Demeter
Not for the first time, Munkustrap woke to find himself in a tight embrace with Demeter. He was shaking and his fur was bristled. "Shhhh." She rocked him gently, "It's all right! Everything's all right!" The tom's cries had been so miserable that Demeter had no choice but no pull him out of it. At least it was only her; he'd be ashamed to find if any of his subjects had seen him twitching and gasping in his sleep. He'd willingly left the junkyard to spend the night elsewhere; it still evoked too many memories of his father and he was haunted by him and Macavity as it was.
Demeter had been told by Munkustrap that he didn't want her to see him while he was so distraught; it would only bring him more turmoil to see her worried. But that's why she has to be there for him on his most restless nights where not even being home brought any solace.
Munkustrap gulped the air. "I could hear my dad... I couldn't—" His voice broke and Demeter shushed into his fur. "I couldn't find him."
"It's just a nightmare." She planted a soft kiss on his forehead and then on his lips. She lowered his head and rested his ear over her heart. "Try to sleep."
"I don't want to have the dream again. Please." He begged as if she had control over his subconscious. The most she could do was cradle him until he was back asleep, if that even happened. His voice was tormented. "I couldn't save him. I could've saved him."
"Shh. Sleep... Sleep. It's over now." And Demeter would know—it had been the third night in a row he'd woken up like this, the third night she'd spent next to him. Mercifully, they only came once a night. She caressed his face to quiet him. "I'm here." Demeter knew the tribe would be wondering where he was; the Jellicles were all having time to mourn, and so they were left with no one in charge or any sort of order to go by, Munkustrap included. Her heart hurt for him—in fact, she'd actually felt physical pain from watching the struggle. Not just in Munkustrap, but for his beloved subjects... Old Deuteronomy had been adored by all the Jellicles, and his passing was reminiscent of losing a precious grandfather. For Demeter, it compared to something happening to one of her humans.
But she knew that her humans were living safely somewhere; Old Deuteronomy's own sons had to watch him die. Not even the Jellicles could bemoan how their sorrow was equal to that of Munkustrap's or Rum Tum Tugger's. He didn't get to live a full final life.
It started to drizzle within a few moments, but the cats were nestled underneath an awning, safe from the rain. Demeter began to remember the girl—how she used to jump into her lap whenever she was sitting in her bean bag chair, how she waited on her bed every day until she came home from class, and how she'd hop down as soon as her scent came back to life and run to greet her. The purrs she let out into her hand when she nuzzled her and climbed into her arms so she could lie over her chest. She was her sidekick. Whenever they got a new package, Demeter would climb into the box to sniff around and ensure no rats had smuggled themselves aboard, and the humans would laugh and say it was her new bed. Her only sleeping spot was next to the girl; sometimes under she sheets with her if she was so inclined to 'tuck her in.' But it was always next to her pillow near her head. She'd purr right into her ear to help her rest easy. Humans seemed to enjoy it when cats purred, though it was such a common and natural thing among them that their own kind didn't even notice.
Other things came to mind as the rain started to pick up; the scent of the woman's perfume, the father's morning newspaper delivery, the smell of their morning tea and sounds of the 'news' on the 'telly' everyday. Yes, she would miss it, but now her purpose in caring for others had led her elsewhere. Maybe everything in her life was meant to drive her towards the tribe. Maybe that's why she just couldn't leave them alone.
Sing, sweet nightingale
Sing, sweet nightingale
High above me...
Her wistful voice combined with the gentle rhythm of her heartbeat lulled Munkustrap back to sleep. Whether it would be a pleasant one, she did not know, but she would be at his side either way. She pressed her lips into his head and nuzzled him softly. If ensuring him a peaceful slumber meant having to watch over him, then Demeter was determined to stay awake forever. She loved him, and losing rest was a small sacrifice in aiding him through his trial. Munkustrap had sought her out not long after the funeral. He knew she was nearby and needed her warmth. He breathed lightly as his chest moved evenly up and down; his grip around her loosened and his eyes darted back and forth behind closed lids – off in a distant dream once more. Demeter didn't let him go. She whispered something into his ear, something that would assuredly bless him with better thoughts while he slept.
Rum Tum Tugger
"We have a lot more in common than you could possibly believe."
Tugger rushed down the corridor far below ground. Beckoning him was a familiar presence.
"We have a lot more in common than you could possibly believe."
He saw his father far up in the heaviside layer, where happier times awaited him, and he was bidding the cats farewell before his spirit would disappear forever. But behind him was another cat, and day quickly turned to night as the Jellicles cowered beneath them.
"...A lot more in common than you could possibly believe."
Macavity's sharp fangs were still protruding from his curved lips; his neck was bleeding from where Tugger's razor-sharp claws had ripped it open. The cut had been so deep that it exposed his jugular vein. He put a calm paw around Old Deuteronomy's shoulder. They drifted farther away.
"...A lot more in common than you could possibly believe."
Tugger tried to scream for his father to turn around, but the latter was in a dissonant serenity. Old Deuteronomy didn't flinch at Macavity's touch; if anything, it mocked the young tom. Macavity's spirit was now free to do whatever he pleased with him. Tugger continued trying to yell, but to no avail. "I told you, didn't I?" Macavity said, "Your father never noticed you, and your brother doesn't need you." He continued as the blood overflowed in his mouth, drained from his throat, and went streaming down his neck. They were so far away now that Tugger almost lost sight of them and was left alone in darkness. He could only give chase.
"...Your father never noticed you... Your brother doesn't need you."
But from the shadows, Old Deuteronomy returned to him, and Tugger felt an iota of gratitude that he'd sacrificed one final moment before ascending to tell him goodbye, but then a hole pierced through his chest and the blood from the puncture painted his thick fur crimson. "My boy," he said without a hint of pain, "I'm sorry it turned out like this. But it'll be over soon." And immediately after, as he reached his paw out to his little son, he disintegrated into nothing but cinders like in the funeral pyre, and Tugger could do nothing but fall to bereaving pieces before the pile of ash that was once someone he loved and cherished.
"...Father never noticed you... Brother doesn't need you."
Caressing his neck with a silver claw and lifting him by the chin was Macavity, still with the bloody tear in his throat. And in the reflection of his snake-like eyes, Tugger did not see himself, but instead the demon cat in his place.
Finally, Tugger's own eyes opened.
"No–! No!" He gasped for breath. He looked around with fearful eyes and a racing heart. It was nearly as dark as it had been in his dream, but he had the comfort of the streetlamps along the sidewalk and the sounds of late-night commutes passing by in their cars. He was back on the fire escape somewhere behind an apartment complex. He was alone, and he couldn't be more thankful for it. He'd been alone for a week now; he didn't care if anyone back at home was looking for him or not—no one would be needing him any time soon. For a very brief moment did Tugger think that his father would be standing over him wondering where he'd been, a familiar occasion that could never be again.
The nightmare left him unusually tense—it was rare that they were this vivid, and he normally got over them rather quickly. He placed a paw over his neck to try and rid the feeling of Macavity's icy touch. He adjusted his collar and got up to find water. He still had a slight limp; it'd probably be gone by now if he'd just sit down and let it heal instead of skulking around trying to find something to do. This wasn't pain. Recieving near-fatal gashes all over his body and three broken ribs from enraged toms was pain. If he managed to survive that – along with the debilitating fever that accompanied it – then this was nothing.
He washed his face in a puddle and checked his rippled reflection. He was still Rum Tum Tugger. His eyes were red from exhaustion and his mane was tousled from struggling in his sleep, but at least he recognized himself. As much as one would think that Rum Tum Tugger loved to admire his own image, it was actually a rare occasion that he ever stared himself down unless he was inspecting something in his fur or teeth. He knew what he looked like once he was done preening himself, so no need to constantly check. But on the instances he did happen to catch himself in a reflective surface or in a rain puddle, once in a blue moon, he would sometimes be at an angle that reminded him just how much he looked like his brother or father... and sometimes it would scare him half-to-death.
He'd react as if he'd seen a ghost walking by. Nowadays, maybe he did.
His right ear involuntarily leaned over and Tugger could already guess whom it was; he'd only caught his scent about fifteen times since he'd left the junkyard. "I know you're there, buddy." He said without turning around. Mr. Mistoffelees appeared from his hiding spot and sauntered out with a bashful demeanor. "What's the deal? You've been stalking me for three days now."
"I was worried," he confessed, "you left without saying a word to anybody."
"I do that all the time."
"I mean, no one's seen you around town since..." He swallowed thickly once he realized he probably shouldn't mention the last time he was home... as if Tugger didn't know. "I thought I should go looking."
"Kid, I'm a grown adult. I can handle my own issues. Worry about yourself." His tone sounded a bit cruel, but he'd honestly meant it as a suggestion and not a command. It was the tiredness speaking. Mistoffelees was far from persuaded.
"Even adults need some assistance." He rationalized quite clearly. Tugger sighed. "Aren't we part of the same tribe now? Doesn't that mean we're supposed to look out for each other?"
As he spoke, Tugger did his usual unconscious habit of resting his thumbs under his belt. "I don't know. Go ask my brother; he's the one who's about to be in charge."
Mistoffelees glowered and furrowed an annoyed brow. He rushed in front of the Maine Coon before he could proceed, "You're not you." He stated, and Tugger responded with an expression that was both baffled and irritated.
"Pardon?" He chided.
"We both saw what happened and we both know it did something to the Rum Tum Tugger everyone knows... it did something to the old Munkustrap too. So don't pretend like you're all alone in this!" He raised his voice louder than anyone had ever talked to Tugger before, not counting his brother and father. He spoke to him as if they were brothers themselves. And it was because of one reason: he cared.
But Tugger wasn't seeing that; all he saw was a teenager being recalcitrant and pestering. He wasn't about to go all soft and have a long spiel about his emotions like his brother would. He tugged on his vest and swaggered past him in a huff. What would they accomplish talking about it anyway? He was fine now that he was awake and able to find something else to keep himself occupied.
Mistoffelees wasn't having any of that. "I'm talking to you!" He hollered down the alleyway. It was startling enough to even catch the large tom off guard. "I've been through a lot too. You're the only cat in the world to know that. That's how good I am at not telling anybody. If that's what you're worried about, then I guarantee you, anything you say is between us."
Honestly, what was his deal? Teenagers just loved to know all the drama. And Tugger would know – he'd been one already. Yet he also knew that the kit was looking out for him in his own way; everything he'd done for him while they were practically strangers was enough to convince him that he wasn't that kind of bloke. He wouldn't exploit him or want to humiliate him to a bunch of cats he didn't even know—what's to gain from that?
It was the Maine Coon himself. He wasn't used to people being so eager to reach out to him and then want to hear his own troubles... because nobody thought he had any. How could someone so charming and had all the girls fawning over him have any issues? Besides, it's not like the cats didn't know what his present ordeal was. He shouldn't have to explain it unless Mistoffelees was actually that daft, and he already knew that this brainy kitten was far from it.
Rum Tum Tugger had no desire to spell it out for him, so he went on walking. Mistoffelees made no chase after him this time.