Well, this has probably been the longest chapter I've written so far! 3,005 words within the little bar-thingies :P

Not much to say here so Enjoy!


"Come now, son." The tux looked up to meet the tabby's caring smile as he stood under the dark canopy that hung ominously over them; they were by Jenny's den. He smiled back at his pseudo father and was lead towards the other side of the clearing.

His stomach knotted when he was lead to the dark and cleverly hidden passage next to the old, rusty stove. He swallowed hard. "Where are we going, Munk?" The other kept walking, leaving the tux in the dark as he hesitated slightly. He smacked himself mentally before squeezing between two metal wedges that seemed to squeeze him in as he
plunged into the narrow pass.

He stood up to catch up with the silver tom but he could not catch sight of the tabby anywhere. In fact, the whole area was dark and silent. It was so silent that only the soft hum of the blood starting to rush through his body with adrenaline could be heard in his ears. "Munk?" he croaked as he gingerly crept forward.

Suddenly, he was shoved brusquely from behind, landing on the cold, hard ground that sat completely saturated with a bitter, metallic liquid. "Dad!" he called out desperately; his voice broke and squeaked shamelessly as his mind teetered on the verge of hysteria. His mind was quickly put at ease when Munkustrap came running back into view, reaching out for him eagerly.

"Quaxo! Are you alright?" His question was met with the collision of the tiny tux's body with his; strong, wild arms clutched his silver fur madly.

"I'm scared, Munk, I want to go home!" Quaxo sobbed with relief and fear as he felt the darkness creep in on the two figures. "Please! Just take me home!" The figure in his arms stiffened and, after a moment, began to shake and heave. Looking at his face, Quaxo could see that he was laughing.

"Alright, son," he drawled his voice growing menacing and more frightening than imaginable. Quaxo felt the grip around his wait tighten and slowly begin to draw him down to the sticky ground. "I just have something that I need to tend to first." His sight grew hazy and blurry as he lay, shivering, on the dusty ground; the blood in which he laid bubbled up and clung to his skin, trying to drag him below the shallow surface.

Confused and now more terrified than ever, the young tux tried to prop himself on his elbows to get away from the personified liquid but was shoved back down. He stared up in shocked betrayal to find the hideous, scarlet face of Macavity staring back. Trying to fight him off, the tux began to kick and scratch viciously, his heart beating mad with so much terror and anger that he didn't think about his imminent death.

He inhaled to scream but was cut off at the sound of his own voice crying out beside him. A side glance had him staring wide eyed at an almost carbon copy of himself shrieking with laughter. This Quaxo was darker with missing white save for his chest and face; his voice was deeper and smooth as marble though his laugh came sharp as glass. The laugh was so hysterical that it didn't seem to be cheering on either party more than providing the missing scream that Quaxo failed to emit. The only characteristic that told his blank and numbed mind that this image was not him was the high, demonic tone it shrieked with every breath.

He felt himself being grabbed and shaken roughly, his world turning into a swirl of chaos and confusion. He tried to fight off his abuser but its grip only grew stronger and more demanding. He sobbed again at the sight of the ginger cat thrusting and groaning above him; this time, luckily for him, the pain was hollow and ghosted. His attention was diverted when he heard the slight whisper of his name that grew louder with every jolt of his already shaking body.

The scene in front of him shattered into a broken mosaic, a new wave of dark replaced the horrible image. This dark was blinding and was full of potential for a relapse. His vision slowly began to adjust but could not give him any consolace. The grip on the tops of his arms was strong and the incantation of his name was clear but more urgent than before. He stopped struggling for a moment to let the fog clear from his mind. The daze lifted to reveal the Rum Tum Tugger kneeling on the bed beside him, pinning him down to the soft mattress.

They both froze for a moment when the worried and pitied gaze of the coon met the wild and terror driven stare of the hysterical tux. Tugger lowered his face to where it rested mere inches from his own paled white face. "Quaxo...?" he whispered slightly out of breath. The young tom's reply was just short of a meltdown. Heavy sobs rocked the tiny frame and filled the room loudly with the sadness of his heart's betrayal and the shame of having the coon come to his rescue in such an embarrassing fashion.

Tugger was caught off guard, he wasn't sure how to respond to the delicate weakness in his grasp. Not thinking of any other option, he crushed the saddened tom against his broad chest, cradling him tightly and shushing him softly. It was at this time that he longed desperately for Munkustrap to be in his place, he didn't know how to handle crying queens, let alone the crying tom.

He began to rub the tux's back softly as he did the day before. His now un-gloved paws traced lightly over the moderate scarring on his companion's back. There was a bit of blood that seeped from the wounds but he decided to deal with those after; he made note to bandage them in the morning, oddly enough that the old Gumbie cat would leave gauze on his chest but not his back.

The coon bit his lip nervously, the tux wouldn't stop crying and he was beginning to get worried. He remembered how Quaxo had been scared of the dark as a kitten and Tugger, being fairly young himself, would always tease the little kitten about it. Maybe turning on a light would make the frightened tom feel better. It was worth a shot. "...Do you want me to turn on a light?" Quaxo shook his head in the safety and comfort of his warm and somewhat fluffy chest. They sat in the dark for what felt like hours."It's not the dark that scares me." The air between them decreasing in tension as the black and white tom came down from his bout of insane terror.

"What scares you, tux?"

"I- I think he's coming back for me" Quaxo managed after a few more minutes of choking back the remnants of larger sobs and trying to calm himself.

Tugger quickly reached down and firmly grabbed the tux's slim, angular chin; he shifted his grasp so that he could meet the tux's gaze head on. "No he's not. You need to stop thinking like this- it'll drive you nuts." His voice was firm but still kept its silky smooth flow from his mouth.

"Tugger, he's coming back," he stared at the coon evenly in the dark of the den. He found it much easier to make eye contact with someone who looked more like a dark blurr than an actual cat. His voice came out in a speedy mess, he knew that the second he tried to explain any further that the coon would dismiss him for being a loony nutcase with bad nightmares. "I'm not sure what he's after but there's something he wants..." His voice lowered to a harsh whisper. He quickly scanned the room before leaning in closely, breathing heavily. "I'm so scared!"

Tugger stared back, startled. He couldn't give him any words of consolation, he could only give him the false hope that Macavity wouldn't bother return to the junkyard; how many Jellicles would have to be crazy to believe such nonsense.

The coon frowned. "I think some sleep will do you good." With the young tom still in his grasp, he lay back down onto the mattress. Quaxo didn't object or refuse, he simply snuggled closer to the safety and comfort Tugger had to offer, his smooth voice playing like a record in his mind: You need to stop thinking like this. He was right, he would drive himself mad with paranoia.

His eyes eventually started to sag under the weight of his exhaustion, he was soon lulled softly to sleep to the deep breathing sounds that emanated from the older tom. Tugger sighed softly at the sight of the finally sleeping tux, he himself falling back into a sound slumber.

Oo oO
O
Oo oO

"Macavity!" The two toms shot up from their embrace on the bed, Quaxo falling off the in the process. Tugger clambered off the end of the bed and bolted to the open window. He closed it sharply before swiftly darting back to meet the whimpering tux in the corner of his room, clutching the edge of his blanket over his head. Grabbing the rest of the cover that clung to the edge of the bed, Tugger sat down on the floor beside the shaking tux.

He knelt close to the small lump on the floor before pulling the duvet over his head, he met the dark form under the little tent with open arms. Quaxo scooted closer to the coon, not saying any more than the strained, quieted whimpers of fear. He wrapped his arms gingerly around the tux's heaving shoulders and the leopard spotted tom could feel the tears leaking onto his shoulder.

Inhaling deeply, Tugger nuzzled the small, black head. Without thinking, he turned out of the nuzzle to lean down and softly kiss the top of Quaxo's head. The younger tom immediately stiffened and swallowed hard, unsure of how to react. When his gentle lips didn't retract from the rough, greasy fur; the tux shoved the larger tom back and he pulled the blanket off the two to wrap around himself completely.

"Quax... I-I-" Tugger stammered uncontrollably. He tried to reach out for his friend but was swatted away brusquely. "Don't touch me!" the tux snapped, his eyes wide like saucers and his voice dripping with fear. He crawled back until his back met the adjacent wall of the den, he wedged himself between the nightstand and the wall so that he sat facing the coon on a diagonal.

The flirt grew panicked at the realization of his mistake; he needed to fix this, and fast! "I didn't mean anything by it, I swear!" Once again he tried to reach out to his friend but this time was met evenly with an angry hiss.

"You! You just!- Just sit there, don't move." Hurt, Tugger eased from his reach and sat back to slump on the wall. His gaze went soft. He sat up straight before slouching forward to rest with his elbow on his knee, his head in hand.

Quaxo stared sharply from his hiding place in his light, blue nest. He shook visibly when loud crashing and screeching came from the outside world. The coon watched sadly as the tux snapped his eyes shut and buried himself in his safety cover, wishing that he hadn't messed up so bad when the soft crying grew louder as the noises increased.

After what seemed like hours, Tugger could hear the heavy, deep breathing coming from the little corner next to the nightstand. A soft but distinct and authoritative knock came from the door to his den.

He stood from his seat on the floor, crossed the threshold into the other room and peeked through a well hidden hole that looked over his front stoop. He could see the worried and exhausted figure of his older brother standing eagerly at the door. He opened the plywood barrier and welcomed the tired tabby in.

"How are you two? Is Quaxo alright? Where is he?" Scouring the den, Munkustrap moved to the second room without prompt from Tugger. The tabby pushed aside the silky curtain, stopping when he saw the little mound of blanket on the floor. His features melted sadly, the exhaustion seeping through his brave shell and making him look years ahead of his time.

Tugger leaned against the doorjamb between the two spaces, he watched as his older brother gently scooped the lithe tom into his arms and lay him on the mattress; all without disturbing the sleeping cat. "Why don't we do anything about this? Are we just gonna let Mac get away with all this shit?" Munkustrap turned from tucking in his adoptive son and motioned Tugger out of the room before following.

"What do you expect me to do, Tug? You want me to just go after him?-"

"Well do something about it! He rapes his kid and there's no consequence? That's complete bull!" He pulled out a small bottle of whiskey from a small structure that looked to be a somewhat failed version of a mini bar. He took a swig, wincing only slightly since it had been the first sip, and offered some to Munkustrap as he motioned him to take a seat. The tabby took both offers; he coughed slightly at the oddly flavoured whiskey and slouched into one of the comfortable seats that sat facing each other. "This cat shouldn't even be living right now, that's what I was hoping you would be taking care of; Quaxo's your kid,"

"Tug," he began, taking another swig of the bitter drink before allowing himself to continue. "There is nothing more I want right now than to be kicking his dead body across the junkyard, but I can't risk it. I'm not going to go find him and start something I might not be able to finish," he explained as he rested his head on the back of the chair, taking another swig before Tugger snatched it again.

The coon inspected the level of whiskey left in its flask, swishing it around a bit before downing the rest of the liquor. "Well, you're not going to be alone. I'm sure most, if not all, the toms would be more than happy to see that bastard dead." Tugger shrugged as he hopped off his seat to dig out another bottle from wherever he stashed them last

Munkusrap shook his head. "You don't understand, Tug! I can't go provoking Macavity without signing our death sentence, the minute we go after him it's only going to backfire on the Jellicles."

"So we're just going to sit back and wait for him to go after another innocent cat?" He awaited a response but the tabby remained silent as he stared blankly at the small area rug the Tugger had used to cover the huge burn mark they had made when he first moved in. He still couldn't remember how it had gotten there, they were both drunk out of their minds. Tugger leaned in solemnly "Munk, Quaxo was lucky that you happened to find him. Macavity could have been planning on killing him once he was done, who's to say the next cat will be so lucky?"

The silver tom sighed heavily, sliding his head into his paws dejectedly. "I don't know what I'm going to do, Tug. I'm trying to do the best I can but it's nothing if everyone has to pay for it." Tugger frowned, he decided not to push the conversation further. Forgetting his plan to crack open another bottle, he placed a consoling paw on his brother's shoulder. "...Why does he hate us so much?"

"You need to get some sleep before you end up on my floor again," Tugger teased mildly. Munkustrap chuckled at the old memories he and his brother shared together, sad that they all seemed to end once he became Jellicle Protector. He stood up to leave but was lead to the other room where Quaxo slept. He didn't bother arguing, seeing that there was no use and he was far too tired to bother putting up a fight; he just followed Tugger's guiding paw to the bed.

"I'm gonna bunk out in the other room, you get some rest and we'll talk in the morning." With that, Tugger grabbed a bright orange pillow and a dark coloured blanket from the pile beside the door before leaving the two to rest.

"Thanks, Tug," the tabby called out as he gently lowered himself onto the heavenly mattress. The room fell quiet after the sounds of Tugger settling down died away. Munkustrap couldn't sleep despite his exhaustion; it seemed that no matter what he did he always turned out on the raw end of things. Nothing seemed to be going right lately and it was driving him insane.

Sighing deeply, he turned onto his side to face the relaxed, white face of his sleeping son. Many years he had watched him as a kitten and never had he felt like he had let the tiny tux down than he did now. Tears rolled down his cheek onto the borrowed pillow, he was scared. What he didn't bother telling Tugger was that Macavity was on a mission: he wanted to reclaim the small magician. Munkustrap was scared and an internal wreck; Macavity would do whatever it took to get what he wanted, he wouldn't hesitate a fraction of a second to kill the entire tribe if he saw it was the only way. Of course he wouldn't allow that to happen.

Finding comfort in the peaceful body in front of him, he pulled the carefully wrapped tom into his arms glad he had someone to hold onto. Despite the love and support of his friends and family, he had never felt so alone and terrified for the future.


Woooo! Another chapter in under 6 months! -Victory Dance!-

Awww, poor everyone :( Quaxo's all "Everyone's out to get me" and Tugger's all "Why won't he let me kiss him?" and then Munku's all "What the hell?" tee hee :P

NEWS! I am currently in the process of switching my main shipping couple for CATS :P I just recently discovered (although I had obviously been madly in like with the idea) that I reaaaally like Munku/Misto :P It might seem weird in this fic because they're like... father and son and whatnot ;) But I am feeling the need to write a story about these two once I finish both Shattered and Sabotage :) I will be writing a very smexy and slashy fic to see if anyone would be interested in reading :D Of course the story I had in mind would be different than this one (different pairing get different circumstances) but I'm just putting it out there to see how many people would be interested in reading!

Again, I am also writing another Misto fic and am looking for maybe a couple OC volunteers. **I will NOT be responsible for accidental or predetermined death** Let me know if you are interested. It will be dark and angsty, I warn you ;)

Well, I am rambling too much! Let me know what you think!