A/N: Hey, people. Sorry if the updates come slow; I've been having problems with my files and have had to start over on almost everything - online. REVIEW.

Chapter Four: Visit to the junkyard

Victoria was out, taking another stroll into the main part of London. Not entirely out of curiosity - that was a small part of it, sure - but out of duty. Deuteronomy wanted to see this tuxedo who forgot his name. Who knew why. Maybe he was going senile. Maybe he was acquainted to him, through parents or blood. Whatever the reason, the Leader had seemed very urgent about talking to him.

So she was now standing in the alley where she'd first met him; no sign of him. No sign of anything, really, besides and old tree in a small patch of brown grass the humans still classified as a park. Not even rats could or would survive on that feed. Yet Victoria felt drawn to it for some reason.

The white queen sat down under it, feeling silly, small, and especially young underneath the enourmous, obviously ancient tree. She shivered, wondering if perhaps an owl was napping in a hollow somewhere higher up in the trunk; she felt watched, though it didn't feel like an owl. It felt like a...

"Mistoffelees!" She gasped, having looked up and noticed him sitting on one of the uppermost branches, fingering a scar in the wood. He looked down with a start, and fell out of the tree; Victoria squeaked nervously and covered her eyes.

A few moments later, something tapped he rshoulder gently. She looked up; the tomcat was standing over har as though nothing had happened. "Why are you covering your eyes?" He asked innocently. Victoria shrugged; maybe she was hallucinating. For all she knew, she could be.

"You..." she stumbled over the words, "You fell. Out of the tree. From at least twenty feet up. You should be dead right now."

He blinked as though the words had some hidden meaning to them. "I should be. But, as you can plainly see, I am still stuck here in this miserable existence. I scrape along. But you...you see me, do you not?" Good. No hallucinating. But now he was making no sense at all.

"See you...as in sight?" Victoria asked finally, wondering what he kept hinting at that she seemed to be missing, "Or something else altogether? And, if you're talking like that, what do you mean by it?" Oh, I hope he's not hitting on me. Please. He's creeping me out enough alread without that.

"I suppose I mean both," Mistoffelees replied slowly, coming to sit down beside her. Before she could prod him for elaboration, he continued, "See, as in sight, and see, as in... you seem to see through whatever distancing or facade I attempt to pull up and shroud myself in. You are...relentlessly destroying every disguise I hide myself in. If that made any sense at all."

She blushed, still not entirely sure what he meant by that, especially the bit about sight. He wasn't invisble at all, just small and slender. And seemed to be completely off his rocker. Why did he have to act like she was his new best friend, huh? She was just running an errand for the leader, right?

"Well, why this tree?" She asked finally, feeling awkward, "There are so many prettier trees with leaves on them..."

He chuckled in reply, looking up at the few leaves that were still green with an expression of rapt concentration, "Let...let us simply say that this tree holds quite a bit of sentimental value for me. I...I first saw this tree many, many years ago and it was still ancient, but its leaves were beautiful and a bright green. Of course, the tree aided my... Never you mind. Stop pressing me for answers."

Victoria pursed her lips, "I wasn't! And why do you talk like you're so high class and too good for me, huh? And anyway, a tree can't have sentimental value. It's silly."

Mistoffelees continued looking at the leaves as though he'd said nothing hurtful, "I do not admire the uncouth mannerisms of your generation. And it's preposterous." Came the simple, almost curt reply.

"You're my age!"

"There, my dear, is where you are wrong. Now, shall we act civilly towards each other again?"

"Okay...And I'll...I will try talking like you. Maybe," the white queen crossed her arms grouchily and turned away.

"Victoria, then you shall have to swear upon your...your life to never utter that foul word 'okay'. With that, and no contractions, you may sound similar to me in no time," he replied almost smugly, turning towards her and grinning, revealing a row of shiny white teeth. Victoria felt herself smiling in response despite herself. Though stiff and formal, he was still charismatic, she had to admit.

"Oh, and my leader wants to see you," she snapped suddenly. It would be a while before she would 'act civilly' towards him agan. He'd scolded her though she'd done nothing! That tom...he was absolutely infuriating, though so sweet at the same time.

He went even paler, if possible, "What is his name? Why does he want to see me?" The tom whispered, acting terrified, or nearly so. Victoria raised a brow; what on earth was wrong with this tom? Stiff and formal was understandable, but being so frightened over a visit? Silly.

"He's called Deuteronomy. I wouldn't know why he wants to see you. But I'm sure it's important," she answered softly, giving a smile to comfort him. He had to be completely nuts.

"Oh, dear...No, I cannot see him. It is simply impossible. Would you, perhaps, tell him that I am sincerely sorry and regret my actions. I must live...no, not live... endure the consequences for enternity. It was not his fault," Mistoffelees sighed and put his head in his paws, pursing his lips. How strange. He couldn't live forever. No one could, except for maybe Deuteronomy. Maybe. Not even he would tell.

"You can tell him yourself," she replied stubbornly, yanking him to his feet. The tuxedo sighed resignedly and followed, seeming to walk gradually slower the farther they went from what Victoria had dubbed "his" tree. If anyone owned that oak, it had to be Mistoffelees. Perhaps he lived there.

When they reached the junkyard gate, the tom came to a jerking halt, almost as though on a leash that had been pulled taut. Victoria growled angrily and stepped behind him, placing her paws on the small of his back, finding it took an enormous amount of effort to move the tiny tom forward one small step. Once that was complete, Mistoffelees let out a gasp, in obvious agony, and fell forward, his form hazy and his features suddenly blurred. The white queen checked his breathing and pulse, but was unable to find evidence of either, though he seemed alive enough.

"Are you alright?" She asked softly, lifting up his chin. His features were contorted, still.

"I...I will be, if you would assist me in moving backward a few paces. I should not go far from my- er, should not to so far when I am tired and feeling ill," Mistoffelees murmured softly. Victoria gently lifted him up and moved him backward, noticing that his form snapped back into focus once she did so. His bow-tie was crooked, and the white queen saw an ugly, swollen red rope burn that had been hidden underneath. Had he really tried to hang himself? Who was this mysterious tom that she'd met?

"I suppose going on is out of the question?" Victoria asked. He nodded, "I thought so. I'll bring Deuteronomy out here. Don't move, Okay? Deuteronomy is really old, so please, please wait until I come back."

Mistoffelees nodded and watched her turn the bend into the junkyard, wishing he was not tethered to that miserable tree. A spirit can only go so far from the place that they died in, assuming they had a gruesome death. If they went peacefully, then their soul wouldn't have been bound, by what most considered the weight of those terrible memories, to any one particular place and could go about freely until they finished whatever uncompleted business they had left behind. They had it so easy, Mistoffelees thought enviously.

He waited impatiently for a moment, seeing no sign of either what he thought would be the large, shaggy tom that had rescued him so long ago or Victoria. The tuxedo thought back over all the years he had been stuck like this; of course Deuteronomy would be old. He would be ancient, really. Mistoffelees wondered absently if he was stooped and bent with work like most of the other elderly felines he had come across and could remember. Or, in these magnificently futuristic times, did the old no longer need to work and toil for a meager meal as they had so long ago? He simply could not know until Deuteronomy appeared. He could wait. After all, had he not been waiting for something unknown for an uncountable span of years? If he were alive, perhaps he would still be, but it would be unlikely, and Mistoffelees knew he would be as ancient and infirm as his grandparents had been the first - and last - time he had seen them.

Mistoffelees frowned, shook off the thoughts that troubled him - how old was he now? - and began the wait with the manner of a cat well-practiced in the matters of sitting and wishing that something interesting would happen, and soon.