Disclaimer: CATS the Musical is the much-loved product of a brainwave from Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber. The original poems and the lyrics are written by T.S Eliot, and does not belong to me in any way.

Okay, so I got into writing again. I think I really got obsessed with this fandom this time. This is my third CATS fic already. It's almost scary...

This is a angsty piece I've written while having a severe writer's block with one of my other fics. I'll probably hate it when I wake up in the afternoon - It's nearly two o'clock in the morning here.

This fic is set around the same time as 'Stars'. The fic will only be found at St. James's street for a couple of months or so. The site hasn't been updated yet, so I apologize if you haven't read it...

I was about to recommend reading 'Stars' first before reading this, but the order doesn't really matter. Please enjoy.

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Everything was dark around him. In the distance, however, a light was visible.

He walked towards it, and was engulfed by the light, instantly making most of the darkness disappear.

The light was almost blinding, yet oddly comfortable and warm in some way. He kept walking towards it, seeking to escape.

And then he saw her. In front of him, calling his name.

She was the one of his dreams, his love...

His soul...

She smiled, and reached out to him, the light illuminating her silhouette. She could lead him away. She was his savior, the reason he lived for.

He drew her closer, trailing his lips across her forehead, wrapping his arms tenderly around her...

Skimbleshanks awoke, gasping. It was that dream. The same one he'd had for months. He shut his eyes tightly, wanting to forget the dream, everything. And yet every time he tried, her image kept burning through his mind.

His glass-green eyes were wild as he opened them once more; they looked around the room, searching. There was no sign of anything, except for the slow crackling of the fireplace. He stared at each ribbon of flames, as if they would erase the vivid memories of his dream.

They wouldn't.

Nothing ever would.

He got up, pulling on his waistcoat awkwardly, and ran out of his hut as fast as he could. He had to get away, as far as possible.

But no matter how much he ran, it was never enough.

Skimble collapsed just outside the junkyard, tears streaming down his cheeks. What would she say if she could see him now, his heart all broken and torn? What would be her reaction to what had become of her gentle, loving mate?

'Oh Bastet... why are you doing this to me...?'

He wanted his mate with him now. He wished for her sweet, soothing voice again, her homely scent, her beautiful golden eyes. She would embrace and love him, her warmth spreading to him as well. Yet he knew it wouldn't be any use, no matter how hard he wished.

She was gone. Gone to a better place, everyone else reckoned. She was up in the Heaviside Layer. He was supposed to feel happy for his mate. But he couldn't. Life without her was pure hell, and he knew it. Her absence in his life was killing him from the inside, slowly driving him crazy.

She would never come back.

Not in his lifetime.

"Oh Jenny." He whispered brokenly, starting to sob without realizing it. He looked blearily back at the junkyard, eyes focusing on the giant, black tyre that lay on the upper part of the 'yard. He wanted to turn his eyes away from the tyre, but he couldn't look away either.

The tyre that had taken Jenny up to Heaviside. The very tyre that had separated them.

Skimble closed his eyes, only half aware of his tears, and curled up. Hugging himself, he cried freely, suddenly feeling lonelier than ever. So much things, things he had taken for granted, now appeared as painful memories than he couldn't get rid of. He remembered the way Jenny used to smile. He could recall her touch, every single detail of her appearence, the moments of peace with the kittens they had together.

He remembered the way she kissed him fondly every day (or at least, when he was home), telling him that she loved him.

Love...

Although she had been his mate, his love, his strength, Skimble hadn't been around enough for both of them. The trains had taken up most of his time. No, that was only an excuse. The times when he was home were the best times of his life, yes - but there just simply wasn't enough of those moments. Sometimes he wouldn't be home for a week, maybe a month, and once he had been absent for an entire season. He felt so guilty, thinking of them now. He could have had spent more time with his family, where he truly belonged.

If he had done that, it wouldn't have been as painful saying goodbye.

And then there were the kittens as well. He and Jenny had raised so many kittens together, some not even their own. They had loved them all the same, though. Most of the kittens had left the nest and settled down in other tribes or were taken in by humans, as they were supposed to be. But a few did remain in the junkyard, never forgetting their Jellicle roots.

There had been only one kitten to witness Jenny's passing, though. Skimble's heart sank as he thought of his angelic kitten, the blessed one.

"Jemima." He whispered, tears threatening to fall again. "My poor, poor Jemima..." She was too young to properly understand his sadness, but she had sensed it nonetheless, and had become quiet and glum recently. Skimble didn't know whether she would regain her old personality again. Losing her mother like that when she was still so young, when she still had so much to learn and understand... But Jemima kept him going. She loved her father dearly, and that gave him strength.

It just wasn't the same without Jenny.

Every little thing Jenny did that he marked off as minor, everything that he had taken for granted... was coming back to him, flooding his mind with regret. And he couldn't stop it. He longed to see her again. He longed to hold her in his arms one more time, and to whisper that he loved her. There were so many things he wanted to say, and yet so much that had been left unsaid.

The bond Jenny and he shared when they were mates had been severed. His heart started to ache whenever he thought of her, and tonight was no exception. He was finally forced to look back at his mistakes, his times with Jenny, and the more he did so, the more his chest hurt. It wasn't a sharp pain as one might imagine, but in some way it was worse. It was a deep, dull ache that slowly spread to the other parts of his body, leaving him in agony and making him wish he could die.

Without her love, he was weak. Without her soft whispers, saying 'I love you...'...

He was already broken. Shattered beyond repair. There was no one to pick up the pieces, not anymore.

Skimble lay on the hard ground, his cold tears falling onto the dirt. He now knew what exactly he had been missing about Jenny.

And he would now miss it for the rest of his life.

"I'll always love you, Skimble..."

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All right, the ending sucked.

Rare Skimbleshanks angst. I'm not really proud of this one; it's not about the grammar or anything like that, it's just that it's too out of character for Skimble. This was supposed to be a fic connected to 'Stars', but I feel now that it's too angst-ridden. The story strayed from the title, too. Oh Bastet.

Enough of my ranting, I have to sleep now. Reviews and critism are always welcomed. Thank you for reading!