Just a couple of notes:
- I *finally* went back an edited this entire fic. I'm sure I didn't catch everything, but I think most of the glaring spelling/grammar/formatting errors are taken care of.
- I also changed the cover picture from the default one I use for all of my fics to my favorite picture of my favorite Misto, Jacob Brent (of whom I'm basing my Quaxo/Misto off of).
- Disclaimer: this chapter contains implied non-con between two characters. This is relegated to just the italicized portions for those who would prefer to skip it.
- Also, if there is anyone out there who has read Erin Hunter's "Warrior Cats" series, than the different herbs/roots in this chapter will probably look very familiar.
- And as always, thank you to those who have left reviews - MusicalCat03, Bees-in-a-davidbowie-shirt, Dani-Mite, Entu, RachelClaire, and guest(s). It definitely makes it feel a little less like I'm shouting out into the void after posting a chapter, and know that I read and appreciate every one of them.
"What about this one?"
Jemima narrowed her eyes, tilting her head to sniff at the tall-stemmed thistle Demeter held in her paw.
"Comfrey?"
"Well...you're close."
"But not right."
Demeter smiled, shaking her head. "Remember, you can distinguish comfrey by the shape of their flowers."
"They are bell shaped, right?"
"That's correct."
Jemima sighed, looking dejectedly at her paws. "I'm going to end up poising someone, aren't I?"
"With burdock? Probably not. Might give you a stomachache though."
The red kitten frowned, grabbing the root from Demeter. "I knew it was burdock," she muttered after a second of intense staring. "The leaves...why did I forget about the leaves?"
"It okay," Demeter cut in gently. "It will take some time to memorize them. Next question - what is burdock used for?"
Jemima grinned, looking back up. "Easy. Rat bites. And...well...I guess it doesn't have to be rat bites." Noting Demeter's raised eyebrow she continued, "it can also be used as a numbing agent when chewed into a pulp. Infected paws and all that."
"And sores, don't forget," Demeter added, placing the root back in Jenny's drawer. "Training season is going to be fun next spring."
And by fun she meant not fun at all. Skinned knees, bruised legs and bleeding paw pads...learning how to defend yourself in battle was an arduous task, both for those on the receiving end of the kicks and punches as well as those tasked with patching them up later.
Demeter scanned Jenny's drawer of medicinal supplies - winter wasn't an ideal time when one wanted to restock. Snow does not a good crop season make and they would have to deal with their limited supplies until the ground thaws. Hopefully there wouldn't be too many injuries until then, but that wouldn't stop the colds and chest infections that spread with ease in this type of weather.
Demeter could hear Jemima shuffling behind her, probably preparing for her to continue picking at her brain. She was happy that her littlest sister was expressing interest in becoming the next tribe healer. Jenny - bless her heart - wasn't getting any younger, and if something bad were to happen to her with no replacement in tow...well, the Jellicles wouldn't be in good shape. Of course, Demeter was mostly trained herself - but after...things...life events she didn't dare speak of, she found she couldn't quite stomach the scent of blood in a way that would be conductive to full time healer status.
After a couple of moments, she scooped up a paw-full of leaves and turned back around to face her sister. The sheer look of determination on Jemima's face warmed her heart. She would make a great healer one day, Demeter was sure. Jenny thought so too, though was adamant that Demeter help with Jemima's training, lest she forget all that she once knew as time passed.
"Those are borage leaves," she said after a moment of rather intense concentration. "Easily distinguished by its blue or pink star shaped petals."
"Good. What are they used for?"
Jemima drew in a breath, eyebrows furrowed.
She knows this. I know she knows this.
This certainly wasn't the first time they have gone over the different leaves and roots.
"...fevers?" she finally answered, sounding less confident than before.
"They could be used to help bring down fevers, that's true," Demeter replied, giving one of the leaves over to her sister to familiarize her with the hairy exterior. "Though they're most commonly used by nursing queens to help them produce more milk."
Jemima pawed at the leaf. "Did mother use this with me?" she asked.
"Most nursing queens use them, our mother included." Demeter paused, taking a small bite out of one of the smaller leaves. "Not bad."
Jemima glanced up, quirking an eyebrow.
"I don't suppose we'll be needing borage any time soon, would we?"
It was an innocent question, really. Jemima was the youngest in the clan, with no new kits in sight. It was only natural for her to question when they may see some new ones.
"Not now," Demeter said with a shake of her head. "Winter is a dangerous time for newborns."
"Victoria and Quaxo were born in the winter, weren't they?"
Well...wasn't expecting that.
Demeter hesitated, racking her brain for an inconspicuous answer. "Well, Victoria wasn't tribe born and Quaxo...he was born under...extenuating circumstances."
"What does that mean?"
"It means most kits are born in the springtime. That's how it used to be done, at least."
...until Tugger messed it up.
She wasn't going to say that part out loud.
Grizabella's pregnancy certainly wasn't expected, given her growing distance in tribe affairs. Nobody knew how much time the glamor cat spent away from her mate, and no one dared ask. That didn't stop the rumors from spreading, however. Demeter was still in training when he was born, nervous beyond belief - he was going to be the first kit she helped deliver. In fact, Tugger was the first kit born inside the Jellicle tribe since Bomba and herself over two years previous. Jenny had long since broken up with Bustopher and Skimble had no particular interest in queens - though that didn't stop him from taking in Jerrie and Teazer the moment he spotted the two of them abandoned on the railroad tracks. Jellylorum tried for more kittens - several times - but after her first litter, bringing another pregnancy to term was fraught with difficulties. It was nothing short of a miracle that Jemima and the rest of her litter were even able to be conceived.
So yes, a new litter in the tribe was practically an event. Especially given Grizabella's status as mate to the Jellicle leader. Of course, when the kitten came out looking like neither of his parents - or his brother, for that matter - the rumors continued with even more frequency. Grizabella stuck around just long enough for her son to be weaned and hadn't been back since. Not that anyone would welcome her back. But still...to abandon a kitten so young...
"Demeter?" Jemima asked softly, shaking her from her reverie. "Where'd you go?"
Always a perceptive one, wasn't she?
How very un-kitten like. But then again, Jemima had always been a strange one.
"Nothing, honey," she murmured in return, returning the borage leaves back to the drawer. Jenny didn't keep much in stock - not that there was a need at the moment. There weren't any expecting queens on the horizon, she was sure to the disappointment of the tribe's elders. Demeter could feel the eyes on her - the whispers, the rumors - it was...stifling.
She loved kittens.
Demeter let herself imagine sometimes. To dream. She wondered what her kittens might look like - maybe some combination of her coloring and Munkustrap's features...yes, she loved to dream.
But that's all it was, wasn't it?
Dreams.
Nothing more.
She'll cry sometimes, when she thinks Munk can't hear her. She thinks of him. Of everything that he has taken from her. And then she pushes it away and continues on like they tell her to do.
It's all she knows how to do.
She squeezes her eyes shut. She exhales slowly. She closes the drawer.
"I think we're done for today, Jem," she murmurs, hoping that her newest existential crisis wasn't noticeable on her face.
She doubted it.
Jemima nods, nuzzling the larger queen's shoulder. "Thank you for getting me out of dance practice."
Ah. Mother was teaching the Jellicle Songs this year, wasn't she?
If the idea of Jellylorum trying to teach Pouncival or Tumblebrutus the proper dance steps wasn't so funny, Demeter would almost feel bad for her.
Almost.
"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure of that."
They turned around to find Jenny re-entering the den, carrying with her some variation of leaves and roots.
"Find anything of use?"
"If by 'of use' you mean 'may go well with a salad' then sure," the tabby queen grumbled.
"What's a salad?" Jemima whispered as Demeter tried to suppress a grin.
"...found some chervil," Jenny continued. "And some dock leaves - everlasting knows we don't need anymore of that." She sighed, rubbing at her temples. "Let's just hope nobody decides to start playing with knives or breaking bones for the next couple of months and we should be okay."
Demeter raised an eyebrow.
"You trust the tribe to be careful?"
"I trust them to start testing the limits of my patience." She stuffed the leaves into the bottom drawer and turned to address Jemima. "You sure you want to get into this business?"
"Oh, absolutely." Jemima was practically beaming.
Jenny rolled her eyes. "Mhmm. Those big eyes of yours aren't going to get you out of dance practice, young queen. Off you get."
"Must I, Jenny?..."
"Of course you must, I don't want to be on the receiving end of your mother's complaints when you go to the ball without the choreography memorized."
"But Quaxo doesn't have to go..."
Jenny exchanged a glance with Demeter, who tried to look interested in organizing the herb drawer instead of this conversation.
"We're not discussing Quaxo," Jenny said slowly. "This is about you..."
"Is he sick?" Jemima cut in softly. "Vicky and Electra have been worried. He's been teaching her how to read, you know..."
More silence.
Demeter knew Quaxo loved dancing. But the dangers...the little tux was having such a difficult time of late in controlling his magic. The tribe - or most of them, at least - were still in the dark about him having powers at all, making his situation even more precarious. Demeter agreed with Munk initially about hiding Quaxo's abilities (for his safety) but magic was a difficult beast to control.
No - magic hated being contained. And that's exactly what they were forcing Quaxo to do.
"He is sick," she wanted to tell Jemima. "We are the ones who are making him sick."
Macavity had used his magic to strike down fellow Jellicles, magic that was once awed now turned to fear...and later, resentment. Magic was dangerous, they now said. It was evil.
Magic kills.
They won't accept him. Not after what Macavity did.
Until Quaxo could control it better, it was best to be kept a secret.
But he loves to dance...
It felt as like someone had grabbed at her heart and squeezed.
"...maybe he can just dance only once a week instead..."
Demeter blinked, focusing back on the conversation.
"Jemima, honestly...we can discuss this later, okay? Why don't you let me escort you back to the nursery."
"Fine..."
Has the air gotten heavier since Jenny had returned? Demeter padded to the entrance of the den, observing the surroundings. The sky had shifted from blue to grey, the air felt...weighted. Stuffy. It was going to rain.
"I don't think Jem's going to dance practice," she called out behind her as the first drops of rain began to hit the ground.
Jenny frowned, padding up beside her. "Strange," she murmured, sticking her paw out to catch some of the droplets. "It was sunny only a couple of moments ago."
"Does this mean I can stay here?" Jemima piped up.
A flash of lightning burst through the sky. The rain continued to fall, faster and harder than before.
"Maybe it's one of those...what are they called? Pulse storms?" Demeter suggested.
"In the wintertime? Unlikely."
"Well, it's not quite winter, yet..."
Another flash of lightning. Demeter unconsciously took a step backwards.
"Is it just me," Jemima asked, "or was that lightning blue?"
Oh no...
Another strike.
"It's...not just you," Demeter murmured, looking towards Jenny. There was something in the tabby queen's eyes...fear, perhaps? No, something else. Pain.
"Jenny, you don't think..." Demeter trailed off, trying to control her breathing. "That he's..."
"Who else would it be?"
Thunder boomed. The rain...it was incredibly loud. So, so loud.
"I can control the weather, you know."
Demeter raised an eyebrow.
"How?"
Mac smiled, waving his paw about. "Rain. Lightning. Basic stuff."
"You can create lightning?"
"If I'm mad enough. Takes a lot of energy."
"If you're...mad?"
"Yeah." He moved in closer, his paw hovering over hers. "I figured out that my powers work better in stronger emotional states. You know, like anger or..."
He leans in, face almost touching hers.
"...craving..."
"But isn't that dangerous," she sputters, scooting back. "Lightning? Can't you hurt someone?"
He frowns, drawing his paw away.
"Good," he mutters, staring out in front of him. "Now they'll know not to mess with me."
"Who's going to mess with you, Mac?"
"Demeter?" Jenny's voice jolts her from the memory. "I'm going out." She blinks as the implication of the tabby queen's words seeped through her brain.
"Wait..." she started. "Jenny, that's not..."
"What's going on?" Jemima asked, gaze fluctuating between the two adults.
"...he isn't able to control..."
"That's my son out there," Jenny interrupted sternly, not breaking her gaze. "I need to make sure he is safe."
"I know that, just..."
Was her voice shaking?
"...be careful, please Jenny. He wouldn't hurt you on purpose."
"You don't think I know that? This is...everlasting - I told him this is what would happen...not letting him use his..."
She cuts off, glancing towards Jemima. The red kitten was sitting wide eyed on the floor, shaking slightly.
"Watch her. Whatever happens, don't leave the den."
"I...think he's in Tugger's den. That's what Munk said this morning."
Munk. She could really use him right now. Her mate left late this morning to visit his human girl, who was home from university. He said he'd be back later this evening, but that wasn't helping with the situation now.
Jenny nods.
"I mean it, dear. Don't leave the den."
Demeter wanted to protest, but didn't have the chance before Jenny charged through the door.
Great.
She had seen firsthand the danger of an out-of-control magician, it wasn't pretty. She wanted to know what it was that set Quaxo off, the poor kitten was having such a hard time lately. Depriving him of dance - the one thing that made him happy...
She wasn't there for the fire. But she was there to deal with Plato's singed tail and and the resulting coughing fits from some very irritable kittens. She remembers the look on Quaxo's face - haunted. He didn't dance anymore. He didn't want to.
And it just went downhill from there.
She sighed, pulling Jemima over to her. "Why don't we continue learning the different herbs, alright?"
"Why did Jenny leave?"
"I'll explain later."
"But..."
"I'll explain later," she repeated, hoping her tone was enough to halt any further questions.
It was, though Jemima seemed clearly unhappy.
Demeter wasn't sure how long it took before the rain began to lessen and eventually stop. What worried her was how long Jenny was taking. Did she find Quaxo? Was he hurt? Did he hurt anybody? Did the tribe find out...
"Horsetail," Jemima said tonelessly, eying the bristly stemmed plant Demeter held out in front of her. "You chew it into a poultice. Treats infections and stops bleeding."
"Good."
"What's taking Jenny so long?"
"Jem, I told you to..."
"Is Quaxo in trouble?"
Yes? No? Maybe?
"I..." Demeter sighed, placing down the horsetail. "I don't know, honey. I wish I did, but I don't."
Jemima sniffled, coming in close. "But we can fix it, right?"
Bless the optimism of kittens.
How can one 'fix' magic? Can magic ever be fixed? Magic was something than no one - not even Macavity - was able to explain, let alone control. Magic...that's what drove him insane in the end. Would Quaxo fall into same fate? Just the thought sent a shiver up her spine.
"I don't know," she said again, eyes fixed out in front of her. "I hope so, Jem." She turned around to grab whatever was left in the herb drawer, but was interrupted by the sound of paws splashing into puddles and the door slamming open.
"I told you, I can wal-"
"Is this what you call walking?"
"Okay, mostly walk..."
Jenny continued - completely drenched - with a perturbed Tugger leaning heavily against her. Which...fine, she had seen some weird things before. But what wasn't fine was the bloody red streaks running down the Maine-Coon's legs onto the floor.
Demeter jumped up and helped stabilize Tugger on his other size, making their way - slowly, mind you - onto one of the medical beds.
"What happened?"
"Oh, you know..." his chuckle ended with a wince in pain as he grabbed at his side. "...don't play with sharp objects."
"Hi, Tugger," Jemima said shyly, dreamy smile plastered all over her face.
"And how are you, darling?" he reached out, batting the red kitten's chin. Jemima giggled, looking ready to faint.
"Must you tease them?" Demeter asked, rolling her eyes while she held a piece of gauze over the wound.
"Have you ever heard of the Scorpion and the Frog?"
"You're exasperating."
"Merci."
Jenny came back over, carrying with her a needle, some thread, and what looked to be antiseptic solution.
"This is the second time this year I've had to stitch you up, young tom," she said sternly.
"Honestly, Jenny, I'm fine..."
"Fine cats don't faint..."
"...a momentary lapse of concentration, I assure you..."
"Is he really fine?" Jemima cut in, glancing worriedly at her idol.
"He will be. Luckily he wasn't nicked anywhere vital."
"But there's so much blood..."
"As what tends to happen when the skin gets punctured. Here..." Jenny reached around for the gauze, placing it in Jemima's paws. "I trust you remember how to wrap up wounds after they've been stitched?"
"Y-yes Jenny..."
"Good. This will be good practice for you."
Tugger groaned, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. "So I'm the guinea pig, huh? Sounds about right..."
"Stop being overdramatic and sit still," Jenny said firmly. "Dem, can you grab the catnip for me?"
"The good stuff, Jenny?" she said with a smirk, noting how Tugger seemed to lighten up considerably after hearing those words.
"Yes," she replied, looking back down at the injured Maine Coon. "The good stuff. We don't have any sedatives left in stock, so we will work with what we have."
Demeter nodded, watching Tugger sniff at the herb, a lazy smile soon etched across his features.
"How are you feeling?" Jenny asked, grabbing for the needle and thread.
"Hmmm? Wonderful," he slurred. "Brilliant."
Jenny sighed, shaking her head. "I have a feeling this isn't the first time he has taken this stuff. Please put it back for me, Dem."
"Jenny?" Jemima piped up. "What about Quaxo?"
"What about Quaxo?"
"He's..." the red kitten paused, eyebrows furrowed. "He wasn't here a second ago, but he's here now. How did he..."
"Don't bother yourself with it at the moment, Jemima. Let's focus on Tugger."
Demeter frowned, walking back towards the medical bed. Jemima was...well, she wasn't wrong. A small tuxedo cat that definitely - probably? - wasn't there before now lay on the bed, clutching Tugger's leg like a lifeline. He was covered in blood, and didn't look like he was going to let go any time soon. That wasn't the only odd thing, however.
"His paws, Jenny," Demeter murmured, eyes fixed on the little tux. "I don't remember him having all black paws..."
"And his fur is sparkling!" Jemima added. "Did he roll around in glitter?"
"Ladies!" Jenny hissed. "We will discuss him later. Now is not the time."
"Should...I get him off Tugger's leg?" Demeter asked worriedly. Quaxo seemed...she wasn't sure. Blank. Expressionless. Detached. As if he didn't know - or didn't care - what was going on.
Was he the one to injure Tugger?
"Not unless you want to be electrocuted. Leave him for now, he won't be impeding the surgery. Jemima dear? Come in close and watch how to stitch. You will need to know how to do this." Shooting one last glance at Quaxo, Jemima then went over to stand next to Jenny.
Demeter always hated the stitching. Maybe it was a sign that this wasn't the business she wanted to get into. Herbs, roots, minor infirmities? Fine. But blood...gashes...the running of claws through fur and skin...
She shuddered, trying to suppress the dry heaves. One needed to have a much stronger constitution to deal these types of injuries. She left the den while Jenny and Jemima worked on Tugger, trying to clear her head. The junkyard was a mess, with various pieces of furniture and trash toppled over and strewn on the ground. Her mother was already back out, instructing the remaining kittens to help clean.
"But why is this our job?" she heard Pouncival whine.
"Shut up or she's gonna make us do more sprints," Tumble hissed in return.
"Can both of you shut up!"
"No one asked you, Cettie..."
"...you're all gonna get us in trouble..."
"Whatever happens it's Pounce's fault..."
"Hey that's not fair!"
"Life isn't fair..."
Demeter missed kitten-hood. She truly did. Alonzo and Admetus's arguments were always fun to watch, as were the fallouts when their mother caught them doing something they shouldn't. She just wished someone would have warned her just how hard adulthood was going to be.
#
It was late afternoon by the time she returned to Jenny's den. The stench of blood still hit her full force when she entered, and it was clear this entire place was going to need a thorough scrubbing to wash it off the bed and floor. Jemima was dozing in the corner while Jenny filed around in one of her cabinets.
"Did it go alright?" she asked, observing Tugger's still form.
"Well he passed out about ten minutes in, which made my life a bit easier."
Jenny sounded...tired. She looked tired. "He'll be fine," she continued. "Any scarring should be covered up by his fur regardless."
"What about Quaxo?"
The tabby queen sighed, rubbing at her eyes.
"He's the one who...he couldn't control it. His magic. I think the realization that he hurt Tugger..." she trailed off, casting a glance towards Quaxo. He hadn't moved the entire time, still clutching onto Tugger's leg and staring off into oblivion. "He's just shut down," she continued, lowering her voice. "He's not...he's not here, do you understand?"
Then where is he?
She didn't dare ask. She recognized that look in his eyes, for she wore the same one all that time ago. Defeat. Loss.
Exhaustion.
She could feel her chest tightening. See, that was the difference between Quaxo and Macavity. Mac relished in pain, in blood and suffering.
"They deserved it," he would tell her. "Why give me this power if they didn't want me to defend myself with it?"
She took a step towards the adolescent tux.
"Why are his paws like that, Jenny?"
"I don't know. This is out of my realm of expertise."
Quaxo continued to stare blankly, as though he couldn't - or chose not to - hear the conversation happening in front of him.
"I'm going outside to wash up," Jenny said from behind her. "Maybe you can get him washed as well. He may be more willing to talk to you than his mother."
Demeter nodded, slowly approaching the young tux.
"You're...a bit of a mess, Quaxo," she said softly. His fur was tangled, covered in dried blood. "Will you let me clean you?"
Nothing. No words, no movement. No indication of life. Just...emptiness.
She sighed, reaching out her paw just to get immediately zapped.
Rude.
"Quaxo, I know it's difficult right now, but you need to be cleaned. You don't want to walk around with blood all over you, right?"
Still...nothing. She could hear movement from the other end of the room.
"It won't work," Jemima mumbled into her blanket.
"What?"
The red kitten yawned, raising her head. "It's not Quaxo."
Demeter raised an eyebrow. "I'm still lost, Jem."
"You want to talk to Quaxo, but Quaxo isn't here. That's why he's not listening to you."
Have I gone insane?
She looked back towards the tux. No, that was definitely Quaxo. Well, he looked like Quaxo. Except for the paws, and the tail...and the fur. He really did look like he rolled around in a box of glitter. But everything else was the same.
"What do you mean, Jem?" she asked again, just to be met with silence. Her little sister had fallen back asleep, curled up in a light orange blanket that Jenny kept around for her younger patients.
Great.
Jemima was definitely a strange one.
So what now?
She reached out again, though not quite far enough to touch his fur. Time for a different strategy. "Tugger will be okay, you know," she said softly, looking him in the eyes. "I promise. He's just sleeping now, and in a couple of hours he'll be upright and obnoxious as always."
She could see Quaxo trembling. "This isn't your fault," she continued. "You didn't do anything that can't be fixed, do you understand?" She reached out just a bit further, making contact with his fur. She wasn't zapped this time around. "Can I clean you now?" she asked. Quaxo gave her no response, continuing to stare blankly at the wall.
Good enough.
She slowly detached the adolescent tux from Tugger's leg, leading him to a different bed. She could see out of the corner of her eye Jenny re-entering the den, though the tabby queen didn't remark on how Demeter was able to get Quaxo to comply. She started to lick the blood off the young tux's fur, grimacing at the taste.
She hated blood.
It took a couple of minutes for her to get most of the blood off - Quaxo remaining eerily silent - and...
Strange.
He had three white paws again. And his tail was much longer than before. She turned towards Jenny who was knitting in the corner, and the tabby queen gave her a raised eyebrow at Quaxo's transformation but nothing else. A couple of minutes passed - achingly slow - and she could see Tugger moving around on the bed, struggling to get comfortable.
"Isn't it too soon for the catnip to wear off?" she asked, watching the Maine Coon's face contort with pain.
"Yes," Jenny said softly. "There's not much else we can do at the moment, dear. He'll just have to ride it out."
Demeter could see Quaxo's head turn towards Tugger, an indication that there was still life kicking around in that tiny body of his. He then slipped through her paws and made his way towards Tugger's bed, curling around the larger tom with his head resting against his chest. It took a minute, maybe slightly longer, before Tugger's convulsive movements began to cease - the rise and fall of his chest matching Quaxo's as their breaths echoed each other's. In perfect sync.
And then, quiet.
"How strange," Jenny murmured from the corner.
"Strange is...certainly one way to put it," Demeter added on, still trying to process what exactly just happened.
Jenny put her needles down, making her way across the room. She spent a couple of moments observing the two toms, feeling Tugger's pulse - then Quaxo's - before standing next to Demeter.
"They're both asleep."
"Did Quaxo use any magic on him?"
Jenny shrugged. "I don't know," she said, sounding uncharacteristically subdued. "I honestly think Tugger just sleeps better when he's next to him."
"Oh?"
Munk had told her of his difficulties in getting Quaxo to sleep in the nursery. And of his frequent attempts at escaping. Of course, it never occurred to her that he would be seeking refuge with Tugger of all cats. Tugger, who didn't seem keen on letting anyone get remotely close enough to him to allow for sleepovers - unless it was for...physical pursuits...of course.
"I worry about him," Jenny said quietly.
"Quaxo?"
Something almost akin to a smile formed on her face. "Oh, I worry about Quaxo all the time. In this case, I mean Tugger."
"How so?"
"Ever since kit hood, he always seemed...so withdrawn - there were no other kits for the longest time to keep him company. I tried mothering him, I really did. I...think Grizabella's...departure...impacted him more than he would have liked to let on."
Demeter was honestly surprised Jenny had brought up Grizabella's name at all. It almost seemed as though that word was outlawed in the tribe.
"I was wrong, you know," she continued.
"Wrong how, Jenny?"
The older queen sighed, crossing her arms.
"I thought that Quaxo's relationship with him...well, I thought it to be rather one-sided, you see. He hasn't shown any interest in forming a relationship with anyone, let alone someone with the...shall we say...issues that Quaxo has." She reached under the bed for a blanket - one of those soft ones that sells for quite an exorbitant amount of money - and draped it over the two toms. Quaxo had somehow managed to burrow himself in Tugger's mane, much to Demeter's amusement.
"I was wrong," Jenny repeated softly. "I think that Tugger depends on Quaxo as much as Quaxo depends on him." She could see Tugger unconsciously drape his arm over the young tux, as if to protect him from the outside elements. "And I doubt that there's a single thing in the world Tugger wouldn't do for him."
"Even if it kills him," Demeter whispered, mostly to herself.
"I can give you everything," Mac said, eyes locked on her own.
"What would I do with everything?"
He smirks, pulling her closer.
"Alright - I 'will' give you everything. All you need to do is ask."
"Mac..."
"Why not give us a try, Dem? What do you have to lose?"
His eyes...they were mesmerizing. Magnetic. She...couldn't pull away. She couldn't stop him - running his claws through her fur, around her waist - kissing her neck, her mouth...
She didn't pull away.
She didn't try.
"Here." Jenny pulled out another blanket. "Try and get some sleep."
"I...don't think I will get much, Jenny," she whispered, noting how hoarse she sounded.
Jenny smiled warmly, squeezing her shoulder. "Just try. All crises have been averted," she glanced at Quaxo, "...for now, at least."
Demeter nodded, feeling too weak to argue. There was so much left to deal with. Quaxo - what were they going to do about him? She laid her head down, trying to relax her muscles, to ignore the stench of blood. When Munk came back later this evening, they would have to figure out something. Anything - for Quaxo's sake.
...it was going to be a long night.