AUTHOR'S NOTE: And so my first ever chapter-fic comes to a close, and, I hope, it does so with a bang. :D Mungo and Rumple, as much as I adore them, have finally found their place, and I'm very much happy to put this story to rest. Who knows? A sequel could be in the works... though I ain't really planning one. AHAHA. That being said, I'd like to thank profusely once again everyone who's reviewed - you guys are like my light and my joy and seriously one of the highlights to my day! All of you deserve giant cookies. D:

SO. I shall take a break after uploading this, maybe a few days or so, and on to the next adventure I can get off my butt to type up! I love you aaaaaallll! Enjoy!

The Pariah, Heroic

CHAPTER 16

About the artificial mountaintops of the yard prowled the morning fog. Had it not been for the clouds that came to signal the rainy season, the sun would have shone and the Junkyard would have glittered, a phenomenon that Mungojerrie realized he was going to miss. Once he left, after all, he would never be able to see it again.

He sat on the outer side of the fence, with the scruffy old queen who used to serve as Macavity's messenger. She was nodding off, as aged cats always seemed to do, while humming some vague, vibrato-laden tune. Mungojerrie nudged her gently to wake her up again. The ex-messenger's eyes snapped open.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, and fixed herself up. "Now, where were we?"

"You were gonna ask me a question."

"Ah, yes. Well, Mungojerrie, what are you going to do now?"

The black-and-orange tom leaned against the fence, looking off towards the city. "Teaze and I are leaving. The Jellicles are great and all; definitely not anything Macavity said they were, but… I figure we've done enough damage here."

"You mean you don't find that you belong?"

Mungojerrie bit at his lip. "I guess that's a way of puttin' it. It's been Teaze and me from the beginning. It might sound bad, but we just want to keep it that route. It's us, together. Always."

The silver queen nodded kindly. "London is a big place. You have room to grow."

"What are you going to do now?"

She closed her eyes, with a slight smile. "I suppose I'll go back to the Jellicles. I'll try to come around the night of the Ball, in case I could be the new member they accept into the tribe. I hope they do, really, even when I left them like that…"

Mungojerrie turned to her. "I don't get it. Jellicles leave the Junkyard all the time to go on their own. Why would they hate you the most?"

"Ah, I suppose it's the little details are what gave me my name," she smiled a little, but sadly. "I left Munkustrap when he was just a kitten, before he was even healthy enough to walk on his own. He might have died. I hadn't informed anyone at all, unlike the others who always pondered first and then announced. And years later I came back to work for Macavity – Munkustrap's brother, can you believe - and he launched that attack long ago, so I suppose that was the final straw."

The tom thought a little, then turned back to gaze at the city. "Well, they let me and Teaze in at first gaze, so I don't reckon they'll have a hard time with you."

The old queen laughed, and patted Mungojerrie's shoulder as she stood up to stretch. "The road you have ahead is still long. Mine's about to end… I just have to decide how."

Mungojerrie jumped up to the Tire, to find Munkustrap standing there, as if expecting him. The Protecter nodded at him respectfully, and Mungojerrie returned the gesture. He had strips of bandage wrapped around the shoulder where he'd been injured, securely but comfortable tied, admirable work.

"You're not staying," said Munkustrap. It was as if he could sense Mungojerrie's uneasiness.

The calico shook his head. "Teaze and I want to go out on our own. We never were really part of the Jellicles, anyway."

"Even then…" the silver tabby trailed off, his voice cloaked noticeably with some kind of sadness. "…even then, the two of you will always be welcome here, no matter what."

"Thanks," was all Mungojerrie could say. "Though with all the crap we caused, that's a surprise."

"You have many friends here," Munkustrap shrugged (then winced a little. He still had that injured shoulder, after all). "Tumblebrutus and Mistoffelees said they'd miss you. And Tugger, well, he says he thinks you're absolutely great. He also… he also says thanks."

"Oh… tell him he's welcome, then," replied Mungojerrie, unsurely. He didn't want himself to be persuaded to stay. He began to turn away.

"You're also invited to the Jellicle Ball," Munkustrap suddenly said, as if wanting the tom to continue to listen. "Granted, it's not in our tribe's nature to invite non-Jellicles, but… but my father says we're all about newness, anyway."

The pair of toms grinned at each other slightly. Mungojerrie tilted his head, curious. "So… who are you accepting into the tribe then?"

"The two of you declined, so we're going with our original choice. Bustopher Jones."

Mungojerrie nodded, and stepped back. "I've got to go soon. But… but thanks, Munkustrap."

"Thank you too, Mungojerrie," the Protector replied, and with that as their word of temporary parting, the two shook hands.

"We'll keep the hate for later?"

"If all goes well, we'll see if it's still there by then."

For the last time, Mungojerrie inhaled the dusty scent of his Junkyard den. It wasn't a smell he particularly liked, but anything that had become deeply familiar he was sorry to part with. Kneeling down, the calico tom gathered up a pile of his old posters (ST. MUNGO, WAITRESS WANTED, FRIGHT TRAIN. He could read much better now). Stuffing them into his trusty sock sack they were wrinkled even more than they already were, but as long as the scrawling on the back of each was safe, he didn't mind.

"Mungojerrie, darling?"

He turned at the sound of that familiar, twittering voice. Jennyanydots plodded in, her bearing polite, but her expression partly sad.

"I was gatherin' my things," he explained, even though it was obvious. He just liked to see the way she smiled as he spoke.

"You're a wonder, Mungojerrie," the marmalade queen said. "I heard the news. I'm just here to say goodbye." Without the usual good manners, she neglected to ask first and immediately brought the tom in for a hug.

She smelled nice, and warm. She smelled like she'd just cooked breakfast, or she'd just finished knitting. With all the things her scent could compare to, Mungojerrie didn't have the will to list them all down. She just smelled nice.

When the Gumbie Cat pulled away, Mungojerrie saw that she was crying a little.

"You alright?" he asked, concerned.

"Yes, yes I am," she sniffed extravagantly, and wiped at her eyes. She smiled at the young tom. "You have to forgive me. I'm not always like this. It's just that… you smell nice." She laughed, as if that was an entirely ridiculous thing to say.

Mungojerrie smiled back, and for one more time, maybe to gain a little more comfort from each other's scents, they hugged again, and that was all either of them needed for now.

The distance between Mungojerrie and the main exit of the Junkyard felt thick, and impassable. It was turning cold; the rains ahead would in months' time freeze and feather into snow. Leaving a haven as safe as the Junkyard seemed impractical, foolish even. But then, the Notorious Couple of Cats had never wanted to taste the staleness of total safety.

Still, the calico tom knew he'd miss the place. And he'd miss the Jellicles as well, for all their irritating optimism. There was that small circle of friends he'd made that he knew he would think about from time to time. Tumblebrutus for his wit, Pouncival for his cheekiness, Admetus for his affability, Mistoffelees for his sarcasm (and brilliance at magic, of course).

Mungojerrie stepped past the borders of the fence, and found himself half-outside.

"J-Jerrie?"

The black-and-orange tom spun around. Hiding slightly beneath the junk piles, an odd, shivering shape, was – who else could conceal herself so effortlessly? –Electra, dark and sharp and zigzagging.

"El," he called softly, a little cautiously. He bent down slightly to see the part of Electra's face that caught light, her glasslike, green eyes. "El, wanna come out?"

The whole of her form hesitated, and then the young queen stepped out. She held herself tightly (was she freezing or miserable? Mungojerrie prayed for neither) and stared, just stared, at him, and the tom noticed fleetingly that her freckles had completely faded away.

"So you're going," she suddenly said, plainly. Now the tortoiseshell was standing directly in front of him, still grasping at her arms. The last time Mungojerrie had seen her was that fateful day when all hell in his heart broke loose, and out of some unfathomable combination of anger and jealousy he'd kissed her suddenly.

Mungojerrie hesitated, and then nodded. "It's better like that. I hope you understand."

"I do, I do," Electra answered, nodding the same way. She bit her lip tightly, and unlike the first outburst she'd had in front of him, which was hurried and embarrassed, this one was like watching a proud tower topple, a sheet of mirror break.

Electra's hands flew to cover her face, but they weren't fast enough to hide the tears that sprang freely from her eyes. She began to shiver, nearly curl downwards, as her breaths quickened and contorted into sobs.

"Th-that was a b-bitch thing to do to m-me, th-th-though," she cried.

Mungojerrie promptly went forward and drew the young queen into an embrace, a fervent and sincere one. For the longest time it was like that; Electra sobbed with abandon into her palms, and the little bones that jutted from her hands pressed hard into his chest, and he held her tighter and buried his face into the overlong, wild red fur on her head, memorizing her scent and the pattern of her shuddery breathing.

Had things gone better (which, understandably, they never would have) and there was no such thing as Headquarters or Macavity or outside-the-Junkyard, Mungojerrie found that he might've fallen fully in love with Electra, odd as they were together. But today he was leaving, and he wondered what it would've been like to become Electra's mate, to roam about the yard with her night and day, to grow up and to be with the Jellicles and finally reign over them as Leader alongside her. The image was so ill-fitting he thought he would cringe. That was not Mungojerrie, not slightly, not ever.

A pariah can't rule a kingdom.

When the two of them finally let go, Electra's eyes were dim and red, and her gaze had sunken to the ground. Mungojerrie was in ways overwhelmed – he was the one who did this; he had converted her from proud heiress to timid, vulnerable girl. Or had he not converted her, and just revealed her? Out of slight guilt and sincere affection he placed a kiss on her forehead, and at last stepped away.

"I'll come back for the Ball," he offered, even though it didn't seem like she would want that. "But for now, I've got to go."

Slowly Electra nodded, and she moved away a little. "I don't want to stop you," she replied. The sobs that had cloaked her voice moments ago had faded into a low, cracked tone, but a more accepting one.

Mungojerrie finally let go of her hands. They waved a hesitant goodbye at each other, and he turned to dart down the endlessly stretching road.

Mungojerrie's heroism was a secret. He'd helped save the Junkyard from Macavity (even though it was certain he would return), but only in front of the eyes of so few. Unlike Munkustrap, he wasn't now also a Jellicle hero.

There was one cat, whoever, whose knowledge of his heroism mattered the most.

The calico tom turned at the corner of the block, to meet with the one queen he was closest to in the entire world.

Rumpleteazer, radiant, grinned at him as they met on the sidewalk, each clutching their old sock sacks, heading towards a magnificently uncertain future. Around her neck was the new necklace that Mungojerrie had fashioned for her – the old yarn and soda tabs used were obvious, but the glowing pearls made it easy to forget that.

"Have ya said goodbye?" asked Mungojerrie, taking her free hand into his.

"Yep," she answered simply, swinging their arms. "To Vic and 'Mima and Etcetera… I reckon I'll miss them more than I thought."

"That place wasn't so bad, eh?" Mungojerrie grinned, glancing back at the fading view of the Jellicle Junkyard.

"We could go back for the Ball," said Rumpleteazer, perching her chin on the tom's shoulder. "But I'd want a grand entrance."

They both laughed, and in a brilliant reminiscence of childhood, they began to race together down the street, leaving behind the Junkyard, its omnipresent mists, its towering mountains, its maddening clock tower chime.

It was just like when they were kittens, clueless and carefree while living at Headquarters. At one point, when Rumpleteazer was gaining a significant lead, Mungojerrie became a sore loser and pounced on her, tackling and bringing her to the ground as they rolled along the pavement. They had another noisy squabble, just like they used to everyday, and Mungojerrie realized he had never been happier.

The pair walked on aimlessly, relying on the instincts they hoped they possessed to find the home that was calling out for them. The buildings morphed and shifted and became unrecognizable, switching between modestly-rich to pitiably-poor. They held on to each other's hands, talking idly and pointing out red objects.

After a while the two of them grew hungry. They passed by a townhouse with an open window, with a tempting Strassburg pie sitting neatly on it.

"Watch this," Rumpleteazer told him arrogantly, and jumped up onto the picket fence. Like a tightrope walker she balanced herself on it, and walked gracefully up to the windowpane. Mungojerrie held his breath; the sound of a fizzing frying pan from inside suggested that the humans were at home, and Rumpleteazer could be caught.

Swiftly, lightly, Rumpleteazer curled around the pie. It was much too big to lift up and carry away, so she dug her arms into it and pulled out the largest chunk she could manage. Now with neither of her arms to support her, she jumped quickly back down to the pavement, triumphant.

"Lunch!" she giggled excitedly, and the duo feasted to their heart's content on this newest steal.

After the meal, they walked on for much longer, until none of the buildings were familiar to them. They were taller and grander, instead of crooked and dusty.

"This street of the city is odd," Rumpleteazer breathed. About a mile back she'd grown tired of lugging around her sock bag, so she emptied it of its contents, ripped it, and fashioned it into a shawl to keep her shoulders warm in the near-winter air.

"Wait," Mungojerrie suddenly said. "I think I know this place."

Eagerly he pulled Rumpleteazer's arm forward.

"Aagh!" she whined. "Right flippin' bully!"

Mungojerrie ignored her and dragged her around the block, until in the distance he saw the tall white walls he'd been looking for.

As the two cats sauntered nearer, the sun overhead seemed to follow their paths. Its white glare reflected against the metal that made up the grand black gate. For a moment, all they could do was squint until the sun left their eyes, and they could see perched proudly above the gate were giant golden letters, curved up slightly in the middle and arching from one end of the wall to the other, reading

VICTORIA GROVE.

"I came here a few nights ago," Mungojerie said, as they both stared up at the words. "Ain't it pretty?"

"Yeah," Rumpleteazer answered absentmindedly, sounding transfixed.

Behind them they heard the rumble of an engine, and the two cats scurried off to one side as the black gate began to groan and move on its own – it was opening for a human's car that was approaching.

As the white limo moved into Victoria Grove's premises, Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer gripped each other's hands and dashed quickly in while the gate was still open.

The inside of Victoria Grove was a breathtaking panorama, a miniature kingdom of hills and valleys with gigantic houses perched on top. The roads, instead of looking ancient and cracked looked newly made, with a vibrant yellow neatly lining the middles. They swirled and straightened and curved, leading on to different mansions.

Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer, in awe, ambled slowly down the hill, staring at the rows of mansions that seemed to stretch on eternally. The crispness of the air held a perpetual scent, like perfume and food and gardens had mixed together. The Notorious Couple of Cats gazed on speechlessly at what looked like the path to their magnificently uncertain future.

"This place is gorgeous," Rumpleteazer gasped, clutching her partner's hand tightly. "It's so different. So big. This is where the rich cats belong."

Maybe he'd gone numb with joy, or was just plain crazy. Pariah, hero, whatever chose to fit better, had dissolved into a dream tucked away, entirely willing to allow the dreams that were urging to be let in.

Mungojerrie breathed in, breathed out. Turning to Rumpleteazer, he took her shoulders, and held her close so that the dream could be between the two of them.

"No," he said. "It's where we belong."

THE END