A/N: Just remember, italics indicates thoughts, dreams or memories. I wish that 'magic' was a genre. Like, seriously.

This chapter is for my babe, Nekosoda. Because she and her stories are the shizz. And no, Alyana and Macavity aren't Victoria's parents.

Forever Until Now

Chapter 15;; Frenzied Eyes

She touched a paw to her cheek, and bewildered, realized that there was a tear making its way down her face.

Etcetera watched on helplessly as Old Deuteronomy spoke. The Jellicles were all gathered around the spot where Victoria had died, solemnly listening to Deuteronomy.

"Victoria… I am quite sure we could all praise her name for days and days on end…" His eyes were sad. "She was young. She was beautiful. She was talented. She was lovely. She was a true asset to the Jellicles. And she did not deserve to die." A frown appeared on his old face, turning his lips down. "We will all miss her greatly… even I, though I only met with her occasionally. That was the effect that she could produce. Victoria… I hope that you find peace in Heaviside." He bowed his head, clasping his paws together, and there was a flurry of movement as the rest of the Jellicles did the same.

"Victoria," they all said as one, voices ringing out brokenly.

Then, Jellylorum and Asparagus stepped forward. Jellylorum was breaking down into tears, and Asparagus' eyes were gaunt and listless. Between them, they held a large bucket sloshing to the brim with water.

"We will never forget you, Victoria," Deuteronomy said softly, his eyes on the long dried blood.

"Never forgotten," the rest of the Jellicles murmured. They all watched, some with tears in their eyes. The others simply had no more tears left to cry.

That was when Jellylorum and Asparagus together tipped over the bucket. Jellylorum closed her eyes and choked back a sob as she did so – Asparagus just watched blankly as the water washed the blood away. All away.

The last trace of Victoria in the Junkyard… was gone.

Etcetera and Jemima stared across at each other, fire blazing in both their eyes. They were both still where the blood had been, even though the water had long washed away any trace of it.

"I promised," Etcetera hissed, slamming a paw to the ground. "I promised I would be last to leave."

"Who to?" Jemima snarled, claws sliding in and out.

Etcetera's eyes dulled slightly as the name came to her lips. "Victoria. I am her sister, after all. It's the least I can do for her."

Jemima sniffed. "Well, I promised too. I'm her best friend." Tears sprung to her eyes. "I am still… forever. We're going to be best friends forever." Now the tears were flowing down her face. "Never alone," she breathed, too quiet for anyone else to hear.

"I love her more than you did," Etcetera said, her voice deadly. "She was my sister."

"You couldn't, you couldn't." Jemima's voice was high-pitched and stressed. "She was the best cat I ever met… my first friend." And then she said what was the unthinkable to Etcetera. "You know, she loved me more than you, Etcetera."

"She did not!" Etcetera almost sprang forward to slap Jemima across the face, but a memory stopped her in her tracks.

"VICTORIA LIKES SOMEONE!" Etcetera screamed, jerking Victoria out of her little fantasy. She let out an indignant cry and without thinking about it, slapped Etcetera across the face. Etcetera let out a gasp of shock, and stepped back slowly, whimpering. Victoria's eyes widened in horror, and she fell to her knees in an impossibly graceful way that only made Etcetera blubber and trip over backwards.

"Victoria," Etcetera sobbed brokenly, her eyes filling with horror.

"Didn't you two argue anyway?" Jemima said quietly.

"Yes. But I love her no matter what," Etcetera growled. "And you hardly have the right to tell me otherwise!"

Jemima's eyes filled with remorse. "I'm sorry, Etcetera… it was wrong of me to say what I said. It's just…" She glanced away, her eyes distant. "It's just I miss her so much already… what will I do without her?"

"…I feel the same way," Etcetera replied after a moment of silence. Her voice was equally quiet. They were done with arguing.

"Good to see you two have calmed down." Plato approached them then. The knowledgeable glint in his beautiful eyes told the two queens that he'd been watching all along.

"I'm sorry, Plato. I just feel like nothing will ever be right again," Etcetera whispered, tentatively burying her face into his shoulder. He didn't move away, but he didn't try to comfort her either.

"Etcetera, I came to talk about what you asked me earlier," he told her softly. Jemima stiffened.

"What's that?" she asked quickly, not caring if it was their private business.

Plato hesitated. "We're going to kill Macavity together."

"Plato?" Etcetera breathed, knowing the tom was still right next to her.

"…Yeah…?" Plato's reply broke into her thoughts, finally. As far as Etcetera could tell, more than ten minutes had passed before he'd even bothered to reply. Etcetera shuddered delicately as she tried to find the words to pose the next question to him.

"Plato…will you help me…to kill Macavity?"

The tom glanced at her, emotion suddenly flickering in the eyes that had only moments ago been listless. Shock. Doubt.

"What? Are you crazy?" he hissed, looking like he wanted to shove her aside. Etcetera flinched.

"Don't you want to do it? For Victoria?" she whispered desperately to him. He regarded her coldly, jerking his head as an indication for Etcetera to continue. The words came out in a rush – she was just saying whatever came to her head. "Macavity killed her, Plato. He doesn't deserve to live! We can't just let it go unpunished… not this… not her death."

"And you can't do it alone." He stated it as a fact, his voice flat.

"No… of course I can't." Etcetera's voice was bitter. "What am I but a kitten? A baby? A stupid, ugly, useless, bad-"

"Shut up. Just shut up." Plato's voice was harsh, and his eyes were burning as he gazed at her. Etcetera cringed.

"I'm sor-" she began, but her apology was cut off.

"I don't want to hear you talking about yourself like that," he said roughly, gripping her by the shoulders. Her eyes widened. "If you want to be a queen, then you have to be proud of who you are." He locked his eyes with hers. "I don't want to hear you putting yourself down. None of it is true." He let go then, letting out a long breath.

"I'm sorry I'm being so…" He searched for the word. "Cold. But… I can't believe that this has happened."

"So? Will you help me to kill Macavity?" Etcetera pressed him gently. "I saw you, Plato. You… you have powers. Like Macavity." She looked at him with big, hopeful eyes as he tensed up.

"Forget about that," he said in clipped, irritated tones. "Please."

"How can I?" Her eyes were wide. The image of Plato, his eyes thrilling with power, would never fade from her brain.

Plato sighed impatiently. "I'm not like Macavity. I won't hurt you. Fine… but don't mention it again. Ever." His eyes were hard. "Understand?"

"…Fine," Etcetera relented.

Plato was silent for a long time. "I'll think about it, Etcetera. But…" He looked at her with an odd expression in his eyes. "Don't go alone, Etcetera. If you died as well…" And he couldn't even find the words to describe the hollow feeling eating him up inside.

"What?" Jemima gasped, her mouth hanging open. "You didn't just say what I thought you did, did I?" Her eyes narrowed angrily.

"Quiet." Plato's voice was laced with irritation. Etcetera placed a tentative paw on his arm, and he took a deep breath, calming himself. He sent a grateful glance towards Etcetera, and she smiled sadly. She knew how hard it had been for any of them to control their wild emotions after Victoria's death. "Jemima, I only told you because I thought…" His eyes clouded over in pain. "I thought you would feel the same way that we do."

Jemima whisked her tail over the ground, an uneasy frown turning her lips down. "Tell me," she sighed reluctantly. "And then I'll tell you how I feel."

Before Plato could open his mouth, Etcetera cut in. "We want to kill him obviously because of what he did to Victoria," she started, her voice oddly savage. Jemima looked up at her friend, startled at the murderous look in the light tabby's eyes. "She didn't deserve it… not her." Etcetera's voice was choked, but her eyes remained dry. Jemima suspected that she'd run out of tears to cry.

"No. I know that," the calico said softly.

"I have to do it. For her." Etcetera's voice was edged with desperation. "If I didn't, I would live in guilt for the rest of my life," she mumbled, still choked up.

Jemima bit her lip. On the one hand, she knew that it was a crazy idea. How could two young cats expect to be able to kill Macavity, a full-grown, powerful tom? It seemed impossible, no matter what way Jemima looked at it.

Then again, she understood their feelings perfectly. The thought of Macavity sent dangerous feelings thrilling through her veins. She became possessed by Etcetera's idea – suddenly, she wanted to feel her claws biting into Macavity's skin. Claws that had never harmed another cat before.

And that was why she said what she did to Plato and Etcetera.

"Can I join you?"

"It's going to be difficult."

Etcetera paced back and forth, beating one paw constantly on her thigh. Plato watched her carefully, occasionally contributing to her babble. Jemima found herself sitting silently unless Etcetera specifically asked her a question. She was intrigued by Plato's eyes – how they glittered like jewels even though they still held that lifeless look.

Just then, he glanced at her. She flushed, embarrassed that he had caught her looking, but he simply raised an eyebrow at her, seemingly unconcerned.

"We're gonna have to – Plato! Jemima! Are you listening?" Etcetera leapt forward to obstruct Jemima's vision completely with her huge blue eyes. She sighed, placing her paws on her friend's shoulders. "Look, I know it's annoying to listen to me going on… but this is important," she breathed, and Jemima nodded quickly. Etcetera was right, of course… they needed to work together. Besides, if Etcetera did all the thinking, then nothing would be accomplished.

"Well, we have no idea where Macavity is, do we?" Jemima put in thoughtfully. Etcetera's mouth dropped open.

"I didn't even think of that!" she cried, sounding upset. Jemima and Plato both sighed.

"We'll work it out," Plato reassured the tabby quietly. Etcetera's lips turned up slightly.

Electra was all alone. She couldn't find Jemima or Etcetera anywhere. She wasn't sure if she wanted to, but was else was there to do? Sit in her den and cry into a pillow? Electra shook her head fervently at the thought. She'd been doing it all night, and it was pathetic of her. Victoria wouldn't want that.

So she had to find her friends. Sighing in annoyance, she rounded the Junkyard one more time in the hope that either queen would turn up.

"What're you looking for, Electra?" Startled, Electra rounded on the cat who had spoken. It was Misto, but he looked very different. His usually bright and happy eyes were dull and flat. Electra could see the outlines of heavy bruises beneath them. He lacked his usual smirk as well, and he looked incredibly weary. She sat with a bump and blushed.

"Jemima and Etcetera," she replied simply, not feeling capable of speaking too much. She didn't feel capable of doing anything, really. She was still in shock.

"I saw them before," Misto frowned. "They were with… Plato, I think." His voice sounded strange, and sympathy flickered in the edge of Electra's brain.

"Are you… okay Misto?" she asked quietly, padding closer to him. He stepped away quickly, and Electra pulled back, hurt. He glanced towards her with tortured eyes, and Electra covered her mouth with a paw.

"I can already feel it…" he said so softly Electra could barely hear him. His voice was filled with some sort of frenzied emotion, and for a moment, his eyes were wild in a way Electra had never, ever seen before. It was completely unexpected, and she slowly took a few steps back, frightened of the look on his face. Then, he seemed to realize the effect he was having on her, and struggled to calm himself.

"Misto…" she whispered.

"I'm fine…" His voice was weak, and he sounded like he was trying to convince himself rather than Electra.

"No you're not." Electra's eyes flared. "Don't lie! None of us are fine! How can we be?" She stared at the ground, embarrassed at her outburst. She tried to stay in the background as much as possible, so she rarely yelled. She rarely got too emotional. It would make her stand out.

"I know. I know." Misto's eyes went unfocused. "I know… Electra… it's… so hard…" He stared at her, but it was the sort of look that gave her the impression that he was looking straight through her rather than at her. "What are we meant to do now?"

"We keep going." Electra forced the words out. "Right…?"

But Misto shook his head fervently. The wild look returned to his eyes. "But Electra…what happens when that's impossible?"

Electra's eyes widened. "Misto, is it about how you and Plato and Tanto and Cori and such…?"

Misto glanced at her, his eyes dull. "Yes, Electra. How much do you know about that?"

Sudden agony pierced through Electra's heart. "Not much," she choked. Misto made a soft, sympathetic noise. "After all, why would they tell me? It's not like… it's not like I need to know. It's not like I can ever be special after…" And before she could stop herself, she was crying again. There was so much crying going on in the Junkyard, no one bothered to look. It was almost a normal thing.

But Misto understood. Misto knew that she wasn't crying for Victoria anymore. She was crying because of the miseries that had haunted her all her life. He wanted to comfort her, to step forward and wrap a gentle arm around her shaking frame… but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He told himself it was because she would flinch away at his touch because of his power… but it was also because he was afraid of being around other cats after Victoria had died.

He tried to imagine himself in Electra's position, but it was impossible. "What's it like?" he questioned suddenly.

Electra sent him a terrible, mournful stare. "It's horrible," she whispered. "It's no way for a cat like me to live life. I feel smothered, all the time. But it isn't that, is it? It's just that it was taken away from me. They took too much…" She placed a paw on her heart.

"All cats have it." Misto's voice was troubled. "But some of it are… fortunate… enough to have more than others." He gave her a sideways glance. "And it's very distinct in Jellicle blood. That's why we're so successful as a tribe. Better than other cats, you might say." He'd heard those words all his life, but he was one of the few to hear them.

"And because they almost took everything from me… that's why I'm so plain." Electra slammed a fist into the ground and sobbed into her paws. Then, she glanced almost guiltily up at Misto. "You think I'm being stupid, don't you?" she said softly, a faint blush on her cheeks.

He shook his head, eyes widening. "Electra, I admire you," he told her, his eyes narrowing. "I can't imagine how it is to be you, but it must suck."

"It's the knowledge that I could be so much more," she stated wistfully. She looked at her paws, and moved them in a gesture that Misto recognized. Whenever he wanted to shoot lightning from his paws, he'd always flick out his paws in a dramatic movement. But when Electra did it, nothing happened. Misto tentatively stepped forward and placed a paw on top of her outstretched one, letting a spark of electricity flow out. Electra closed her eyes, feeling the tingle of magic.

"That feeling," she whispered, "Should be so much more familiar to me." And when the tears flowed steadily from her eyes again, that time, Misto was there to wrap an arm around her shaking shoulders.

Night had fallen, and Etcetera had been forced to leave Jemima and Plato. They hadn't really come up with anything really, but whenever Etcetera was by herself, a wave of loneliness and despair came over her. The grief would hit her anew, and every flash of white or blue made her think that Victoria was padding right back into the Junkyard, a smile on her beautiful face. But that wasn't ever going to happen again.

Etcetera tried to comfort herself with thoughts of Plato. Even though she knew how much pain she must have caused Victoria by stealing him from her, she couldn't help but visualize his eyes. He was truly dreamlike. Every moment she was with him, Etcetera felt as if he was going to disappear.

She remembered how, after Jemima had headed off, he had approached her, an odd look in his emerald eyes.

"We'd best be off now. It's getting dark, and I promised Mom and Dad I'd be home for dinner." Jemima interrupted Etcetera's flow of words gently, and the tabby sighed.

"Meet back here tomorrow?" she suggested hopefully. Both Jemima and Plato nodded, and with that the calico slipped out.

Etcetera bustled around the place, quickly tidying things up. They'd been conversing in a long abandoned den, but she didn't want to leave it too messy just in case the adults got on her case. She felt a little proud that she was the one taking responsibility and cleaning. It took her a while to pluck all of Jemima's fur from an old armchair, so she thought that Plato had silently left while she was doing that. That was why she felt so surprised when she finally turned to go.

"Plato?" she whispered. "You're still here?"

He was just standing there, his body utterly still. His eyes were fixed upon her, and they were filled with some sort of frantic fire.

"Etcetera," he breathed, taking one step closer. Her eyes widened at the intensity in his voice. At that moment, he looked perfect to her. His eyes, blazing with emotion, his smooth fur, his defined features… and that hungry expression on her face that told her that he was craving something. The way he said her name… it was almost too much for her. A cat like him couldn't, shouldn't exist. The effect he could create on her was dangerous. But she couldn't resist him. A tiny sigh escaped her lips.

The two rushed together, and Etcetera entwined her hands with Plato's. Her little, soft hands seemed to fit perfectly into his larger ones. She rested her forehead against his shoulder and sighed again. His head gently leant against her own. Etcetera looked up to meet his eyes, and he looked back, seemingly troubled.

"Plato, what's wrong?" Etcetera murmured, brow creasing. He frowned at her.

"It isn't the same," he said, frustrated. "But for better, or for worse?" And then, he brushed his lips across her cheek and pulled away, leaving so quickly that Etcetera felt convinced it had all been a dream. Only the fire blazing where his lips had grazed her cheek proved otherwise.

"What did he mean?" Etcetera murmured to herself. His comment had left her feeling mystified, but the memory of the feeling of his lips on her cheek was almost enough to distract her entirely. Just then, she reached her den, and entered, sniffing once just to check if she'd had any unwanted visitors. Electra? She thought to herself curiously. With a pang of guilt, she realized she'd almost forgotten about the dark tabby queen. She'd been so wrapped up in her plans… she'd have to go check with her friend later. But, considering Jemima was with her parents for dinner, Electra would probably be there too.

It's been a while my parents wanted me for dinner, Etcetera thought sadly. They always had private dinners with Victoria.

She remembered a certain incident where Victoria had been happily chatting to her about the lovely dinner their family was going to have… and Etcetera had sat silently, not knowing what she was talking about. She'd been forgotten, unwanted by her own parents. Usually, at that thought, Etcetera would be in tears, but this time, she simply sighed and flopped onto her bed.

"Goodnight," she said to no one in particular, not expecting an answer. Her eyes drooped shut, and her breathing eventually slowed.

"Goodnight, Etcetera," whispered a sad voice, and a shadowed cat stood up from where they'd been watching at the entrance of her den and disappeared.

That night…

That terrible night…when she died…

In her sleep, Etcetera let out a soft cry and twisted round.

Everything's blurred into a mass of colors, but I remember everything so clearly that it doesn't matter. The details, they're burned into my mind.

This dream, it hurts me.

A drop of sweat beaded on Etcetera's forehead.

The red means Macavity. That murderer. It means blood. The blood spreading over Victoria's chest.

The green means Plato. He made a terrible sound when Macavity overpowered him. It sent chills down my spine and daggers into my heart.

And the green…

Etcetera let out a louder cry, a pained cry that resonated through her den. Her limbs tangled in the sheets of her bed.

It means Victoria. Victoria's wide, green eyes, the life slowly draining away. There's something wrong with that image… but what is it? I wish I had more time… I wish I was smarter…

Etcetera gasped and sat up like lightning, her breathing heavy and her heart pounding. She touched a hand to her cheek, and bewildered, realized that there was a tear making its way down her face.

Far away from Etcetera's den, Victoria let out a soft moan in her sleep. Macavity stood over her, his eyes harsh with irritation. "Just wake up, little Victoria," he muttered, sinking into a chair beside her bed. As he spoke, her eyes flickered open and she stared at him for a very long time.

"What?" Macavity snapped, tired of her wide blue eyes just staring. Her eyes drifted away from him and travelled all around the room they were in.

"Where are we?" she rasped. Her voice grated against her throat from lack of use. She was too tired to be emotional. She tried to force herself to think a way out of her situation, but she felt as if she could barely move, let alone think…

"That's not your concern," Macavity said coolly. "We're away from the Junkyard."

A flash of bitterness rushed through Victoria's eyes, but Macavity didn't miss it. "Taking me to your new tribe's 'Junkyard', huh?" she whispered, her voice flat. "Taking me to be your sole tribemate?"

Macavity glared at her as if he wanted to slap her, but miraculously, he didn't. Victoria closed her eyes against his cold glower, and found the strength to smile sadly.

"If you want to hurt me so badly, why don't you?" she breathed. "After all…it was so easy to do it to Alyana. You know…? The one you cared about?"

Macavity's glare grew even angrier. "Shut up. I don't care about anyone," he said roughly.

"Not even me?" Victoria asked unthinkingly, her eyes still closed. She was drifting back into unconsciousness again, and Macavity made an inscrutable noise at the back of his throat. When she was asleep again, her breathing rasping lightly and slowly through her throat, he answered.

"Maybe. But you were always a peculiar one, Victoria."