Breaking the Masquerade
The Junkyard was silent and the sun had risen over the tops of the junk piles, turning the human waste into gold. The Jellicle Moon had set, and it was the morning after the Jellicle Ball. There were no signs of life; all of the Jellicle Cats had made their way home, to rest after the excitement of the annual festival.
All except one.
A tall, muscular silver tabby was pacing in a small clearing tucked away behind the main meeting area. His tail was swishing angrily, and he was muttering to himself. His mutterings were bitter, angry and resentful. However, Munkustrap was also feeling guilty for being so resentful.
The truth of the matter was that the annual Jellicle Ball had not gone entirely to plan. A few things had come up, for example Grizabella showing up looking for forgiveness and acceptance. She had been shunned but one of the young queens, Victoria, had approached her and she'd been accepted. She had been chosen to ascend to the Heaviside Layer, a great honour. This wasn't what was bothering the silver tom, although he should have known better than to reject her like he did.
The other, much more worrying occurrence was Macavity showing up. The Hidden Paw had come into the Junkyard and kidnapped the Jellicle Leader. Munkustrap was angry at himself for not being able to do anything to stop it.
"I should have known. I know his tricks. Why didn't I stop him?"
He failed to find his father, and the toms had returned to the Junkyard, without Old Deuteronomy. Bombalurina, and his very own Demeter had told the queens about Macavity, to remind them of how bad he was. At that point, he showed up again and tried to take Demeter as well.
"Does he want to take everything away from me? He takes my father, he tried to get Demeter. I failed her as well, I failed them all. I tried to save her, but in the end Alonzo had to step in to help. I'm supposed to protect the tribe, my father, and above all her. I couldn't even do that."
The tribe eventually managed to chase the Mystery Cat away, but Munkustrap had been knocked out and they were still no closer to finding Old Deuteronomy. Demeter had been there for him then, but where was she now? Munkustrap had felt alone, helpless, worthless. He'd failed in his duty.
"And who steps up to save the day but the Rum Tum Tugger, who never does anything useful for anyone. Him and Quaxo – the Marvelous Mr Mistoffelees. They get all the credit, everyone thinks that little magician is the best thing since tinned catfood. How often have I saved them, protected them and helped them. He does one good thing and suddenly he's the new hero.
Tugger, he takes the credit for suggesting that Mistoffelees could help and encouraging him to take to the lime light. Like he needed it, they're fools. Shy? Aloof? It's an act, he's as vain a feline as I've ever come across, he craves their attention. It's disgusting. What about me? Don't I deserve the chance to prove myself, to show them all that I can lead them."
The silver tabby let out a bitter growl, his fur bristling. He didn't realise he was being watched, that someone had returned to the Junkyard.
"Damn it! Why does no-one appreciate anything I do, when I do everything for the benefit of this tribe? Everything. They do absolutely nothing, but they'll be remembered forever for saving Old Deuteronomy from him. What will they remember me for? Will anyone remember me?"
He was shouting now, glaring up at the slowly lightening sky, and screaming at the top of his lungs, but still unable to relieve the tight painful crushing feeling in his heart. He was jealous, he couldn't help it. Some part of him knew he shouldn't be, and he knew he would never mention this to anyone; he would go on with life, ignoring his feelings. Little did he realise that he'd been over heard. Finally he ran out of words and became silent, panting heavily from emotion and exertion.
"I'll remember you," came a barely audible whisper. The silver tabby straightened instantly, his ears cocked and his back tensed. He turned around, and instantly recognised both the voice and it's source.
The golden queen flowed down the pile of old furniture she'd been watching him from. She padded over to the silver tom, and smiled sadly at him. Munkustrap shifted and looked at the ground, tail and ears drooping guiltily. Demeter said nothing for a long moment, but merely took his black paw into her golden one.
"Look at me, Munkustrap." Demeter whispered the order. Brown eyes met green eyes, he looked into the golden queens concerned face.
"Demeter, I…"
"I remember everything you ever did for me, how could I forget. They'll remember too. The tribe appreciates you, I appreciate you. We need you, you will be an amazing leader." She cut him off, speaking quietly but sincerely. Her silky voice helped to calm him.
"I'm sorry. I know I'm being selfish." He whispered.
"So what?" Demter replied, "It's understandable, but you don't have to be perfect. You do a great job, but there's nothing wrong with accepting a little help from a friend when you need it."
Munkustrap nodded, to show that he'd heard and understood. He didn't agree, and he still felt resentful. He turned away from those kind green eyes, he didn't need comforting right now. He looked out over the Junkyard, realising that the sun had completely risen now and the place was bathed in the early morning light, which made it seem dead somehow.
A golden paw appeared around his waist, and he turned to see Demeter smiling at him, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. It was a false smile, just like everything else in his life. He was living a lie, he knew that. What else could he do? Lay down and just let Macavity come in and hurt his friends, his family? It wasn't his style.
He pulled Demeter close, allowing her sweet scent to wash over him, taking strength from her presence. Even if it was false, if his entire life was a lie, it strengthened his resolve that Demeter had believed in him, or pretended to at least. Every cat put on an act, he realised, played to the ideal, did what was expected of them rather than just being who they were.
No, Munkustrap decided. He would go on as always, pretending to be selfless, acting like he cared, laying his life on the line for others, living the lie. He would wear the mask of the gallant warrior; and never take it off again.
A/N: This is something a little bit different from what I usually write, it's from the heart and there's a message in it for those who are able to figure it out (if I've done what I intended to do). It's the only piece of inspiration I've had recently, which is not a good thing if you know what inspired it. The unfortunate thing is that it's the ones that really need to read this, that never will (not anyone in this fandom). I would appreciate reviews, and comments and constructive criticism for this piece but flames will be used to burn down the house of the person who sends them because this story is more than just an idea I had that I thought "oh hey, that'd be a good story,". That's all I have to say on the matter really, as it's quite worrying how much I'm identifying with this story right now. But I guess that's why I wrote it. Also, thanks if you actually got to the end of this long, whiny, kind of pointless author's note. I considered giving some sort of analysis of my own for this story, but I'll leave it up to you readers to decide for yourself.