A/N: More Misto backstory- this is what happened with him immediately before "From Alley to House." This is another sad piece...if it bums ya out, try re-reading the end of "friends and lovers" and remember things work out alright for the little tom.

Dawn.

Like every morning, I wake up at the first slivers of light through the dirty windows. Like every morning, I stretch myself out on all floors as soon as I leave my cot.

Like every morning, I can't help myself from looking out the windows occasionally as I go about my routine, wishing I knew what life was like out there. Wishing I could know any of those people.

As I warm up before my morning exercise I try to shake the dreams from the night before. I'd been watching a video before bed, nothing spectacularly interesting about the subject matter…but the hostess was a rather pretty young lady. I'd dreamt of dancing with her all night. This isn't the first time this has happened, but it makes the following morning so hard every time.

I try to lose myself in the dancing, drowning out all the wishes I don't even have words for. What I really want is so impossible I can't admit it even to myself. Better to keep busy, keep from thinking of it.

The morning passes like every other. I dance, I shower, I watch the people, I eat. Then I curl back up on my cot for a mid-day nap, hands tucked under my head. I hope I don't dream again…

Mid-afternoon, I look up from the textbook I'm studying. It's trying to teach me about psychics, which isn't the most captivating subject in the world. All about things falling and flying and rolling downhill…but with math.

I didn't dream again, but I can't forget the dreams of last night. She smiled at me, I bowed and held out a hand…we danced. It was magical.

There's a wet spot on the textbook that I try to blot up with a dark shirt sleeve. Best not to let Miranda see. She gets oddly angry when I mention such feelings, almost defensive. More and more I realize I don't understand her at all.

Evening. I'm waiting on my cot for Miranda to bring down something for dinner. I must have overdone the dancing this morning, because I'm especially hungry now. When I hear her on the stairs my ears perk up and I raise my head off my arms eagerly. She smiles at me, but her hands are empty.

"Why don't you come upstairs and eat with me tonight?" she asks, and I feel my ears pulling back in surprise. "Upstairs?" I squeak, and she nods. I don't know what to say, I just stand up and silently follow her upstairs, tail twitching in confusion. I haven't been back up these stairs since we moved here all those years ago. It's a bit disconcerting to step through the doorway and leave my little world downstairs. I wonder what's special about tonight…why she's asking me up on some random night. My eighteenth birthday was passed below, like all the days and years before it.

Miranda smiles at me a bit, gesturing towards a table and chairs in her kitchen. Quietly I sit, curling my tail around the chair leg. She's stirring something on the stove as I look around the room with wide eyes. It's different from when we first arrived here. The kitchen was rather bland before, all white tile and ivory paint. Now every painted surface is sporting a deep jewel tone, some of them more than one splattered together. Bright rugs cover most of the tile floor, still white despite everything. Tassles, strings of beads and small ornaments are hanging from every available surface, including the ceiling. I idly wonder if she's modified the rest of the house the same way. Odds are I'll never know.

With a polite nod I take the bowl of stew Miranda holds out to me and slowly start spooning it up. She asked me up here, but she's just staring at me and not saying anything. Until she lets me know what's happening tonight I'll just keep to myself and eat my dinner.

"You've grown up" she says abruptly. I look up with a start. "But you're still so short…I was hoping you might get a little taller" she adds, and I can feel the warmth on my face. It was only recently, while doing some studying with statistics, that I realized just how much smaller I am than the average. Probably not my favorite thing to learn. I try to smile as I shrug my shoulders. She laughs her short barking laugh and waves her hand. "It doesn't matter, extra height wouldn't change your appearance that much" she says, "besides, those ears make you look taller." Those same ears that normally stand pointed above my head slide sideways a bit in embarrassment. She laughs again.

In silence we both eat for awhile, before Miranda speaks again. "I charmed this stew, you know" she says, and reflexively I put down the spoon.

"Why?" I ask, trying to keep the fear out of my voice. Miranda's used her "charms" on me from time to time. She never tells me just what they're for, and they usually just make me hurt or dizzy for awhile. At first she just laughs at me again. "Oh, don't worry Mistoffelees" she says, mouth split into a wide smile. "You'll like this one."

I feel an eyebrow rising. Despite myself, I'm curious. "This one is to help you find a mate" Miranda says, laughing again as the burning on my face gets more pronounced. "Oh, don't be so shy…I'm sure you've been thinking of that. You are definitely old enough…and this is just a little something to help fate along, as it were." I move my leg to pin my tail against the chair so it doesn't thrash about so wildly as to hit Miranda.

"Finish your stew" she says in a commanding tone. I don't want to, but I know better than to disobey her…reluctantly I pick up the spoon and start to eat again. But I can't look at her. Somehow I think she knew, and this was all about getting a good laugh at my expense. She's certainly getting a good laugh now at the bright color in my cheeks.

This isn't the first time she's managed to pick just the right way to tease me. Although this is the first time I find myself wishing that it wasn't just teasing, and that she wasn't just some crazy old woman who fancied herself a sorceress.

We both know I'm magic, that I have skills I practice occasionally, when I feel like it. She comes down to force me to sometimes, to watch me. So I guess I can't blame her for believing in magic so easily, and to fancying herself a bit of a witch. But I've never seen her charms do anything other than make me sick from all the herbs she uses.

I finish my stew and push the bowl away. But I'm not sure if I'm free to go back downstairs or not. Silently I wait, keeping my head bent and my eyes fixed on the tablecloth. Miranda's stopped laughing. After awhile I dare to raise my head, only to see her staring at me intently. I color again, and she clears her throat.

"I wasn't sure you were ready…I'm still not. But it's time for you to seek your destiny anyway" she says, voice flat and serious.

My eyes open wide. "Seek my destiny?"

"Get out."

There was so little ceremony. Suddenly she was grabbing at my arms and pushing me towards the door. I'm stronger than her despite my small size, but shock took away most of my ability to resist. Shock and fear, and a long-enforced habit of obeying her.

At the door I managed to stop her from thrusting me into the street for a moment. "What did I do?" I ask, feeling panic in my throat.

"You grew up." Again she pushed, and this time when I resisted she pulled out a small and elaborately decorated dagger. "It's time to go, Misto" she said in a soft voice. "It's better if you don't resist too much."

That was it. So simple, so quick…and now I'm outside.

Outside. Thankfully it's dark, so I allow myself the luxury of thinking for a minute as I huddle in the shadows. Probably I can stay here for a few minutes without being spotted at least. Outside…my mind is an empty screaming expanse. What to do, where to go…how did this happen? I'd known Miranda was crazy for years, but she kept me hidden and safe. And…I really had no choice in the matter.

Now…that same madness has turned her against me. I'm on my own suddenly. At least she fed me one last time first, so I'll have a little time to figure out how to feed myself out here.

Outside. The wind is cold against me…I have no jacket, only thin black pants, a shirt and soft canvas shoes. Not the best for keeping warm. With a shiver I wrap my tail around me, my ears pulling flat to keep the wind out.

Voices…at the echoing sound of voices I panic. I can't be seen. But I don't know where to hide! As the voices get closer I jump to my feet and run in the opposite direction, not knowing or caring where I go. I keep to the darkest places I can find, weaving and winding through empty alleys and hoping for…something.

My lungs burn after awhile. My shoes are wet and my feet are chilled through and miserable. This is all so different.

Finally I have to stop and rest for a moment. This looks like as good a place as any, really. A pile of wood stands next to a metal container of some sort, and I sit, head resting on my hands. I must be more tired than I think, because the next thing I know my head is jerking up with a start. Confused, I look around me.

It's dawn.

The first streaks of light woke me as usual. Lucky for me- otherwise I'd be sitting out in the open all day. Again the icy choke of panic grips me…I need to hide myself well, or I'll be spotted for sure. Looking behind me, I see the woodpile I was sitting on more clearly…it's a stack of some strange flat bits, although it's more of a random pile than a stack. The way that it fell together left a hollow place beneath, almost like a tent pitched out of wood. Grateful for the discovery I crawl into the hollow place and curl myself up into as small an object as I can be. Head down, with the white tip of my tail and white hands tucked in, I'm all black. Hopefully that will keep me hidden.

After my impromptu nap I don't sleep right away. Voices and footsteps are around me, closer than I've heard them in years. I shake against the wood, from cold and fear. Slowly as the day moves on hunger gnaws at my stomach as well. But there is one comfort.

Some sunlight seeps through the seams in the wood and finds me huddled beneath. Head down, I'm all black, and the sun warms me up. I can't remember the last time I felt it.

Despite everything, I fall asleep again, lulled into sleep by the sun.

It's dark again when I wake up. The alley is quiet, and I can't smell anyone. Cautiously I emerge from my wooden shelter and stand up. Muscles ache as I stretch. That's not the only thing that aches…my stomach is angry with me for not attending to its needs.

Not much to do but try…with quick looks around me I slowly make my way through the alleys again, trying to pick up the scent of anything edible.

A few weeks pass this way. Sleep during the day, so that the hidden hours pass as easily as possible. Come out at night, cold and aching and hungry, eager to scrounge even the garbage for anything to eat.

I used to be grateful to Miranda for taking care of me. Now I wish she'd taught me how to take care of myself instead. One of the tapes I used to watch mentioned how animals that become domesticated can't be released back into the wild. They don't know how to survive. That's what this feels like…

I never really put it together before, but I know what I am. Now that I'm missing my indoor life, constantly afraid of this life in the alleys. Now that I miss my regular meals, and the rare but occasional treats for good behavior. Now that I remember how it felt when she would rub my ears or belly, making me purr. I'm a housecat.

Miranda's pet.

I knew I was sheltered, and I knew I was feline. I lap up my milk, my claws retract…and I do know what I look like. But I never realized before just how much I'd miss it when I didn't have anyone to pay attention to me, even the meager attention Miranda was capable of. Wandering in the dark, I rub my ears a bit, remembering what it was like when I was younger. She used to be more affectionate then, almost constantly so. I suppose I was cuter when I was little. When I was a kitten. When she'd let me act however I want, playing and romping…before she started pointing out how strange it all was. Although she didn't point out how abnormal I was until it was too late for me to act any other way.

For awhile I wander in the dark, feeling sorry for myself. But then my nose catches something, something strange but familiar. A scent that doesn't make sense, a smell that's familiar and strange. And vaguely…like almonds.

Without really knowing why, I start to follow the scent through the alleys, not sure of what I'm hoping to find.