Author's Note: So I don't own CATS. Just really love it. Also, in anything that takes place outside of the junk yard, they are just general cats. Within the junkyard they are the jellicle forms we all love so much, but that is explained in a separate chapter. I have eight chapters completed and it gets longer every day, so plenty more coming! Enjoy!

Chapter One

Victoria POV

Victoria lay basking in the sunlight that came through the window. She rested on a pillow that she had long since brought over to give herself a comfy place to rest in the light. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, and she lay there completely relaxed. On days like today it was difficult to imagine that bad days ever happen. But of course, she knew very well that they did.

"HEY! Vicky!"

Victoria sighed, speaking of bad days, "Hello George."

George was the large orange tom cat that her humans had adopted months ago. He was always nice to her, as long as the humans were home. When they were gone for the day, and even sometimes during the night when they were all asleep, he might as well be the devil. Lucky for her, right now they were home.

"My Vicky, how are you this afternoon?"

She sighed and turned to the window, trying to ignore him. But of course, she knew that would come back to bite her later, quite literally. "I'm fine George. How are you?"

"Oh, I'm fantastic." Something about the way he said it made her turn to look at him, he had on a smirk that made her blood chill. "I just over heard the humans are going on vacation next week. For two whole weeks! We'll both have the house to ourselves. Won't that be grand?"

She felt her mouth drop open, and if she wasn't already white as a sheet, she would have paled. "W-What? No, they can't! They wouldn't leave us for that long. They've never left for that long!"

He smirked and sat down, giving his tail a nice flick. "Oh, they are. I promise. They are going to have someone come over once a day to make sure we have food and water and clean out our boxes."

She stared at him in horror. Two whole weeks stuck in the house with him. Alone. She was going to die. There was no way she would survive the time.

"What's the matter my dear, Vicky? You aren't afraid of being alone with Ol' Georgie are you?" His tone made her shiver.

She shook her head. "Of course not...but...I think I'm going to go hunt some mice."

She stood up and tried to slip past him, but he stepped in front of her. "That's fine, Girlie. You go hunt your mice. In a few weeks, you'll be hunting for two."

She tilted her head to the side. She wasn't really sure what that meant...but it didn't sound good. She stepped around and past him hurried out of the small cat door the humans had installed, she was lucky. Because they had gotten it before they had gotten George, and since he was much bigger than she was, he couldn't fit. Whenever she could get outside, she could get a least a little bit of freedom. She had a feeling she would be spending quite a bit of time outside for the next couple weeks.

She walked down the walk to where there was a stone column. She wasn't really sure why it was here, or how long it had been here. But it made a nice spot to sit and watch as people and cars went by. She had spent countless hours, over the past twelve months she'd lived here, which was eight months shy of her entire life, just watching.

She was sitting there, trying to not to think about the horrors that awaited her next week, when something new caught her attention. There was a black cat on the other side of the road. He seemed to be...PRANCING, and humming. No, as he got closer, she could tell he was singing. Singing? Why would a cat be singing? Sure. Victoria had often spent her evening dancing around in the moonlight, had often been laughed at and made fun of by George, but she'd never sang, or heard another cat sing. But then, the only cat she'd ever mingled with was George. She had a few memories of her mother, but they were painful, so she often tried to ignore them when they came up. Those were from long ago. These humans had adopted her when she was several months old, and she had lived with them alone until they had adopted this rough alley cat that had somehow ended up in the shelter for adoptions.

The black cat was still walking down the street, still singing, still prancing. She could almost make out the words now, though she caught it mid sentence. - "tiniest crack and he can walk on the narrowest rail." As he sang that line he had jumped up onto the fence that lined the yard across the street, and he had placed each foot step deliberately as he sang the words. He jumped off the fence and began the next line of song as he landed, "He can pick any card from the pack, and he is equally cunning with dice."

He happened to look over at her now, and she blushed and glanced away, but as she glanced back she noticed that he was headed her way now, crossing the street, while still singing and prancing along, "He is always deceiving you into believing that he's only hunting for mice." As he sang those last words he came to a stop below her claimed tower, and sat down. "Well, hello."

Victoria said nothing at first, just stared down at this black, no. Now that he was closer, she could see he wasn't solid black. His body was, yes, but he had some white on him as well. The tip of his tail was white, as was majority of his chest and face. He also had one white front paw, and both of his two back paws were white. He was the first tom cat, other than George, she'd ever seen.

She sat up straight, and looked down at him. "Hello."

He didn't say anything for a minute after that, just sat there watching her. She wondered what he was waiting for. Was she supposed to do something? She didn't know what he expected but she wished he'd stop staring at her, it was making her nervous. George always did that before he pounced on her, or whatever cruel trick he had planned. This cat staring at her did nothing to ease her mind.

"Well..." after what seemed like a long time, "I...have to go inside. My humans are probably wondering where I am."

She jumped down from her perch and glanced back at the mysterious tom. She didn't trust him enough to turn her back on him until she was safely on her own porch. She started to go through the cat door when he yelled, "Wait!"

She paused, humoring him. He stood now, still at the end of the walk. "What's your name?"

She sighed, "Does it matter?"

He shook his head in confusion, "Of course it matters."

She was about to answer then George's voice bellowed from the other side of the door. "Vicky! Are you talking to a strange tom out there!?"

The black cat's eyes narrowed. Victoria's eyes did the opposite. "I'm sorry, I have to go."

And without looking back she disappeared through the cat door.

Quaxo's POV

He couldn't get his mind off of the pearl white cat he had met that day. He had thought about her the entire walk back to the junk yard. Had thought about her all through dinner. He knew the others had noticed. He had caught Munkustrap watching him with a quizzical look, but Quaxo had been cautious to avoid him. He had retired early to his den that evening, and now lay in his comfortable little box with his blankets and pillows.

He flipped over onto his back, and lay there, staring that the roof of his humble abode. And for about the hundredth time, he found himself thinking about her. He felt like a complete idiot. He had noticed her watching him from across the street, and had walked over there, with every intention of talking to her, of making conversation. One did not come across such a pure white beast very regularly. Not that she was a beast, she was far from it.

He thought about how timid she had been, how unwilling to talk she had been, and wondered if it was due to the mysterious male voice that had called to her from inside the house. He wondered if he had ever hurt the girl, and for some reason, the thought of anyone laying one paw on her in a malicious way made him sick. He hissed at nothing and turned to his side, swatting at a pillow.

He'd have to go visit her again. He had to make sure she was alright. The male voice had called her Vicky. He said the name out loud to himself, "Vicky."

It was probably short for Victoria. The name suited her perfectly, well, much better than Vicky anyway.

That brought him to his next query. Why had she been so loath to tell him her name on her own? Had she been afraid of him? Surely she knew he could be trusted, but wait!

He sat up with a start. What if the only interaction she had had with other cats was with HIM. If he was always like that, then that would explain why she was so...cautious with Quaxo. He couldn't blame her. Well. He would just have to prove to her otherwise. Maybe he could even convince her to come to the junkyard. It was with that thought that he nodded to himself as he lay down once more. Yes, he would go visit her again tomorrow. And if she wasn't out then he would go visit her again the day after, and the day after, as long as it took to see her again.