a/n: We're still mostly in exposition mode, but don't worry, it only gets more interesting from here on out. If you're reading, I'd love to hear any speculations or thoughts you may have about what exactly is going on. That's half the fun of trying to make things mysterious.

And if you are, by chance, an old reader of mine wondering why I'm back, the author's note on the second chapter of 'His Broken Belief' should clarify things.

anticipation

One day before the mating ceremony. A few hours after sunrise.

Tumblebrutus woke up the next morning to quite the unpleasant surprise. He'd been slumped in a chair next to Jemima's bed, somehow having managed to sleep despite the awkwardness of the position. It was a tap on the shoulder that roused him.

"Tumblebrutus, morning," Munkustrap said brusquely as Tumblebrutus started.

"Er, hello," Tumblebrutus said, his voice thick with sleep. "Here to visit Jemima?"

"Well, yes and no," Munkustrap said, scratching his head. Even as sleepy as he was, Tumblebrutus sensed an intense discomfort radiating from the Protector. "Actually, I need to have a chat with you outside."

"Okay," Tumblebrutus said agreeably. "Lead the way."

The moment Tumblebrutus set foot outside the den, Munkustrap whipped out a pair of handcuffs. Before Tumblebrutus knew it, his hands were locked together. He stared blankly down at his cuffed wrists, too stunned to speak.

"Alright, come with me, then," Munkustrap said levelly. Tumblebrutus followed wordlessly. Maybe this was a dream? He'd been dreaming a lot, lately. Vividly, too, although he struggled to remember any of it. Jemima teased him a lot about it – she'd often wake him in the middle of a dream and he'd complain, yet be unable to produce any explanation of why the dream was so good he couldn't stand to wake.

But then Munkustrap was ushering him into a large, cage-like structure with one firm hand pressing on his back and all thoughts of dreams dissipated from his mind. The cage smelt rank, the metal framework encrusted with dirt. It clearly hadn't seen any use in a long time.

"Sorry for the state of the place," Munkustrap said, producing a key. It went to a rusted gold padlock that Tumblebrutus could see on the door to the cage. "I might see if anyone has any time to clean it out for you. We don't often have reason to lock anyone up, see."

"I didn't do it," Tumblebrutus said lowly, though the tremor in his voice belied the panic that was steadily building in his chest. "Why are you doing this?"

"It's just a precaution right now," Munkustrap explained in a sympathetic tone, even as he turned the key in the padlock with a dull click. "Orders of Deuteronomy. After all, you're related to both victims in this case and a clump of your fur was found at the scene – ripped out violently, too. Plus that writing on the wall definitely wasn't there until after I left you there alone. So we need you checked up at the very least. There may be something wrong with you."

"You – you think I'm dangerous?" Tumblebrutus spat disbelievingly. "This is garbage! Jemima and Pouncival are the two cats I care most about! I'd never hurt them, either of them, not ever! And if I had, why would I be so quick to rescue them? If not for me finding her, Jemima would've bled out in that bin long before help reached her, and you know it!"

"I'm sorry," Munkustrap said, and his words seemed more genuine this time, his brow furrowing as he spoke. "I'm grateful to you, don't get me wrong. But like I said, this is only a precaution. Please try to bear it calmly so there's no further reason to suspect you."

Tumblebrutus lowered himself slowly to the ground and shifted against the bars, trying to find a way to lean back against them comfortably. "Fine," he said, his voice a lot more unruffled than he felt.

"Thanks for understanding," Munkustrap said. "Mitso'll be over soon to keep watch – good of him really, no one else was available. I'll be back to talk to you again sometime, so I'll see you then." He lifted a hand in a solemn wave before making his way back into the more populated area of the Junkyard. Tumblebrutus clenched his fists.

He hoped that someone would sort this mess out quickly. He wasn't going to be able to visit Jemima or Pouncival, not while he was stuck in this stupid cage. Nor would he have any way to investigate the crime. He was well and truly out of options.

(x)(x)(x)

One day before the mating ceremony. Morning.

True to Munkustrap's word, Mistoffelees showed up soon after Munkustrap had left. Tumblebrutus refrained from glowering at him. It wasn't Mistoffelees' fault that he got to be free while Tumblebrutus was locked up like some criminal.

"Hi," Mistoffelees said, cordial as ever. "If it's any consolation, I don't think you did it."

"It would be more of a consolation if you could let me out, or at least make this cage smell a bit better," Tumblebrutus said dryly.

Mistoffelees chuckled. "Well, how about this?" He waved a hand and the air in the cage was suddenly fresh and a little flowery.

"I guess you're good for something after all," Tumblebrutus relented with a tiny smile. Mistoffelees, who had his face pressed right up to the wiring of the cage, smiled back, eyes crinkling around the edges.

The two of them had never really been close. Both of them were Jellicle-born, but Mistoffelees had opted to hang out with the other kits their age while Tumblebrutus had always been best friends with Jemima, until Pouncival had joined the Jellicles and Jemima had starting hanging out more with the other queens her age. Then it had always been just him and Pouncival.

"Tumblebrutus," Mistoffelees said. "I… sense that a dangerous time is coming for you." All the mirth had left his face. His eyes were very dark.

"Huh?"

"Pardon my ambiguity. I'm afraid I can't go into much depth on this matter… there's always someone keeping an eye out, you see." Mistoffelees' eyes slid from side to side as he spoke, though he remained perfectly still and kept his voice level. As if there were, indeed, others watching their conversation.

"I don't understand," Tumblebrutus said, holding perfectly still himself.

"Relax a little bit," Mistoffelees said. "Try not to act like any of what I'm about to say is going to affect you. Can you promise me that?"

"Okay," Tumblebrutus said, eyes narrowing.

"You, Jemima and Pouncival are… dangerous, in a particular way," Mistoffelees said. Tumblebrutus, only because he'd promised, kept his face blank. "There's a toxicity spreading between the three of you. You need to clear it, or else I fear that death is inevitable for all of you – or even worse. I don't know yet. I don't know any of you well enough to be able to predict the outcome, only that it will be disastrous."

"Do you want to clarify that any further?" Tumblebrutus whispered.

"There's not much else I can say. It would be far too risky to do so – if I were to speak of what I suspect is the full truth here in the Junkyard, it might just make things worse. I, for one, am supporting you, so that's all I can say."

"You're not just… messing with me?" Tumblebrutus said weakly.

"I' m afraid not. I wish I was, really, as cruel of me it would be." Mistoffelees bit his lip. "I… have one last piece of advice for you. You need to leave. If you don't, I daresay you'll be found guilty for this crime."

Tumblebrutus raised an eyebrow. "On what grounds?"

"Intuition, perhaps. Feel free to believe me or not." Mistoffelees turned his head slightly, gazing thoughtfully at a pile of furniture stacked nearby.

"Okay, first of all, how do you propose I escape? Are you going to help me?"

"Can't do that, not unless things get dire. I'd like to keep out of trouble myself, if possible," Mistoffelees said wryly.

"Well, thanks a lot," Tumblebrutus sighed. "And secondly, won't that just cast more suspicion on me? The Jellicles will definitely think I'm guilty if I run away. They'll never let me back."

"That's definitely a flaw in the plan," Mistoffelees said softly. "Quite the flaw, yes. Is there a way for you to prove your innocence? I wonder."

"I hope you'll forgive me for saying this, but I'm having a hard time understanding, let alone believing, most of what you're telling me," Tumblebrutus said after a long pause.

"I don't blame you at all," Mistoffelees said, turning back to Tumblebrutus. His eyes were wide, mouth twisted in a sympathetic smile. "I really don't. I didn't even expect you to be this agreeable, to be honest. All I need is for you to remember everything I said – keep it in mind."

"It's not like I have anything better to do than listen to you." Tumblebrutus drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. There was no way to be comfortable in this cramped space. Suddenly, a thought hit him. Perhaps Mistoffelees would know. "Misto. Yesterday, something strange happened…" He flicked his gaze sideways, checking that he had the other's attention.

"Go on," the tuxedo tom said.

"It was while we were investigating the place where Jemima and Pouncival were attacked. Munkustrap left me there alone, and…" He looked down, face pinched. "I noticed words on the wall. I swear they weren't there until I was alone. It was crazy stuff. Threats to Pouncival, and weird-"

Mistoffelees lifted a hand to stop him midsentence, expression grave. "I know. About there being words on the wall, at least. Munkustrap confided in me about that. He thinks you wrote them, you know. That you're coming down with some terrible affliction or something."

"Do you think so?" Tumblebrutus' voice was hollow. Perhaps Munkustrap was right, after all. How else could those words be explained…?

"No," Mistoffelees said simply. "I really don't. In fact, I came to a very different conclusion. Tell me, was there anything else odd other than the words on the wall?"

"Hmm… wait, yes, definitely," Tumblebrutus exclaimed, sitting up quickly. He'd almost forgotten about it in all the stress of being accused of committing the crime, but… "I heard a voice. Oh Bast, I totally forgot until now! It was someone looking for Pouncival."

"What did they say?"

"I…" Tumblebrutus wracked his head to no avail. "I'm sorry. I can't remember. Whoever it was snuck up on me and I, uh, fainted."

He expected Mistoffelees to laugh, but the other tom just heaved a sigh and closed his eyes. "It's not like it really matters," he said. "The fact that you heard such a voice only makes me more certain that this sense of dread I feel isn't unfounded."

"But that was the person who did it, right?" Tumblebrutus said desperately. "They attacked Pouncival and Jemima. Perhaps they have something against me?"

"Maybe? I can't answer that," Mistoffelees shrugged.

Tumblebrutus grit his teeth and shook his head, trying to mask his disappointment. After all his talk about his bad feelings and intuition, Tumblebrutus had felt so sure that Mistoffelees would at least be able to clear up one thing for him.

"Well, whatever," Tumblebrutus said. "Thanks anyway."

"You don't really have anything to thank me for," Mistoffelees said quietly.

No, I don't, Tumblebrutus thought, but he gave the other cat a benign sort of look before leaning back, hoping, perhaps, to get a little sleep.

(x)(x)(x)

One day before the mating ceremony. Evening.

Various cats kept Tumblebrutus company all day, engaging him in so much small talk that he felt physically exhausted. Finally, Demeter's turn came. The queen took a single look at him before smiling sympathetically and perching on a nearby table, far enough away that Tumblebrutus felt almost like he was alone. He was grateful for that.

What had Mistoffelees said? That the relationship between Jemima, Pouncival and himself was toxic? If the magic cat was to be believed, then what exactly was the problem? They'd always been friends. But… no.

Pouncival and Jemima had been dating – before Pouncival disappeared three months ago, anyway. Tumblebrutus hadn't minded. They'd still included him, taken him nearly everywhere with them. It hadn't felt like they were dating at all, except for the occasional kiss they'd sneak in Tumblebrutus' presence, both of them blushing and glancing conspiratorially at him. Wondering if he minded. He'd just smile serenely every time. It didn't matter to him. They were still kind friends to him. It didn't matter.

Then Pouncival had disappeared, and both Jemima and Tumblebrutus had been distraught. They'd sought each other out for comfort and… well. Three months with only each other for company and it was only natural that they grew close. That Tumblebrutus, being at the right age to do so, had asked for her hand. That he'd wanted the sweet-faced queen to be his mate. She had been the only comfort left to him.

Perhaps that wasn't fair, though. She'd never officially broken up with Pouncival, after all, even if she said that it was nothing serious. Tumblebrutus felt his gut clench, discomforted by the thought. It hadn't been so bad while Pouncival had been missing, thinking about it. He'd always reminded himself that Pouncival dated around a lot, was charming and outgoing enough to catch himself a lot of queens. It had been astounding to Tumblebrutus. Still, Pouncival had sounded so awkward when he'd asked Tumblebrutus if he was dating her. Maybe he'd been more serious about Jemima than Tumblebrutus had realised.

Did Tumblebrutus still want to go through with mating Jemima? It wasn't right, was it? He'd be an awful friend to do it, if it offended Pouncival.

Would I be okay giving her up for Pouncival's sake? Tumblebrutus wondered. If the two of them are happy together… well, I have no right being a part of it, do I?

(x)(x)(x)

Midnight on the day of the mating ceremony. Nine hours until the scheduled start time.

"Hey, Tumble. It's my turn to guard you."

Tumblebrutus turned his head groggily to see Plato depositing himself in a chair that he must have dragged over from some other part of the Junkyard. He smiled, though only thinly. He liked Plato, he did, but he wasn't exactly in the mood for entertaining visitors.

"How are you doing?" Plato continued, even though Tumblebrutus hadn't deigned to reply to his greeting.

"As well as I can in confinement like this." Tumblebrutus tipped his head back and sighed. "I can't stop thinking about it. Today's the day. Or, it should be the day. Jemima still hasn't woken up?"

"Not that I've heard," Plato said apologetically. "It was meant to start at nine in the morning, huh?"

"Yeah," Tumblebrutus said softly. How did everything go so wrong?

"It's a real shame. That Jemima won't wake up, and that they've stuck you in here. You're not the kind of guy who would ever hurt anyone," Plato said, oddly indignant. Tumblebrutus could only hope the rest of the Jellicles felt the same way.

"It's only a precaution," Tumlebrutus said, trying to inject some cheer into his tone. "I'll be out of here in no time." Unless what Misto said is true and they're going to find me guilty for this. Then what? I'll be left here forever? Exiled? Executed for daring to lay a claw on the Protector's daughter?

"Precaution it may be, but it still pisses me off," Plato sighed.

"Still, the longer I'm here, the more I realise that Munkustrap was totally justified in locking me up here," Tumblebrutus admitted.

"What do you mean? A bit of fur on a claw isn't enough to justify anything," Plato argued.

"Well, if it were only that, true. But the creepy writing on the wall… the more I think about that, the more uneasy I feel about this whole affair, you know?"

"Creepy writing on the wall?" Plato said sharply.

Oops. Tumblebrutus realised too late that perhaps that particular piece of information was classified to those involved in the investigation. He shrugged apologetically at Plato, who was leaning forward as if desperate for Tumblebrutus to explain further. "I'm probably not allowed to talk about it," he said.

"Oh? Oh well," Plato said. He did a good job of appearing unconcerned, but the tense lines of his body were evident. Even in the hours that followed and through all their idle conversation, Tumblebrutus noticed that Plato's hands stayed clenched into fists.

(x)(x)(x)

Nine in the morning on the day of the mating ceremony.

Tumblebrutus could tell by the position of the sun in the sky – it was time. Right now, the festivities were meant to be breaking out. Everyone should've been crowding together in the centre of the Junkyard, Tumblebrutus waiting in the midst of it all for his beautiful Jemima to arrive in her best dress.

But… no.

At least he was alone, if only for a short time. Plato had just left and Munkustrap would be here soon to replace him. He'd probably have all sorts of irritating questions to ask Tumblebrutus, too – questions that Tumblebrutus would have absolutely no way to answer.

"Psst."

Tumblebrutus started, then looked around wildly.

"Behind the furniture," the voice said. Tumblebrutus narrowed his eyes, trying to discern a figure by the pile of furniture. Finally, he made out a waving tail.

"What…?"

"I'm going to let you out," the voice said. And out stepped Pouncival, looking healthy and strong as could be. He wore a hood that cast a shadow over his face, but Tumblebrutus could still see eyes sparkling with warmth and vitality. As Tumblebrutus gaped at him, he tilted his head and smiled in a way that almost looked mocking. "Or do you want to rot here? Come on, Tumble. You need to come with me." There was a key in his hand – it slotted perfectly into the padlock. Then the door was swinging open and Pouncival was stretching out a hand.

"I…" Tumblebrutus spluttered.

"Don't tell me… you don't want to come?" Pouncival's face crumpled. Now that Tumblebrutus could see him without the wiring of the cage obscuring his features, there was something decidedly off. If only he could figure out what. He couldn't really tell – the hood had fallen further over Pouncival's face.

"I… yeah, I'll come," Tumblebrutus said warily, his hand reaching up to take hold of Pouncival's.

Pouncival's answering smile was brilliant. "Oh, Tumble," he said, fingers lightly caressing the back of Tumblebrutus' hand. "I'm so glad."

Then, with the hand that wasn't holding Tumblebrutus', he brought a fist up into Tumblebrutus' jaw. He registered pain for the briefest of moments before he was unconscious.