If it were possible, steam would have been pouring out of Jennyanydots' ears. She was absolutely furious! What gave her patient the bright idea to get out of bed when he really should have been lying down, follow Munkustrap and Tugger on an unknown and dubious-sounding mission, and not even have the consideration to tell her what he was up to? If Quaxo weren't so ill, she would wring his neck.
But underneath all of the fury was a worry, an intense one at that, a niggling anxiety that no matter how much anger was painted over it, would not disappear. Jenny wasn't irritated, not really. She just wanted to be assured that everything was alright, that the boys that she had come to care for as her own were safe, that no harm had befallen them. Oh, what I'd give to hear their voices now!
"Aunty Jenny?"
It was almost as if the world had stopped. Her breath caught in her chest when she turned around and saw her boys, her boys, home and safe. They weren't out on their dreadful mission anymore, they weren't fighting for their lives or at risk of being harmed. They were home, back under her protection and safe from anything that could harm them. But what a state they were in...
Quaxo was barely awake, exhaustion set deep into his eyes, Munkustrap was littered with cuts and bruises, and Tugger...
The bleeding hadn't quite stopped, staining half his abdomen bright scarlet, and the langour with which he lay in his brother's arms frightened Jenny to the bone. He was usually such an active cat, always prancing around and fluffing his mane; now, she would be surprised if he could say his own name.
"Munkustrap, set your brother down on the table and fetch me some antiseptics. Quaxo, go back to your den - "
" - Jenny, I'm not leaving - "
"Go back to your den, Quaxo." Guilt throbbed in her chest at the expression he wore. "You're exhausted, I can tell, and if you run yourself dry after you've done far too much magic you'll just make yourself ill." Solemnly, he nodded, trudging reluctantly out of her den and leaving Jenny to focus solely on her injured patient.
Almost snatching the antiseptics out of Munkustrap's hand, she got to work cleaning the still-bleeding cut of dried blood and other muck and grime. Once she could properly see it, she sighed in relief; most of the bleeding had been superficial. She wondered at her own amazement, considering that Tugger did think with his stomach and... other areas, but put it behind her as she carefully stitched up the wound.
By some miracle of the Everlasting Cat, he had managed to stay unconscious throughout the whole procedure (no wonder, that tom slept like a rock), and now rested peacefully with his brother beside him. Thankful that Munkustrap had the good sense to see to his own, more minor injuries, Jenny huffed out all the breath that remained in her chest and gratefully sat down on her beaded chair.
"MIAOW! MIAOW! MIAOW!"
What the Everlasting Cat?! Jumping in complete shock, Jenny swerved around and nearly gave herself a stroke. She'd never felt such a mix of emotions in her whole life; happiness, shock, pity, everything you could think of all rolled into one. Instead of a soft, comfortable chair seat with multi-coloured beads nailed around the edge and a long, olive fringe...
It was a kitten.
If you had asked Old Deuteronomy what he was doing in that moment, he would have told you he was 'taking a cat nap' and chuckled a little. However, cat nap was a bit of an understatement; he was conked out. Age had made him always slightly weary, and he never missed an opportunity to lay down his head and close his eyes, forget about his duties and responsibilities, even if it were only for a small while.
And if Jellylorum had anything to do with it, that was going to be a very small while indeed.
"Old Deuteronomy!" she cried, wagging her tail like an excited dog. "There's something you must see!" Slowly, the aging Jellicle crawled upwards and stretched, yawning loudly before turning to his friend. He soothed,
"Calm yourself, Jellylorum. Speak slowly, and tell me what has gone on." She completely ignored this, rambling,
"Oh, there's a kitten, Old Deuteronomy, your sons and Quaxo brought it back with them, and it's so small, and so frightened, and none of us have any idea what to do with it, and -"
"- Jellylorum!" His tone took on something of command, and she immediately hushed. "What have you, as of now, done with the kitten?"
"We've treated her injuries as best we can, but she's very wary, she won't let any of us save Munkustrap go near her."
"As you've had experience with, some kittens are distrustworthy, and some also attach to others very quickly. Do you know what happened to her before my sons found her?" Jellylorum bit her lip before saying,
"Not from her, no. But Munkustrap said that she'd been involved in some way with... with..."
"With who, Jellylorum?" Old Deuteronomy didn't entirely know why he was asking; he knew the answer already.
"M-Macav-vity." At that a tear leaked from her left eye, and a thousand leaked from her heart. It was a terrible thing for anyone to be involved with his wayward son, even for a moment, but a kitten? A young, innocent kitten that was now traumatised and hurt? As much as he loved Macavity, he couldn't forgive this sort of thing.
"Don't bring her to me now," he cautioned, attempting to keep his tone steady. "Leave that until morning. If she doesn't want to leave Munkustrap, don't separate them. She should feel as comfortable as possible. Make sure everyone who's been out has eaten and been cleaned. And Jelly -" he added, as the other cat was turning to leave, "How are my boys?" She replied with a slightly sad smile,
"They're alright, Old Deuteronomy. Munkustrap's helping Jenny with the kitten, but she'll force him into bed soon. And Tugger... He's in a bad way, but he's stable and he's being looked after."
"He has his mate and his brother. He should be alright. I'll see him once dawn has passed, I wouldn't want to disturb his rest." Nodding respectfully, Jellylorum left the den, completely unaware that Old Deuteronomy was following behind her. His rest was important, yes, but his sons were a thousand times more so.
Being pawed in the face at three o'clock was generally considered irritating, but permissable. When that three o'clock was in the morning, however, it was completely out of the question.
"Alright, alright! I'm up, I'm up." Mungojerrie grumpily stretched and stared at his sister, jumping a little when he realised that she wasn't looking in the least playful, or even happy. "Sis, what's up? You look like you've just had a heart attack."
"Oh, Jerrie, it's that kitten we saw earlier, Munk found her and brought her back and she's in such a state and -"
"- Woah, sis, slow down! Tell me again without running your mouth like the Night Rail." Rumpleteazer took as deep a breath as she could and started again.
"You know that kitten we found earlier, Jerrie?"
"Yeah."
"Well, Munk's gone and brought her back."
"That's great, innit?" And it was, it really was. Of course, he'd never admit it, but Mungojerrie had been very worried about that little fluffball he'd seen on his heist, and he was glad to know that she was safe."
"Yeah, it is great, but..."
"But what?" Upon realising that his sister's eyes were going glassy, he dropped his tone. "C'mere, Teazer, it's alright. What's botherin' ya?"
"I-It's just that she was so scared already and we made her more scared, and she got hurt really bad for Macavity and we work for the guy! I don't want to no more, Mungo, I don't want to."
"Right, sis, that's a very big thing to say, yeah? Let's think about it for a bit." He wrapped his arm around her, squeezing tight; he had to tread very carefully. "Why do we work for Macavity now?"
"F-For the cash." Rumple knew she was being led into a trap, but she didn't care. No matter what she thought, it was too dangerous to go without protection and resources from the Mystery Cat.
"And?"
"And the p-protection."
"That's right." He booped her softly on the nose, making her giggle like when they were proper kittens. Jerrie got why she was anxious; working for Macavity wasn't a fun job, and he didn't agree with the guy either, but it was the only way they could get what they needed while still having some sort of moral code. They had to do it, for the good of everyone involved.
"And do we ever have to speak to Macavity?"
"No, but we have to speak to his hench-cats."
"If you don't want to do that no more, that's fine, Teazer. I can do the talking, no problem. And when we work for Macavity, do we have to agree with what he does with the goods?"
"Nah."
"And does he know that we don't like what he does with them?"
"Kinda, yeah."
"Nah, sis, he does. And he respects it, because it ain't part of the deal we's got going on. And can we, at any time we want, say that we ain't gonna steal something for him because we don't agree with what he's going to use it for?"
"We can, I guess, but then we'd have to tell him to his face."
"Nah, sis, that ain't true. We can tell his hench-cats about that, and if Macavity wants to talk to us about it, he can. So, you still think we should stop doing our stuff with him?"
"...No." She sighed, her head coming to rest on her brother's shoulder. Mungojerrie squeezed her tightly, their conversation making him never want to let go.
"Good queen. Now, get some sleep, we'll see the kit in the morning. Night, Teazer."
"Night, Jerrie."
After being cleaned up, bathed and fed, Sylvia had been sent home with Mr Munkustrap. The dotty cat said it was only for a little bit, while they sorted out who was going to look after her forever, but she was delighted all the same. Munkustrap made her feel safe; his fur was silky smooth, his voice was quiet but not too quiet and he just understood. Nobody had ever understood before.
He had carried her on his shoulders on the way, so that she could see as much of the Junkyard as possible, but when they got to a large, well-kept sofa, she was put down in front of him.
"This is my den, Sylvie," he explained, gesturing to the human cat flap that served as an entrance. The moment she saw it, Sylvie tensed; they had had cat flaps in her human home, the bad home, and she didn't like seeing them again because it made her worry about what was going to happen inside. But she took a deep breath and calmed down, because she didn't have to worry about Mr Munkustrap. He was a good cat, and he wouldn't let bad things happen inside his den.
"There are some other cats in there right now, but I promise you that they're nice. There's a black and gold queen, that's my mate Demeter, and the smaller one is my kitten Jemima. I've asked them to make you a bed, so you can go straight to sleep if you'd like, or you can stay up for a bit with us. Are you ready to go in?" She nodded uncertainly and, by the paw, he led her inside.
It was as if the Everlasting Cat had taken the word 'home' and made a den with it. The whole place was the cosiest, most comfortable residence Sylvia had ever seen. From the little lights strung up around the ceiling on a silver wire to the well-stocked shoebox poking up from under the floor that served as a pantry, everything radiated warmth and kindness and family. And in the corner, right next to the ice cream tub window drawn with fat quarter curtains, was a little cushion just the right size for an equally little kitten.
"Oh, Mr Munkustrap, it's wonderful!" She wondered how she was speaking, she was in so much awe of the place. Why the home of the Jellicles was called the Junkyard, she had no idea; it was beautiful! "Is that your kitten's bed?"
"No, Sylvie," he corrected, and she felt a little mournful. "It's yours." Her heart, which had sunk a little, leapt to the top of her throat. A bed, all to herself! And such a pretty one at that! "And you don't need to call me Mr Munkustrap anymore."
"W-What should I call you?"
"As long as I'm looking after you, you can call me Daddy."
She couldn't believe it. She couldn't honestly believe it. All her life she had been cast aside, unwanted, by humans and cats alike. She had been used and abused and everything else bad under the sun. And now that was going to change. Now she was with nice cats who cared, and she had a nice den, and she had a foster father while they were finding her a proper one. It almost didn't seem real.
Sylvie was brought out of her dream when she felt Munkustrap's fur on her own. She had run up to hug him, and he had lifted her into his arms, knowing that it was his job to look after this tiny little kitten and give her the love she needed, even if only for a little while. And Sylvie could feel that, that message made its way into her heart and brought three words to her lips.
"Thank you, Daddy."