I knew you, Grizabella.

We were kittens together, you and I. We ran around the Junkyard with Jelly, Gus and Skimble, annoying the adults and having a whale of a time. I pulled your tail and called you Bella. You stuck out your tongue and pulled mine back.

Time went by, and we grew up. You began to be more aware of your own reflection, often leaving the rest of us out. But we didn't mind, not really. You helped us look after the kittens when Old Deuteronomy decided he had his hands full. Little Demeter loved you, do you remember? She called you her Auntie Griz. Even shy little Alonzo loved to play chase with Grizabella.

I knew you, sister.

But you changed.

You became something else, something different – a temptress. Jelly and I used to watch you from the tyre as you flirted your way around the Junkyard, seducing almost every tom you knew. It made us sick. And of course, you were too busy with that to help us out any more. Even after my own kits were born, you paid them no attention. It was as if we were strangers.

Every time I talked to Father he'd say the same thing.
"Who'd have thought it? And you used to be so close to Grizabella, didn't you Jenny?"
I would just nod and change the subject. There was no point bringing it up. Everyone could see that we were no longer friends.

Finally, I had had enough. I confronted you, told you I was sick of you breaking all the tom's hearts. Everywhere you went, you left sorrow in your wake, and I was fed up of it.

I told you how I felt, but you just laughed. You said you couldn't help it if the toms fell under your spell. That was just the way things worked. Said I was just jealous, because I hadn't managed to find myself a decent tom.

That stung, but I tried to ignore it. I told you it sounded like you didn't need us, and you may as well leave if that was the case.

I didn't actually expect you to go. But it was a challenge, and the Glamour Cat rises to any challenge she is set. So you smirked, and you agreed. You stalked out of our home without a second glance.

I thought I knew you. But you changed.

After you left, all I heard about you was the rumours, passed on from cat to cat. Rumours of Grizabella the drunk, getting wasted and passing out in gutters. Grizabella the slut, having no less than five toms at any one time. Grizabella the whore, selling herself in a desperate plea for food and shelter.

I was disgusted, but at the same time I felt almost guilty. I had driven you out. I had made you into this.

Jelly told me not to cry, that I hadn't made you go, that it was really your fault that you had left us. And, in time, I thought the same thing. I blamed you.

Father died not long after that. It could have been shock – or was it shame? I doubted you knew of his death, or even cared.

The other cats were, like me, appalled. Demeter and Bombalurina were the most shocked. Being without parents themselves, you had become a mother to them. But now this had happened, and they were ashamed of you. It is a dreadful thing indeed to be ashamed of your own mother.

We learned to forget you, because we must. Your name was not mentioned again, and if it was, it was as a warning. A cautionary tale for the kits.
"Don't do that, or you'll end up like Grizabella." I can't count the amount of shame I felt every time those words were said.

But you came back. After so long, you returned to us. I nearly didn't recognise you, at first. You looked older, somehow, more dishevelled. Your coat, once perfect, was torn and dirty. You were limping as if you were injured, and we could see your sorrow reflected in your eyes.

Still, we shunned you. Still we turned away from you, making the kittens turn their backs as well. Because they were too young. Because they couldn't understand what had happened. Because they didn't know you.

You even spoke to us, singing the story of your life, but we didn't listen. Demeter and Bombalurina drove you away. I hoped that, then, we would finally see the back of you.

The Ball had finished, and you returned once more, this time singing about what you remembered. About the past and how alone you were. I think we started to listen then, especially the kittens. Especially Jemima.

When she sang, we listened, but what she was trying to tell us was unclear. If you find there the meaning of what happiness is, then a new life will begin. We didn't understand what it meant, but we repeated it nonetheless. I think we knew then, what would happen. I think we suspected what you meant.

The third and last time you came, we just ignored you. That is, until you opened your mouth. Both Old Deuteronomy and Jemima had made us listen, and I truly heard what you were saying.

Memory.

I remembered being little, chasing you around, playing and laughing.
I remembered us taking care of a younger Munkustrap, smiling at the stern little kit.
I remembered gossiping with you and Jelly, giggling at Skimble behind his back.

That's why we didn't stop you. That's why, when Jemima rose to join you in song, we didn't silence her. Why when young Victoria approached you, we didn't make her turn away. Each one of us was living inside memories, smiling at the moments of happiness our lives had brought.

But you didn't have that. All you could remember was pain and sorrow, no memories to hold on to when the nights were cold and you were alone.
Like you said, Grizabella, I understood what happiness is.

Finally, we found it in our hearts to forgive you. We accepted you, brought you back into the heart of the Tribe.

It all happened so fast. I never got a chance to talk to you. Never told you how I felt, how sorry I was.

And now you're gone, and I can't tell you. Just like that, taken from me when I needed to talk, to ask if you could forgive me. To beg that you forgive me.

I was stupid, Griz, blaming you when it was all my fault.

But you won't ever know that.

Jenny looked up. Standing above her was her mate, Skimble, reading the note to her sister over her shoulder with a sad expression.

"Jen, stop beating yourself up over it. It's not your fault."
But Jennyanydots just shook her head, tears springing to her eyes. She knew deep down that her sister had hated her, and nothing any of the others said would stop that.

Heaviside willing, she may see Griz again. And if she did, she would finally get the forgiveness she needed.

Author's note-Once again, writer's block leads me to write angsty oneshots. As always, feedback is appreciated and constructive criticism welcomed with open arms. Reviewers get cookies!

Disclaimer-I still don't own Cats, however much I wish I did.