Good as Gold: Epilogue

Disclaimer: I do not own CATS. I am merely borrowing their cute fuzzy butts.

Author's Note: The sweetness of closure. Here's the epilogue to our little tale. I really appreciate every review I've gotten. This little bugger was the sequel of a fic that I wrote for kicks while I was…rather inebriated. I never intended to take it as seriously as I have. Anywho, as you can see, I have grown rather attached to this mini-saga. I hope everyone enjoyed this as much as I have.

Rated: R

Contains Heterosexual and Homosexual Relationships. Proceed to Read at Your Own Risk.

-----@ Mistoffelees @-----

The house of Old Deuteronomy isn't very impressive. His humans, both educators at local schools make a moderate living and give most of what they have away. Hence, the dwelling they occupy is no more than a box with a few walls. It surprises me—you'd have thought the leader of the Jellicles would frolic among the kings.

Yet despite these things I have never seen a happier "family."

They call themselves the Thowsteins, these humans. Mr. and Mrs. Thowstein. Old Deuteronomy has been with them since he was a small kit. When I was first told this I was flabbergasted—who knew humans lived that long?

The Thowstein residence is surprisingly close to the junkyard, a mere six blocks away. It must have been around before the junkyard came to be. The bricks that make it up are old and faded, like dried, bloody spittle.

Ew.

I wince at the thought, staring at the windows' dark shutters. Munkustrap looks up at the worn screen door and sighs. I give him a reassuring smile and a good nuzzle.

"Now or never, I suppose," he mutters, not smiling as he so often does. Good. I dislike false pretenses.

It has been two days since…the attack, and three very trying nights. Aside from my collapse after Macavity's death, I haven't slept a wink. Nightmares, paranoia, and an all-around good case of self-analysis do that to a cat.

Nightmares…ah, I have nightmares that the world has never seen. Macavity is usually the villain of my dreams, but he doesn't dare remain in that role. Each night I am dealt the sight of Victoria, Rum Tum Tugger, Munkustrap—anyone I care for—dead as stone, torture evident. Evident because I am witness, often more, to their demise.

It starts with a stroll. He walks with me, Macavity, down a moonlit, bush-spotted path as romantic as the heart. It's almost as if he were my lover and not Munkustrap.

And then they come. Name any cat that I hold the slightest bit of affection for, and they are there. It never matters. Macavity will catch them, no matter how strong. I don't even know how he does it, but they always wind up writhing in his paws. Then, with a kiss on my patient lips he will give them over to my…care.

I torture them then.

I torture them, making them my own victims. I rejoice in the stickiness of their blood and the ecstasy of their agonized screams. I try to stop myself each time but nothing ever works. I am giddy with the violence up until their death, because after all my macabre pleasure is done, it is time then for Macavity's pleasure…my pain. Thrown behind one of the many bushes, I am pressed to the ground as Macavity takes what he pleases. My screams continue to live on in the air, because I always survive.

The first night I rose from my sleep yet to be plagued by this dreadful terror. I woke to he comforting presence of Munkustrap and Victoria, a sight that almost made me weep with joy. Munkustrap wasn't asleep (I'm tempted to think he never does), but Victoria was snoring away beside me. Come to think of it, no wonder Munkustrap wasn't asleep.

We were in the grimy yet familiar oven. Munkustrap runs the junkyard alongside Tugger, and they both have their own dens somewhere amongst the rubble, but I don't think he wanted Victoria anywhere his true home. I can't honestly say I've ever seen it either.

Munkustrap was sitting in a corner, unmoving. Victoria was curled around me, soft white fur caressing every inch of my body. Her face, though peaceful as she slept, was tear-streaked. The thought that I might have never seen her again did cross my mind, but I avoided the concept like the plague. I shook it off.

Gently I untangled myself from the protective grip of my sister. Munkustrap stared silently, face expressionless. I was a little unnerved by his odd behavior, but said nothing. I sat down in front of him, easing my body between his legs and leaning against his chest. His arms wrapped around me instantly.

I had forgotten that I was evil.

"What's happened?" I asked. "I'm sorry about earlier."

"It couldn't be helped," Munkustrap said. "The junkyard is a mess. When we came back and told everyone this afternoon, almost everyone set about rejoicing."

"Almost everyone?" I asked, and I ran a paw down his thigh.

"I didn't feel too festive, nor did the others," Munkustrap said, referring to Rum Tum Tugger, Bombalurina, and Demeter. "Your sister, as well, hasn't left your side."

I smiled fondly at Victoria. For a moment we had lapsed into silence. I closed my eyes, drinking in the familiar smell of the junkyard, the sound of London streets, and the feel of Munkustrap's chest against my back.

"And is everyone still terrified of me?" I asked quietly. I had hardened my heart—I had returned to Munkustrap, and as long as he sees the good in me I know it's there; it doesn't matter what I or anyone else thinks.

"Some," Munkustrap answered, voice velvet, "But not many. Victoria defied Bustopher Jones for you. He's…he's calling for your exile."

I smiled wryly. "Exile? And here I thought he'd want me dead."

"I'm sorry Mistoffelees. It seems as if all I have done is drag you into more messes then you're due," Munkustrap said. "But with Macavity gone, most of the danger has passed."

Except for that which lies in me. I had thought.

I closed my eyes. Gently I began to knead the top of Munkustrap's thighs and wished desperately for some salvation from my self-doubt.

"Don't worry so, Munkustrap," I whisper. "I happen to like messes."

Munkustrap begins to shake. "I can't help but worry! I almost lost you, Mistoffelees. I almost lost you but instead I lost my brother. I'm happy when I shouldn't be, and hurting like hell. I'm not strong enough for another threat!"

Alarmed, I turned around awkwardly. Munkustrap's expression was pained yet serene at the same time. His iron control was slipping, and tears had begun flowing down his face. His grip then had tightened on me once more and his eyelids fallen shut. His tears became those of a statue, dignified and silent. I couldn't even hear him breathing.

The terror I had felt back then was unmerciful. I might have thought Munkustrap didn't like to sleep, but I knew he never cried. Never in the history of all Jellicles or in the future of millennia had I expected this.

I held him then. I wrapped my arms around his strong, wiry frame and fluttered kisses across his shoulders, neck, and face. He stayed silent the entire time, never moving. Tears poured down his face and they mocked me. Munkustrap was like a rock to me. He was older, wiser, with an anger that burned cold and calculating. His fear never showed, his sadness never showed, save the night of the recent Jellicle Ball. But then he had only been depressed, not in mourning. Even I, the tom who had learned to hate my tears from the day I was born had felt the dams break on occasion. I couldn't dissemble myself as well as Munkustrap could.

And yet, I had thought then, here he weeps.

But as frightening as Munkustrap's tears were, they were gone almost as quickly as they'd began. It was as if his tears were part of a faucet and he merely had turned them off. He held me tight long after his crying had ceased, face pressed to my neck as I quietly murmured to him. We stayed like that for an incalculable amount time, and then Munkustrap had raised his head, wiped his face with one paw, and then whispered calmly,

"I'm sorry."

I had to take a deep breath to stay strong. "There's no need to be. You're always sorry over things you can't possibly control. I don't blame you. For anything."

The look in his eyes had told me that he would never accept an answer like that, but as usual, he didn't say too much about it. Instead he kissed me desperately, as if I were an apparition. Apologies were carried along with the caress of his lips, and I answered them with my own. If I hadn't been his lover, there might have been some argument.

I keep using the term lover, don't I? Well…there are other reasons I haven't been getting a lot of sleep.

All right, I'll admit that I was scared. It was so soon after Macavity, but that night…it was just something we both needed. It let the pain, the fear, and all the messy emotions we'd been dealing with bleed out into the night.

It was rather odd, actually. We simply rose to our feet after that kiss and I knew what was going to happen. Munkustrap took my hand and we left the oven, stepping over Victoria quietly. We walked to an old junk pile that looked to be untouched by hand or paw for…centuries. Munkustrap simply rolled a small pot out of the way and led me down to a den full of old comfortable blankets and odd knickknacks. After that…things got a bit muddled.

Rum Tum Tugger had greeted us the next morning with a grin the size of a small continent.

"Thought you'd brought him here. Munksy, you're too predictable."

"Works for me," I had replied evenly, staring Rum Tum Tugger straight in the eye. Munkustrap grinned beside me and folded his arms across his chest.

Rum Tum Tugger stared for a second, then grinned back. "Good thing you started talking to me a bit more, little bro. For a second I wondered if we were actually related."

Munkustrap's smile had faltered then. Rum Tum Tugger caught it and I made sure to give him a "look." We hadn't discussed Quaxo—we still haven't. I knew Munkustrap didn't want to, and I didn't really want to hear about it. I can hold nothing against him—I never knew the tom. I knew Munkustrap though, and that was enough.

"Related? To think I'm related to someone as obnoxiously—"

"Mistoffelees!" cried a bright voice. White arms then encircled my neck and I ended up flat on my stomach.

"—gorgeous as Victoria!" I finished. I twisted beneath her and gave her a fierce hug. She smelled like home.

"I was so worried about you!" Victoria had squealed into my fur. I smiled and scratch her ears.

"Why so? Don't you have any faith in your older brother?" I asked, tone cheerful.

"No, not when it comes to evil, psychotic toms that kidnap him. Not an itty-bitty bit," she said. Her voice broke a little. I sat up, vaguely aware of Rum Tum Tugger and Munkustrap towering above us. I had tilted Victoria's head up to meet mine. Her blue eyes were clear and wet. I remember how horrid I felt when I saw that.

"All's well, Victoria," I had said softly. I knocked on my head with a paw. "I'm one tough cookie."

She had grinned at that. We stood up and I tried to ignore the quick swipe Munkustrap gave me to clean the dust off of my back. He paid dearly for that. Despite the somewhat jovial turn our conversation had taken, Victoria's face darkened, smile vanishing like a dream.

"Mistoffelees…Daddy…" She had tried to say, but I had help up my paw to silence her. I felt tension rise between the two toms behind me.

"I know," I told Victoria. "And it's nothing I can't handle. I was never his son anyway."

"But he wants you banished!" Victoria had cried, and she had never sounded so torn. She hugged me close, resting her head on my chest. "I told him I'd rather be with you."

Yes, Victoria, my precious sister who had long been Bustopher Jones' dream girl had rebelled. She told me that she had moved in with Jemima. Munkustrap, kindly, had then offered for me to stay with him. I just couldn't refuse an offer like that.

Returning to the junkyard was surprisingly easy. For most, the fear from the Pollicle incident had been replaced with relief at my return. I had never been so shocked in my entire life. Almost every cat welcomed me back with open arms. Victoria stayed with me as one by one the cats arrived, but Munkustrap and Rum Tum Tugger drifted off—Munkustrap because of his duties, Rum Tum Tugger because of Bombalurina.

Bustopher Jones was the last Jellicle to approach me. His hatred for me was pure in his eyes. Victoria trembled beside me, and I had known right then that I was never going to bow before this tom again. Evil may reside in my soul, and Bustopher Jones could hate me all he wanted for that…but I am what I am.

And, I had thought, in a liberating instant, Who was he to judge?

"You vile trickster!" Bustopher Jones had said to me, voice low. I had stood close to him, face tilted to look directly in his eyes.

I ignored his insult. "I will not be returning to your house, Sir."

"I would think not," he spat back.

I then had looked him straight in the eye, searching for a small glimmer of affection. Nothing.

"Then we will part today," I had said. "But I will remain here, in the junkyard."

"As will I."

Victoria's voice rang loud and clear. Bustopher's eyes widened. The other Jellicles, who had gathered round for Munkustrap's upcoming announcement, stared at our little group.

I had smiled. Bustopher Jones was never cruel to me, I realized. He just couldn't understand or love me. He was oppressive to all that lived with him.

Welcome to freedom, I had thought, watching Bustopher move to assemble with the other cats before Munkustrap.

Munkustrap made the announcement regarding Macavity. The notorious threat had been removed, he had said. He spoke of how Rum Tum Tugger, Bombalurina, Demeter and I had assisted him in bringing about peace to our tribe. He also thanked Alonzo and wished him a speedy recovery. The black and white tom was still sore and bruised, stitches running along his sides, but Alonzo has never been a very good patient.

And so the past few days have gone by splendidly. The tribe has welcomed me back with open arms, but I'm still as inconspicuous as ever. It's all right—I never was much for attention. Victoria is permanently living with Jemima, and it seems Alonzo might just join the merry family. Good thing Jennyanydots' humans like cats.

I have taken up residency in the junkyard. In Munkustrap's den, to be precise, until "I find a new human."

Just the thought makes me laugh.

Despite popular belief, I am an excellent hunter and better at being an alley cat than anyone ever thought. Humans and their houses…were always more of Victoria's thing. Munkustrap was a tiny bit surprised that I made the transition so easily, a fact that only makes me tease him. But Heaviside, there is nothing better than living with him. I have never been happier in my life.

Except for those nightmares. They are the foreshadowing of trouble yet to come, and I can't understand it. I have morals, know right from wrong, and am considered just. So why my inherent evil? Why my overpowering sense of horror? Can I never escape?

Munkustrap holds me at night. I fall asleep in his arms, then wake up not even a few minutes later, screaming and struggling. I refuse to tell him my dream, but he accepts that. I don't cry, I just lie still and feel his heartbeat thrumming in his chest. He won't fall asleep until I do; he is that wonderful. So I end up feigning l sleep for up to an hour before he begins to doze.

He hadn't wanted to come here, to Old Deuteronomy's house. Munkustrap, the bravest creature in all of time, seemed scared to talk to Old Deuteronomy. He'd been obviously avoiding the great tom—anyone with half a brain would know that an event such as Macavity's death would warrant a jingle to Old Deuteronomy's ears.

Instead Munkustrap has made at least two house calls to every Jellicle, making sure each cat is getting along comfortably. Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer, freshly emancipated from Macavity, are getting downright ornery when Munkustrap comes to place a hiatus on their fun.

Finally, however, it looks as if duty has won out (due in part to my constant prodding). Today everything is laid at the feet of Old Deuteronomy—the Pollicle's attack, my abduction, Macavity's demise, and…uh…the true nature of our "friendship."

Oh, I am so nervous. If I were any other cat, I just might faint.

Munkustrap looks over and smiles at me. He knows I'm nervous—he's spent the past day patiently reassuring me that there is nothing wrong with me and no, I am not going to get kicked out of the tribe.

I just wish I'd stop bouncing back and forth between giddiness and depression.

"How do we get in?" I ask, shaking all thoughts from my head.

Munkustrap scratches the door four times and lets out one long, mournful caterwaul.

"Like that. These humans are exceptionally intelligent," he explains. I pad over to where he sits and look up tot he door. There are sounds of movement inside the house.

Suddenly the door swings inward and a tall, skinny human female stares down at us. Her eyes fall on Munkustrap and her face lights up.

"Oh!" she exclaims, crouching down, "You must be here to see Gerry."

She reaches out a hand and Munkustrap nudges it with his head. She scratches him behind the ears, then looks over her shoulder.

"Gerry dear," she calls, "Your friend Sterling is here, and he has another friend!"

I process the information while giving the human my best cutesy look. Gerry must mean Old Deuteronomy, and Sterling is Munkustrap. Humans and their names.

"He's on his way," she says, turning back to us. What an odd human this is, treating us as though we were one of her species. "So what do I call you, little one?"

Katrina, Goddess of the Dawn. Please oh please.

I smile at my own inside joke.

"Ah, you're cute! And look at that coat! My, you look dignified. It's good to know Sterling here has decent friends," the human continues. She looks me up and down one last time, then claps her hands. "Well I have just the name for you. I'm going to call you…Edmond. Not Ed or Eddie or Edmund, mind you, Edmond."

Edmond? I almost shrug. I've been worse.

There is the sound of a floorboard squeaking and the women rises to her feet she dusts off her sullied apron and smiles upon us one last time.

"Well that'll be Gerry. You three can attend to your business outside as usual," she says. At that moment, Old Deuteronomy appears, brushing by her calves with a rumbling purr. She touches the tip of his tail and he steps outside.

"Mistoffelees, my boy," he says low, sauntering up to us, "Do shut the door for us."

I look uncertainly to the woman in the hallway, who is looking at us with a small smile. I give Old Deuteronomy an uncomfortable glance, and he nods reassuringly towards me. Munkustrap seems indifferent.

I raise my paw, uncomfortable with the taboo, and the door eases closed with a fluid motion, clicking shut as gently as a baby's sigh. I cringe after it closes, expecting screams from the occupants of the house. Nothing.

"They're quite reasonable humans," Old Deuteronomy says by way of explanation, holding out his paw. I bow low and touch my paw to his, nonetheless worried about the use of magic in front of a human. He smiles as I rise, a warm and comforting action that never fails to calm me. He moves on to Munkustrap, forgoes the formalities, and simply gives the silver tabby a suffocating hug.

I settle myself down on the cement steps, smiling at the sight. Munkustrap pulls away with a grin on his face, but it's quickly replaced with a troubled look. Old Deuteronomy sits down on the steps and Munkustrap follows him, placing himself between the two of us.

"So tell me of the troubles," Old Deuteronomy commands.

~*~ Munkustrap ~*~

Troubles, he asks. Ah, Old Deuteronomy, so blasé about such difficult matters. It's like watching a newscast when talking to this cat. Matter of fact, no emotion. From severed heads to the latest fashion trends, there's no different intonation. When I want to remain that cool I have to be silent.

I stare, hesitant, into Old Deuteronomy's weathered face. He took in Rumsy and I when we were barely out of kittenhood, despite the fact that we were total punks. He brought the tribe to the junkyard, re-instilled our forgotten sense of right and wrong. He has made me what I am today, and I owe him nothing short of the world.

"Perhaps," he says gently, "You should start at the beginning."

"Yeah," I agree lamely, heaving a sigh.

There really isn't any way around this, I think to myself. So, without further ado, I open my mouth. For the first sentence, I stutter like a kitten, and then I tell him all. I tell him about the visit to Macavity's hideout, a revelation that makes Mistoffelees stiffen behind me. I tell him of the attack at the junkyard, and the destruction of the Pollicle. I leave out the gory bits.

"Mistoffelees," I hear myself say, "Took care of it."

Old Deuteronomy nods. Mistoffelees turns his head away, wincing.

Next I relate Mistoffelees' story of his abduction as he has told me, then add in my own. Easily I slide into the rescue end of the story, voice never faltering. I tell him everything in detail, but I make sure I never let on Demeter's betrayal, or Bombalurina's manipulation. I make the facts fit. I also don't say anything about what was said between Macavity and I when I killed him. Some things are best left unknown. Besides, I know that Old Deuteronomy can read the pain in my eyes.

The old tom stares at me as I fall silent, letting the story linger in our minds and hearts. I debate as to whether I should tell him about Quaxo or not, then decide against it. No one, save Mistoffelees and Rumsy will ever know the truth about that. If Old Deuteronomy senses that I'm holding something back, so be it.

"Macavity…was your doing," Old Deuteronomy finally says, but I don't know if he means it as a question or a statement. I nod, either way.

"I am sorry you had to go through with that," he says softly, his voice a rumble. I nod again, and try to keep my eyes from watering in front of him. His gaze reaches mine, and he sees my struggle. For a moment it seems that he is going to reach out to me, and I know that if anyone touches me I'll lose it. But instead Old Deuteronomy just heaves a sigh.

"There should no longer be any threats to the well-being of the junkyard," I say. Mistoffelees shifts behind me. "I apologize for all that has happened in the past few days."

Old Deuteronomy waves his paw. "No need for apologies. The violence that has occurred was necessary, as it always is, unfortunately. It seems that blood does the talking in this world."

"Not for me," I say quickly. Old Deuteronomy looks up to me with a ghost of a smile on his face.

"I know," he says. He looks out towards the street. "Munkustrap, the next Jellicle Ball will undoubtedly be my last."

I close my eyes. "Yes, Sir."

"Will you accept the position of Leader and Protector?"

"As long as I am able."

And with those words my fate is sealed, a future long in coming that I have wanted and feared from the minute I was named Protector. It is a role that I can fill with assured strength and ease, and a role I have wanted as well. A good fit for me, but there is always that nagging sense of self-doubt, along with the knowledge that for me to become the Leader, Old Deuteronomy must go.

Still wary of being touched, I simply open my eyes again and make sure Old Deuteronomy understands all the things I can't afford to say right now. He nods as his face reads mine and smiles. I smile back as easily as I breathe.

"Well then, is that all you've come to say?" Old Deuteronomy says pleasantly.

"No."

"Oh?"

I shift uncomfortably, feeling my stomach drop.

"It's about…me…me and…Mistoffelees."

The feel of him beside me, coming to my side.

"Mistoffelees and you?"

"Yes. Uh…We—"

"Just spit it out, Munkustrap."

"Yes, sir. I…er…I mean we…are—"

"What Munkustrap is trying to say," Mistoffelees cuts in, "Is that we're in love with each other."

I feel my eyes widen a bit. Well, Mistoffelees is about as subtle as a bulldozer when he feels like it. It's a very endearing part of him.

Old Deuteronomy chuckles, much to my mortification. Mistoffelees shrinks a bit beside me, his arm brushing against mine.

"Mistoffelees, oh, I think I like this one!" Old Deuteronomy chortles. I blink, surprised.

"Huh?"

Old Deuteronomy wipes his eyes, and Mistoffelees grows smaller. "I believe that is the first time you have said more than two words to me, Mistoffelees. And what words they were."

I begin to grow uneasy. "It's the truth."

Old Deuteronomy snorts. "Well of course it is! I might be old, Munkustrap, but I'm not blind."

"It's that obvious?" Mistoffelees asks, sounding a tad disappointed.

"Like breath," Old Deuteronomy says, "It's always there but you don't think about it very often."

"So what does it mean, then?" I ask.

"Mean?"

"Yes. Surely this—"

"You two are truly in love with each other, correct?"

"Yes," Mistoffelees says softly.

"Of course."

"Then what's the problem?"

"There…isn't one," I say slowly. "With us. I'm thinking about the tribe. Is this what's best for the tribe?"

Old Deuteronomy waves his paws. "Don't let other cats run your life and ruin you two. Besides, would you abandon Mistoffelees for the sake of the tribe?"

I look at his eyes, wondering if this is a trick question. Either way, I'm answering truthfully.

"Never."

"So there's no point as to what, I, the tribe, or the rest of the world thinks."

He smiles as he says this, holding his paws up. After a moment, I begin to grin as well. Somehow my arm finds its way around Mistoffelees shoulders.

"Well then," I say, "I guess now I'm finished."

"One moment, though, before you go," Old Deuteronomy says. He leans down to Mistoffelees, and then whispers something in his ear. Mistoffelees closes his eyes and his expression changes to pain, and then to inexplicable relief. I struggle to keep my expression neutral.

Mistoffelees gives a watery smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Old Deuteronomy says. He smiles reassuringly at me. "Don't worry Munkustrap. Everything always turns out all right in the end."

I nod, then rise to my feet. With a quick salute, I make my way down the steps, Mistoffelees at my tail. We don't say anything until we leave Old Deuteronomy's block. Then I stop and turn around to face him. He stares up at me with big eyes.

"Everything all right?" I ask.

Mistoffelees nods. "Of course. We just got a green light, what could be bad?"

You're having nightmares every night, so bad that you scream and claw in my arms.

I hold a brief debate within my heart over whether I should ask him what Old Deuteronomy told him, or simply let things be.

"Old Deuteronomy gave me a mini-lecture, if that's what you're wondering," Mistoffelees says, breaking into my thoughts. I step beside him, and then we begin walking again.

"About…"

Mistoffelees blinks slowly. "He told me I'm not evil."

"Evil?"

"Those nightmares I've been having…well, Macavity…" he trails off. I slow down a bit. "Macavity…said some things."

Things, that I realize, probably will never be revealed to me.

We've reached the gate of the junkyard. I catch Mistoffelees by the wrist. I pull him to me like a mouse. He lets out a squeak that is completely adorable. Crushing his body against one of the pillars that hold the gate, I kiss him like a drowning cat. Then my lips travel across his jaw, down his neck, spreading out along his shoulders, then back to his lips. He moans into my mouth.

"Mistoffelees," I say, breaking the kiss. My breathing is a tad ragged. "Macavity was evil, yet I loved him all the same. You are not, in the tiniest, teensy-weensy bit, evil, and I love you a thousand fold more than him."

Mistoffelees leans in and kisses me on the mouth. Oops. Now I'm going to melt all over the pavement if I'm not careful.

"No one can ever be a hundred percent good," he says. His eyes turn shiny and wet. "But I'm no where near evil. Old Deuteronomy and you made me realize that."

I smile, as does he. I hold him close, feeling the coming happiness of our future. It's as if with that statement our lives have finally fallen back together like a jigsaw puzzle.

"So," I say after awhile, "How do you want to let everyone know?"

"I don't think a public announcement is necessary," Mistoffelees says, burying his face in my neck. "Let them find out as we go along. I'm not going to refrain from kissing you in public any longer, that's for sure."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Good," I say. I want to stay like this—hugging in the sunshine like a fool. Oh, I'd be a fool forever if this is what it's like.

"Munkustrap?" Mistoffelees asks after a bit.

"Hm?"

"Let's go back to the den," he says. I go to ask him why, when suddenly a dizzying feeling thrills down my spine. I close my eyes to ward off the sensation.

When I open them I'm standing in the middle of the den.

"What the…"

Mistoffelees suddenly dances around in front of me. He's jumping back and forth with a grin on his face the size of an elephant.

"Ha! I knew I could pull that off!" he says. He cups my face in his paws. "You don't mind do you?"

"What…" I ask, words mushy from his paws squishing my lips, "Did you just do?"

"Transported us here by magic. Basically your soul arrived and then your body," he says. He claps his paws, then jumps down on the large blanket in the den. "It's hard magic you know. You could act a little impressed."

I sit down beside him on the blanket. "Oh."

He rolls his eyes. "You don't recover from magic very easily do you?"

"Uh…nah."

Mistoffelees giggles. He cuddles close to me, and we lay down on the blanket, arms entwined. I lie quietly, staring at the wall and thinking about what the future might bring. After a while, I hear the deep, even sound of someone breathing, a sound that has been vacant from this den for quite some time.

Looking down, I see the beautiful, placid face of Mistoffelees, fast asleep in my arms.

And there are no screams.

~*~ -----@ END @----- ~*~