AN: Thanks to Krissy4, who inspired the first scene of this chapter. It originally wasn't included, but I had to think of how Macavity would react to knowing Deuteronomy wasn't dead.

"Master Macavity, sir?" asked a small black and orange tom timidly.

"What?" snapped the ginger tom.

"Rat and Flea have returned, sir. Should I send them in?"

A small grin appeared on his face. "Excellent! Send them in, right away. And get out!"

"Yes sir!" the tom squeaked, hurrying out while the two others limped pathetically into the Napoleon of Crime's throne room and bowed painfully.

"What in the name of the Eternal Pollicle happened to you two?" hollered Macavity. "Don't tell me those half-rate Yalta guards did this."

"No, sir," Rat muttered, dropping his gaze. "It was that bloody Jellicle Protector and Haskin himself, sir. They jumped us."

"And why were you seen at all?" fumed the large ginger cat.

"Well, ya see, sir," Flea started hesitantly. "There was this little kitten there when we slipped in. We was just gonna rough him up a bit, but he said he was a Jellicle, and we know how much ya hate them, so… We tried to, ya know, finish the little bugger off. Before we know it, those two spring outta nowhere and tackle us. We got away, and dragged ourselves back here."

"You didn't get any information at all?! And what was Munkustrap doing in Yalta territory?"

"Don't know, sir," they replied in unison.

Macavity turned his back. "Get out, both of you. Incompetent fools, you're lucky I don't kill that pair of you!"

"Yes, sir," the two muttered, turning to go.

"Wait!" the Hidden Paw said suddenly. "This kitten… Was it Munkustrap's son?"

"Wouldn't know," shrugged Rat. "Didn't look much like him, though."

"What did it look like?"

"Oh, um… Small, pretty small. Thickish fur, mixed greys. Black collar, big brown eyes, bushy tail. Probably had a touch of Maine Coon in him… Why do you ask, sir?"

An indescribable look crossed his face before quickly disappearing. "It's none of your concern, you're just dumb muscle. Now get out of my sight!"

The pair scampered off, and the ginger tom gave and angry huff. So the old fool wasn't dead, like his contacts had assured him. The idiot must have sent himself to the Heaviside Layer! It could be no other, why else would a Jellicle kitten be in the Yalta tunnels? But Old Deuteronomy should have been smart enough not to be caught alone, and he certainly wouldn't have revealed his tribe…

He sighed, rubbing his temples. This was a real problem. His sources had told him that the Jellicle leader was dead, but he had known better. But what to do about the problem… Macavity sighed. He'd wait, for now. Give them a sense of security. Maybe encourage some rumours that he was dead. But when the time was right, he'd finally achieve what his father had started. There was two more cats to kill now, but he'd do it.

He'd wipe Old Deuteronomy's blood once and for all.

"Sir?" came a timid voice, interrupting his thoughts.

Macavity turned to see the small black and orange tom from before. "I thought I told you to leave me alone!"

"I'm sorry, Master Macavity, but there's a tom here to see you. He says it's important. Claims he's from Saint James's Street, and he had information about the Jellicle tribe."

The ginger tom opened his mouth to order him gone, but stopped. "Saint James's Street, hmm? Send him in."

"Old Deuteronomy?" whispered a voice. "Old Deuteronomy? Are you awake?"

The kitten looked up from the basket he shared with Munkustrap. Two familiar faces were at the top of the stairs. His face broke out into a grin. Careful not to wake the sleeping tabby, he quietly slunk away and up the stairs. The trio exited through the cat flap (which the tom human had finally installed), and into the night.

"We thought you wouldn't want to come tonight," Tantomile said, smiling softly at the kit. "We heard had happened at the Yalta junkyard." She couldn't help but eye the three claw marks across the leader's cheek. They had been too deep for his currently limited power to heal.

Deuteronomy shook his head. "No, I want to go. It helps clear my head."

Coricopat gave a faint grin. "You always said that about stargazing. All three of us often went to the vicarage to look at the constellations."

"Did we?" the grey kit asked, following the twins as they began to walk.

"Of course," Tantomile replied. "Who do you think taught us how to do it?"

"And remember, not a word of this to anyone," Coricopat warned. "If Munkustrap ever caught wind of this, we'd all be in trouble."

"I won't tell," Deuteronomy said firmly.

"Good," the female twin smiled. "It's a pity we can't take you up on the roof, there's too big a risk you might slip, even if we were carrying you. You used to go up there wherever possible. Well, before you got sick."

"You two sound like you knew I was sick before I did," the kit frowned. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Both cats were silent as they jumped up on the vicarage wall, the kitten behind them. Once they were settled, Tantomile sighed.

"Munkustrap hasn't told you yet how you were going to die, did he?"

"Yes he has. He said I had a very bad disease called cancer, and that I didn't notice it soon enough to stop it. But I didn't die, I sent myself to the Heaviside Layer."

"He's told you bits of truth and a few lies to bind them together," Coricopat said, glancing up at the sky.

"Munk would never lie to me!" said Deuteronomy fiercely. "I know he wouldn't!"

"I'm not saying he outright lied to you," Tantomile muttered, following her twin's gaze. "I'm just saying that maybe there are some gaps that he purposely left unfilled. And it might be for the best."

"What isn't he telling me?" the kitten demanded. "What happened?"

"We can't tell you, old one," Coricopat softly said. "Munkustrap must."

"Bustopher Jones, isn't it?" drawled a cold, hard voice. "What brings you all the way from Saint James's Street?"

The fat tuxedo tom twitched a bit when the cat spoke. "No doubt you've heard about Old Deuteronomy's 'rebirth'. What exactly are your opinions on this?"

"Of course I've heard of it. Two of my henchcats nearly caught the little nuisance. He'd be under my claws right now if it wasn't for that tabby protector. And I personally think that now he'll be easier to kill when the right time comes. But I know you didn't come here to discuss current affairs, Bustopher."

"I have amble reason to believe that kitten is not Old Deuteronomy. I think it's a bit too convenient that he returned with no memories," Bustopher Jones said, finally finding the courage to look up. "Munkustrap is using him to control the Jellicle tribe like a little living puppet. He'll bring the tribe to its downfall."

"And why on earth would I help you prevent this?" the ginger tom asked. "I'd like nothing greater than to see the disbanding of the Jellicle tribe."

"You want to hurt Munkustrap," the fat cat said, gaining confidence. "That's why I came to you. That's why you kidnapped Old Deuteronomy two Jellicle Balls ago, to hurt that tabby."

He was silent for a moment. "I suppose you have that partly right, Bustopher Jones. I do want to hurt Munkustrap. But how would attacking a fake achieve this?"

"Like I said, that little fur ball is Munkustrap's puppet. Once he's gone, the tabby is left holding the bag. He's the Jellicle Protector; it is his responsibility to guard him. Without their great leader, there will be panic. And it will be blamed on Munkustrap."

"Hmm," the younger tom mused. "Not a half bad plan, coming from the likes of you. But I believe you left out one little detail?"

"Oh?"

"What about the real Old Deuteronomy? Where is he?"

"I believe he either hasn't been reborn yet, or he is making his way back to the junkyard. It's possible that he's already been there, and Munkustrap turned him away, or maybe even killed him. I hope this is not the case."

"But what would happen if I kill the puppet Deuteronomy, and the real one comes back? Then what?"

"Then everyone would see what that tabby's been playing at. He'd be banished, maybe even executed. Old Deuteronomy would see him for what he's always been, and he'd be furious at having the wool pulled over his eyes. I doubt the tabby would have much longer to live."

"I think I like this plan," the ginger tom smiled. "I think I like this plan a lot."

"So you'll do it?" Bustopher Jones asked.

"Yes, I will. At the Spirit's Ball, it's but three weeks away. The entire tribe will be there, and their guards will be down."

"Excellent," grinned the fat tuxedo tom. "That gutter cat will get what's coming to him."

"Watch how you speak of my little brother, Bustopher Jones," chuckled Macavity. "Watch how you speak of little Munk."

Munkustrap woke up fairly early. He yawned and stretched, used to doing so without disturbing the kitten curled up next to him. But as soon as his brain was fully functioning, he realized that Deuteronomy wasn't there.

At first, panic crept up on him. He could be anywhere. But he quickly calmed, and looked around the room. The grey kitten was in the blanket-lined box the human had put down there when the kit first came, and he was staring at him with those deep brown eyes.

"What's wrong, Deuteronomy?" the silver tabby asked, padding over to him.

"Munk, how did I die?" he asked firmly, sitting up and curling his tail beside his right leg.

"I've told you before, you didn't really…"

"You know what I mean," he frowned. "How was I going to die before I sent myself to the Heaviside Layer?"

Now this was the Old Deuteronomy he had known. He was usually kind and even-tempered, but when he wanted to know something, his voice and his eyes were better than thumbscrews.

"I'm pretty sure you've asked me that before. You had cancer, and it spread throughout your body. I'm not exactly sure how cancer works, but it made you very sick and weak. But before you died, you sent yourself to the Layer."

"But where did I get the cancer?" he asked, drilling into him with his eyes. "I know you've been leaving something out, Munk."

Munkustrap took a deep breath. It was time to tell him. "Alright, alright. I didn't tell you before because I didn't want you to get mad at yourself. You had a human owner, a young girl. The cancer was in her, and you used your healing magic to remove it from her. It had to go somewhere, so you put it in yourself, and it spread."

The kitten was silent, slightly stunned by the information. "I almost killed myself?"

The tabby's mind flickered back for a moment to the vicarage roof, but he got a hold on himself. "Yes, I suppose you almost did."

"To save a human?"

"Yes."

More silence, followed by a curious "My human, what was she like?"

Munkustrap tried to chose his words carefully, but he couldn't lie anymore. "If you want my opinion, I honestly think she was a few whiskers short of a full set. She talked to us like we were all the same species, and I really don't think she had many human friends. I barely ever saw her parents, so I'm guessing they weren't around a lot. But she was very kind, always left cream out for us when we came to visit you."

"She did something, didn't she?" Deuteronomy said slowly. "She did something important for me."

"She was the one who carried you to the junkyard so you could get to the Heaviside Layer. You couldn't walk, you were too sick. I guess she sort of helped you be reborn."

"Where is she now?" the kitten asked.

"I'm not sure," Munkustrap admitted. "She might be in the same house, she might have moved, she could be anywhere."

"I can't remember anything about her, just that she did me a favour," the grey kit said, frowning a bit.

"Maybe it's for the best," the tabby said comfortingly. "After all, if you just showed up on her doorstep, she'd recognize you and that wouldn't be good. She thinks you're dead, she doesn't know anything about the Jellicles and rebirth. Dead cats just don't come back to life as kittens in the human world."

"Yeah, I guess," he sighed.

"So, am I forgiven?"

"For what?"

"For lying to you."

Deuteronomy smiled slightly. "You didn't really lie; you just purposely left certain gaps unfilled."

"Where'd you get that one?"

"Tantomile."

"Thought so."

"I forgive you, Munk," the kitten said finally, grinning up at him with his deep brown eyes.

Munkustrap also grinned himself. "Good. Now come on, there's planning to be done for the Spirit's Ball."

"So what's the Spirit's Ball, anyway?" asked Deuteronomy. He was sitting on the tire throne beside Munkustrap, Skimbleshanks, and Alonzo.

"It's a night to honour those who have passed on, and returned in a completely different form," Alonzo explained. "So that would basically mean everybody, because we're all spirits of other cats, but we're so different from our former selves, we can't tell who we were."

"So it's like a celebration of death?" the grey kit asked quizzically.

"No, it's a celebration of life," Munkustrap corrected. "It's a reminder that for new Jellicles to be born, old ones must die to come back as the new."

"And it's a chance for all the storytellers to scare the fur straight off of the kits," Skimbleshanks smiled. "You used to be right good at that. You gave poor Mungojerrie awful nightmares with one story you told about a witch in a cat's body."

"The Spirit's Ball isn't as important as the Jellicle Ball is, it's really more of a party," Alonzo added. "Mistoffelees tells me he's been working on some new tricks to perform. I personally think he's trying to impress Jemima. He'd have her by now is Victoria wasn't so protective of her big brother."

"Like how Mungojerrie's always trying to impress Juana," Deuteronomy said slyly. "But Rumpelteazer tries to distract him."

"Right," Munkustrap smiled. "You have to admit, Mistoffelees's come a long way from that shy little kitten who twitched at the slightest clatter. Remember the Jellicle Ball when Macavity jumped around and scared all the kits? Mistoffelees didn't waste too much time getting behind Old Deuteronomy."

"He'd have a bit of a hard time if he tries to do that this Ball," Skimble laughed.

"It's odd, how cats are always talking about things that happened to me, or things I did or said," the kitten mused. "But I can't remember any of it."

"Keep faith, lad," the Railway Cat said, smiling comfortingly. "You'll get yourself sorted out sooner or later."

"But will I still be me?" he frowned. "Or will I be some uptight old tom who acts like he's got a rat caught halfway down his throat?"

"Don't worry, you were never like that," Alonzo assured him. "Besides, you kind of act like you always did. Only more… kittenish. And harder to keep track of."

"The lad's right," agreed Skimbleshanks. "You were always a bit of a kitten at heart. You were wise and kind and friendly. Just like now."

"But a bit lacking in the wise category, I'm afraid," Munkustrap said dryly. "You'd really think that the Jellicle leader would be smart enough not to almost flatten his face trying to catch birds on a TV screen."

"How was I suppose to know that they weren't real?" Deuteronomy protested. "They were right in front of me, moving around!"

"Don't worry, we've all done it," Mungojerrie said, padding up and leaping onto the tire. "Teazer nearly strangled herself with that little clickie thing the humans use on that TV dealie with the huge panel of buttons."

"It's called a computer, and the 'clickie thing' is called a mouse," Munkustrap sighed.

"Why do they call it that?" Jerrie asked, sitting down.

"It's kinda obvious, isn't it?" Deuteronomy shrugged. "It's got a tail, makes weird little noises, breaks if you use it hard enough to have any fun with it… Makes sense to call them mouses."

"Mice," the silver tabby corrected. "And I thought it was you who kept destroying those!"

"Yeah, but why would humans think to call it a mouse?" Mungojerrie questioned "I think we've all concluded that they're not quite as bright as we are. Personally, I think the Everlasting Cat created them just to work the can opener."