A/N: All I can warn you is that this may get a tad confusing. It'll all be explained eventually, my friends. :)

Forever Until Now

Chapter 6;; Burning Snow

Life. Life destroys beauty. Life is beauty.

Victoria hunched on her bed, gazing broodingly outside. The sun had long set, but no moonlight crept in to comfort her. She felt very, very alone.

It was all because of Etcetera. Sisters weren't meant to try and ruin perfect relationships, not the way she was trying to take Plato away. "He's mine," she snarled out loud, sounding a lot like Etcetera had. She frowned and buried her face in her hands. She'll never take him. She'll just be a pest, is all…damn her.

But still, Victoria worried. She knew that Plato and Etcetera had been quite close before he had kissed Victoria. Only as friends, of course, but he had opened up to Etcetera like to no one else. With a pang, she recalled the time she had slapped Etcetera. It really hadn't been that long ago, but it felt that way. The jealousy still lingered in the white queen, but it was slowly fading. She was glad, because she was almost frightened of her strange emotions. It was hard to ignore the jealousy, though, when the image of Plato wiping away Etcetera's tears came into her head. Stop thinking about that! Trying to choke back her own tears, she searched desperately for a way to distract herself.

She twisted round to examine the scratches on her flank. They stung, but they weren't that painful. Victoria had endured worse. Sighing, she gave each scratch a few licks, trying to wash the blood away. On her white fur, the red stood out, and it was a horrible sight to Victoria, who prided herself on her perfect, clean fur. But her saliva wasn't magical, and the scratches didn't mystically disappear. They were stubborn, determined to flaw her pure white image. She let out a little groan, and hoped that Plato wouldn't notice.

An image of Plato comforting her, worrying over her scars popped into her head. As pleasing as it was to think that he might worry over her, the image reminded Victoria too much of that incident. She just couldn't stop thinking about it. With a sigh, she gave in and concentrated on the awful memory. She felt almost as if she was getting sucked back into the moment of her reminiscence, as if it were all happening again.

That was where it had begun. The painful jealousy throbbing like a thorn embedded in Victoria's heart. And it was still there. It was impossible, but thinking about it had made it gradually return. Frustrated, Victoria twisted round and thumped the walls of her den, trying to let all her anger out. Every time her hand made contact with the wall, she whispered a single word. "Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop…" She paused, and realized there were tears trailing down her cheeks. "Just…just go away!" she screamed, pulling away and then throwing herself at the wall as if it would kill the emotion. All it did, though, was knock her into oblivion.

Where am I now?

Victoria opened her eyes and unfolded her arms and legs. She had been scrunched up into a tiny ball, as if trying to hide from the world. As she moved, she realized with shock that she ached all over. Wincing a little, she forced her sore body into a sitting position.

It was cold. That was the first thing that she realized. It was so cold that she thought she could feel frost gathering on her whiskers. It was so cold that she immediately felt as if her body was frozen permanently, that she could no longer move. Shivering, she waved her arms around just to check that she could still move. It turned out that she wasn't frozen, but the downside was that her arms screamed in protest at the effort required to move. She hurt.

Finally acknowledging her surroundings, Victoria took in a beautiful, white world. She was in the Junkyard, but it was completely empty except for herself. The usual rubbish wasn't scattered around. And it was perfect, because a thick layer of snow cloaked the entire place. It was pure white, surreal. Victoria's breath caught in awe, and she bounded down to investigate, ignoring the pain in her limbs. Never had she seen such beauty. It did snow in winter, but the snow was never white – it was always yellowed by dirt. We live in such a dirty world, Victoria thought, dismayed as she took in her beautiful surroundings. Why can't everything be like this all the time?

Life. Life destroys beauty. Life is beauty.

"You look completely beautiful, Victoria." Starting at the sound of another voice, Victoria glanced back to the spot she had just come from. Plato was standing exactly where she had been, smiling lovingly at her. She smiled shyly back, and it was almost as if she were glowing. While Victoria had been astounded by the beauty of the Junkyard, Plato only had eyes for Victoria. Standing in the snow, it was almost impossible to distinguish her, as she and the snow shared the exact same color – pure, untainted white. Yet, there was a definite contrast. To Plato, she was far better. She stood out to him, always.

Awed, Plato picked his way down to her, placing his paws in the paw prints that she had left in the snow. He smiled at how small and delicate her step was compared to his. "I thought you might be here," he commented. By then, he was standing very close to her, their faces just inches apart. He wrapped his arms around her and their lips met fleetingly.

"Where are we?" Victoria whispered, pulling Plato into a close embrace. "I want to be here, always. It's so beautiful."

He hesitated, glancing around, avoiding eye-contact. "This isn't real, not really," he told her gently. She flinched a little at that. The beauty was unreal… but she wanted so badly for it exist. Plato lifted her chin so that she gazed straight into his alluring eyes. "But that doesn't mean that you can never return," he breathed. "This is your creation. This is you. Your beauty. It is something within your heart. Whenever you let all the barriers down, this is your place. It can only be real then."

"What?" she whispered. "So this is…a dream? My dream?"

Plato paused, thinking his response over. "You could say that," he said finally. "In simple terms, yes. But can't you see? This is so much more than a dream."

"Is that why you're here?" Victoria said slowly, perplexed. "Are you just my mind?"

Plato lowered his eyes then, and a flicker of doubt passed through them. "That's for you to decide," he said, his voice very low. Victoria gazed into his face, utterly bewildered.

"So this is a part of me," she breathed, taking in the beauty once more. "It's so lovely. Will you always be here too?"

"I hope so," Plato murmured in response, his eyes a little clouded. Victoria frowned.

"But I want you to be here," she said firmly. "And since this is my place, and that's what I want, you'll be here, right?"

Plato's eyes closed. "It isn't so simple. I'm not… a part of this." Victoria reeled back, away from him. He opened his eyes and gazed at her, hurt. She returned to his arms, flushing with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry. What do you mean?"

Plato stared into her eyes, and she stared back, seeing the frustration in them. "I…Victoria. I…"

Just then, Victoria sensed a disturbance. She pulled away from Plato, and craned her neck to stare past him. Someone…or something else had appeared. Plato caught her arm before she could go to investigate. "Wait," he murmured. "Don't."

"Why not?" Victoria glanced at him over her shoulder, mystified. "I just want to check…" Her words faded on her lips. Plato was staring past her with an expression of such fury that he was beginning to frighten her.

She looked away from him to the source of the disturbance. Her first impression was that a flame had ignited in the snow, and was flickering ever so slightly. It stood out, red against white. And there were ashes too, black against the red. As her eyes adjusted to the new color, she realized that it wasn't actually fire. But its eyes were definitely like fire in the way that they betrayed even more anger than Plato. The two faced each other, shaking with fury.

Shock registered in Victoria's mind as she recognized the 'fire'. It was Macavity. But what was he doing in her 'dream'? He sent a fleeting look at her, and there was no anger in that look at all. But then emotions in his eyes…though she hardly looked at him, they were extraordinarily familiar. Those emotions make her clench her paws into fists without even realizing. She stared at him, trying to comprehend the meaning of it all.

And then he spoke, and Victoria's mind went numb. "Get out, Plato," he spat, hackles raised. That voice…!

Dear Victoria…I'm like a part of your mind.

I'm afraid that I managed to break into your mind, and in turn, your heart.

I am your only company now, you know…

I'm a lot like you.

"No…" she rasped, barely able to speak. "No, that's impossible…not him."

It was like she had slapped him across the face. For a moment, he was visibly hurt. And then, all that faded. The frightening anger returned, directed at Plato. And Victoria shivered at the very thought that he was the voice.

"Why, Victoria? Why do you quake at the sound of my voice?" he asked, seemingly unaffected. But Victoria knew better. She had seen his pain.

"I never realized," she whispered, turning away. "I could never have expected that you were the one messing with my head this whole time!"

"Messing with your head…?" A low growl rumbled in his throat. "Victoria, my patience has its limits. So don't even bother with stupid comments like that. I prevented you from being alone in your worst moments. I can't understand why you're so repulsed by me."

"Well, I can." Plato stepped in between them. "You're a monster," he snarled. "No wonder you're an outcast among us. Leave her alone."

"I could say the same thing to you," Macavity said pleasantly. "Get away from her. Now."

"And why should I? She doesn't want that," Plato sneered.

"Help me, Plato," Victoria whispered, confirming Plato's comment. Macavity's ears flattened and his face contorted into a terrible snarl.

"Victoria," he said, his voice intense. "Look at me. I helped you. Why don't you help me?" His voice suddenly turned persuasive, and Victoria did as he said and looked at him.

"Help you?" she asked faintly.

"Of course," Macavity purred, eyes gleaming. Victoria's mind went blank as she stared at him. "Step away from Plato, if you please. He's no good to you, dear little Victoria."

"Okay," Victoria said, her voice flat as she obeyed and moved away from Plato. He gazed at her, frozen.

"And now…come here, sweet Victoria. Come to me." Macavity smiled cruelly at Plato as Victoria did as she was told without question.

"Stop," Plato said finally, before Victoria had reached him. "Stop it, Macavity. Stop the damned mind games!"

Victoria halted mid-step as Macavity lifted his eyes from her to Plato. "Oh?" he said softly, his voice level.

"Free her. Give her back her own will," Plato growled, taking a couple of steps towards Macavity.

"Oh, but I'm afraid…that I rather like it," Macavity said absently. "And I'm rather used to it…I don't think I could give it up."

Plato stared coldly at him. "Just do it," he said flatly, taking another few steps closer. The tall red tom just smirked. They stared at each other, eyes not quite meeting. Plato moved closer, step by step. And then their eyes finally met. Scorching yellow found emerald green, and it was as if lightning was flashing between them. The smirk faded from Macavity's lips and his brow furrowed in concentration. Plato grimaced, and grunted a little. Then they broke the contact, breathing heavily.

"You're better than I thought," Macavity sighed, turning away. Victoria blinked, and tipped over sideways.

"Plato!" she cried as she let herself fall harmlessly into the snow. He rushed to her, and wrapped his arms around her. She sighed, and suddenly her soreness returned, even worse than before. She let out a scream, and Plato jerked back. Macavity's head flew round and he stared at her with something so very similar to… worry?

"It hurts!" she wailed. "I hurt!" Plato's mouth hung open, and he just sat there for a few seconds. Then, he leant in, his face close to hers.

"What's wrong?" he cried, alarmed. Victoria scrunched into a ball, and rocked back and forth. It was as if she was burning with pain.

"Just make it go away!" she screamed. Macavity's face twisted with sudden realization. He looked away, tight-lipped. Plato bit his lip, eyes panicked. Then, he sighed.

"Look into my eyes, Victoria," he whispered, voice full of pain. She did as he said, shaking with agony. The green of his eyes was like heaven. The pain numbed, dying to a faint throb and then…nothing. Smiling giddily, she collapsed into his arms.

"Hell, Plato. I thought you were against mind games," she heard Macavity drawl. And then her beautiful snowy world was fading away.

When Victoria woke up, she found herself still in Plato's arms. His eyes opened at the exact same moment hers did, and he gazed at her. As Victoria blinked drowsily at him, she noted that his eyes were clouded over with worry.

"Are you okay?" he murmured.

"Yeah. I had such a lovely dream," she yawned.

"What was it about?" Plato frowned.

Victoria narrowed her eyes in thought. Finally, she answered him. "I can't remember."