins at him, and then takes one final leap into the air, his legs flying out into another jumping splits —
And then he vanishes into thin air.
Tugger's stomach drops, but then… then his spine tingles with knowing. Then he feels a familiar pair of eyes watching him from stage-left, and he feels warmed to his very core. Something nestled deep inside him blooms, flutters happily as he lets that feeling pull him in. He almost trips on the tangle of rainbow scarf left over from before, but that doesn't stop him for a second — he follows the rainbow right to the end, ready and knowing what his pot of gold will be.
And when he reaches the end, the delicious fluttering of butterflies in his stomach becomes a steady hum. A rich, vibrant note. A song that echoes from the deepest place in his heart.
Mistoffelees smiles at him from the indigo-purple shadow he's taken residence in, beckoning him with just that smile.
Just those eyes.
Just that song.
He cannot feel the ground beneath him, gliding over to him on angel wings.
But just before he can reach him, a sweet voice starts singing about daylight, and their attention turns back to the others.
Back to the Jellicles.
Back to the 'yard.
From the look of things, Munk and Deuteronomy were just about to embrace one another too, but they too have been distracted by the little kit standing there atop the broken fish-tank.
Jemima.
The little queen — as perceptive and intuitive as ever — is apparently the only one to have noticed the passing of time throughout this, and she's right: the night is ending. During all the drama of the night, time has been ticking by, and now there is the tiniest tinge of rosy pink edging the clouds furthest from the Moon. The blue chill of night time is fading, and yet…
Old Deuteronomy has yet to make the Jellicle Choice. He hasn't had the time, what with being kidnapped and conjured back!
Thank the Everlasting Cat for Jemima, or else they might not have remembered this in time! A quick glance overhead shows them the Jellicle Moon is waiting, remaining stark and unconcerned despite the warming skies, somehow both patient and impatient in waiting for them to make their Choice.
Amazingly enough, Munk looks a lot better than he did before, now that his fur has been licked clean of blood. His eyes are still a little puffy and there are lumps here and there from bruising, but he stands straight and tall as he addresses the Jellicles once-more, his special Narrating Voice projecting throughout the 'yard, as mesmerising as ever. He both herds and leads them to crowd around Old D, where they then gaze up at him beseechingly. Tugger hurries to the front, and smiles when he feels Mistoffelees right on his tail — but then, being this up-close to his father, he can't help but notice how shaken he still looks. How overwhelmed, and even anxious he is.
It looks like Old Deuteronomy doesn't know who will be going. This is something unheard of as of yet, but Tugger cannot help but sympathise with him. He's never liked their tradition of sending one of their own up to the Heaviside Layer. The Choice has never sat well with him.
And then, just as Tugger is about to try comforting the patriarch, he feels a gust of wind against his back.
Mistoffelees is standing upright. He has peeled himself away so suddenly from the tribe that the motion whipped cold air in his place. Tugger shivers, turning to see what caught his attention, and then he can hardly believe his eyes.
Carbucketty hisses viciously and Alonzo gasps aloud, but it is Mistoffelees who walks ahead, giving Tugger no choice but to follow.
Grizabella.
The second-to-last face they all want to see. Why can't she accept that she's not wanted here? In a sudden fit of anger-frustration-despair, Tugger cuts ahead of Mistoffelees, blocking him from view. He doesn't want him near her, and with a mocking sneer he urges her to go ahead and then stares her down. Her limping gait and wary expression are laughable, but Tugger is too goddamn annoyed to laugh. Can't they be allowed to end the Ball in peace after all this trouble with Macavity? Can't they have this one nice thing? The other Jellicles also skitter past her, darting anxious-annoyed-disbelieving looks at her as they pass her by. To his surprise, Jennyanydots glares at her menacingly, whereas Skimble only looks pitying. Then Tugger grunts as someone grabs him around the waist and pulls him aside.
His skin tingles pleasantly: Mistoffelees.
He almost smiles at him, but when he sees that the smaller tom doesn't look pleased, he frowns instead. "What's wrong?" he whispers, eyeing the others as they pointedly ignore Grizabella.
"We shouldn't treat her like this, Tug," Mistoffelees whispers back, mouth drawn into a tight line. "It's not… she doesn't deserve this. Not after… I — I think she might be — "
"She's not welcome here, Quax," Tugger insists, frowning at the mournful queen as Victoria once-again tries to reach out to her. Luckily for her, Jellylorum manages to pull her away before she can make contact, and the two queens leave her there. Good, he thinks viciously. "She knows that she isn't, and yet she keeps coming back."
"But you don't understand," Mistoffelees says, something like grief flashing across his face, "I think she might be — "
Before he can finish that statement, Grizabella's thin, crystalline voice seeps out as she sings the same song she did earlier on in the night. Without realising it, the frown slips off his face as he listens. Instead, Tugger finds himself unable to look away from her wrinkled face — from her tear-filled eyes and crooked ears. He can barely feel Mistoffelees' paw on him he's so entranced by her voice, that same old nostalgia hacking its way through his bias and nagging at his senses.
His eyes are fixed on Grizabella and every one of his senses is aimed towards her, each one of them trying to understand why he feels like he knows her. Out of the corners of his vision, Tugger notices that the other Jellicles all have quite literally turned their backs on her. A nudge brings him back to Mistoffelees — to Quaxo. The younger tom looks contrite, his own eyes equally wet like hers. When he lifts his gaze to lock with Tugger, he looks like he desperately wants to tell him something… but something is hold him back. He looks like he wants to tell him a secret that is not his to tell.
Curious.
Mistoffelees nudges at him to look at his father — no, at Munk who has sat closely beside him. Tugger watches the exchange between Grizabella and his brother as she glares scornfully at him and in response, he turns his head away. Out of shame or disgust? His movements are too controlled, making him almost look… guilty. When Grizabella turns her hateful glower elsewhere, Munk carefully returns to watching her. All throughout this Old Deuteronomy has been keeping a constant watch on their intruder, though his expression is neither hate-filled nor full of remorse.
He looks exactly like how Tugger is feeling right now: utterly, hopelessly lost.
The more Grizabella sings, the more his heart goes out to her. How can one listen to such a sad story as hers and not pity her? Tugger is glad to know he's not so heartless as to be able to ignore her pain, but there is something more to it than that. There is something else about her that calls to him.
Mistoffelees squeezes his paw, and the look he gives him.
It's like he knows what's missing.
As Grizabella tumbles to the floor, emotionally drained by her performance, the Jellicle Moon beams down upon her. Tugger gasps — could it be…? Has She Chosen her own cat-to-be-reborn herself?
It's against tradition!
… but maybe they've made Her wait for too long?
Maybe She — before Tugger can think any more on it, Jemima pops back up on her mantle and — and she picks up where Grizabella left off, singing the next part of her song. The old queen's ears are first to respond, and then she lifts her head, her milky-blue eyes widened in disbelief. Having someone contribute to her performance must be nothing short of miraculous in her position, and as such — Grizabella quickly gets back onto her feet, and Jemima lets her take it away.
With all the Jellicles (after having heard Jemima, they all turned to look) watching her, Grizabella cries out, begging to be touched. To be remembered. To be understood.
And not one of them is left with dry eyes by the end of it.
Bomba heaves a sharp sob, her head tilted sideways as her face twists in anguish, and beside her Skimble clutches her paw in both of his, shuddering in emotion. Tugger looks to Mistoffelees next, hungry to know his reaction to this tortured queen's tale, and finds him — slack-faced, eyes shut and looking oddly similar to how Munk looked before. Guilty. Knowing. He keeps his chin raised, his posture perfectly straight, but there is a stillness about him that Tugger finds unsettling. What does Mistoffelees know that he doesn't? What does Munk?
But you don't understand… I think she might be —
As Grizabella ends her final note, the Jellicles are released from their strange paralysis, but the memory of her voice and song are imperishable. Not one of them can look the other in the eye, especially when Grizabella starts scanning the area for anyone willing to free her from her exile. Tugger's skin prickles uncomfortably when her eyes pass over him, and then — return to him. Fix to him. Narrow on him.
Why him?
He studiously avoids her squinty-eyed gaze, but then Mistoffelees' voice rings in his head again: she doesn't deserve this — and he wavers in indecision.
Then a flash of silver-white across the 'yard draws everyone's eye back front-and-centre, and… Victoria, what on earth — ? This time no one stops her from going to Grizabella, and one might argue it might be because she's approaching her from behind, but even when she reaches out a paw to touch her — no one intervenes. Not this time.
The feeling comes to all of them simultaneously, deep in their gut, on the tip of their nose — it's her. She's the one.
She's been Chosen.
They all know without having to discuss it, without having to check with Old Deuteronomy to confirm it — it's her, it's her, she's been Chosen.
Somehow, Victoria must have sensed it first, and the moment she touched Grizabella's paw she knew it too. She closes her eyes and her lips wobble as she smiles bravely, finally accepted — finally accepting that this is her moment. Her ultimate redemption, her long-awaited purgation. Gently the Jellicles start to sing as they vacate their seats to join her, but Old D is the first one on the scene with Munk right beside him. The smile slides right off Grizabella's off face as the old tom bows to her, taking his hand in his, but not in a bad way.
She looks like she cannot believe her eyes, and who can blame her? To have gone from the bottom of the hierarchy to become the night's most honoured guest, with The Old Deuteronomy himself bowing to you like a queen? It would surely make even the sturdiest of cats swoon!
More than awed, she looks even more close to tears — but these ones of the happier kind. And when Deuteronomy wraps an arm around her shoulders Tugger is hit with the strangest of feelings like he's seen them together before. He's seen her before, like this: all teary-eyed yet smiling, standing with his father's arms around her, a churning sensation in his stomach like a mix between panic and grief. He spots Munk's face looming briefly over her shoulders — the Protector darting a fleeting (nervous?) glance at Old Deuteronomy before reluctantly joining in with the procession.
But surprisingly enough, when Deuteronomy releases Grizabella momentarily to call upon the Moon and the mists gather, the old queen staggers — startled and unbalanced by the suddenness of the movement. Munk is the one who catches her, and Tugger can just make out a bright smile on his brother's face as he gently takes her by the arm and guides her back to their father. Ever the professional, Tugger's mind says, but his heart tells him differently.
His heart knows a resolution when it sees it, and that's what this is.
Paw in paw, the Jellicle Leader and the Jellicle's Chosen make their way through the mists, and Tugger… Tugger watches from the side. From the shadows. That same feeling pulling at his gut. That same nostalgia prickling at his nose. Without meaning to, he seems to have moved along with them to the highest point in the 'yard, borrowing the Twins usual perch to follow their journey to the stars.
As soon as the couple are standing on the Tyre, the song rises in pitch and volume, blowing those tattered feelings out of Tugger's mind. He pumps his arms in the air, clinging to that high as the Tyre begins to hover in the air, slowly ascending into the starry skies. All of the Jellicles are raising their arms and squirming in delight, their eyes pinned to the Blessed Two as they rise rise rise higher and higher, but Tugger can't help but notice how Deuteronomy's isn't looking down on them like he usually does. He isn't waving farewell and smiling down on their upturned faces.
His eyes and smile are only for her.
That churning in his stomach intensifies so much that he fears he may be sick.
Panic.
So much. Panic like hearing thunder crackle on a stormy night. Panic like seeing any kind of fire, like smelling smoke and magic.
He cannot explain the reason why he is reacting so abnormally to this — to her — it's involuntary. Tugger shakes his head vigorously and tries not to shudder when Grizabella's head spins around and her eyes fix on him with unerring accuracy, that uncertain smile widening when she meets his gaze. She says something that makes Deuteronomy curl his arm tighter around her, and then the Tyre lifts them above his range of sight, and his panic is redirected elsewhere.
Every year, each time a cat ascends, Tugger finds himself panicking slightly. He mourns the lost family member and then his mind cannot help but wonder about when it might be someone he holds even more closely to his heart going up to the Heaviside Layer. By instinct he checks in on everyone, firstly — Munk, then Alonzo, Demeter, Skimble, Jenny, Jelly, Pounce… the usual tick-list of his most important people. This year, after Munk and Alonzo he scans the crowd for Mistoffelees, who he finds standing near Victoria. He searches for Jemima. For Bombalurina. For Tumblebrutus.
He never looks for his father. Old Deuteronomy is never one he has to worry about. His return is always guaranteed. Somehow, someway, he always comes back.
They're all there. Of course they are, Tugger chides himself. Only one cat is ever Chosen per year, but he cannot calm his irrational worries with logic, not when the Jellicle Moon is shining on him and the Tyre is carrying off one of their own. He cannot help but imagine it being a different, dearer face disappearing from their sight, never to be seen again.
Why does he mourn Grizabella? All it seems she's ever brought to the tribe is discord and dismay. Whenever she is around their darker, crueller sides seem to come out, thus she has only ever been seen as a harbinger of bad news. Maybe because this time… there has to have been a reason why she was Chosen. Considering the other nominees: Old Gus, Skimbleshanks… alright maybe not Bustopher Jones — but considering them, it's pretty hard to believe that she made the cut.
But as Tugger waves her off with the Jellicles, as the mists thicken and the Moon shines brighter and brighter, as it becomes impossible to see the whiskers on his own face through the thick white barrier of mystical smoke… he is left feeling distinctly relieved.
She didn't deserve their cruelty. She deserves this ending.
The night is almost over. The few kittens that have managed to stay awake are finally slumping, heavy heads rolling about like spun bottle-caps. In Tugger's opinion, for them to have managed to see the night through despite the threat of Macavity, for them to have even managed to send another cat up to the Heaviside Layer, it's nothing short of a miracle that they've reached morning unscathed.
Well.
Relatively unscathed.
He seeks out Munk and Alonzo again, and finds them on the opposite side of the 'yard, heads bent closely together. It looks like they're having a rather serious conversation going by the set of their shoulders and grim line of Alonzo's mouth. The white-and-black tom looks on high-alert still, and something about the way he scans the 'yard rubs Tugger the wrong way. Without meaning to, his feet carry him to his brother and brother-mate before he can put thought to it.
"What's wrong?" he asks quietly, though he already knows the answer.
"We made it through the night," Alonzo says, once it becomes clear that Munk isn't going to speak. "And he hasn't returned."
"No, he hasn't," Tugger agrees, glancing at Munk to gauge his thoughts on the matter. "Isn't that a good thing? His plans failed. He's probably run away with his tail between his legs." Macavity has never been good at dealing with his failures. He's never mastered the art of losing with grace.
"We don't really know yet, Tug," Alonzo admits, also eyeing his mate who appears determined to remain sitting in silence. "Even if morning has come, it doesn't change the way he is, and… something about this doesn't feel right. It feels like… like — "
"Too easy," Munk mutters, frowning at the sleeping kittens mere feet away. "He never gives up this easily."
"It's been a long night," Tugger shrugs. "If we're all this tired already, god knows how dead-on-his-feet he must be. Remember, he must have been planning this for months."
"Exactly," Munk grits out through his teeth. "Months."
"All this time wasted. He never gives up this easily," Alonzo murmurs thoughtfully.
"So you want us to keep watch?" Tugger guesses. Alonzo hums. "I don't think we'll have any trouble convincing the tribe to chip in, so long as we organise a fair-enough roster. As for our guests…"
"We'll be losing a considerable number of cats by this afternoon, leaving us with half the fighting force we have currently. I just, I'm a little… concerned," Alonzo says, frowning more deeply when Munk lets out a heavy sigh. "What is it?"
"I just feel so awful about it." Munk scrubs at the scratch on his nose, and Alonzo hums, bending down to distract him with a nuzzle. "I can't stop hearing it. That damn song is in my head and — and every time I close my eyes I see her."
"Enough, Munk," Alonzo croons, wrapping his arms around him. "It's not all on you, remember. We all had a part in what happened."
"What are you two talking about?" Tugger asks sharply, something niggling in his head at the mention of an unforgettable song.
Ignoring him, Alonzo continues: "Anyway, she's gone now. She's finally at peace." He nudges nose-to-nose with Munk, trying to capture his vacant stare. "As they say, my love: out of sight, out of mind."
Well that answers that question, Tugger thinks sourly.
Munk doesn't seem to be listening to Alonzo. He doesn't so much as blink when he licks him on the nose, so consumed by his own thoughts.
"I keep thinking: 'Why were we so cruel to her?' and the only answer I can think of is: 'Because everyone else was acting that way. If everyone's doing it, it can't be wrong.'" Munk jerks his head towards Alonzo and squirms, trying to catch his eye. "I try to tell myself: she was exiled, that's why, but did any of us ever really know why she'd been exiled? Were we ever told why, 'Lonz?" he asks desperately, clinging to Alonzo's arm. Tugger wonders whether the blood-loss, stress or exhaustion are messing with Munk's mind. He sounds half-delirious, if not genuinely distraught. "We never questioned it. Not once."
It's a thread they've all been subconsciously taught never to pull at, but have always been very conscious of: why Grizabella was exiled. Many have speculated this or that, but nothing's ever been confirmed. Alonzo freezes, staring at Munk for a long moment before resuming his grooming, albeit with less focus than he had before.
"No, we weren't," he says quietly, eyes flitting to Tugger once. Curious.
Munk lets out a gusty sigh and then groans almost inaudibly.
"She must have been so lonely, living out there… all this time. All alone," he mumbles, flinching when Alonzo licks a still-too-tender spot. "Can you imagine it? Being without a tribe. Being without a single friend in the world. I can't believe we did that. We did that to her, 'Lonz." He sniffles wetly (Tugger gapes at his brother — crying! And over Grizabella, no less!) "What type of cats does that make us?"
"Shh," Alonzo croons, carefully curling around his wounded mate. He gives Tugger a look, wordlessly asking if he'll be able to handle organising the watch. Tugger reluctantly nods, though he casts a worried look at his brother. He doesn't want to leave him when he's like this.
"My own mother said… she and the others — they all did it, so we just copied them didn't we? We were only kids. We didn't know any better."
"We didn't," he agrees, and shushes Munk again. "Now sleep, my love. It'll all be alright, I promise."
Munk closes his eyes, but there is a deep frown still etched on his face and tracks of tears darkening his fur. As Alonzo drags Tugger away, he swears he can hear Munk mutter, "What have we done?" quietly to himself and then break off into a loud snore.
Tugger half-expects Alonzo to spring a bunch of tasks on him as soon as they are out of earshot, but instead the older tom fixes him with an odd look, and then nuzzles him cheek-to-cheek, utterly baffling him with the sudden bout of affection. They have been getting on miles better now than they had been doing before, but he still never knows whether to expect hugs or scolding from Alonzo these days. Maybe in a year or two he'll be better at knowing what's coming.
The tom gives him another long look, and then sighs. "You look tired."
He'd like to point out that after any Jellicle Ball, regardless of how chaotic it may have been, the magic of the night always takes its toll on them, and everyone ends up being sapped of energy. But alas. Of all the people to manage it, Alonzo is the one who manages to coax a reluctant smile out of Tugger. "You're one to talk," he retorts.
Alonzo snorts. "I know, but given the circumstances… I want you to settle the roster with Skimbleshanks. Tell him to spread the word and then go get some rest. You can take second watch."
Tugger raises a brow. "And what will you be doing?"
"I'll be watching over him. And," Alonzo blinks slowly, "…and keeping abreast of any developments."
"You need sleep too, 'Lonz," Tugger needles. "You can't be half-asleep when — or if — Mac comes knocking. We need you at your best!"
"Don't worry about me. Just take care of yourself, alright? I'll be alright." When Tugger doesn't seem any more willing to move, Alonzo sighs and looks around for something. He stops somewhere around Tugger's left shoulder, a brief smile flying across his face. "Well, if you won't go for yourself, at least take Qua- oh, begging your pardon, Mister Mistoffelees," smirking, "Somewhere more out of the way to rest before he ends up crashing on the stage-floor."
"Mi-Mistoffelees?" Tugger whips around, and surely enough sees the magician loitering near the recently-returned Tyre. He seems to be examining it with great interest, probably keen to see how the Moon's magic managed to levitate such a heavy thing up so high… but his head keeps lolling forwards, and he looks dead on his feet. "Right then," Tugger nods. "Right."
"Tugger," Alonzo then says, and the way he calls him is so startlingly afraid that Tugger feels the hair on his neck spring up. He is staring at him again in a way that makes his skin crawl. "What Munk was saying about Grizabella… if you have any questions about her, it's best you ask your father. Otherwise, please try not to speak about her too much to anyone else. We may have made our peace with her, just in the nick of time too, but even so…" he trails off, looking distinctly uncomfortable.
"Yeah," Tugger forces himself to say. "Yeah, of course."
He doesn't want trouble. He's only ever wanted to cause the type of trouble that earns him a disappointed look from Skimble and a swift kick up the backside from Munk, not emotional baggage, lord no.
"Good," Alonzo almost sighs, a visible weight released from his shoulders. "That's — thanks Tugger. What Munk said," something flickers in his eyes — dark and sorrowful, "He's right. We were only kittens back then. We grew up not understanding anything, but we did what we were told. It's not like we shunned her out of any true malice, but as a child you feel compelled to listen to your elders. Even when you should know better," his voice tightens and he drops his gaze. Anger, Tugger realises. Regret. Shame. "Even when you know what they're doing is wrong. Do you understand?"
Tugger does understand in a very abstract way. He understands what it's like to have the pressure of adults watching over your growth, of having a Very Important Father and living in his shadow, of having all the expectations and duties that come with being his son constantly weighing down on you. He knows what it's like to be forced to live in a place where questionable traditions and the importance of respectability have been made into the cornerstones of a frankly incredibly dysfunctional and rigid society.
It's suffocating.
It's scary. It's claustrophobic. Difficult to breathe, let alone be yourself.
Let alone stand up to the adults.
Let alone break from tradition, abandon all respectability and ignore duty.
We were only kittens back then. Innocents, yet also bystanders contributing to an abusive act. Children raised into believing the same things as their elders. Kittens grown to become cats who care more about the hows and less about the whys. Do you understand? Alonzo asks, yet what he's asking for is forgiveness from Tugger. Why Tugger though? He's barely a generation below Alonzo and Munk. He grew up under the same ideals, he ate from the same bowl as the rest of them. He sneered at Grizabella just as instinctively without caring about her feelings — without once considering her past.
Why Tugger? Why me?
He wants to ask. He wants to understand, but taking Alonzo's bleary eyes and tense jaw... he realises it's not the time for such a loaded conversation.
"Yeah," he finally answers, and drinks in the way his brother-mate relaxes in the tiniest of ways. A sort of tension he hadn't even noticed smoothing from his shoulders.
"Good," Alonzo repeats. "Then go. Off with you! Before I send Pounce after your tail."
"I'm going, I'm going!" he calls over his shoulder as he trots away on aching legs.
Firstly he goes to inform Skimble about the extended continuation of their security plans, and then drags himself back to the Tyre, where Mistoffelees is still, well, no longer standing anymore. More drooping than anything, poor guy. He sidles up to the small tom and gently bumps him with his hip. He then witnesses the slowest head-turn in all of history, and Mistoffelees — no, this is Quaxo now, Tugger decides. The difference between the dazzling magician and snuffly-albeit-also-prickly tom is like comparing night and day.
Quaxo squints up at Tugger and then groans unintelligibly. He snorts.
"Why are you always so disgustingly chipper?" Quaxo gripes, leaning heavily on his arm.
Tugger shrugs, and then scowls. "'Chipper'?"
"You're smiling at me all goofy-like."
"Am I?" Tugger asks amusedly, utterly charmed by this lump of tired, grumpy Quaxo.
Quaxo grunts, prodding him with his nose. He misjudges the distance and ends up face-planting into Tugger's side. "Goddamn it…"
"Come on, sweetums. It's way past your bedtime," he says teasingly, and tries to grab him playfully by the scruff, but Quaxo recoils. Tugger freezes. At first he thinks he's overstepped his bounds, but Quaxo doesn't seem bothered by their proximity. His immediate next thought is Macavity, but Quaxo wouldn't be Quaxo if he was around. "What is it?"
"Tugger, I had… I had something I'd been meaning to tell you," Quaxo confesses, leaning in even more closely, and Tugger doesn't know where, but somehow he finds the energy to perk up at that. His whole body remains tense, but in hopeful anticipation instead of trepidation.
He clears his throat, shakes out his ruff, and then croaks out an almost-normal, "Yeah?"
Quaxo nods. Blinks slowly. Nods again.
"...I forgot," he says.
"Oh." Tugger feels himself deflate like a punctured water balloon.
Quaxo frowns, slowly pushing through the sleep-fog. "I think… it was about that queen, Grizabella…"
With any excitement from before now fully extinguished, Tugger carefully manoeuvres Quaxo into a better position front of him. "I think we can save that talk for a later date. Maybe sometime when you're a little less dead-on-your-feet, hmm?" he grunts, now with Quaxo's scruff in his mouth. Quaxo merely huffs and allows him to haul him up into the air. Unfortunately, despite being not much bigger than he was as a kitten, Quaxo's weight has grown considerably, and he can already feel the strain in his jaw. Recognising that way is definitely not going to work, Tugger gently puts his cargo to the floor and then drops down on his belly. "Oi Quax," he calls. "Be a love and hop on now, darling."
Thankfully Quaxo is awake enough to roll onto his back, and then… it's just like old times: Tugger carrying Quaxo about on his back. Something clenches, twists and curls up in his chest. Sharp and painful for a moment, and then it settles. He pauses in walking when Quaxo mutters something. "What?"
"… need to talk to you… 'bout Griz'beller…"
As always, his tenacity is inspiring, but Tugger doesn't have the patience for it right now. He's heard enough and seen enough of the infamous queen for one night. The image of her staring at him as she was lifted into the sky will forever be burnt into his retinas. Her voice will live on in his dreams.
And the thing is… Tugger isn't stupid.
He's been subconsciously connecting the dots ever since his and Quaxo's first trip to the old barn, ever since they investigated the abandoned circus van and Grizabella limped back onto the scene. He's been cataloguing everyone's reactions to her and comparing them with his father's, and there are enough clues between here and there for him to be making some sort of sense from it. He knows the direction it's all pointing to, the conclusion he has yet to make.
But it's morning now. It's been a long night. He's too tired and knows he's not in the right frame of mind to make sense of everything without losing it.
This is something that's been years in the making. It can wait another day.
"Tomorrow, Quaxo," he says, eyeing the sunrise. "Tomorrow, alright?"
The warm weight on his back curls up a little, lets out a sigh and then unravels. The walk back is silent and easy and calm, and has all the signs of a big storm coming.
