AN: The Spirit's Ball just hasn't happened yet. It's coming, though. And I discovered that Savon is the name of a drugstore. Oops...
The action in the junkyard had picked up considerably as the Spirit's Ball drew closer and closer. Savon was introduced to the tribe, and mostly everyone had taken an instant liking to his shy yet reasonably friendly personality. Juana, Demeter, and Cassandra took a liking to his stories of life in the lap of luxury. Mungojerrie and Alonzo, of course, were seeing green. The black and white tom was pacified, however, by the fact that Cassandra was carrying their second litter.
Deuteronomy's face had returned to its natural colour thanks to a spell Mistoffelees whipped up, although Rumpelteazer would have preferred to leave him looking like a racoon. She had stopped calling him Inky, in any case.
It was a nice day in the junkyard, as far as October days went. The wind was a bit cool, but Deuteronomy's fur was thick and he didn't mind a little cold. He was chasing a ball his humans had bought him around in a corner of the junkyard, away from the tire area.
Munkustrap, Alonzo, and most of the other adults were busy planning the Ball, Mistoffelees had gone off for the day, Gus and Chelonian were at the theatre with Jellylorum, and Grizabella hadn't come to the junkyard.
The Jellicle leader didn't mind playing by himself. Despite his active personality, he liked the occasional moments of peace and quiet. He was content to pounce and toss his toy on his own.
"What are you doing so far from the Jellicle Protector?" asked a voice.
Deuteronomy turned around. It was Bustopher Jones. "Munk said I could come over here and play while he and everyone else talked about the Spirit's Ball."
"Did he, now?" drawled the fat tuxedo. "I'd never have thought that the grand Jellicle leader would ever find pleasure in chasing a ball of rubber around like a senseless idiot."
The grey kitten backed away a bit as the larger cat advanced. He was sensitive to the emotions of other cats, and right now hostility was dripping from the tom's every pore. "Munk told me that I once said to be truly happy, one must find pleasure in simple things. Things like stargazing. And play."
"Munkustrap has to tell you everything, doesn't he? He tells you what to do and say, correct?"
"No he doesn't," scowled Deuteronomy. "Go away! Leave me alone!"
"He's using you, you know," Bustopher continued. "You're just a stray he picked off of the street. I wouldn't doubt it if that magical cat put a spell on you to make you look like Old Deuteronomy."
"Go! Now!" the kitten growled.
"You will not order me around. You are not the Jellicle leader. Your time as a puppet leader is drawing to a close, you little runt. You and your precious Munk will soon be dead."
"You lie," Deuteronomy hissed.
The tom drew back his paw and hit Deuteronomy across the face. "You'd do well to watch your mouth, urchin!"
An unseen watcher behind a pile of junk whinched as the paw connected with the leader's face, but did nothing. How could he…
The tiny kitten stumbled backwards. One of the tuxedo's claws had caught, and a single cut slowly began to bleed. His face stung, it would surely bruise. He was speechless.
"If you know what's good for you, kit, you won't speak a word of this to Munkustrap or anyone else," Bustopher Jones threatened before stalking off.
The watcher bowed his head and turned away.
Deuteronomy dropped to his haunches, his ball long forgotten. What did he mean, wasn't the real Old Deuteronomy? If he wasn't the Jellicle leader, then who was he?
"Something is troubling you, elder," Tantomile said, turning her gaze from the sky to the kitten beside her. "What is it?"
"It's nothing," he responded quickly. He had gotten the blood off of his face before he went to see Munkustrap, and he had managed to heal most of the cut and bruise with his green sparks. What remained was well hidden by his thick fur. He had told no one. "I'm just a bit tired. I think I'll go home."
"We'll go with you," said Coricopat. "It's becoming dangerous to be on the streets at night."
"I can take him back if you want," offered a slightly timid voice from behind.
"Savon," the female twin greeted without turning around.
"What brings you here at this hour?" asked her brother.
"I couldn't sleep," he shrugged. "I decided to take a walk around. I was going to head back to the junkyard, but I could take Old Deuteronomy home, I know where he and Munkustrap live."
"Thank you for offering," Tantomile said. "But I think that Old Deuteronomy would rather…"
"I can go with him," the kitten assured her. "I trust Savon; I can tell he's a good cat."
"It seems you are regaining not only your healing powers, but also your sixth sense," Coricopat commented, a faint smile playing on his face. "Go, old one."
He jumped off of the vicarage wall, and headed down the street with Savon. The Manx waited until they were out of the twins' earshot before he spoke.
"Old Deuteronomy…" he began awkwardly.
"You don't really need to keep adding Old to my name," the kit said, looking up at him. "It's really just a formal title. Not many cats call me by it normally."
Savon bit his bottom lip. "Deuteronomy, the thing is… I saw that cat, Bustopher Jones, hit you today."
"You… You did?" he asked, frowning. "You didn't tell anyone, did you?"
"No, not a soul," Savon assured him. "It's just that… I feel like I should have stepped in. I should have protected you. He's a respected Jellicle, isn't he? I didn't want to risk hurting him and getting thrown out of the tribe. I just stood and watched while he kicked you around. I'm sorry."
"He only hit me once," Deuteronomy said, trying to comfort him. He didn't bother mentioning he had a bruise covering the entire right side of his face. "I'm not going to tell Munk. It's no big deal."
"Of course it's a big deal! You're the Jellicle leader! No one should hurt you, especially not one of your own tribe. I mean, you're Old Deuteronomy! Even living nearly isolated in a mansion, I heard legends and stories about you. You're a god."
"I'm not a god," the kit sighed. "I'm just a scared little kitten who doesn't know what to do. And I have the feeling that I wasn't all I was cracked up to be in my former lives, either. I don't even know if I'm the real Jellicle leader or not."
"What do you mean by that?" Savon frowned.
"Bustopher Jones said something about me not being the real Deuteronomy. That Munkustrap tricked everyone… But he wouldn't do that, I know he wouldn't. But why would Bustopher think that?"
"You are the real Jellicle leader," the Manx said softly. "I wasn't even born a Jellicle, and even I can see that."
Deuteronomy was silent for a moment. "Savon? What do I do?"
"Well, first of all, if you want my opinion of that Bustopher Jones, I think he's not all there in the head and you'd best keep your distance from him. It's hard to believe he's Mistoffelees's uncle… If he approaches you again, don't talk to him. Just go to an older cat, like Munkustrap or Skimbleshanks. Don't ever allow yourself to be alone with him again."
"Should I tell Munk what happened?"
"Only if you feel you need to. But if he so much as retracts his claws around you, make sure you're close to someone. I don't know what it is about that cat, but… He's no good. I think the rest of the tribe is beginning to see that, and he knows it. Something's coming, I just don't know what."
The kitten looked up at him for a minute. "Savon, I think you might have the sixth sense like the twins and me."
He glanced down sharply. "The sixth sense? Surely I don't…"
"It's definitely not the same as Coricopat and Tantomile's," Deuteronomy interrupted. "It's kind of… like Demeter has, only a bit stronger. The twins say that whatever she has is a mix between a strong queen's intuition, and plain and simple paranoia."
"I'll agree with that," he muttered. He had witnessed several of the queen's panic attacks, and not so much as a ginger hair had been found two miles within the junkyard each time.
"You can tell a cat's intentions, can't you? You know if they're good or bad or if they're going to help you or murder you. I bet you're just getting these now because you were cooped up in a house all of your life and had no need for it."
"Maybe you're right," the tailless tom shrugged. "Maybe I do have something like that. Then again, maybe I don't. I don't really care all that much. But Deuteronomy, be careful. Something's coming, and it's coming fast. I don't like it one bit."
"Neither do I," the kitten said softly, meaninglessly kicking at a rock on the sidewalk "Neither do I."
"What did I do?" the girl asked, pressing a wet dish towel above her eye. "What did I do? I walked by them, and I must have somehow offended them deeply enough to justify them throwing rocks at me. Insults I don't mind so much. But rocks, those I mind. I mean, it's just plain immature."
Old Deuteronomy gave a sympathetic meow and crawled into her lap. Poor girl…
She stroked the cat between the ears with her free hand. "I mean, what did I do to deserve this? I know I'm weird. I'm sitting here right now venting to my cat. But did they really need to throw the rocks? And Mum wonders why I prefer cats to people. I bet no cat's ever thrown a rock at you, Norrington."
One kidnapped me once, he thought to himself. But no, no rocks were involved.
"And then some redhead jumps in and acts all noble, telling them to beat it. Probably had friends hiding in the bushes who dared her to do it. I just took off, I didn't want to be the joke of the day."
She took the towel from her head, and sighed. "Still bleeding. It's going to leave one bugger of a bruise, that's for sure. What am I going to tell Mum? If she even notices, anyway. I swear, I've had it up to here with her. Dad too, he's even worse."
The old cat purred in an attempt to sooth her, although part of him knew it wasn't going to work. She really had every right to hate her parents. Both he and his human spent many nights lying awake while the two argued in the kitchen directly above their heads.
"I found a tube of lipstick in his car the other day," the girl said, her voice suddenly full of bitterness. "It was bright red; Mum would never be caught dead wearing it. It had the initials GH engraved in it. Mum's are KL."
Deuteronomy flattened his ears against his head. He had never liked his human's father, but he hadn't thought he would do anything like that. It's not that he wasn't that type of man; it was just that the cat hated to think there was a person out there who would do that to his family.
"Why don't they just get a bloody divorce, for God's sake?" she questioned, dabbing away the fresh blood. "It'd make everyone a lot happier. But, no, let's stay together for the sake of the kid. Ha, more like the sake of their reputation. I swear, Norrington, I think you and I are the only sane ones in this house."
"Well, I am in any case," he muttered, twitching his tail slightly. "I'm not overly sure about you, kitten…"
"If they put on another display tonight…" she continued. "All of the neighbours have been looking forward to tuning in for another episode of the Langille Family Soap Opera. If they so much as raise their voices to each other when they get home, I'm going to march up there and tell them to shut the hell up. Of course, that would take courage and a backbone, neither of which I have…"
"Yes you do," he purred, rubbing up against her stomach. "You just don't know it yet. And if you did, you wouldn't get pushed around so much."
She sighed. "Do you remember where I put my copy of Paradise Lost? I was just getting to a good part last night, and I can't think where I would have put it."
"Under the nightstand, you knocked it under there by mistake," Old Deuteronomy offered, although he knew the human girl couldn't understand him.
She lifted the cat out of her lap and got down on her hands and knees, looking under the bed. "I don't know where I could have…" She happened to glance under the nightstand. "Aha!" She fished it out and settled herself back on the bed. She flipped open to where the bookmark was, and begun to read aloud while the cat climbed back onto her stomach.
Deuteronomy lifted his head sleepily and opened his eyes. As soon as he did this, his dream fled from him, never to be recalled come daylight. He yawned, huddled closer to Munkustrap, and was soon asleep again.
AN: Okay, I know what you're thinking. Christine had issues. And yes, she does. I mean, think about it. Her parents hate each other and ignore her, she has no friends, she gets shoved around, and no one cares except for her cat, so that's who she vents to. No, she's not normal. Not crazy, but not completely normal. Don't feel sorry for her, though, she's going to get a bit of a shock to the system before this thing is over.