What could he do now? Where could he go?

Not to the Junkyard, that's for certain.

If he went there, Munkustrap and Old Deuteronomy would manage to get the whole story out of him. Or Coricopat and Tantomile would know instantly just by looking at him, if they didn't already. And there was no way Munk would simply stand by and let the henches carry out their plans—not even to save Teazer…and now Admetus too. No, Munkustrap, ever the hero, would insist there was a way to stop the henches and save the hostages. But there wasn't; one wrong move and they'd be killed before any Jellicle had a chance to get to them, Griddlebone had assured him of that…

Not that he believed all Griddlebone had said, or even most of it. But she'd caught him at a disadvantage: he'd had no choice but to go along with it… She'd discovered his hiding place, had it guarded to keep him from getting out to warn anyone, and simply waited for Teazer to show up. He'd figured he could get Teazer back easily enough, or she herself would be clever enough to escape again; but now there was Teazer and Admetus. He didn't for a moment believe Griddlebone would actually willingly release his friends even after her plans were carried out, either, but he'd attend to that later. Surely she'd be kept good and distracted for some time once…once they… No, he'd not even think of it. He had no fondness for humans nor never had, but it sickened him to think of the shock and pain his father would experience when he heard that so many humans had been done away with in one single blow.

And what all the Jellicles would think of MacVitie when they found out he hadn't tried to stop it.

Stubbing his footpaw against what felt like brick, he looked up wearily to see where his paws had carried him—he had not been paying the least attention, except to avoid the Junkyard at all costs.

He stared at the structure he'd bumped into, at first too dazed to recognize it. It seemed to be the front step of some human's flat…front step, front door, with a kitty door cut into it… Blinking and doing a double-take, he realized he did know which flat this was. The kitty door could have been just any kitty door, except for the funny shape—Bella said it was called a "P"—monogramed onto it. From the handful of times he'd visited, he realized that it was his mother's flat—or, rather, her humans' flat. The "P," his mother had explained once, stood for "Princess," the pet name her humans had given her. But what had made him come here?

Then again, perhaps it made sense. At his wits' end, unable to go home, unable to consult with his father or brothers, what was left to do but mope around alone…or find the one member of his family who might feel just as lost as he? He hadn't exactly thought of that as he was walking along, but his paws must have instinctively carried him here…of course, she might not even be here…

"Vitie?" whispered a voice he recognized—though it came, not from the kitty door, but behind him.

"Mum."

Next thing he knew, they were seated together on the front stoop, he leaning slightly against her shoulder, she occasionally giving his paw an awkward pat. She had never been the sort of mother to gather her kittens into her lap and cuddle them, and now that her youngest was as tall as she, it was a bit late for such things. Still, they sat quite near each other for comfort, and for a rare moment he felt he was really confiding in his own mother, not some bumbling nanny who never quite knew what to do with her young charge. He explained, as far as he could, the terrible time he had had among the Henchcats, and even after escaping. And though he used no names and few details, he felt he was telling her more than he'd ever told anyone—even Munkustrap.

"Mum, when we were escaping, I…I fought someone, and—and hurt them…wounded them terribly. I'm not certain, but I think…they may have died." Again Jezza's bloodied face came unbidden to his mind's eye, and again he wondered what had got into him. But again he wondered if he had had any choice? "I didn't want to, but they were endangering my friends—what could I do?" He watched Bella's face as he spoke. She looked startled and pained, but not nearly as shocked or horrified as he had expected. Not the way Demeter had looked at him when he'd last seen her… "And now," he went on hastily, as if ripping off a bandage, "I know about…something, but if I speak of it somecats will be killed. On the other paw, if I don't speak of it, others might be killed." He groaned. "I've made an utter shambles of everything. Whenever I try to help anyone, I only make matters worse. I should have listened to you that night when…" But he trailed off, fearing that was much too near naming names.

"I don't know who you mean or what's happened, but I can pretty nearly guess," Bella sighed. "Are you certain your father and brothers can't help you?" She said 'help' as if he simply needed someone to join him in lifting some heavy object or sweeping a floor.

"Mum, don't you understand?" MacVitie tried to conceal his exasperation. "I can't go back to the Junkyard. Not now—perhaps not ever." A sudden, mad idea occurred to him. "But—but you can! Perhaps I can give you a…a hint of some sort, so long as I don't tell you what it's about, and you could pass it on to Dad and Munkustrap…" Already he was regretting saying this at all. Who knew but that Griddlebone was having him followed everywhere?

But it made no odds. From her horrified expression, it was clear that Bella would not agree to any such idea. "I? Vitie—it's impossible! I can't go back to the Junkyard! I haven't been back there since…since…that night…"

He frowned. "D'you mean—can it possibly be that…you still feel the same way you did when Bombalurina spoke with you? That was months ago, Mum!"

Her eyes took on a slightly glazed look as she tried to recall what he was referring to. Remembering, she gasped. "Did she—did she tell you—what I said?"

"She said she couldn't understand anything you were talking about," MacVitie replied evasively. Bella looked relieved. "But what were you talking about?" he asked recklessly, tired of her secrecy. "And why do you still feel unable to return to the Junkyard?" Although he had some idea from his conversations with the henchcats and with Munkustrap, all of that was in the past. It did not explain her present difficulty, whatever it was, which he felt was somehow behind this entire mess! Or perhaps that was only his wishful thinking, hoping to place the blame on others or on circumstances instead of admitting that he himself had caused the situation.

He looked expectantly at his mother, but her only response was to burst into tears. "Mum…please…" He sighed. Please what? What made him think she could discuss this rationally? She'd never been rational about things… He'd always felt, somehow, that he and his brothers were raising their mother instead of the other way around. Like she was some tiny porcelain doll that one must be careful not to break. But why? It wasn't as if no one else in the world had troubles! Why should she be allowed to curl up in a whimpering ball and expect those around her to deal with everything?

But no—that wasn't fair, he chided himself. Hadn't she gone to great lengths to protect him? Hadn't she gone along with Growltiger for MacVitie and his brothers' sakes? And yet they'd soon come along and saved her neck. And she, instead of trying to do anything about it, had moped around feeling sorry for herself.

But no matter. It was useless. He couldn't stay angry with her—it was like being angry with a kitten who didn't know any better.

"Mum," he tried a new tack, "you know I love you, will always love you, no matter what—don't you?"

He waited. The silence stretched between them, broken only by Bella's loud sniffs as she tried to get ahold of herself. At least, Mack hoped she was trying—she was doing none too good a job of it, if so. Again, like a kitten, she seemed content to just sit and let herself be petted and comforted while she boo-hooed until she decided she was tired of boo-hooing. There's no time for this, thought MacVitie, his impatience to get something done winning out over his desire to be sensitive.

"Mum," he sighed at last, "I know about…about you and…Griddlebone…and the Glamour Cats." That got her attention. She stiffened, and turned to look at him. Again, however, her expression was not as horrified as he'd imagined and expected. "And I don't care," he went on doggedly. "Whatever you had to do in the past…is in the past. No one has any right to hold it over you now. And if anyone has tried…I'll…" It occurred to him that someone had tried: Growltiger. Somehow he'd convinced Bella that the horrors of her past made her unworthy of remaining with the Jellicles. At least, he'd attempted to persuade her so—but was it more than that? Had someone from her own tribe accused her? His pelt prickled in anger. "And if it was someone from our own family who treated you so—"

"Don't be ridiculous, Vitie," she snapped. "You know your father would never allow anyone to behave that way towards another Jellicle. And…" The tears threatened to well up again. "…And throughout all the years he…he's continued to love me. Despite…everything."

"Of course he has," MacVitie took up her train of thought in what he hoped was an encouraging tone, "that's what he does. That's what family does. Accepts you and loves you, no matter what." He bit his lip, briefly worrying that his mother would take this opportunity to point out that, in that case, MacVitie should return as well.

Fortunately for him at the moment, Bella was still too wrapped up in her own worries to remember his. "Only he doesn't know everything. No more do you. No one does. If they did…"

"We're your family," Mack repeated, though he felt his heartrate increase, wondering what it was he 'didn't know.' Whatever it was, it couldn't possibly be worse than what he had done. No doubt she was magnifying something from her past, convincing herself it was unforgivable when in fact…

"I…I killed them," Bella gasped.

MacVitie frowned, certain he had heard wrong, or that his mother was raving or exaggerating. "What?"

"Don't make me say it again," she pleaded, hiding her face in her paws.

"But how do you mean? Who—?"

"I don't mean that I really did it…that is, I didn't succeed…but I as good as tried. I left them to starve or… Of course, I left them near the railway station, it was possible a human could have found them, but I…didn't hope for it…" She turned her tortured gaze on MacVitie. "Please understand…everything seemed so…dreadful, so strange and hopeless… And I couldn't bear it, couldn't bear for anyone to know that they…they were his… I didn't want anyone here to know, but nor could I simply leave them at my humans' home indefinitely, and what if somecat had discovered them and taken them to that awful place to become his—his henchmen—and… But then you kits found them…" She shook her head, unable to go on.

"You…you mean…Plato and Admetus," MacVitie whispered, everything piecing itself together in his mind. The realization he came to mattered much more to him at this moment than whether his mother had or had not 'meant to' starve them. Most likely even she didn't know. It was just another reason to accuse herself. One thing alone stood out to him above all else: The 'orphaned' kits he and his friends had found that day at the station…they were… "My brothers." It felt strange, saying the words out loud.

"Half-brothers," Bella corrected, barely-audible.

At that, Vitie stiffened. His pelt prickled in anger, as it occurred to him who the kits' father had been. He understood now, much more vividly than ever before, just how much and how long his mother had suffered because of that…that…filthy… But just as suddenly as the vengeful feelings began to take hold, they left him again. What was the use? Growltiger was dead. By drowning, no less. He will never suffer as he rightfully should have done… He shook his head to clear it. "Brothers," he fairly snarled, making his mother jump and look at him in surprise at his unexpected vehemence.

"Vitie…?"

"They're your sons, mum. My brothers. Munkustrap's brothers. Tugger's brothers." He put a paw to his forehead and groaned aloud. "And…I've just handed one of them over to…to her."

Bella drew in a sharp, quick breath. "What? What do you mean?"

Then MacVitie recalled that he hadn't exactly been very specific in his 'confession' to his mother. He'd told himself it was for fear of being overheard, but…who was he kidding? It was his shame at what he'd done, more than anything; he hadn't wanted to explain clearly—just as he hadn't been able to refer specifically to Jezza as "she," to admit to himself and his mother that he had actually deliberately harmed a queen. But what did it matter now? No matter what he said, Bella was convinced she held the upper paw in this…this…competition of which-of-us-two-is the-most-terrible-undeserving-of-life-feline-on-the-planet. And suppose Griddlebone did hear—it would not be likely to influence her actions. No doubt she wanted Bella to know. He forced himself to say the words—unsugarcoated this time. "I let her take Admetus and Teazer—you know Teazer?—Because of me, Griddlebone has them," he said flatly.

For the first time in their conversation, he saw a flash of concern in Bella's eyes—concern for someone else, not her former cross between self-loathing and self-pity. "But how…?"

"Because I'm an idiot who thought he could outsmart The Persian, that's how. But never mind that, now. The question is, how do we get them back?"

A few moments of tense silence passed between them. Then, "You…you say Griddlebone has them," Bella said haltingly. "She…usually makes bargains. Did she not make a bargain with you? What was it you said before, about not mentioning—something? If you only keep your word, Griddlebone will keep hers and you'll soon be able to get the kits back. There!" She smiled at him, timidly, as if hoping he would tell her she'd just solved everything.

"But, mum…" MacVitie shook his head. "What she's going to do…I can't keep that to myself!"

"Can't you?" Bella stared into her son's eyes, more boldly this time. "Is what she has planned truly any of your concern? Will it bring any harm to you or those you care about?"

"Well…" MacVitie hesitated. If he understood correctly, Griddlebone and her newfound co-conspirators meant to somehow bring a good deal of harm to a good many humans. It was so tempting to shrug it off, to think, "That has nothing to do with me or my family." And yet, Old Deuteronomy had asserted time and again that it was their duty to protect humans. If MacVitie allowed this, would his father ever forgive him? But then, could he choose the humans' lives over Teazer's and Admetus's? Surely this put things on an entirely different footing—Old Deuteronomy couldn't possibly expect him to sacrifice two kittens for the sake of humans! It went too far. Munkustrap, he knew, would declare, I'll save all of them!, and dash off to the rescue in a heartbeat if he found out. But surely he would only get himself—and all the humans and the kits—killed in the process! "Perhaps I can," Mack whispered finally.

Bella patted her son's paw comfortingly, as if following his line of thought. "You've no other choice," she said firmly.

"But," as another thought occurred to him, "how do I know Griddlebone will keep her word? What if I do nothing and the kits still die? And—and what if, even after she carries out her intentions, she doesn't leave us all alone?"

Bella shook her head. "Griddlebone keeps her bargains. She prides herself on it. Those who think they've been cheated, didn't pay careful attention to the wording of the bargain. I've experienced that myself." She shuddered. "If she has said the kits will live and be returned to you, then they will. And if she has said the kits will die if you interfere in her plan, rest assured they will. You must keep silent. It's the only way to save them."