a/n: Hello, and welcome to 'Scars Like Spiderwebs' – an idea that popped into my brain about 3 or 4 years ago that I never quite expanded into anything more than this first chapter here. Now, I'm back to finish things off.
It's linked to the oneshot 'Perfect Calm', although you don't need to read that to gain any real insight into what's happening in this story. While I imagine the characters as they are in the 1998 film version, with ears, tails, claws, etc, there are distinctly human elements to their lives.
If you've already read the first chapter, I've made a few changes here and there to make it consistent with the plot I've worked out. Not too much is different because I'm incredibly lazy. I'm currently expecting this story to come out to around 12 chapters and potentially around 40,000-50,000 words. As such, updates may be sporadic, but I think they'll be worth any waiting you have to do!
apprehension
Three days before the mating ceremony. Morning time.
The day had started off fairly normal for Tumblebrutus. He'd woken up looking into Jemima's smiling eyes and kissed her, despite their morning breath. They'd gotten up and walked out and discussed their mating ceremony with various cats before heading back for their breakfast.
As they'd eaten, Tumblebrutus had whispered into Jemima's ear. "Three days," he'd said. Three days before they'd be joined, mated before the rest of the Jellicles. She smiled delightedly.
They split apart so that Jemima could have some queen time with Victoria. Tumblebrutus had debated on what to do before heading to Munkustrap's den.
"How are you and my daughter doing?" the silver tom had asked.
"Just fine," Tumblebrutus had responded, beaming. And then he'd paused. "Look, I know it's been months now, but-"
"I don't think we're going to find Pouncival," Munkustrap had interrupted gently, placing a consoling hand on Tumblebrutus' shoulder.
"I want him to be there for me," Tumblebrutus had said, sighing heavily. "He's my best friend."
Munkustrap didn't bother to correct Tumblebrutus' use of the present tense. "I'm sorry, Tumblebrutus," he had said.
And that had been it.
But the day certainly did not end normally.
(x)(x)(x)
Three days before the mating ceremony. Evening.
"What do you mean, she went for a short walk?" Tumblebrutus gripped Victoria's shoulder tightly,
"She left hours ago," Victoria said, eyes wide. "You mean she hasn't come back yet?"
Tumblebrutus shook his head, tight-lipped. "She… she said she'd be home in time for dinner, but… I assumed maybe she had forgotten because she was hanging out with you."
They stared at each other for a few moments, then both simultaneously spoke. "Munkustrap."
Munkustrap moved very fast when he needed to. He snapped out, "Victoria, stay back and make sure none of the other queens leave the Junkyard. Tumblebrutus, come with me."
Victoria stared sullenly after them as they both ran.
"Tumblebrutus, start searching the area east of the Junkyard. I'll gather a search party and search the other areas, okay?" Munkustrap barked out. Tumblebrutus merely nodded, cold with worry, and did as Munkustrap said.
He managed to pick up Jemima's scent, but almost as soon as he started following it, there was a flash of brilliant white light and rain started pouring down. Groaning and already damp, Tumblebrutus resolved to simply continue in the direction he'd started in.
It wasn't a pleasant task. The ground was wet and slick, causing Tumblebrutus to skid as he ran. Every so often he'd step in a puddle by accident, though it meant very little as Tumblebrutus was already soaked through.
"Jemima," he told himself, teeth clattering. "I need to find her."
He was out for so long that he wasn't even sure where he was by the time he finally came across something. The streets and alleyways he was stumbling through were completely deserted – no one else was out in a torrential downpour like this. Tumblebrutus looked down and at his feet, mixed with the flow of rainwater down a drain, was the stark red of blood.
"Jemima?" he whispered hesitantly.
"Tumble…brutus…?"
Tumblebrutus was sure he knew the voice, but it wasn't Jemima's. He rushed down the alleyway and almost tripped over the mass of sodden fur at his feet.
"Tumble…" came a weak moan.
Tumblebrutus fell to his knees, eyes wide. The tom was sprawled across the ground, weakly lifting his head to look at Tumblebrutus…
"Pouncival?" he whispered.
Pouncival's fur was matted and he was covered in dirt, but the worst thing about his appearance was that there were freely bleeding wounds gouged across his entire body. None of them looked deep enough to kill, but they certainly looked painful. "Bast… what happened to you?" Tumblebrutus breathed, horrified.
Pouncival shook his head, wetting his cracked lips. "Jem… Jemima…" he forced out, gesturing behind him.
Tumblebrutus looked up. If he squinted, he could just make out the shape of another cat, stuffed into a large bin. He couldn't breathe. Bast, he couldn't-
"Jemima!" he choked out desperately.
He rushed straight to the bin and carefully lifted the calico queen out. She, too, had wounds all over her body. She flopped limply in his arms. For a second, he could only stare at her bloody lips before realizing that he could hear the sound of her breathing. Her breaths came in soft, uneven rasps, but she was breathing.
"Great Bast…" he mumbled, holding her a little tighter. He turned back to where Pouncival was lay. "What happened?" he said, trying to hold back a sob.
"I… don't know," was all Pouncival said.
Tumblebrutus waited, but Pouncival didn't offer any other explanation. Gritting his teeth, he decided he couldn't afford to wait. "Pouncival… stay here. I'll be back for you," he promised.
Pouncival made a small, whimpering sort of a noise. "Be fast."
No – it certainly was not a normal day for Tumblebrutus.
(x)(x)(x)
Three days before the mating ceremony. Late at night.
Night.
Outside, someone whistled. The wind, Tumblebrutus had to remind himself.
The look on Jemima's face was very sincere. Tumblebrutus had no other way to describe it. Her lips twitched in sync to the dreams she dreamed, her eyelids flickering like a butterfly's wings. Sometimes she would gasp, sometimes she would murmur, sometimes she would cry out, fear etched into the sound. Tumblebrutus placed a hand to her warm forehead and mumbled soothing nothings in her ear.
She wouldn't wake. The blood and the mud had been meticulously wiped from her fur. Scars ran like cobwebs across her body, now covered in bandages, but if Tumblebrutus looked at her face, he could forget that he'd found his Jemima stuffed into a cardboard box like a piece of trash. He forced himself to look.
"She will be fine," Jennyanydots had told him far earlier that night.
She'll be fine, Tumblebrutus thought. He lowered his head so that the shadows rolled out across his face, hiding his eyes. He pulled a hand away from Jemima's cheek and held it across his mouth to muffle the fact that his breathing was hitching, that he was on the verge of crying.
Three days before their mating, someone had attempted to kill Jemima.
Two days now until their mating. Two days, two nights, no sleeps. Tumblebrutus knew there wasn't a hope of sleep.
"Tumble…"
Tumblebrutus turned around. He'd been bent over Jemima's bed all night. It was his responsibility to be there with her, after all. He'd almost, almost forgotten that Pouncival was just behind him in the other bed in the den. Tumblebrutus got up and knelt beside Pouncival. "Hey," he said softly.
Pouncival's eyes were half-lidded. He looked dazed. He reached out one hand and touched Tumblebrutus' face. "Your eyes are all red," he murmured, biting his lip. "I've never seen you cry." His tone was questioning.
"Oh, I, uh…" Tumblebrutus turned away for a second, wiping them hurriedly. "Don't worry," he said finally, turning back to Pouncival. "How are you?"
Pouncival closed his eyes. "Tired," he muttered through barely parted lips.
"Sleep," Tumblebrutus advised.
Pouncival nodded slightly. Tumblebrutus watched him drift – he could tell by the way Pouncival breathed that he wasn't quite asleep. When Pouncival was asleep, there was a rasping sort of quality to his breathing. Tumblebrutus had learned to bear it after years of their friendship, of sleepovers and staying up rebelliously late. Sleeping in the same room as Jemima was very different – while both Jemima and Pouncival were relatively loud sleepers, Jemima tended to murmur every so often while Pouncival just breathed loudly.
Tumblebrutus knew both cats better than he knew himself. And now he was sitting between them. What had happened?
Pouncival still wasn't asleep. Sighing, Tumblebrutus touched his arm. Pouncival's eyes snapped open.
"Huh…?"
"You can't sleep, Pouncival, can you?" Tumblebrutus tilted his head.
"No." Pouncival's reply was simple, concise. His eyes seemed to be trying to tell a story to Tumblebrutus. Tumblebrutus didn't understand. Pouncival sighed and, grunting, sat up. Tumblebrutus sat on the bed and wrapped an arm around Pouncival's shoulders, supporting him.
"You can tell me…" Tumblebrutus said. "Best friends," he added as a reminder.
"Yeah…" Pouncival lowered his head, his chin almost touching his chest. A shaft of moonlight filtered into the den, playing across his face, illuminating his troubled eyes. "I… I know Jellicles sleep during the night. Wake during the day. Like… like humans."
"Except the night of the Jellicle Ball," Tumblebrutus put in thoughtfully. "We sleep all night, all day, then wake with all the energy in the world…"
Pouncival continued as if Tumblebrutus hadn't said anything, though there was a melancholy sort of look on his face now. "I've been sleeping during the day of late. So… I'm not used to sleeping in the dark anymore. I'm used to the sun being up. I feel a little safer that… you know, that the sun's watching me."
Tumblebrutus chewed the inside of his cheek. In truth, he was worried. He wanted to ask Pouncival where he'd been these past three months, just why he didn't feel safe enough to sleep during the night. But he refrained, because knew Pouncival. He knew the slight twitch of his tail meant he didn't want to talk about something. "I see," Tumblebrutus said softly, though he wanted to say so much more. "You're safe here, Pounce. The Junkyard."
Pouncival stared contemplatively at a wall. "Habits like this one are hard to break," he said finally.
Tumblebrutus just squeezed his shoulder and wrapped his arm a little tighter around Pouncival. In the three months he'd been missing, he'd definitely changed. It was as if Tumblebrutus was trying to comfort a stranger, a stranger that was far too familiar for comfort. It was damned strange to see Pouncival's face lacking his usual, easygoing smile, to see him so scrawny, to see him so very quiet.
And yet… it was still Pouncival. There was the scar, the one across his eye, the one he used to claim made the ladies love him. Pouncival in the way he curled and uncurled his toes. Pouncival's ragged-smooth fur. Tumblebrutus sighed, just frustrated. Across the room, Jemima hummed in the back of her throat.
"Tumble…" Pouncival's voice sounded in Tumblebrutus' ear. "Um…" He sounded awfully indecisive…
"Yes?"
"Jemima… are you dating her?" Pouncival asked slowly, eyebrows furrowing.
"You could say that." Tumblebrutus smiled sadly, fondly. "After you disappeared, she and I…" He cut himself off, suddenly remembering that Pouncival and Jemima had been dating before Pouncival had gone missing. It hadn't been anything serious, according to the both of them, but what if it made Pouncival uncomfortable? "We were to be mated in two days time. But in the light of this, it may have to be postponed. If she even loves me anymore for letting that happen."
"Oh." Pouncival shifted uncomfortably. Tumblebrutus turned to him and saw him struggling for words. "Congratulations… in a way, I guess… and I'm sorry too."
"You don't have to be sorry," Tumblebrutus said, jaw tight. "It's not like this is your fault or anything."
Pouncival paused. "No… but I still feel sorry."
Tumblebrutus rolled his eyes. "At least you're back," he said. "I didn't really want to do something like get mated without my best friend there, but… everyone… we'd all given up. We thought you were dead."
"I'm alive," Pouncival said, as if that wasn't already blatantly obvious. There was a sharp, bitter note to his voice.
"Yeah," Tumblebrutus agreed. As an afterthought, he added, "Even if you're… different."
Pouncival flinched. "I guess that's what happens, huh? We change. We all change. You change. I change." He pulled away from Tumblebrutus. "Right…?"
"Ah… I'm sorry." Tumblebrutus had never known Pouncival to be so sensitive.
"I'm going to sleep now," Pouncival said stiffly. Getting the message, Tumblebrutus stood up and moved back over to Jemima's bed.
But Tumblebrutus listened. And Pouncival did not fall asleep.
(x)(x)(x)
Two days before the mating ceremony. Morning.
Tumblebrutus was herded out of the den the next morning by an irritable Jennyanydots.
"Yes, we all know you're worried," she said briskly. "Jemima is your mate-to-be and Pouncival is your best friend, but there really isn't enough space in the den for you to be moping around. So out! Out!"
Dejectedly, Tumblebrutus had shuffled out. Jellicles here and there offered their condolences and Tumblebrutus just kept smiling sadly and nodding his thanks, even though he thought all these displays of sympathy were just as meaningless as they'd been three months ago, when they all thought he'd lost his best friend. Saying sorry isn't enough. We need to take action.
And so he ended up in Munkustrap's den, watching while pretending not to watch as the silver tom comforted a near-hysterical Demeter. He only then remembered, with a guilty lurch, that he was not the only one who was suffering. Jemima was Munkustrap and Demeter's daughter.
"Munkustrap, you need to get out there and find the wretched thing that did this to her," Demeter said bitterly.
Munkustrap said nothing. His brow was furrowed.
"Don't you think so, Tumble?" Demeter turned her swollen eyes upon him and he nodded hastily. Anything to appease an upset queen.
"Yeah," he said. "I'll search if no one else will."
"That's for Jemima to decide," Munkustrap said sharply, causing Demeter to send him a resentful look. "No, look – it's not as if she's dead, right?" Demeter flinched at this. "We need to hear her thoughts on this before we do anything."
"But-" Tumblebrutus paused, needing a moment to formulate his jumbled thoughts. "They could get away by then! I mean… there might be clues waiting for us! They could easily just cover their tracks."
Munkustrap scratched his head. "I suppose that's true," he sighed. "By the way, you said you found Pouncival pretty much right next to Jemima. What did he have to say?"
"He says he doesn't know what happened," Tumblebrutus sighed. "I only asked him once, so I'm not sure if he's, you know, lying or something." Why would he lie to me? Why would my best friend lie? "But I don't think he's quite ready to be, uh… questioned yet. I hate to wait, but I don't like seeing him upset." Like last night.
"It's your say, Tumble." Munkustrap's expression softened. "You know him far better than the rest of us."
"Well… thanks." Tumblebrutus flushed a little. He wasn't used to the Protector treating him like this. Like he was a responsible cat rather than just his daughter's tomfriend.
"So, you think that we should check for clues in case the culprit covers his tracks?" For a moment, Munkustrap's face turned playful. Just a single moment. "Alright then, Tumblebrutus. You lead the way."
"Huh? Oh, okay then."
Demeter watched them, her face inscrutable, as they left the den and headed out.
(x)(x)(x)
Two days before the mating ceremony. Noon.
When they arrived, the first scent that hit Tumblebrutus' nostrils was that of blood. Jemima's… or Pouncival's? He shuddered a little.
"Right, so… Jemima was in this bin here, correct?" Munkustrap was all business, his face wiped clean of any emotion he was perhaps feeling. Tumblebrutus merely nodded. "Strange," Munkustrap continued, peering downwards. "It's completely clean."
"What?" Tumblebrutus rushed over at once. "No, I swear… there was something in there, trash or… or I dunno, but it was all… all bloody too."
"There are blood traces," Munkustrap nodded. How he could sound so professional at a time like this, Tumblebrutus wasn't sure.
"No… no there aren't," Tumblebrutus frowned. As far as he could see, the bin was entirely clean of anything. There wasn't even any dirt inside.
"What I meant," Munkustrap explained patiently, "Is that I can still smell the blood. It's very distinct."
"…Oh." Yes, Tumblebrutus could see what Munkustrap was getting at after all.
"Hmm…" Munkustrap frowned a little. "I suppose, because it was raining last night – bloody hard, at that – perhaps that might've washed everything away, but…" He shook his head decisively. "No, that can't be right."
Tumblebrutus was finding it difficult to keep up with Munkustrap's blindingly fast thought processes. "Uh… what?"
"It's not as if the rain can wash away rubbish, and you were certain there was rubbish inside, correct?" Tumblebrutus nodded dumbly. "And besides, another thing – rain can't wash itself away. This bin, it's dry, even when the ground around it is still damp."
Munkustrap was right, again. There was still a squelch every time Tumblebrutus moved, that uncomfortable feeling of wet earth clinging to the soles of his feet. And the puddles – he couldn't count how many times he'd stepped in them. It wasn't the sort of day where moisture would just evaporate anyway.
"Someone's been interfering," Munkustrap said darkly. "You were right, Tumblebrutus. Whoever did this has probably removed any evidence by now."
Tumblebrutus inhaled deeply, then slumped against the closest surface – the brick wall of next building. "Yeah, I thought something like this might happen."
"We've got to get back immediately," Munkustrap said suddenly. "No time to be wasting out here."
"Wait – what about where Pouncival was?" Tumblebrutus frowned and ran over to the spot he vividly remembered seeing Pouncival sprawled on the ground.
"What about it?" Munkustrap said irritably. "We can assume that there's nothing left to see here."
"We can't be certain," Tumblebrutus said, stubborn. He swiped a hand over the ground and was almost choked by the cloud of dust that flew up. "You know, Munkustrap," he remarked. "It's really dry over here, too."
That caught Munkustrap's attention. "What, on the ground?" Tumblebrutus looked sideways at the silver tom as he crouched down next to him. "Oh, Bast – you're right. You're certain you found Pouncival here?"
"Yes."
They both looked at each other for a second, wordless. Then, "This earth smells too fresh," Munkustrap said. They both began to kick at the dry earth, neither sure of what they were doing, both hoping to uncover something, anything.
"Wait – stop." Tumblebrutus' voice was a mere whisper as he bent down. "It's wet under the surface. And look."
Blood. Pouncival's blood, probably. And there, absolutely swaddled in dust, was a claw. It had been torn violently out, by the looks of it. Even better though, was the lock of mottled fur clinging to the point of the claw.
"Well, Tumblebrutus," Munkustrap said grimly. "Let's see what we can do with this. Erm… how about you stay here a while. I'll head back to the Junkyard and see if anyone can identify this particular pattern of fur."
"It might just be Jemima's or Pouncival's," Tumblebrutus said softly.
"It could be. But it's all we have at the moment. Keep searching, Tumblebrutus. I'll be back."
Munkustrap headed out, gingerly carrying the claw. Tumblebrutus watched him go, then continued to kick at the patch of dry ground. After a while, though, the work grew tedious and Tumblebrutus couldn't find anything except more blood and bits of muddied fur that were utterly useless in their amount and state. So he stopped and sat on a cardboard box to rest a while.
It was then that he noticed something that he and Munkustrap had to have been blind to miss.
Words. There were words on the brick wall. The wall he'd been leaning against earlier, just slightly further into the alleyway and close to the ground.
Watch out, Pouncival.
They were scratched in, perhaps with a stone or something. Tumblebrutus' breath caught in fear. Suddenly, felt distinctly uncomfortable being on his own at the scene of a crime like this. Just looking for somewhere a little safer, Tumblebrutus crawled behind a cardboard box, thinking he'd wait it out there. But there was no relief for him. More words.
There's nothing within and there's nothing without.
Believing is no matter of reality.
"Pouncival, is that you?"
What…? Tumblebrutus tensed, raising his eyes upwards. That voice… muffled as it was, it sounded awfully familiar.
"No, it's not Pouncival, is it? How curious…"
Tumblebrutus quailed.
"Not Pouncival…who could you be?" The voice spoke in a mocking, sing-song way. "I see you," it added, and Tumblebrutus heard footsteps approaching.
"It's not me," Tumblebrutus shouted, terrified out of his mind. He couldn't comprehend what he was saying, only that he was desperate for the voice to disappear. For surely, this cat had something to do with the reason why Pouncival had been gone for three long months. Tumblebrutus' mind felt slow, clouded over.
"It's… not?" The voice faltered. "Then… who are you, if you're not you?"
"Not Pouncival," Tumblebrutus said, taking a deep breath. "It's just… me."
"Well then, hello." Tumblebrutus felt a cool breath in his ear and fingers brushing against his neck. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes, Tumblebrutus?"
He couldn't help it. He fainted.
(x)(x)(x)
Two days before the mating ceremony. Early afternoon.
"Tumblebrutus?"
Waking up was a slow thing. In comparison to the warm darkness that enveloped him when he slept, the grey light of day burned.
"What are you…?" Munkustrap prodded him in the shoulder. "Hey! This is no time to be sleeping!"
"No, it isn't, is it," Tumblebrutus mumbled as he sat up, clutching his forehead. "Ohh… my head…"
"What's wrong?"
"My head hurts, that's all," Tumblebrutus said quickly. "What… what happened?"
"I'm not sure," Munkustrap said quietly. "But look around."
Let's play hide and go seek. Where am I? Where are you? Will anyone ever find you?
What if no one ever seeks? Will you have to find yourself?
Or are we going to hide forever?
"What…?" Tumblebrutus said lowly. New words were scrawled across the wall. The threat to Pouncival was still there, but now there was the addition of this crazed writing.
"Did you do this?" Munkustrap said bluntly.
"Of course not," Tumblebrutus mumbled. "Are you mad? Why would I?"
"Oh, I don't know." Munkustrap shook his head, gritting his teeth. "But there's one thing that needs to be asked of you."
"What?"
"Why was your fur caught on the end of the claw, Tumblebrutus?"
(x)(x)(x)
Two days before the mating ceremony. Late at night.
After being brought back to the Junkyard, the fur was shown to Tumblebrutus again. And yes, it matched. It matched up so perfectly with this one patch on his tail that Munkustrap could even point out the area where a great lump of fur had been ripped out.
How no one had noticed beforehand mystified Tumblebrutus.
"So, tell me – was it you who did this?" Munkustrap said, eyes cold.
"Obviously not," Tumblebrutus snapped.
"Were you attacked by anyone upon finding Pouncival and Jemima?"
"I think I would've mentioned that beforehand."
Munkustrap shook his head, lips pressed together tightly. "Tumblebrutus, please… co-operate."
"I'm answering your questions to the best of my ability," Tumblebrutus said wearily. "I have no idea what's going on here – I probably know about as much as you do."
"Well, just recap. What exactly happened that night after I sent you off to search for Jemima?"
"I followed her scent until it started to rain and I lost the trail. Then I just kept going in the general direction she was heading."
"Do you think, perhaps, Jemima had a reason for going to that specific alleyway?" Munkustrap interrupted, new light in his eyes.
Tumblebrutus hesitated. "I wouldn't know," he said. "I've never been there before in my life and I don't remember ever seeing Jemima go there either."
"Alright then. Keep going."
Tumblebrutus was about to continue when there was a polite clearing of the throat behind them. He turned and saw Demeter standing timidly just outside the den, eyes half-lidded with fatigue. "Munkustrap, it's really late," she said softly. Tumblebrutus then remembered that Munkustrap had taken him back to his own den to be questioned. Looking around, he saw the bed, not yet slept in, a dinner half-eaten, all over the place signs of their comfortable family life.
"I'm sorry, Demeter," he said quickly, even before Munkustrap had time to get over his wide-eyed surprise. "Munkustrap, if you really need to talk, my den's free."
"Um… okay," the Protector said, suddenly no longer looking so sure of himself or in control. Tumblebrutus didn't fail to notice the embarrassed look on Munkustrap's face as they brushed past Demeter.
It really was very dark outside. The clouds were still thick across the sky. There were no lights glimmering up there. Tumblebrutus moved silently across to his den, averting his eyes from the sight of two young cats intertwined on top of the TSE1.
"So, where were we?" he said softly once they were both inside.
"You lost Jemima's scent."
"Oh, right." Tumblebrutus paused to gather his memories. "Well, I was just about ready to go back to the Junkyard when I saw blood. It was mixed up in the rainwater and flowing towards a drain. I called Jemima's name and then… I heard a voice."
Tumble…brutus…?
"Pouncival?" Munkustrap guessed and Tumblebrutus nodded wordlessly.
"Yeah. It was Pouncival. It took me a moment to recognize him."
Tumble…
That moment of recognition was clear and very painful in Tumblebrutus' head, a scar deeply embedded in his mind's eye. He winced.
"Keep going," Munkustrap urged. If Tumblebrutus hadn't known better, it would've looked as if Munkustrap was engrossed in the retelling of that night's events.
"Well, then I kinda tried to talk to him, but he wouldn't answer my questions. He just said Jemima's name and gestured towards the bin. I ran over there, checked she was alive, asked Pouncival what happened – he said he didn't know – and… then I went back to the Junkyard. With Jemima." Tumblebrutus' voice was tight.
"That's all?"
"Yes."
"Curious…" Munkustrap fiddled with one of his whiskers. "I'll trust you on this, Tumblebrutus, but we do have reason for suspicion now, you realize." Munkustrap looked very uncomfortable to say it, but it was out in the open. Tumblebrutus hung his head.
"I didn't do anything," he said weakly. "Don't… don't suspect me."
Munkustrap frowned. "I'm sorry."
The silence after that was tense.
"Well, Munkustrap," Tumblebrutus said finally. "I think you ought to go talk to Demeter."
"Ah… that, I will." Munkustrap walked towards the exit, turning back to send Tumblebrutus a piercing look before stepping out.
"Goodbye," Tumblebrutus said quietly. Munkustrap said nothing in return. Perhaps he was already out of earshot.
(x)(x)(x)
Two days before the mating ceremony. Just shy of midnight.
Being in their den and just seeing all the signs of his life with Jemima was enough to drive Tumblebrutus mad, so he went back outside and stared at the sky for a while. There was nothing to be seen up there.
"Everlasting Cat," he murmured. "What the hell is happening?"
"Tumblebrutus?"
It was Mistoffelees, creeping out of his pipe, barely visible through the inky darkness.
"Yeah?"
"What are you doing?" Despite having just been woken up, Mistoffelees was clear-eyed and his voice was sharp.
"Not sleeping," Tumblebrutus said vaguely. "Wondering what I did to deserve this shit, you know."
Mistoffelees bit his lip. "Jellicle cats are magical, you know. There's upsides and downsides to it."
"I was aware of that, yes," Tumblebrutus said shrewdly.
"But have you come to terms with what it means?" Mistoffelees said, quirking his lips in a smile. "C'mon, Tumble," he said with a gentle laugh. "You'll get through. I know you, and you're strong."
Tumblebrutus rolled his eyes. "What, so I'm going to wave my wand and everything will magically be fixed because I'm a Jellicle? Of course! How did I not see it before?"
"Not quite," Mistoffelees said. "No wands involved. But there'll certainly be a lot for you to figure out over the coming days, I'm sure."
"That's really nothing new." Tumblebrutus turned to Mistoffelees, shaking his head. "Go on, go back to sleep, Misto. You're not helping."
"Sorry," the tuxedo cat shrugged. "Goodnight, Tumblebrutus," he added offhandedly as he returned to his pipe.
Tumblebrutus didn't reply.
Setting thoughts of Mistoffelees and his stupid talk of magic aside, Tumblebrutus decided that it might be a good time to visit Jemima. Perhaps seeing her would help to soothe his aching head.
(x)(x)(x)
One day before the mating ceremony. Minutes after midnight.
It turned out that seeing Jemima was, rather than being calming, a way to drive Tumblebrutus mad with questions. How could his fur have turned up the scene? And what on earth had been with that writing on the wall?
"Tumble…"
He'd forgotten about Pouncival again. While Jemima slept on, unaware of his presence, Pouncival was awake and struggling to sit up. Tumblebrutus didn't move.
"Brutus…"
"Yeah, Pounce?" he said wearily, a little surprised at the choked noise that was his voice.
"Why are you crying? You're always crying. You never used to." Pouncival was almost upright, but before he could gain his balance, he let out a little gasp and slumped back to the bed. Tumblebrutus sighed and went to help him up.
"I'm not crying," Tumblebrutus said quickly. "But if I did cry it would be because I'm sad and sick off this whole affair." It was the simplest possible explanation that Tumblebrutus could offer. It was also, apparently, not enough to satisfy Pouncival.
"I know that," he said dryly, supporting himself on the arm that Tumblebrutus had just wrapped around his shoulders. "It'd have to take some sort of emotion to make you cry, wouldn't it?"
"I don't like seeing my soon-to-be mate lying there like she's dead," Tumblebrutus said. His words sounded as hollow as he felt.
"I wouldn't doubt it." Pouncival hummed thoughtfully in his throat, his large eyes finding their way across the room to Jemima's face. "But she's not dead."
"Munkustrap thinks I might have done it, you know," Tumblebrutus said in a great rush. Pouncival kept watching Jemima, silent. "He found my fur on a claw right where we found you on the ground."
"Do you remember fighting?" Pouncival asked. He still wasn't looking at Tumblebrutus.
"…No." Tumblebrutus shuddered. "I'm going mad."
Pouncival smiled without humour.