The Cast Part 1

by Fyrie

There's a new cast in the London Production of CATS...this is only the beginning. (Chapter 19 added - 23-09-02)

10. The Cast - Part 10 - Family Ties

"So when we do this lift thing, you put one hand here..." Practising the lift for during Jellicle Songs for Jellicle Cats, Geeta took Andy's hand and placed it at the top of her inner thigh, giving him a coy smile.

He nodded. "That's right, Geeta." He waited for her to release his hand, then looked down in surprise. "Geeta?"

"Oh, sorry." The slight smirk that accompanied her coquettish giggle was far from innocent. "I must have got carried away...you have very strong hands."

"Yeah. He does." A small figure stepped between them, her hands on her hips. Blue was all but snarling up at the taller female dancer. "And I would be much obliged if you would keep them off your body."

Andy chuckled. "Easy, Tiger." He laid his hands on her shoulders. "I'm only helping Geeta with some of the lifts. Nothing to get angry about."

"Don't call me tiger." She snapped. "I'm the one this rehearsals meant to be for. She can do Vickie. She's done Vickie before. In case you've forgotten, I'm on as Demeter in a couple of hours and I've never played the bloody role in my life."

Andy gaped down at her. "Are you okay, Shorty?"

"What do you think?" Stamping away, the tiny dancer rounded the corner out of the door.

Geeta sidled up to him. "Well, while the mouse is away, is the cat gonna play?" She asked, her voice a seductive murmur. One hand scratched down his bare back, enough to raise several ridges of welts.

"Hey!" Wincing, Andy turned sharply. "Look, Geeta, you're a good dancer and really pretty and all, but don't do that. I'm not interested in you."

Batting amber-gold eyes, the young dancer nibbled on her fingertip. "You mean you don't find me attractive, Andy?" She moved towards him again, her body clad only in light jogging bottoms and a sports bra. "Don't you like the thought of a real, full-size woman?"

Grabbing her upper arms roughly, Andy hissed. "Don't you EVER insult Blue. She's my girlfriend. She's the one that I'm in love with. Not you."

"And yet, you're still here with me?"

Pushing her away from him, Andy stalked out of the large rehearsal room, leaving the Asian dancer laughing softly. Making his way around to his lover's dressing room first, he found no one there, which only left one place.

Hoping the management didn't see him, he carefully snuck into the ladies toilets, receiving a curious look from Helen, who was waxing her legs at one of the sinks. "Are you trying to tell me something, Andy?"

"All male, Hel." He gave his crotch a squeeze. "One hundred percent."

"Which is why Blue is in here, then?" The sandy-blonde woman cocked a brow. Andy reluctantly nodded, turning his attention to the toilet cubicles. Helen shrugged and went back to ripping the hair out of her legs.

Only one of the cubicles appeared to be in use. Tapping on the door, Andy called. "Blue?"

"Go 'way."

"Not a chance, short stuff. Open the door. Please?"

There was a click, as she slipped the latch back. Pushing the door open, he gave her a lop-sided smile. Blue was sitting on top of the toilet-seat lid, her knees hugged up to her chest, her nose pressed against her crossed arms. "Whatcha want?"

"You're scared, aren't you?"

"Me? Nah! Not much..." The rest of her face disappeared behind her slim arms. "What if I screw up, Andy? I've always wanted to play this kind of role, but I never got to...what if I mess up and they want rid of me?"

"Never going to happen, love." Kneeling, Andy opened his arms for her. "Is that why you were so piddled off at Geeta?"

"I don't trust her." Sliding forward on the seat, she wrapped her arms around his neck. He could feel her breath, warm against his neck. "She likes you, Andy. She wants to take you...take you away from me."

"Gotta admit its strange being the fancied one." He pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. "Now, are you going to come back out to rehearsal or do I have to carry you, kicking and screaming when you throw a Kashka?"

"Is Menke there?"

"Naturally! He's the big boss man, while Antoine's on holiday." He rose, offering her a hand, which she took with a tired smile. "C'mon. Lets get back through and get this rehearsal malarky out of the way. Your costume should be ready by the time we finish."

"You mean the one of Kashka's that they're currently hacking to pieces, in a vague hope to make it fit me?"

"That would be the one." He gave her a broad smile. "Let's just hope and pray that it doesn't fall to bits in the middle of the show...what with you going bra-less and all..."

"Perv."

He flashed a grin down at her. "Well, I can hope."

***

"She did a good job, didn't she, hon?"

Malcolm looked over from his phone, clearly distracted. "Yeah...good job..." He rubbed his brow, walking towards the windows to try and get a better signal. His expression was knit with concern and anxiety.

"At least my costume didn't fall to bits." Blue agreed ruefully. She was sandwiched between Andy and Tommy, both of whom were looking very pleased.

"You did great, short-stuff." Andy bent to kiss her, her arms going around his neck and he straightened up, lifting her off the ground. His arms under her rear, he held her close and nudged his nose against hers. "Finally a Dem I like."

Malcolm rejoined the group, his brow furrowed. "Guys, looks like no celebrating for me." He gave them an apologetic look. "That was my mum. Apparently my sister wants to see me about something important..."

"Want for me to come, sweetie?"

"No, Ray. It wouldn't be a good time for you to see them." Pressing a quick kiss to Raymond's lips, he smiled tightly. "I'll see you later. Guys, again, sorry for canceling. Good night and have a drink for me."

The young dancer ran off towards the lift, leaving the group staring after him, bemused. "Ah, well," Tommy smiled. "One person less to buy for. Is everyone ready? Georgie...where's that girl got to?"

"Coming!" A small, flame-haired dancer sped out of the dressing rooms. "Sorry about that. I lost my identity card." She looked around. "I thought you said Menke and Demi were gonna be coming too?"

"Downstairs." Andy explained, his arm still around Blue, who was smiling and pressed against his side. "Now, are we all ready?" The general consensus seemed to be nods, so they piled towards the lift. "Jonny, you did say Moni was staying at home?"

Jonny looked at him guiltily as the door slid shut. "I said she wasn't staying at home."

***

Standing beside the pillars with his wife and Jonny's boyfriend, Menke gave Malcolm a wave as the dancer sprinted past, but it wasn't even acknowledged. Sighing, Menke glanced over at Demi who was deep in conversation with Moni.

"Excuse me, ladies?"

"Yeah, handsome?" Moni batted her eyes at him, making Demi chuckle.

"Any idea what time it is?"

Demi smiled brightly. "They'll be out any minute, love." She said, then turned back to her conversation with Moni, which was apparently about the most flattering ways and styles to wear long hair.

Menke sighed again, stepping a bit further around the pillar to stare down at the stage door. He was so intent on watching the door that he didn't notice someone approaching him from behind until a hand touched his shoulder.

Whipping around, he caught a glimpse of red hair and, in that instant, back-pedaled with a gasp of fright. "Mac..." He began, until his eyes focussed on the face and he felt a flush of embarrassment rise in his cheeks. "Uh...sorry..."

"Sorry if I startled you, sir." The red-haired teenager gave him a timid smile. "I-I just thought I recognised you...you're Menke Strep, aren't you?" He nodded, still trying to calm himself enough to speak. In that brief moment, all his memories from the years before had flooded back. "Could I have your autograph?"

"Yes, yes...of course..." His hands trembling, he accepted the pen and pad, unsteadily scribbling his name and flashing a watery smile at the kid. The youth grinned and ran off, clutching the notepad lovingly.

He started when Demi touched his arm. "Menke?"

"I thought it was him, Dem." He pulled his wife to him, burying his face in her hair. Inhaling and exhaling several shaking breaths, he felt her fingers stroking his back, lingering briefly over the round knot of scar tissue at the base of his spine.

"He's gone, love. He can't hurt us again." She murmured against his ear.

Relaxing, Menke sought her lips, blinking back a wave of tears of relief. Returning the kiss, Demi stroked his face gently, then drew back with a smile. Her husband nudged his nose against hers. "Sorry, love."

"At least you didn't go running down the street, screaming, like I used to." She reminded him with a laugh. He gave her a lop-sided grin, looking around as the stage door opened and a small herd of figures emerged.

"Here they come to save the day!" He called, not releasing his wife's hand.

Swarming up to the couple, Blue, Andy, Tommy, Raymond, Georgina and Jonny managed to avoid the little groups of fans. "Shall we go before they decide to pounce us?" Blue suggested with a quick glance around.

"Sounds like the most sensible option." Monique stepped forward, smiling engagingly in Andy's direction, her brown eyes dancing. "I'll look after my little Cutie-pie, here, while the rest of you run for cover."

"Bluuuuuuuuue!" Andy wailed.

***

"What...what are you saying?"

Tear-filled blue eyes looked up at the tall dancer. "I'm sorry." Malcolm whispered. "Its over."

"No....Mal, honey...can't we talk about this?"

The small dancer was standing in the living room of his boyfriend's shared apartment, his rucksack on his shoulder. He had not been seen by any of the group since his untimely departure from the theatre the previous night. "There's nothing to talk about, Ray." He said. Rising on his toes, he touched his lips to Raymond's. Turning away, he whispered. "I'm sorry."

"No...no! I can't accept that!" Grabbing Malcolm's shoulders, the huge American shook him, his own voice strained. "Mal, give me a reason. You don't just give up somethin' like this...I can't... please, Mal..."

"Ray, please." The smaller of the two stepped back. He ran his fingers through his hair, his make-up streaking his pale cheeks. "Don't make this harder than it already is. I have a lot of reasons...just let me go."

Raymond let his hands fall away from his lover's shoulders and sank down on the plush arm of the sofa, his hands curled in fists on his thighs. "Go." He said softly, closing his eyes. Tears trickled down his dark cheeks.

"Ray, I'm really sorry."

"Just go!" Lashing out with his hand, the dancer sent a lamp hurtling across the room, smashing into the wall. Glass tinkled on the tiled floor and Raymond turned away from his ex-boyfriend. "Get the hell out."

Nodding, tears running silently down his cheeks, Malcolm crossed to the door and let himself out, closing the door quietly behind him. He didn't see Raymond fall to his knees on the floor, folding in on himself, wracking sobs tearing through his body.

Leaning against the wall in the hall, Malcolm banged the back of his head against the rough plasterboard. "It had to be done." He said to himself, raising a hand to smear the mess of his eyeliner across his cheeks. "It had to."

Straightening up, he dabbed the corners of his eyes with the end of the sleeve of the long shirt sticking out from the cuffs of his leather jacket. Swallowing a sob, he falteringly walked down the stairs to where his cab still waited.

Climbing in the back seat, he hugged his backpack in his lap, gazing up at the empty window of the flat three stories up.

"Where to, mate?"

"King's Cross Hospital, thanks." He replied quietly, turning away from the window and looking down at his hands gripping the grubby material of his rucksack. The black nail polish was chipped and scratched.

Another flood of tears rose in his throat as he realised that he wouldn't spend any more nights with Raymond, testing different colours of polish on each others finger and toenails. Burying his face in his hand, he started to sob.

***

The banging on the door woke the four people in the attic apartment. Yelling obscenities, Tommy was the first down the stairs, tying her dressing gown on. Blue and Andy peered out of her bedroom as the black-haired dancer yanked the door open.

"Is he here, hon?" Bleary, red-rimmed eyes stared in at her. "I went to his apartment, but he ain't there..."

"Ray?" The big dancer took an unsteady step forward. Tommy immediately caught one of his thick arms and steered him around the couch to sit down. "Ray, hon, not that I don't wanna see you, but what the hell are you doing here?"

"What's going on?" Andy demanded, crossing the living room floor.

Squeezing his folded hands between his knees, Raymond rocked back and forward, tears streaming down his face. "He dumped me." He croaked, looking at Tommy who was seated next to him. "I love the little geek and he dumped me."

"Oh man. I'm so sorry, sweetheart...I'm sorry…" Gathering Raymond in her arms, Tommy hugged him tightly. "Did he tell you why, Ray?"

"H-he said he had reasons." Cradled in her lap, his head resting on her satin-clad thigh, he shuddered with another wave of tears. One hand stroking his curly mass of hair, her other hand rested on his shoulder. "Hon, am I really so bad?"

"No, Ray! No!" Wrapping her around his barrel-like chest, Tommy pressed her brow to Raymond's. "There's nothing wrong with you. You're sweet, funny, great company, you have a great ass, great personality..."

"But he still dumped me." Sitting up, the black dancer shook his head. "I don't care if he don't love me, Tom. I just want my sweetie back." Leaning heavily on his knees, he buried his face in his hands and started to weep all over again.

Tommy knelt up beside him, hugging him against her chest. "Cry it out, hon." She whispered, pressing her cheek against the top of his head. "We're here for you, Ray." His arms went around her waist, holding her tightly.

"Ray?" Wearing nothing more than an oversized Cats T-shirt, Blue approached him, rubbing her eyes. "Can...can I sit on your knee?" He nodded and she climbed into his lap, sliding her arms around his neck.

Wrapped up in the arms of both of the dancers, Raymond's sobs slowly quieted. Letting Tommy slide away, he hugged Blue tightly. Her small fingers stroked through his hair and across the back of his neck comfortingly.

"You're staying with us tonight?" Despite the fact it was a question, there was a tone in Tommy's voice that said it was an order. Raymond nodded against Blue's shoulder, a long sigh escaping him.

The Oriental-looking dancer went into the kitchen, making a cup of herbal tea for the big dancer. Returning to the couch, she motioned for Blue to return to Andy and for them both to go to bed.

"Hon, this tastes like cat pee."

"I don't even wanna know how you what that tastes like." Even that didn't draw a smile from the big dancer.

Watching Raymond sip the tea - which was laced with sleeping pills - she reached out and squeezed his knee. "You going to be okay?"

"I dunno, Tom." He replied quietly, gazing down into the amber-green liquid. "I never believed you could really have your heart broken...I guess I was wrong." He spread a hand on his sweater-clad chest. "I don't want it to hurt, hon. I just want him to come back."

Tommy nodded. "I know, sweetie." She murmured. As he finished his tea, she let him lay his head in her lap, soothingly stroking his cheek until the pills took effect and he fell asleep, his breathing growing softer.

Sliding carefully out, she laid his head down on the cushions, removing his shoes and lifting his feet up onto the other end of the couch. Retrieving a soft blanket from the washing room, she carefully draped it over him.

"Sleep well, Ray." She gently kissed his cheek. "Things'll probably be worse in the morning, but sleep well."

***

"I am here to see my daughter." Leo leaned back in his seat to look up at the man on the other side of the desk. A middle-aged Asian man, he was clad in a suit, thick waves of luxurious black hair smoothed back from a high forehead. A small, neat mustache was visible over his upper lip.

"And who would your daughter be?"

"Her name is Geeta Khan." The man's voice was calm, but something in his expression told Leo that he was angry underneath. "I would like to see her now."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible." Smiling politely, Leo gestured at the time. "Geeta isn't in at the moment." The man nodded gravely, looking around the stage door area. "Do you intend to wait to see her?"

"Yes. Yes, I will wait."

Leo nodded warily, turning his attention to sorting out the stacks of mail that were waiting to be sorted into the rack. He hoped and prayed that whatever happened, Geeta wouldn't show up until her father was gone.

Something told the door manager that any confrontation between father and daughter was bound to be unpleasant.

The silence in the small, practically-windowless area was only broken by the sound from the TV which stood in the corner of the room, behind the desk, so the doormen and women had something to keep them entertained while they were seated there.

A sound from the road outside caught both of their attention and the man took a step towards the desk, his eyes narrowing. The door buzzed open and two dancers hurried in, neither of them Geeta, much to Leo's relief.

"Afternoon, Leo!" Jordan enthused, grinning. He shot a curious glance in the direction of Geeta's father, but said nothing to him as he signed in. "Mal's off?"

"Just called in. He's feeling a bit under the weather."

Joely looked surprised. "That's not like our Mal. He hasn't been off since he started…how long ago was that, now? Five months?" She pushed strands of her newly cut hair back from her eyes, the longest sections barely chin length any longer. "Gimme the pen."

Both of them signed in and were on the way to the lift before Leo called over. "Your hair looks good, Joe." She flashed a flirtatious grin back in his direction, before slinking out of site and into the waiting elevator.

There were only a few moments between the arrival of the first two dancers and the entry of Geeta, wearing a strappy vest and skin tight leather trousers. Most of her long hair was pulled up in a ponytail, with twin strands hanging down on either side of her face.

"Howdee, Leo!" She grinned breezily, then froze at the sight of the man standing beside the desk.

"Geeta Fatima Khan!"

She took a step back. "Father."

"You dare to call me father, when you look like that?" He stared at her in blatant disgust. "Look at you! You are dressing like a filthy Western whore!" The girl crossed her arms over her chest, lowering her eyes that were filling with tears. "You do not have your burkha! Nor your robes!"

"Sir, I think you should leave."

"No, sir! I will not!" Climbing up the two steps towards his daughter, he grabbed her roughly by the upper-arms, making her cry out. "You are coming home with me, ungrateful bitch. I will teach you the true place of a woman!"

"Let her go." Leo had leapt over the desk and grabbed the man's shoulder. "She wants to be here. It's her choice."

"No! No choice!" Looking from his sobbing daughter to the man behind him, amber eyes widened in rage. "She is your whore!" Before Leo could catch the man's hand, he had slapped Geeta viciously. A ring on his middle finger opened a cut across her cheekbone, the girl staggering against the door. "Filthy slut!"

"Father, stop!" Jerking free of him, she raised her hand to fend off another blow, as Leo pulled her father back from her. His face was flushed and he was panting with the effort.

Behind her, the door buzzed open without warning and she fell back, smacking straight into the group that was about to enter. Two pairs of hands caught her and she looked up to see Tommy and Andy looking down at her with consternation.

"Release me! She is my daughter! I have every right to treat her as I wish!"

"I don't think so." Both Tommy and Andy rounded the girl, steering her back to Ray and Blue, who were behind them. Tommy loomed, almost a full head taller than Geeta's father. "Geeta is staying here. You can't make her do anything she doesn't want to do."

"I am her father! I have every right…"

"You have every right to bugger off back to Bradford." Andy snapped. "Geeta may be your daughter, but she's also an independent woman now. She's an adult and you have no rights to tell her what she will and won't do against her own wishes."

The middle-aged man scowled up at the younger one. "You are a fool to stand between me and my child. I know what is best for her. I am her father."

"Yeah, we had figured that much out." Tommy sighed. "I had a father just like you, once upon a time. Now, I have a life and friends instead. I wouldn't trade it."

"But would Geeta?" Shrewd eyes turned to his daughter. "Tell me, daughter, could you face losing your family, like this whore?"

Stepping around Tommy, her face streaked with tears and a ream of blood, Geeta stared down at her father. "I won't lose my family, dad." She whispered, her voice shaking. "I'll just lose you and if I have to do that for my own happiness, I will."

Her father looked like he had taken a savage blow to the gut, staggering back a step. "But, my daughter…"

"Go, dad." She said. Standing straight and proud, she ignored the tears running silently down her cheeks. "I'm staying."

***

Sitting in the common area, a mug of steaming tea clutched between her shaking hands, Geeta stared down at the dark liquid. "I just rejected my father." She whispered sadly, oblivious to Tommy sponging her face clean with cotton wool.

"You saw his face." The older dancer murmured. "You called his bluff. He expected you to throw yourself at his feet and beg him to forgive you for doing what you wanted." She smiled sadly. "At least your father was only bluffing. If he legally could, my father would have me certified dead."

"He disagrees with you so much?"

Tommy didn't meet her eyes, but nodded. "Dad and I were as close as any father and daughter could be. We liked the same films, same books, same music..." She almost laughed, but it turned into a sigh. "Same women."

"Did you tell him that you were a lesbian?"

Again, Tommy shook her head, staring at her hands that were resting in her lap. "I thought it would...disappoint him." Her voice grew strained. "He was always talking about how wonderful it would be when I got married in our Church and then I would provide him with a whole flock of grandchildren. A brood of beautiful little angels was what he said they would be."

"What happened?"

"I thought I could pretend that I was 'normal'," Ebony eyes rose, filled with tears. "I went out with boys, even got caught kissing some of them, but it wasn't me. I felt bad for lying to him, but I felt worse because of the feelings inside of me. Feelings I knew he would hate in me." She wiped the tears away, a pained smile on her face. "I was miserable. I got ill, stopped eating right, spent all my time in my room...daddy wanted to know why I was so upset, but I couldn't tell him."

Geeta reached down and squeezed Tommy's hand, drawing a sorrowful smile from the older dancer, who tossed her hair back from her face.

"He did find out, y'know. That's how I ended up in London, at seventeen." She gazed towards the windows, her eyes growing unfocused. "I went out to a club one night...met a girl...no...a woman...funny thing is that I don't even remember her name now. All I know is that she was stunning. Half-Indian, half-Chinese...absolutely beautiful." A look of reminiscence crossed her features. "I had never had any experience with anyone except boys before that. They all wanted a grope and to stick their tongue down my throat...she was different..."

Closing her eyes, the dancer quietly related how she had spotted the wildly-exotic looking woman across the dance floor and hadn't been able to keep from staring as the girl danced, seducing any male who happened to be passing with her motions.

With curves in all the right places that seemed to have literally been poured into a skin-tight, red satin number, she dirty-danced with anyone bold enough to approach her and Tommy felt her heart jolt when dove-grey eyes had gazed smokily over one of the boy's shoulders, straight at her. She looked away immediately, flushing.

Tommy had been sitting at a table with her friends, but most of them were taking the chance to get in a few quick snogs and gropes in the corners. Wearing a modest, knee-length skirt and a relatively tame halter top, she had been taking in the other club-goers when a red-clad figure had stepped directly in front of her.

"You were watching me." She had purred. A purr. That was the only way her voice could be described. Tommy had mutely nodded, captivated by the pale eyes. "Did you like what you saw, beautiful?" Again, Tommy had managed to nod, receiving a soft laugh from the stunning woman standing over her. "Would you do me the pleasure of a dance?"

Unable to resist, Tommy had slowly nodded. The vision had taken the teen's hand in hers, drawing her to her feet and leading her onto the dance floor. Several of Tommy's friends had paused what they were doing to stare, but their...companions got impatient, so they were quickly distracted.

"I don't know how to do this kind of dancing..." She had said nervously, her ebony eyes meeting those pale ones again, her heart thudding deafeningly.

"Listen to the music." The honey-sweet voice had said.

Tommy had shaken her head. "I can't hear the music." She had received another teasing laugh for that and shivered when her hands were placed on silk-cased hips.

"Do what you feel is right, beautiful." The vision had pressed close to her, to breathe the words in her ear and Tommy had felt the fullness of the beautiful woman's full breasts rubbing against her own through the light fabric of their clothing.

Tommy turned back to Geeta. "We danced all night, just danced. She was smaller than me and she rested her head on my shoulder...her lips, here..." Raising her hand, she touched the side of her throat. "She was the one who inspired me to be the way I am, to be confident with who and what I was."

"So you didn't do anything with her?"

Again, a faint smile crossed Tommy's lips. "She was my first proper kiss. The first one I remember detail for detail..." Closing her eyes, the smile widened. "We were standing near the door of the club, in the shop doorway next to it...it was a book shop. I remember looking at her, then making myself look away, because I didn't want to kiss her, in case she had just been being friendly..."

"Dancing all night? Friendly?"

"I was young." She shrugged. "I didn't know any better. I was trying to think of something nice or funny to say, when she turned me around and lifted my chin to make me look at her. She told me I was a beautiful dancer and then she kissed me. I honestly thought my heart had stopped, when she turned it into a full-blown kiss." Her smile had become somewhat shyer, a faint glow across her cheeks. "I was pressed back against the glass of the door, but even the glass didn't make me feel cold. I thought I was melting...she was such a good kisser...I almost fell down when she let go of me. It was one of the best moments of my life."

Geeta frowned. "So did your dad see you kissing her? Is that how he found out?"

"I wish it was that simple. I had always made the excuse to myself that I was only imagining I was feeling the way I did, but after that kiss...after the feelings I had, I couldn't pretend to be straight anymore...but I couldn't tell my father. He found out by accident." Tommy rubbed her face wearily.

"I had gotten very close to a friend at school, after the night at the club. She was at my house one day and we'd been having a bit of a booze-up to celebrate exams ending, because I thought dad wouldn't be home. She wasn't exactly pretty, but there was something about her...I leaned over and kissed her, just messing around. Nearly pissed myself with shock when she kissed me back...she told me she'd always had a thing for me...we made it to my bedroom and next thing I know, we were naked and dad was standing over us, a disgusted look on his face." She shook her head sadly. "I never had a chance to explain..."

"What happened?"

"I tried to tell him that it wasn't my fault, that I hadn't wanted to feel like that." She rubbed her cheek. "He slapped me, said I was disgusting and perverted and that no daughter of his was going to be such a whore." Tears welled in her eyes again. "I told him I was sorry, but he wouldn't listen to a word I was saying. Mum got me out of the house before he could get to me to scream more abuse at me...I went to my aunt's and the next day, all my clothes and things were ditched outside, in boxes." She rubbed her palms together with a sigh. "I grabbed my favourites and ran away to London...you know the story...I was going to make my fortune...I ended up getting seduced by an older woman I ran into in a pub. Apparently the daft old bat loved me," This was said with a sad fondness. "She died a few years back...left me a load of money and her home, just after I met Sylvie, my girlfriend. I can't imagine being happier than I am with her."

"Have you spoken to your family since you got here?"

Tommy nodded. "I could never stay out of touch with my mum. I can't send her letters, so we e-mail...how ridiculous is that? I got internet access so I could talk to my mum. I bet your dad will change his mind, though. You saw his face. He really doesn't want to lose his daughter."

"You really think so?"

Rising up on her knees to hug the younger dancer, Tommy cupped Geeta's slim face between her hands. "I know so. Just give him some time to calm down and I'm sure he'll talk to you again."

"Thanks, Tommy." Returning the hug, Geeta wiped her face with a tissue proffered by the older dancer.

"No problem, kid." Stroking Geeta's loose hair back from her face, she forced a smile. "It seems I've been doing it an awful lot lately." She looked over at the other side of the common area, where Raymond was sitting, staring into space. "Far too much."

***

Lying on his belly on the couch, his chin resting on his folded arms, Malcolm stared at the wall, less than two feet away. Bruises tracked up the inside of both of his arms, his eyes were red-rimmed, his lips cracked and scabbed.

On the table beside him, the phone was ringing, as it had been, on and off all morning. Not that he had been there. He had only got back from the hospital at two o'clock, almost twenty-four hours after he left the flat.

He only knew of the phone calls because of all the messages that Tommy had left, the first ones from the previous night, full of colourful language and lectures about breaking Raymond's heart without reason.

The latest messages, though, had changed.

She had been phoning every half an hour on the dot and her voice was growing increasingly worried, demanding to know where he was, why he wasn't picking up, what was wrong that meant he wasn't at work.

The answer machine beeped.

"Mal? Mal, if you're there, pick up." Tommy again. What a surprise. "Please, Mal. What's wrong? Where are you? You know I won't yell at you now, so please, please call me when you get this message."

She was probably just about to go on stage.

Malcolm sighed, flopping onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. He wanted to call her, wanted to tell someone something. Explain what was wrong. Tell them to leave him alone until he was ready to share what he was going through.

But that would defeat the purpose.

No one was going to know and he would get through it on his own. No one else would have to be bothered by it. No one else would have to suffer the worry, the confusion, the anxiety, the emotions he found rushing through him right at that moment.

Strange, a half-smile crept onto his lips, that he had always been so emotional and people-orientated as a child, yet now, here he was. Alone. Sealing himself off from his friends, despite his family saying that he should tell them.

Raising his left arm into the light from the window on the opposite wall, he examined the inner elbow, the nail-polish-free fingers of his right hand tracing lightly over the marks of the needles and the bruises left by them.

They still nipped a little but they weren't painful. Not as painful as other procedures were meant to be. Or would be, depending on whether he was...right.

Sighing again, he brought both his hands up behind his head, closing his eyes. Everything rolled back in on him and if he had been capable of finding the strength, he would have allowed more tears to fall.

He wished Raymond could be beside him, to comfort him, especially after everything he had been told in the hospital the previous night. He pressed his eyes tighter shut, trying to forget the warmth of the huge, muscular arms around his own slim body. He tried to forget the nights they had spent together. He tried to forget the words Raymond had said to him before they slept, two days before he broke the big dancer's heart.

I love you.

Three small words.

Three small, beautiful words.

He had heard those three small, beautiful, wonderful words and yet, he had still taken the huge heart of the most perfect man in the world and smashed it with his own self-centredness and desire to be what he once was.

What he no longer was, thanks to that same man.

He had changed, thanks to Raymond.

And now, Raymond was out of his life, but he couldn't imagine going on without him.

Tears painfully leaked from his dry, blood-shot eyes. Despite all the tears that had fallen in the last two days, he still could find more to painfully seep from his aching eyes simply when he thought about his beautiful gentle giant of a lover.

With a muffled, sobbed curse, Malcolm pushed himself to his feet, stumbling through to the kitchen and searching under the sink for a bottle of something alcoholic. Tearing the lid off a cheap bottle of Vodka, he poured a gout into his mouth, leaning heavily against the counter and panting after he swallowed it.

It didn't help.

Slamming the bottle down in the sink, the force shattered the bottle, the liquid swirling down the plughole.

Staggering through to his bedroom, his chest heaving with painful, dry sobs, he fell on his knees, raking under the unmade double bed. A huge, rainbow-coloured T-shirt emerged and he hugged it to his face, inhaling the scent.

"Ray..." He whispered, his face soaked with tears. Unsteadily getting up, he crept into the little nest in the middle of the blankets in the bed. Curling up in a ball, Raymond's T-shirt hugged to his chest, he cried himself to sleep.

***

"This is getting ridiculous." Tommy hung up her phone again. She had rung once during Mungojerrie & Rumpleteaser, twice during the Intermission, once during Growltiger's Last Stand and three times in the process of getting changed.

"Not ridiculous, Tom." Andy looked up from his shoelace that he was in the middle of tying. "I don't know Mal that well, but for him not to answer, something has got to be seriously wrong and we both know it."

She nodded, pacing back and forth. "I've tried his house phone...his mobile too...he can't not be there."

"What about family?" Blue suggested, looking over at the dressing room that Raymond was slowly getting changed in. She had never seen a more somber Alonzo than the huge dancer had been during the show. "Do you know his family?"

Tommy nodded. "I don't want to impose on them, but yeah. I met his mum and dad once, by accident." She grinned faintly. "They were just about to be arrested for setting up a camp site in a Tesco carpark."

"You don't want to impose? Tommy, think about this for a second...he ditches Raymond, the man we all know is completely, head over heels in love with him. He doesn't answer thirty phone calls from you. He doesn't show up for work." Andy gave her a look. "Isn't that kind of worth imposing on them for?"

"You're right." She nodded, pushing her fingers through her thick mane. "I'm ringing them first thing tomorrow morning."

"And is Ray coming home with us tonight?" Blue looked around at her flatmate.

Both of the older dancers looked towards the dressing room. Raymond had just emerged, his clothes disheveled, huge bags under his eyes, his feet dragging. "I think that would be a yes, don't you, Tommy?"

"Definitely. Ray, honey?"

"Hmm?"

"Whatcha got planned for tonight?"

He shrugged. "Thought I might go and get smashed." He replied quietly.

"That won't help, Ray."

The big dancer gave Blue a cynical look. "Who the hell said I wanted it to help? I just want to forget for a while and if I have ta drink a helluva lot..." He looked at his watch. "I still got plenty of time to do it before the pubs shut."

"Not a chance, Mister." Tommy grabbed his arm. "You're coming with us. I'm not leaving you wandering the streets of London alone, pissed as a fart." He started to protest, but she pulled his mouth against hers. It shut him up long enough for her to add. "We've got booze at the flat. You can knock yourself out there."

"And you won't tell me when to stop?"

"Brownie's Honour." She raised her hand, three middle fingers up.

Blue cocked a brow. "You were never a Brownie, Tommy."

The older dancer grinned devilishly. "Yeah, but I look damn good in one of the old uniforms, with stockings and suspenders and little else." Andy goggled at her. "What? Sylvie has strange taste." One arm around Raymond, she motioned for the other two to follow her. "C'mon, guys. Lets get Cuddles, here, home."

"As long as I get booze, I don't care."

"I know, hon, I know."

***

"Are you in the cast?!"

Andy groaned at the excited little voice that had shrilled from a small group. "Bugger...they had to come tonight, didn't they?" He gave them a pained grin, sidling past them as fast as he thought was polite. "Sorry. In a hurry. Can't stop..."

As soon as he reached the end of the road, he darted around the corner, waiting for the other trio to emerge from the stage door. Only when it opened did he realise that he probably should have given Tommy advanced warning.

Whatever happened, though, he wasn't about to miss the fireworks. Peeking around the edge of the building, he saw Blue pause to sign an autograph or two, while Tommy attempted to hustle the miserable-looking Raymond out of the way and fast.

"Oh my God!" Another shrill voice squealed. "That's Alonzo!"

"Fan-bloody-tastic." Andy muttered, running back around the building, determined to help Blue cut off the main disaster that was inevitable if the annoying little prick with the notepad went anywhere near Raymond.

"I was Demeter...you can have my autograph, if you want..."

"But I love Alonzo!" She tried to side-step around Blue.

"I played Alonzo!" Andy skidded to a halt in front of the girl. "You can annoy me for a while."

"But he was a great..."

"Trust me, kid." Andy tried to steer her away. "You don't want to be speaking to him tonight."

"But I want to see Alonzo!"

Andy mentally groaned. What was she? Brain-dead? You just had to look at Raymond to see that he wasn't in the mood to be approached by anyone. "Look, kid, leave it now. You've seen him. Let him be."

"But Alonzo!" She wailed.

"Shut the hell up, you stupid little tart!" Raymond yelled, rounding on her. "How many times do they gotta say it? I'm tired, I'm pissed off, I'm achin' all over, I was dumped yesterday and I just wanna go and get pissed. Would you leave me the hell alone?" He snatched the book from her hand, scrawled his name over it and threw it back at her. "Have a nice fuckin' day."

The kid was staring up at him with a combination of terror and shock, as he turned and stormed back to Tommy's side, disappearing around the corner. The whole stage door area was steeped in a stunned silence.

Andy pulled a face, looking down at Blue, who was shaking her head. "Well, I did tell the silly moo not to annoy him, didn't I?"

"That you did, big guy." She sighed, looping her arm up through his. "Let's go and make sure he's okay."

"What? Now that he has the guilt as well?"

"Man, is tonight going to be fun."

***

The sun was flooding the living room. Seated at the kitchen side of the breakfast bar, Tommy was flicking through her numerous address books, trying to locate the telephone number of Malcolm's family.

She glanced over her shoulder at Raymond. He hadn't even lasted for a bottle of beer the night before. Bearing in mind that she'd spiked his first drink of the evening with sleeping pills again and he'd fallen off the couch, unconscious, it was perfectly reasonable that his half-empty bottle of Bud was still sitting on the table next to the couch.

With some help from Sylvie, Andy and Blue, they had managed to get him out of his heavy street jacket and boots, before tucking him up on the couch with a heap of snug pillows and a nice-grandma-smelling comfort blanket.

He hadn't even noticed.

Now, he was tucked on his side, still sleeping like a baby. A somewhat large and drugged-into-unconsciousness baby, but a baby none-the-less.

"A-ha!" Snatching up the phone, she dialed the number rapidly, drumming her fingers on the counter while she waited for someone to pick up. Unlike Malcolm, his mother did actually answer the phone.

She sounded strangely tired to Tommy.

"Hello, Mrs Donovan?" There was a sound of assent. "I don't know if you remember me, but I'm a friend of Malcolm's, Tommy..." There was a comment on the other end of the line. "Yes, that's right. I was the one that helped you escape, by losing control of my trolley." She waited until Malcolm's mother paused and said. "I don't want to bother you, but I was wondering if you know where Malcolm is."

Mrs. Donovan sounded puzzled and Tommy didn't know if she wanted to upset the sweet little hippy lady.

"The thing is, we haven't seen him for days." She took a breath and plunged on in. " He's refusing to answer any of our calls, no one has seen him and now, we're getting really worried about him."

There was a long silence on the other end of the line.

"He didn't tell us? Tell us what, Mrs. Donovan?" As Mrs. Donovan started to explain, a sick feeling spread in the pit of Tommy's stomach and she found herself looking across at the sleeping Raymond again.

Now, Malcolm's actions made sense.

Now, she knew where he would be.

"Mrs. Donovan, I'm really, really sorry to hear that." She said, her voice starting to break. "Yes, you too. All right. See you there...bye."

Before the phone was even cool back in its cradle, Tommy had launched herself across the room and had jerked Raymond upright, shaking him vigourously.

"Ray! Raymond, you big, lazy poofter!" Slapping him lightly, she shook him again. "Ray, will you wake up?" Bleary eyes opened and peered up at her foggily. "Ray, listen to me very carefully. I know where Mal is."

"And?"

"And? You love him, you wanker." The dancer's head started to loll back, as he sank back to sleep. This time, Tommy slapped him hard and his eyes shot open wide. "Listen to me, Ray, this is very important."

***

Sitting in one of the wheelchairs provided by the hospital, his feet drumming on the floor, Malcolm looked around the spotlessly clean white ward. The floors were white. The walls were white. Even the damn roof was white.

The scent of antiseptic seared his nostrils and he turned the chair around slowly to look around the rest of the room.

Room.

It sounded so much more homely than 'ward'.

Two beds occupied the room. One of them was unmade, the sheets tangled from where he had tossed and turned during the procedure. Where he had lain for hours, since he had returned from the flat, the night before. Where he had waited for word.

The other bed was vacant and neatly made now. The nurses had come in while he slept, taken the other patient down to the doctors, leaving him to wake up alone. Alone in the cold, isolating white cell of a ward.

A clock ticked loudly on the wall, above the door. It was white as well.

Malcolm sighed, looking at his bruised arm again. The bruises were gradually starting to fade, but that wasn't the central focus of his anxiety. The missing patient from the empty bed had claimed that prize.

He glanced across at the messy bed that had been given to him. A nil-by-mouth sign had been pinned on the headboard by one of the nurses, but it could still be removed, depending on the results.

Using his feet to turn the chair back around, he pushed himself back towards the window that faced the door. It looked out onto the hospital car park, not the most exciting of locations for a patient to be given as a view.

Leaning forward, elbows propped on the low window ledge, he sighed, his breath misting the glass. Despite the fact that it was only eight o'clock in the morning, the car park was already full of a kaleidoscope of colours and brands.

Spreading a palm on the misty window, Malcolm watched with tired interest as a misty handprint spread out around his fingers. His gaze drifted to his nails. They looked wrong without their paint on. Bare. Nude.

A half-laugh escaped him on the last word. She would like that.

Behind him, he heard the door squeak as it opened and he was about to turn when he heard the sweetest sound in the world.

"Hon?"

Jerking to his feet, the wheelchair went skidding across the floor, but Malcolm didn't care. He crossed the small ward in four steps and wrapped his arms around Raymond's neck, finding the warm familiar lips waiting for his.

"Ray...I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Scattering kisses over Raymond's face, Malcolm hugged him tightly, pressing his cheek against the muscled shoulder. "I was so bloody stupid...I didn't want you getting upset by all this...I'm sorry..."

Tears were brimming in the big dancer's eyes. "I know, sweetie." He said gently, lifting Malcolm's face to his. "But you should have told me." Surprisingly gentle fingers brushed his unruly black and red hair back from his face. "I wouldn't want to let you go through this on your own." His thumb brushed across Malcolm's make-up-free cheek. "I love you, Mal."

Pale blue eyes met deep brown, both filled with uncalled for tears. "I love you too, Ray." The smaller dancer whispered.

"Know that too, hon." Bending, Raymond covered Malcolm's lips with his own, his arms wrapping securely around his lover. Deepening the kiss, he could taste the salty tang of tears, but couldn't say who they belonged to.

Malcolm moaned softly, almost whimpering when Raymond broke out of the kiss and hugged him close to his chest. His slim hands spread on the thick muscles of Raymond's stomach, he released a sigh of pleasure, knowing he was back where he belonged.

"I guess this means we're back together, Mal?"

"Would you hit me if I said duh?"

Raymond chuckled his familiar rumble. "Maybe."

"Duh." A large hand slapped down on a firm buttock, then added a playful squeeze for emphasis as their lips met again.

A single person applauding broke that kiss and they turned to see a girl in a wheelchair smiling broadly at both of them. A tired-looking brunette nurse stood behind the chair, staring into the ward in confusion.

Short, white blonde hair stood up in crazy tufts over a face that - had it been more masculine - would have been identical to Malcolm's. The same blue eyes sparkled with merriment, despite the pallor and thinness of her face.

"I was hoping you two would get back together." She said. "He's been moping around here and looking so damned miserable and bad that all the doctors thought that he was the one with 'kemia, instead of me."

"I'm guessin' you're my boy's twin?" Not relinquishing his hold on Malcolm, Raymond crossed the floor to shake her hand. "He's told me a whole lot about you, sweetie."

"Likewise." The girl smiled. "And yep, I'm Linda, his clone that went wrong." The nurse behind the chair steered her back towards her bed and she was carefully helped back to sit in it, her drip re-hung on the pole. "Nice to finally meet the guy my brother fell in love with."

Malcolm gave her a grin, then turned to the nurse. "Nice to meet the person who made my wonderful sister actually wear clothing." The nurse looked baffled and made as fast an escape as possible.

Linda rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Mal," She motioned for him to come and sit on the bed beside her. "When you're not being checked over for the whole bone-marrow thingie transplanter doodle-wotsit, I think that you're trying to embarrass me."

"I'll manage one day." Her twin said with a wry smile, as Raymond's arms came around his waist, his chin resting on his smaller lover's shoulder. "Ray, a word to the wise, never ever try and embarrass a nudist."

"Naturalist, brother o' mine." She stretched her body with a happy grin. "And isn't it a bloody brilliant day?" Reaching forward, she grabbed both his hands and squeezed them. "I just got the results, bro." An anxious look crossed his face. "We're compatible, completely."

"Really??" Leaning forward, he hugged her tightly. "What took them so long?"

"It was only two days, Mal." She pulled back, settling against her pillows. "They had some problems with under-staffing in the labs, I suppose." She smiled broadly, her gaunt face lighting up. "They said they can do the transplant thing tonight though."

"Damn! There go my plans for pizza."

"And no one believes you actually eat, when I tell them." She laughed. "At least, this way, I might finally be able to sit down and eat something after...just a few more injections, pokings around and needles. I dunno about you, but I'm looking forward to it."

Malcolm reached over and pecked her on the cheek. "I can see you didn't mind that damn injections and needles and stuff as much as me." He shuddered. "It's the pain, isn't it? I can't even bend my arm, but you...You like the pain...a masochistic nudist...I bet you go and roll in nettle patches when you're naked." She gave him a mock-shocked look. "Actually, I don't wanna know about you and your weird sexual habits."

"Don't sound like anythin' we haven't done, sweetie." The big black dancer murmured. "And here I was thinkin' your family was gonna be weird." Raymond pressed a kiss to the back of Malcolm's neck, making the other dancer shiver with pleasure. "She seems darn sweet to me."

"That's nice of you to say so." Linda cooed, reaching over to slap her brother's knee. "But I think that the crazies in our family are the parents." She paused, then added. "And of course, dear old Dancing Sunbeam."

"Dancing Sunbeam?" Raymond asked dubiously.

Malcolm and Linda exchanged smiles, still holding one another's hands. "He's our big brother, Ray." Malcolm explained. "That's the name mum and dad came up with, when they were still kinda crazy hippies." Nestling back against Raymond's chest he almost laughed. "Not that they have actually stopped being kinda crazy hippies."

"Your brother. He...actually answers to Dancing Sunbeam?" Raymond looked from one sibling to the other.

"Yeah." Linda nodded, grinning broadly. "We like to call him Bob."