Munkustrap was dreaming.

He was dreaming of him.

Of Macavity.

He could see the fire that tore through the nursery at his paw.

He could see the tree that he split open with his lightening.

He could see the young tom that was ensnared in the flaming branches.

He could see his claw that sunk deeply in Percy's chest.

He could see him.

At just the right angle, his ginger pelt turned to flames as the sunlight struck it.

And his eyes...

He always had such mesmerizing brown eyes.

Munk tensed.

No, those weren't his eyes. Those were Quaxo's.

And suddenly...Mac wasn't there anymore. In his place stood a small tuxedo kitten.

"Quaxo?" he whispered.

The eyes were the only thing that remained the same.

They were full of anger. They were full of hatred. They wanted to kill.

No...those couldn't be Quaxo's eyes.

Not his Quaxo.

He looked up to see Macavity again.

Or...or was it still Quaxo?

He realized with a shudder that he was unable to tell the difference anymore.

"Munk?" the hybrid cat asked him.

That wasn't Quaxo's voice.

"Munk, wake up," he said again, louder still.

No...no that was an adult voice. It had to be...

"Wake up!"

#

He was jolted back into consciousness, gasping for breath.

What?...

He looked down to see Quaxo curled up next to him, sound asleep.

It was just a dream. It was a dream. It was...

What was it?

It felt more like a premonition.

But if that wasn't Quaxo talking, then who...

"Over here."

A large ginger tom stepped out of the shadows, eyes trained directly on him.

No. He was still dreaming. He had to be. Or perhaps it was a trick of the light. Macavity was not here. Not now. Not with Quaxo….

He's here for Quaxo!

Almost immediately, Munk leaped out of his nest and positioned himself defensively between Macavity and the tuxedo kitten.

"How did you get in here?" he growled, unsheathing his claws.

Mac raised an eyebrow.

"You're asking a cat capable of magic how he snuck through your defenses?"

"I'm not playing your games tonight, Mac. How did you get in here?"

The smug look on the magician's face enraged him even further.

What is he playing at?

"I didn't," he said simply.

"What?"

"I'm not really here."

"You aren't making..."

"Oh, and neither are you."

"Explain yourself," Munk hissed, still crouched defensively.

Macavity took another step closer.

"Really look at me, Munk."

The ginger cat did look different, Munkustrap realized. It was as if you could see through him, like a ghost. Looking at himself, the tabby realized that he too had taken on a translucent tone.

"What...what is this? What did you do to me?"

"I didn't do anything to you," he said. "Not physically, at least. I wanted to talk with you, but breaking into the junkyard has become too much hassle of late. This is much easier."

"You still haven't answered my question."

"Always looking for answers, aren't you?" he responded, still looking rather smug. "Very well then. I established a mental link between the two of us. Think of this as a dream, if you like. I just wish to talk."

Munk turned around, trying to grasp his surroundings. They were still in his den. It looked like his den, at least. And then he saw himself, a much more solid version of himself, still asleep in his nest. Quaxo too was there, curled up by his side.

"I told you," Macavity said quietly. "This is a dream. The two of you are perfectly safe."

"Dreams can take place anywhere, why my den?"

"So many questions."

"Do you blame me?"

Mac sighed.

"You do not make this easy on me, friend."

Friend?

"We aren't friends," the Jellicle protector growled.

"But we were, once..."

Munkustrap shook his head.

"No, Mac. We never were. Whatever we had...it wasn't friendship."

"You wound me, Munk."

Sure I do.

Finally determining that he wasn't in any imminent danger, Munkustrap retracted his claws and stood up on two legs.

"What do you want?" he repeated.

"I told you, to talk."

"That's what we are doing, isn't it?"

Macavity's eyes bore into his, all too briefly, before turning his gaze elsewhere.

"I wanted to see him," he finally said, flicking his tail towards Quaxo.

Deep down, Munk knew this was coming. He knew Mac would be after Quaxo eventually. He just hoped it wouldn't be this soon.

"Tell me about him," the ginger cat continued, still staring intently at the tuxedo kitten.

"Why?"

"I would like to know."

The grey tabby shrugged in a futile attempt to ward him off Quaxo's scent.

"He's a stray. I took him in. There's nothing else to say."

"Oh? You seem awfully close."

"Why do you care? I didn't think kits were your style, Mac."

He chuckled softly.

"It depends on which kit."

He stepped past the Jellicle protector and made his way towards the little tux.

For a moment, he didn't say anything. He was just...watching him. There was something in Macavity's eyes that Munk couldn't quite grasp.

"Does he see you as his father?" he asked softly, not breaking his gaze.

Oh.

That's what it was.

It was longing.

"He knows I'm not his father," he responded, not giving anything away.

Another second of silence.

Mac stretched his paw out, looking like he wanted to touch the kitten before realizing that he couldn't.

The hidden paw finally rose from his position and turned his gaze back to Munk.

"He should be dead."

"I don't know what you mean."

"You were never a good liar, my friend."

"I don't know what you mean," Munk repeated, trying to keep his voice calm.

Macavity laughed, but this time it wasn't soft. It was harsh, spiteful.

"Do you know how magic originates in a cat?

"How am I supposed to know that?"

"Magic is like any other trait. It is passed from parent to child. And this little kitten you are harboring reeks of it."

He stepped in closer towards the grey tabby.

"I was wrong, I admit. I thought it would be the bigger one. But it seems the runt did, in fact, inherit my abilities. How...interesting."

So there it was. The confirmation. There was no trying to deny it now.

Munk just stood there, contemplating his next move.

"What is it, my dear friend? I would have wanted to relish the look of surprise on your face, but I can tell by your lack of reaction that you already knew who his sire was."

Munk shook his head, backing away slowly.

"How did you know about him?" he asked. "I mean...he was abandoned and didn't start showing his powers until later. How did you know he was here?"

"An oversight on my part, perhaps," Macavity responded, pacing around the room like a vulture stalking its prey. "As I said, I presumed he was dead."

He stopped, smoothing over a couple of strands of fur that were sticking out on his chest.

"Mac," the grey tabby snapped.

The ginger tom looked back up at him, eyes gleaming.

"Impatient, aren't we? No matter. I'll skip ahead to the interesting part since you are in such a rush."

Interesting?

Munkustrap tensed, failing to respond.

"My scouts reported a fire. They thought it might have been produced in unnatural circumstances. So I sent several of my pollicles to investigate. The have better noses than us cats."

He knew about the fire? In the forest...

"And do you know what they sniffed out? A kitten."

Munk's breath caught in his throat.

"A dead one, mind you," Mac continued. "Buried pretty deep in the soil. But that kit was mine. So then left the question...where was the other one? London is a big place, as you know. I didn't have enough henchcats to scour the entire city, so I needed to outsource some of the labor."

"Your rats," Munk realized, the pieces fitting together in his head.

Macavity's smug expression made a reappearance.

"They are quite dependable. Weak minded and easy to control. And there are thousands of them at my disposal."

"Easier to control than cats?" Munk questioned angrily.

"Are you suggesting that the loyalty of my henchcats are not genuine?"

"You maim, you torture, you kill..."

"And you," he hissed, "are terribly naive. Not every cat is born into a tribe, or into a home where a human can attend to their every need. The world is rough and unforgiving. And some cats need to adapt to survive."

He could see Macavity's eyes take on a reddish tint.

"And many come to me because I can offer them protection. The only thing I ask of them is their loyalty. And yes, some need more persuasion than others, but it is a small price to pay."

Is it?

Just the idea that Macavity was malicious enough to deny living creatures of their own free will, deny them autonomy over their bodies….

It made him sick to his stomach.

But now was not the time to think of such depravities.

"I will ask again," Munk finally said. "Why are you here?"

"You know why."

"Enlighten me."

Mac's gaze shifted back towards Quaxo.

"I'm here for him."

There it was.

Up until the point where Mac actually stated his intentions, there was a small spark of hope in the Jellicle protector's mind that he could perhaps get through this meeting without the possibility of losing a kitten.

One could only be so lucky.

He took a deep breath, preparing himself for what needed to be said. In fact, there was only one word that needed to be said.

"No."

Macavity clearly was not expecting that response. His eyes narrowed into slits.

"He is my son!" he snarled.

Quaxo jerked violently.

For a moment, Munk thought that Mac's outburst might have woken him up. The tuxedo kitten curled even tighter into a ball and pressed his little face in the Jellicle protector's soft belly fur as he slowly fell back asleep.

"So he can sense me," Macavity murmured, lowering his voice once more. "He can sense I am close."

"He was dreaming about you since your rats started sniffing around."

Mac nodded, looking almost…proud?

"They carry a little of my magic in them as well. It is how I am able to control them. My son is perhaps more powerful than he knows."

Munk tried to stop the shiver that was running up his spine. Coming out of Macavity's mouth, he did not like what that implied.

And even then, there was still one thing nagging at the back of his mind.

"If you wanted him so bad, why didn't you take him yourself? You clearly have the power to do it."

"Why waste it when I can just ask?"

"You don't seriously think I would just give him to you?" Munk exclaimed.

"As I said," Mac responded, the tone of his voice not quite matching the fire in his eyes, "he is my son, my only surviving child. Perhaps the only one I will ever have. And his wench of a mother stole him from me and left him for dead. He belongs to me. I would expect someone who values family above all else to understand my position."

"Quaxo isn't a plaything to be passed around. He is a kitten, Mac. He needs stability, compassion…"

"He needs his father!" the hidden paw hissed, unsheathing his claws. "He is not yours to take."

"He is a Jellicle," Munkustrap stated firmly, not breaking his gaze. "And all Jellicles are under my protection. I will not let you corrupt him, Mac."

The ginger cat looked like he wanted to kill him right then and there. To sink his claws into the grey tabby's throat and leave him for the crows. It was lucky then, that this meeting was only of the mental variety.

"You dare..." he hissed, "call him a Jellicle? You have no claim..."

"I have every claim," Munk cut in, hackles raised. "He belongs with us. And he will stay with us."

A silence filled the air as the two cats stared each other down, unmoving.

"I see you have finally grown a backbone, my friend," Macavity remarked, now deceptively calm.

"I will not let you hurt my family."

"Hypocritical, aren't we? Seeing as you are holding my son hostage..."

"He is safe. He is loved..."

"He is holding within him great power. Power that only I am capable of teaching him to control."

Munk couldn't help but laugh.

"You want him to learn from you? How to hurt other cats? To use his powers for destruction? You must think me mad, Mac, if you think I'm going to leave him in your paws."

"I will teach him to be strong," the ginger cat growled. "You were always so weak, Munk. Even now. Under your tutelage he wouldn't reach even half the extent of his abilities..."

"Like how to burn a cat alive under a fallen tree?" he countered.

"Still remember that, do we?"

"I'll never forget. Never."

Munk closed his eyes briefly as the painful memory flashed before him.

"Those are things that a kit need not to learn," he murmured, mostly to himself.

"Let me ask of you this, then," Macavity said, pacing the room again.

"What?"

"If you give me my son...my child...then I promise you, Munk, I will never lay a paw on any Jellicle again. You will not need to ever defend yourself against me, to worry about my next attack. My interest in your tribe will cease, and I will let it be known around Victoria Grove not to bother you."

No, he was not expecting that.

"You...you can't be serious?"

"I am," he responded simply.

Maybe Munk was imagining things, but he could see a hint of desperation in the ginger cat's eyes. He must really want access to Quaxo.

For the briefest of seconds, the Jellicle protector was stuck. He could only imagine how much easier life would be without the threat of Macavity. He could see the pained look in Demeter's eyes every time his name was brought up. How much he has tortured the Jellicle cats, his cats over the years. He thought of Percy, who's blood still stained the chain link fence surrounding the junkyard. Wasn't it his job as protector to do what was best for the tribe?

But then he looked back at Quaxo….sweet Quaxo who was snuggled so comfortably in his side. He was perhaps the only innocent party in any of this, sleeping soundly while those above him bargained on his fate. Suddenly, he felt awful. Worse than awful. Quaxo was a Jellicle. His little Jellicle, who trusted in him to protect him against cats like Macavity. He would not sacrifice one of his own. That was never a path he would be willing to go down. That...was not who he was.

"No," he finally responded. "You will not have him."

Macavity eyes gleamed. "Think about it. One little kit for the ensured protection of the rest of your tribe. If you reject my offer, know this. Know that every future attack, every injury, every death will be because of you, Munk."

"No."

"How can you be..."

"So selfish?" Munkustrap cut in. "I've done quite a bit of growing up since you left, Mac. And you know what I've realized? It isn't my fault. Every injury, every death. It's yours. It always has been. I can't control your actions, but I certainly can control mine."

He came in close towards the ginger tom.

"And know this. I do not fear you. We do not fear you. Whatever you decide to do, we will be ready."

Macavity shook his head, backing away.

"You have made a permanent enemy tonight, Munkustrap," he seethed. "I will see to it that you will never experience a day of peace for the rest of your miserable life. If I were you, I would always look behind you, wherever you go. You will never be safe. Your family will never be safe. This is not the last time we'll meet, be sure of that. This meeting is over."

Munkustrap suddenly felt a great flash of pain in his head as a bright light swamped his vision. He gasped, his body felt like it was floating, then flying, before landing with a thud. And then the darkness set in. He realized now that he was lying down, and it was dark because his eyes were closed.

He opened them slowly, feeling slightly dizzy. It was still very dark outside, and he realized that no time must have passed in his confrontation with Macavity. Quaxo was glommed onto his side like a little furry parasite, and Munk bent down to give him a small lick on the top of his head.

He hated himself for even entertaining the idea of giving him away. But still…was he wrong to keep him from his father, even if his father was a monster?

He thought back to his dream. Of those bright pair of eyes that looked so much like Macavity's.

No.

Quaxo was not Macavity.

Quaxo was so ready to love while Mac was incapable of it.

And there was no way he was going to let Macavity sink his claws into the impressionable young kitten, regardless of the fact that he sired him. Quaxo deserved better than that.

He recognized that this would not be the end of the discussion. Mac would come back again, for the hidden paw was unused to being denied. The fact that he didn't immediately raid the junkyard and nab the kit by force would suggest that perhaps he was not as powerful as he would like Munk to think he was. At least not at the moment.

He sighed, laying his head back down. There was so much he had to do, but Jenny's poppy seeds were making quick work of his ability to stay conscious.

He would have to deal with everything in the morning.

Hopefully.

Munkustrap once again closed his eyes, hoping to dream of the stars.