Skyline - by JestaAriadne

4. canon

We didn't talk about it.

We just - didn't mention anything about me dying anymore.

I guess I'd hoped that somehow this sort of thing would bring a weird sort of maturity, but now I wasn't actually too sure about that. Felt like I was being stretched in both directions. On the one hand: I could be in My Final Hour, and frail and fading and old and accustomed - on the other: I was small and helpless and screaming because I didn't understand and I just couldn't handle what was happening to me. Dying takes all the fun out of being alive, you might say.

Poor Mungojerrie.

At least the not-understanding-anything-thing doesn't get me down quite the way it does him. At least I'm not going to have to worry about it much longer anyway. At least I'm not the one who's gonna be alone and upset when I -

Yeah.

Well - like I said, I wasn't thinking about it. I wasn't going to let any of these stupid morbid traitor-thoughts mess with my head. Really. Not gonna get me down. Ever.

Only it was, of course.

It was just getting so hard to keep happy now. Anything 'chirpy' usually came in a kind of stupid croak instead. I'm trying to keep afloat here, honest...

It was just getting so hard.

~~~

"Woulda brought you some chocolate, but..."

I just nodded and gave an imaginary shrug to let him know he didn't have to finish. Pounce was so cute like that. Trying, but just never able to keep it together. Him and Jem. Little hopelessly smiling bags of useless energy. Sitting and reminiscing with the dying. What a life.

We talked about lots of wonderfully irrelevant and irreverent junk. My mouth just shot off a load of tired questions and they responded dutifully. I tried, I really did. Mungojerrie tried, weakly smiling his constant encouragement.

It's not fair. It really got to me. We're trying here. My mind fixed on that point and held it. If we're all trying so hard and if love is that strong -- why is this happening to us? To me?

I flattered myself that they'd miss me, and I wasn't sure if this made me feel better or not.

When they left, I felt like I should make a speech or something. You two look after each other, OK? sorta thing. You stick together through thick and thin and never let each other go. Promise me, because for some reason I care about your happiness, and maybe even imagined I'd done something for it....

Enjoy your love... The thought just drifted after them. Bitter or hopeful? Enjoy your life...

And, Heaviside, what was I doing, thinking like that? What the bloody hell was I doing, being so bloody stupid and sentimental when I didn't have the damn time and - Bast take it all - I was only a couple years old...

You know I didn't swear much? I'd decided that I obviously wasn't doing it anywhere near enough, and thought I may as well try it out a couple times. And so I did. Trying out my wonderful new vocabulary on whoever I felt like. The humans, much of the time, not that they exactly got what I was meowing at them. And I think Mungo got a little more than his fair share of bitter whispers and moans. You know, it didn't really have much of a thrill; just words, after all.

I gave up on it pretty quick.

Anger was just too tiring, and it was all useless anyway.

I was getting to the point of not caring, and I hated myself all the more for that.

~~~

I kept Jem and Pounce away the next day. I got Mungo to tell them No, I wasn't really awake enough, and maybe some other time. The truth was I couldn't bear to let them see me. Not just that. I didn't really want to see them, and the thought of course made me feel a hundred times worse. I just didn't think I could cope with their eyes so confused and pained and - pity. Pity from them, and they were younger than me. It made me feel so old and infirm... or young and helpless... Screaming kitten, fading old fool... either way: pathetic and dying.

I let Jennyanydots in, though; later that day, because I hadn't seen her lately and I needed something to lift me out of my thoughts.

So she visited me out of her jolly old-fashioned courtesy, and I could tell it was a burden for her. A bumbling darling with all the most inappropriate words of irreverent comfort, but I guess I was starting to see through that. Concern. Pity. Well, of course. Her own hurt. Poor old dear thing...

'Darling.' 'Poor old thing.' Where was I getting this from, anyway? Now didn't strike me as the perfect time for me of all people to be cultivating any sort of affectionate pity, but there it was. I guess it just came of having altogether too much time on my paws. Nothing to do. Not that I'd ever exactly had a purpose in my life or anything like that, but at least I'd had a choice.

"You're... looking fine, Rumpel," Jenny said, smiling slightly. "Keeping... a trim figure and all...." She patted her own ample waist and I laughed politely. And envied her. What I wouldn't have given for a bowl of cream... No, scratch that. What I wouldn't have given for the ability not to bring it right back up again a couple minutes later and ruin the carpet.

But Jenny's words struck home, alright. Never again was I going to think of "slim" as something admirable, and I'd probably have an absolute phobia of "skinny" for the rest of my life. Trim figure, Jen? Ha. I was skeletal. Try "bag of bones", only without much in the way of a bag.

My eyes probably couldn't be bothered to focus properly, so she might not have seen me watching her watching me. She looked so... pained. Like everyone seemed to around me, which just made me dread what I must have looked like myself. I suppose you might call her the closest thing I had to a mother - for all I used to keep my distance from any of the elders/oldies. But she never kept away from any of us - it was always: "Are you alright, dear?", "Here, let me help you with that..." - you know, the interfering busybody omni-maternal figure you can't help but love, no matter how hard you try. Always there to patch us up, to cheer us up...

Which was probably why she was so broken just then. Because I was. How come you can't make it all alright, Jenny? It was a little petulant, pleading voice in my head. A little helpless kitten I had only become now. Kiss it better for me, please...

What had I done to everyone?

"Pouncival's been talking about you," she said, conversationally.

"Eh?" I asked, super-articulately.

"Pouncival," she repeated, nice and clearly, as if I was going deaf as well as the rest of it. "Talking about you."

Why's it always gotta be me? I asked myself... Maybe I always was playing for attention... but not now!

...Well I can try.

"Tell me about the mice," I said suddenly.

She blinked, and I hoped she wouldn't take as an intentional fob-off and turn in the conversation. Then she looked flattered. Yeah. It's about time I gave her at least this in return.

"Well..." She almost didn't know where to start, so I just feebly grinned my encouragement, which seemed just to bemuse her further. (If my face looked as bad now as I guessed it did, I'm surprised the sheer freak-out value of such a vision didn't scar her permanently, let alone scare her.)

"Well..." she said again. "It's been quite a productive week. Cheese straws on Monday went really rather well, and then we put on a bit of a concert in the evening...."

Monday... I thought vaguely. When was Monday? Time had flown away, right away and out the window and I was completely free of it. I was caught up in another current, blown about like a wingless, helpless bird; a feather; a paper streamer bleached in the sun... I tried to focus on the hazy words Jenny was speaking, but it was sounding more and more like I imagined a lullaby might sound, not that I knew. Just a comforting wash of sound. My head buzzed as I tried to clarify further.

Tiredness and drugs flowed doggedly around in my blood. Closing my eyes, I thought I could see my heart beat unevenly and taste old vomit and metallic cleanliness on my eyelids. I wondered distantly how offended Jenny would be when she found I'd fallen asleep while she was talking, and I added another good deed to my list of what-I'll-do-if-and-when-I-get-better.

I'm sorry, Jenny.... I'll make it up to you... Hehe...maybe I'll help teach good language and diction to the mice, that'd be fun....

~~~

Listless, I think, is the word you'd have used to describe me. For the first time in my life, probably. Things change, eh?

I did a lot of lying still, looking vague and dull because I couldn't summon the energy to arrange my features any other way. It was partly the drugs, I guess - injected now several times a day, into whatever part of my stupid body wasn't already too swollen to take any more. And partly just that I think the -gravity - of the whole situation was getting to me. You know, there was a reason I never used to take things seriously... Overheard human conversations more and more when I was awake. Talk of my "condition", their "options". Too tired to block them out now, so the words went straight into my head where my flippant brain could translate conveniently. She ain't looking so good, is she? Yup, she's gonna die. Maybe we should just bump her off first to make a clean job of it...

Listless.... I told myself I didn't care. Didn't give a - whatever - that I was really approaching end-game this time.

They still didn't let Mungo stay with me all the time, and in some strange, horrible way I was glad. There wasn't anything to say anymore. There wasn't much I could do either, especially without help, but I did want to prove the point a couple times.

One day, I tried to drag myself over to the floor-length windows, basket and all. I think it actually took me hours. Hanging my limbs pathetically out and gripping my claws in to the carpet. Grab, pull, grab, pull. Like rowing. I was escaping properly from my 'cave' under the occasional table; its cozy, stinky comfort was doing my head in. And I wanted to go and see the sky again somehow.

But I couldn't do it. I just gave out in the middle of the carpet and flopped uselessly down again, panting like I'd just done something great. It's not fair. I think I even started crying.

And Mungojerrie padded up the stairs, someone opened the door for him - his face looked so - pained, confused. Just like it had done for the last few weeks, really.

"Teaz?"

I looked at him. That's me name. "Get me to the window, please," I said.

He never argued with me. I guess it's some sort of death-bed custom; honour the wishes of the crazy person who's falling to pieces right in front of you, because pretty soon they'll just be memories and milestones and ashes....

Oh Heaviside....

He gripped his teeth into the basket's edge and walked slowly backwards. I remembered how icky the plastic stuff tasted and pitied him, but he didn't seem to mind about that much. It even took him a bit of effort, and I guess that made me feel in some small way slightly less pathetic.

"Mungo..." I was shaking. I wanted to say it, well - I needed to. I dreaded it. No more pretending. No more 'Foine, Oi'm alright, honest...' Felt like no more me. I said: "When - Oi die -"

"Yer not gonna," he said; husky, gentle, desperate; like out of the tackiest love scenes that I would have laughed my head off at, if only laughing didn't hurt so bloody much. Only it wasn't funny, of course, and I wasn't sure how much it was to do with love anyway.

"Yeah -" I tried to tell him.

"No."

"Mungo!"

"Yer not."

"Oi'm-"

"No."

"Foine!" I was almost angry at him. "IF, then. IF, on the vaguest possibility Oi should chance to somehow exit this wonderful loife of mine..." Then... All those excess words had tired me out, and so I stopped. "Then..." And I stopped again. Then - what? Then he should find a nice queen and settle down and live his life again? He should always remember me with a smile cos that what I would have liked? Past tense. He should - I didn't know. Maybe there wasn't anything wrong with those sentiments in themselves, but can you imagine me saying them?? Can you imagine anyone real saying them?? Love and death.... make you do stupid things... maybe that was it, and maybe all those platitudes were just waiting round the corner ready to gobble me up and get me saying them any second now. And - well, you never know - he might just 'grow strong in my memory', though I don't really see how that'd work. I'm not much worth remembering.

And so I never continued.

"Yer not gonna die," he repeated.

"'Ow can ya say that...?" I said, too softly, like I was already fading. "Oi - Oi thought you were braver'n that."

My eyes towards the sky, I never knew if his face fell. Well... I did. Of course I did. If I hadn't had time to get to know just how to hurt him in these last couple weeks, then I never would. And I had just kept on hurting him...

"'msorry." Not that it mattered what I said. Probably nothing I did now mattered. That sounded awfully pessimistic, I guess, but... Maybe even I had to take things seriously at some point. Now seemed just about right.

"...It's alroight." No making excuses for me. We were past pointless words, or just about. But he still asked me: "Can I...?" and waited for me to nod frantically and pathetically before he lay down beside me.

Love and death, love and death... Love, and - Just one more thing to say then; I'd say it just once more, and after all, why not? "Love you, Mungojerrie. Always will." My voice came out all wrong.

I couldn't see his face when he answered, but I didn't need to. His paw on my back and my strange heartbeat against his side, that would do. "Love you. Love you f'rever."

And that was it. The moment I really fell apart. Oh Heaviside, oh everlasting Cat, oh spirit of the ages, oh - oh Life, I felt so complete... and so, so confused. Like I was being cheated out of the rest of it somehow. But - calm. It didn't matter. I'd tied up my loose ends.

We just lay still. Me, with eyes almost working, with my head hanging out in the vague direction of the stratosphere, finally taking notice of the universe. Wow, big words. But they suited the bigness, and sheer awe of the sky. There was nothing at all limited here - nothing I could stick "just" in front of, and pass off as futile. It's weird. I never really used to look at things much, let alone think they were pretty. Well, unless they were shiny and sparkly and worth stealing. But this had a different sort of beauty. I lay there, staring, thinking: it was everything. It was all I needed, all I could take... This was... This was - Life, in a way, and it would do. Yeah. People always suppose somehow that you can never see the sky over the city, but it's not true. It's still there, just look up.

Bit of a stupid time to start living, Teazer...

I felt like I was floating up there, wingless again. Found myself watching the clouds move; faster, slower, like they really didn't care, or else couldn't do anything about it. Felt I was drifting away and dispersing and dissolving into the air. I wasn't... sad... really. This wasn't so bad...

Love and death, love and - I was choking, sobs softly clutching at my throat. Just two thoughts, just two words, just one tiny flickering life no one had probably ever noticed, but the sky was brilliant above and shining for me- what else is there left now?

I was shaking. He was still there. Touching me always so gently... Ya shouldn't do that, you know... I'll just kill you too. But - Just stay there, so I know I'm still here... Surprised your paw doesn't fall right through me.

Weightless... I was weightless, and my bones were like birds'. Thin and transient as a cloud. Just drifting. Immaterial.

Oh Mungo... when you gonna let me go?

Evening. From distant downstairs I heard the strains of Pachelbel's Canon. An ironic requiem if ever there was one, but I didn't feel I minded much. Yeah, it would do. If I had to go, let it at least be pretty and let there by happy music while I did.

Love and - Life - and.... I was really going to miss the sky.

~~~

5. finale

I woke up.

Sleep's a funny thing. I'd drifted into it that day/night with the vague expectation that this was It. The point of no return. The End. But that would have been way too convenient. If Death is a smartie-pants practical joker, it's unlikely I was gonna go any time when I was that ready and calm.

It looked like late morning, and the clouds had gone. Rained themselves out.

And so life went on. Technically, at any rate. It was slow and sort of sunny that day, not that I could taste the sunbeams anymore. I was still lying in the basket by the window and Mungo was still there, paw on my shoulder, fast asleep. I didn't wake him up. And there was another example of my selfishness staring me in the face: I hadn't really stopped to wonder when he got his sleep.

If and when I get better, Mungo, I promised him, you get my cream ration for two weeks. Three. Four. - Well, however long you like. And take all the nice bits of the cat food. I'd offer you my special pearls if I thought you'd ever want to wear them. Hey, I'll even let you win a running race a couple times!

But... Certainly made me think. I had nothing of any value to offer him, not even in this vague if and when. With a strong emphasis on the if. But why not keep planning? Made as much sense as the whole "High Queen" thing, and that had been a lot of fun. So... I could go and steal him... a... what? Something really special, like... And that's where it all broke down, of course. With me, it's simple: something sparkly and bright, or something sweet and light and edible, or anything - you know me, I just love presents. Just about anything will get me hyper and up and ohthankyouIloveyouforever!!!! He's not so excitable like that, less passionate - or maybe more. Maybe it's just that he pays more attention to what counts.

But I was a shallow and petty queen, pretty in a cheap way, and ordinarily easily happy and hyper. Take that away, and what are you left with? Just me, and whatever I thought behind all that, which was shaping up to be nothing at all worth remembering. Smashed pieces of a cheap and chirpy fairy doll.

You have my heart already, you know that...? "Undying love" and all just seemed shallow too now, no payment for what he'd given me. Besides "undying" was just a contradiction of pretty much everything at the moment.

But for now, I was living, because there wasn't much I could do about it either way.

Mungo woke up, and I didn't know what to do, so I shut my eyes again, just for the previously-giggle-making and still touching experience of him ever so lightly stroking my fur, soft like the morning rain on rooftops, like dawn on the skyline.

Maybe my love was shallow, but it was everything I had.

~~~

"Ta..." I said. Heartfelt, but brief; let's keep the sentences short here, people. Saves breath.

Mungojerrie had just looped a string of pearls around my neck. I didn't care that I'd probably sick up all over them, I was not not not going down without my trademark. To most cats, after all, it was what defined me as me.

"Pretty..." he told me, smiling gently. "Ya always look good in pearls. Always look good, in fact."

"Fibber," I wheezed affectionately. Seriously, if you'd shown me a mirror I'd've shown you seven years' bad luck, right off.

"Nah. Pearls suit yer fur, too."

"Yeah. Roight colour, Oi guess." I continued - so much for saving breath. "'Ey, wot's my favourite colour, Mungo?"

"Yer favourite? This some koinda test?"

"Nah... Oi'm jus' not sure I got one. Seems loike sumfin you oughta 'ave at some point."

"There's lotsa toime..." he said weakly, - second lie in as many minutes - before adding. "An' whoi jus' choose one? Yer a rainbow gal, Oi think."

Grin. It hurt, but it was worth it. Wow, we could come up with some sappy stuff... Gotta love those ridiculous (romantic...?) moments. Rainbows. How clichéd and how cute could you get?? I imagined cuddling up against him and staying there, warm and comfortable, until my mind slipped out again and I slept.

~~~

It was beginning to feel in some way like it had those first few days. I was guessing, or maybe just hoping, that they'd upped my dosage of sleepy-drugs and pain-killers AGAIN - at least that would explain my inability to stay awake for more than about an hour at a time, max. It was getting so hard to keep my concentration, too, which I hated more than anything. If my body was a wreck, at least let my mind keep working!

The vague waking thoughts I was getting tended to run on a cycle - Death/love/me/it hurts/Mungo/what now? - and only half way through would I'd realise that I'd been on this train of thought before.

The more I thought about it, the more I became really convinced that no death would be in any way satisfactory for me; well, certainly not anytime soon. "Death in the heat of battle" rather loses its appeal when you think of the realities of the street brawls which were the closest we had to those noble charges of yore - just as much pride; just as much, all things relative, at stake. Just more bloody and pointless. These hazy times, I was getting weird memories and even dreams of back-log days - Macavity against some pollicle, Macavity against the latest challenger, Macavity against anyone brave or stupid enough to rub him the wrong way. Or Macavity's minions, more like. Trust his Highness never to risk his pretty face on us small fry. You were lucky to get a quick death in a fight like that, and no one had much in the way of medical help on hand. Bodies behind dustbins, waiting for the humans to shoo the rats away. I don't remember a whole lot from those early days.

Illness, infection, slow death by poisoning - none of those had ever exactly ranked high on my "Ten Best Ways to Die" list. Hmmm. How typical that it seemed that was the way I was gonna go. And how ironic that flippancy was just about my only defence.

Dying in my sleep had always sounded alright, but as I'd just realised, I was never going to be ready at just the right moment. I wanted enough time to my things straightened out, all my loose ends tied up - but once I had, it was pretty darn certain that I'd just have wait some more in this limbo half-life.

Death was never convenient. Like love, I guessed. Never just at the right time, never as you'd imagined it, always final, and always irreversible.

Missing you already, Mungojerrie...

How had all this affected him? It was a bit of a dead and sterile question, but I was a little sick and muddled to be getting my head around serious rhetoric. I just started to wonder if there was any way in the world that he actually felt as strong as he'd been lately. Or as optimistic; taking over from my parade there. I somehow didn't think so. "Oi don' understand..." he'd said. Like it was something strange and alien and something to be ashamed of. He didn't like this happening to me, to us. "Oi don' understand..." Yeah, well, neither did I. It would have maybe been nice, but I wasn't expecting it anymore.

The future was a dream-plain in moonlit tomorrow, and running home from the park and shimmering in the sunshine was just such a strange, blessed memory. Today I was lying still, still breathing, still awake, and dreaming such strange things... Nothing makes sense if you think about it that way. Life as a ridiculous whole is even kinda funny put like that. Nothing to lose anymore, at any rate.

~~~

Oddly enough, Mungo must have been thinking along the weird quasi-optimistic route of "nothing to lose" too.

I had the shock of my life waking up that morning.

The shock could have killed me. Hehe, I would have laughed if it had. Well, I probably wouldn't actually, but anyway...

Macavity.

Oh, man, someone call Demeter so we can have the proper introduction ceremony...

It was one of the most surreal visions I've ever experienced - even more so than the flying chocolate - and this was actually real. Macavity, standing in all his fire-furred glory and clashing horribly with the pink-themed decor of the living room, looking distastefully - and more than a bit bemusedly - at the remnants of my royal court; a couple strings of pearls and the chocolate packet, kept for sentimental value. Mungojerrie was standing next to him, and seemed to be keeping the Fiend In Feline Shape in place by his sheer will- and glare- power.

"'s a surprise ta see you 'ere," I said, grinning in my head even if it wouldn't show on my face. There was little cool-cat Teazer; hey, I'd missed her in all this introspection.

"Maybe I should be surprised at your condition, Rumpelteazer," he said, casting a simply disdainful eye over me. I hated that. I know I'm hard to please, but - I was junk to him. Another scrap dragged out of the gutter that by some ridiculous accident got blown against her will to better times and then back again. "I'm not, though. I guessed your attitude would get you something like this someday."

My attitude?? Why I oughta.... What, that attitude, 'Cav? The eye-for-an-eye, pay-back-insults, violence-is-the-answer nonsense I learnt from you? Or did he mean my own brand of never-give-in, always-talk-back, don't-ever-ever-let-it-get-you-down. Didn't really sound like the sort of thing that should get you in a position where everything is pushing you down, talking at all isn't easy, and giving in is the only logical course. Still, I hated logic.

So it's all my fault, Macavity?

Mungojerrie firmly acquainted us both with his decision of what the facts were. "Teazer, Macavity's here so he can use his magic to make you better."

I admit it. Something reacted. Whatever little spark of the crazy hope light-shows left inside me jumped.

My eyes moved very slowly.

"What...?" I asked quietly.

Macavity shook his head. "I decided on no such thing. I came here out of - interest, on Mungojerrie's suggestion."

"Tha' was koind of you," I huffed.

Mungojerrie shot me a warning look. I liked that. Liked that I wasn't too pathetically delicate for him to be annoyed at. He was telling me without words that I sure wasn't making this any easier on myself by insulting the Napoleon of Crime.

It felt good though, you know. In a weird kind of way. It was like - I'm either gonna get better or not. Right NOW. This is it, so why not speak my mind?

What's that metaphor? 'Train of thought', yeah? I remember. Well, I guess mine had jumped the tracks and was currently zooming down the uncharted zone of insane lane. Yes, I realised I wasn't making much sense. Fun fun fun fun.....

Mungojerrie's face was deadly serious. "You can make 'er better, Macavity. I know you can. Wha' - wha' do Oi 'ave to do to make you do it?"

Macavity smiled. Patronising, at both of us. Humble, self-sacrificing Mungojerrie making a serious offer for the life of stupid, selfish Rumpelteazer. What a pair of clowns, what stupid little pathetic dreamers. Stupid kits.

No.

"Ain't makin' no bargains, 'Cavity," I said, before he could get a word in. I was still good at that. "Mungo, don' you dare promise a loife of eternal servitude, ya daft..." I had to stop and cough and cough and cough. There? See how pitiful I am, Macavity? "You gonna magic me better or wha'?"

"Why should I?"

"Oi'll love ya forever?" I offered cheekily, though it didn't quite sound right in the new voice of mine. "Mungo ain't gonna hate ya forever? Jus' cos Oi'm askin' you and it's a kinda friendly gesture to save the loife of a long-known comrade?? But no bargains."

He shook his head slowly. "Then what do I gain in this?"

I inflicted all the glare power of two swollen eyes. "You really wanna act like a 'eartless bastard, don't you?"

Mungojerrie was standing just in front of me, and I knew he was trying to protect me.

"What about that pet magician of yours?" Macavity asked, idly. He didn't even seem to react to my last comment.

"Ya mean Mistoffelees?" Mungo growled.

"Yes... he seemed adept enough when he so kindly returned Old Deuteronomy to you."

I checked his eyes for resentment. Anger. Something. Maybe it was just my vision giving out, but - nothing. He just looked bored.

Mungojerrie fumed. "An' consequently 'e's now takin' time out in rest an' recuperation and stickin' to li'l party tricks." Nice, Mungo. When he put his mind to it, he could glare better than me. "Tha's big magic, y'know!"

"So is this," Macavity said so smoothly. "I don't relish draining my magic for the next week."

"This is her loife we're talkin' about!! You can wait a bloody week!"

It may have been a bit of critical life decision for me, but I was still having to blink and slightly shake myself to stay properly awake and aware

"So can she," he countered calmly. "Wait for Mistoffelees."

"No, she can't."

He looked quizzical. "How so?"

"Oi'll be dead," I told him.

Well. Yeah. That was that out in the open, then. Yeah, Mungo, I know. Stop it. Don't look at me like that. I know. Yes, I overheard the humans that day too.

"You won't be dead, Teazer." It was Macavity, speaking so gently I wondered if I was going delusional. This was weird. I mean; Demeter smiling, Munkustrap saying "What's up?", Jennyanydots and Tugger ...eugh... that happened, didn't it? - that weird. Macavity looking at me. Pity. Pity. It was always pity, but I hadn't expected it from him. "Infection takes longer than that to kill you," he said, soft, "It's always so slow. Believe me."

"I's not tha'." Mungo didn't seem to want to say anymore. I'll fill him in on the details, Mungo, don't you worry.

"The 'umans wanna kill me soon as Oi'm not gettin' better."

To save me the pain. Because my life was 'not worth living like this'. That's what they'd decided. Because I was simply becoming too expensive to support on this diet of drugs every single day into a limited infinity.

"Teaz..."

"Mungo?" I asked bleakly in return. "Wha'?"

His eyes. Breaking my heart. Just like I must have been breaking him. Eyes. Windows to the soul. His always were so hopelessly open and honest. No defenses. Oh... Mungojerrie... I - I dunno what to say either. Perfect time to exchange a wordless, meaningful embrace, but that had the obvious drawback of moving.

Macavity had still more reassuring words for me: "It would be quick, you know, that way. No more pain. Don't you hurt now?"

"Sometimes," I said through gritted teeth. Then: "Loike hell. Top marks fer observation there, 'Cavity."

"If you let them, there would be no more pain... They make it painless... It's just like going to sleep, they say."

"If Oi let them, Oi'll be dead. Think tha's the important issue 'ere. Oi don' wanna die!"

There. That was the whole point. I didn't want to go. I didn't want to leave. Screw the pain. I could have almost coped with it if I could just stick around here a bit longer...

"Rumpelteazer..." he said slowly, softly, like all those drugs to dull the pain....they'd stopped working... "why should I?" His ultimatum.

"Fer cryin' out loud!" I yelled, pretty pathetically really, because I almost was. "WHOI NOT?" And mine.

He exhaled slowly. "Let me tell you a story, Rumpelteazer."

Blink.

What the -??

But, hey, sure, go ahead. At least my ears were working OK.

"I know about infection. I once knew a queen, years ago... your age, maybe a little older... Blood-poisoned, infected from a metal nail. She didn't have the... privileges you do; no humans pampering her. I -" Did he hesitate? Macavity? My eyes flicked up to his. Something different. Unsure. "I couldn't do anything for her. I couldn't even help her die. It took months, Rumpelteazer, months of her wasting away and fading before she was gone."

Gone? I thought vaguely, mentally staggering still. Honestly, Macavity... I don't need euphemism anymore... Which was hardly the issue, but that's just me.

"Tha's it?" Mungojerrie asked with an effort to be scathing; after a pause - for what? Respect??

"That's all," said Macavity.

And.... and... so... Macavity, had he been in love? Was that what he was hiding behind those short sentences and strange hesitation? Macavity? HIM?

"But now.... ya can do it?" Mungojerrie; practical, desperate; cut across him

"I think I can."

"You think?" I asked - Well, not that it mattered, actually. I would happily have jumped to it on odd of a hundred to one against.

"Ya can," Mungo told him fiercely. Oh great, we'd got the point of giving pep talks to Macavity....

"I will do what I can," he said simply.

My mind felt the shift. It was like disbelief - or more - the shaky region approaching hope.... "I will help you," he said.

He wasn't going to admit he was giving in, he was just going to say it just like that, like he'd never meant anything else.... And I wasn't going to rub it in, for a change.

"Rumpelteazer-" he addressed me, seriously, then stopped, and I looked up at him for second. I got it.

"This - is gonna 'urt, ain't it?" I said.

"More than you can imagine."

"Tha's OK," I said, grinning madly at him, "Ya can't imagine pain, can ya? Ta for the warning, 'Cav."

"Teaza..." Mungo offered me all the warmth in the world in his frightened eyes.

"Don' worry!" I practically cheered. "Oi'm gonna be better, Mungo!" I turned my head to Macavity. "OK? Wheneva yer ready."

The first thing he did was stick his claws right into my side. For a vivid split second I thought he was just gonna cheat and kill me - Mungo seemed to leap to the same conclusion, judging by the way he tried to leap at Macavity.

After that, I didn't exactly think much at all.

I'd imagined maybe if there was this much pain and nothing to do about it, I'd just relax and fall into the certainty, helpless but hopeful - but... it was fire and stabbing and acid and -

"Ya sick bastard!" I screamed. "Macavi'y, you are SO gonna die!!!"

Ah, so that's where Little Selfish Brat Rumpelteazer went...

It was very sharply and definitely unclear somehow. Wasn't sure what I'd expected - fireworks? Wasn't sure if the lines of crimson flame were real or just in the sky inside my head or what. Fire ran through my veins, doing exactly what my body had been trying unsuccessfully to do for these past weeks - burn the infection right out of me.

Eyes shut and I could see fire lines of blood red through the ruined carpet, along my skin. Far off idea came that there was a point to this, and it didn't make much matter either way....

The fireball swelled, all of me, all the pain, ready to - I'm bursting. Mungo, I'm gonna explode - pour out of my chest leaving the perfect shell-soul -

It was a real blackout, this one. About time too.

-----------

P.S.

I was getting so used to waking up from unexpected lack of consciousness that it was almost getting boring. But, anyway, that's what I did. I opened my eyes again again and found myself staring straight into Mungo's - upon which they did this incredible morphing thing from pure panic/concern/fear to elation/relief/joy and he stood there doing goldfish mouths for a couple seconds before yelling "TEEEAAZZAAAAA!!!" and dancing around the room. Phew.

So, great - in the end, Macavity saved my life. Which is a bit stupid-sounding really. I go through all this pain and love and revelations and near-death experiences and everything.... only to have some mangy, orang-utan-furred wannabe-warlord who I've never really anyway liked just magic me better?? Couldn't this have happened some other way? Or, just possibly, SOONER? Apparently not, was the sensible answer to that, and I wasn't exactly in a position to be reasonably ungrateful. So I wasn't. So I gave Macavity a huge hug, told him (and I'm not sure how much of it was just cheek) that his girl would have been proud, told him THANK YOU you stupid but maybe-not-so-heartless bastard, and gave Mungojerrie and even bigger hug.

And so.... Life went on. Again. I've noticed it has a habit of doing that. No matter if you're happy or sad or unconscious or dead or whatever, life as a whole is just going to keep on keeping on and the earth is going to keep spinning. And no matter what's happening to you, no matter how incredible or amazing or awful, there's always gonna be billions of people out there with no more idea or care about you than you have about them.

Whoa, that was deep! Maybe I should go see Old Deuteronomy - I can just see us sitting by the hearth talking philosophy deep into the night...

I ran outside almost straight away. Smelled wet grass, tasted fresh sunlight. I stood out in the rain and let it fall over me. Your classic cleansing, I guess. Then I went a bit crazy and dragged Mungo into the garden pond.

It wasn't THAT deep.

I can tell you the humans weren't to pleased about that though. We arrived back on the doorstep, dripping and looking penitent with pent-up giggles like the adorable lost kittens of over a year ago, and received a similar treatment. They'd just about got over the shock which presumably comes with all miracle recoveries (the vet!! Stammering and s-s-saying how he'd n-n-never seen anything li-like it! M-miracle recovery...?), and they weren't exactly prepared to let us die of pneumonia, so we were both bundled up in blankets and fed oh-so-lovely gold-top cream...

Jem and Pounce have become something of protegees to us ­ they go around wreaking miniature havoc in all the parks and talk ininteresting accents half the time. We all dare each other to do The Endearing Look: "I'm cute, give me food" on the most unlikely people. Jemima, of course, is unbelievably good at this

I still sprint home - I don't see why I should be put off, I'm right back in training - and of course I'm always careful now... and of course I always win. Muahaha. Although I was a little unnerved when Pouncival came within about 10 seconds of me last week...

And I'm even regaining me youthful beauty and stunning good looks; slowly, though I figure not quite as slowly as it would have been without Macavity's paw in the matter. Eh, not that that's exactly bothering me. I wouldn't have cared what looked like - I wouldn't have cared if I looked like Macavity, honestly!

I am actually alive... They always speak of those near-death experiences as something so profound, something that leaves you emotionally scarred and staggering for the rest of your life... Whereas for me... For me it was a mess, really. It was a mess of blood and drugs running down all the cracks in my personality. And now, afterwards, when I'm supposed to reflect on all I've been through, and be still and solemn and careful and avowed to the sanctity of life - well, erm, now I've gone incredibly hyper. Nearly died? Been there, done that, and it's gonna take a lot more'n that to get little ol' Rumpelteazer down! At least in the long run. And at least as long I have someone to hold up my head.

Love ya, Mungo. Forever.

I'm in love with life. I'm high on oxygen and sunshine and moonshine and fluffy clouds and - Oooh, and sparkly things and strawberries and cream (though I've never eaten any, it always sounds nice.) And I don't exactly laugh in the face of Death like in the stories - it's more like we've got a decent relationship, sorta shaking hands and smiling in the street, but nothing too close or personal (though he's a real creepy fellow, so I'll just keep away mostly). Which probably sounds like a shockingly flippant and bad analogy, but that's just me.

Laugh in the dark. Hehe, at least as long as your lungs are working properly.

And that's just me again, spoiling a wonderful inspirational sentence with some practical ironic junk like that.

I told you I was pathetic at beginnings, right? Well, I think you should ditto that comment for endings too. Or maybe I just don't like 'em. I don't believe in them, I think, that's what it is. Endings are just so.... endy. Like they're ending something. (Give me a prize for coherent thought, why don't you?) Things don't just end, and I'm not about to disappear conveniently as a big metaphorical "THE END" sign sails down from on high. Hehe, no such luck, sorry. I'm sticking around here and living for a bit more, methinks.

Just leave it at: I'm happy. I am madly in love with life and I always want to stay this cheerful and I always want to have Mungo around to bounce off. I'm thankful to be alive.

And just cos I'm jumping up and down hyperly and going "eeeeeeeeeeee!!!!" while I pronounce it to the world doesn't make it any less true.

~THE END~

~

There we go! ^_^

For this site, I tidied this fic up a bit, removing all my scribbly author's notes from the middle of it so as not to break up the story so much... but if for some reason you want to see the version complete with all my original scribbly author's notes, it is still up on fanfiction.net :)

So I shall now proceed to reminisce is a slightly more condensed format.

I wrote this story from October 2003 to February 2004, coincidentally about a year after I attempted my first big Mungo'n'Teazer story. *grin* I really can't express how much I love those two... I guess my two longest CATSfics, both centring on them, should go some way to showing that. This is probably where the whole "I am Rumpelteazer!!" thing started, by the way... I really got into writing her PoV and I'd love to do it again sometime if I can think of a decent plot! Teazer and her mix of giddiness and vulnerability (yes you can see this in the original show.) I guess she reminded me a bit of me, only much more interesting and cooler :)

I knew from the start this whole premise wasn't the most original in the world... poor Mungo & Teazer, people will keep hitting them with cars! But I hope I made it a little original and interesting nonetheless? Love, life, death, struggle... they're all pretty universal themes, I guess. And... I don't think I could have written the ending any other way, so I'm just glad other people like it too!

The toughest bits to write... well, what did I know about romance? Or dying, for that matter.

As for random trivia -- yes, the living room of the house in the story is upstairs!

Thank you so so so so much to everyone who reviewed or e-mailed to say they enjoyed this fic, or it made them cry. Specially Trirarien and of course Norbert for President. Good times :) With lots of rambles about chocolate and wishing a Happy Christmas 2003 to everyone~~