((AN: Yep, I'm still writing, but nope, it's not an Avatar story this time, not yet anyway. x3 I've been watching the video version of the musical Cats several times over, and my ever-unpredictable muse wanted me to write a little fic. Actually I may turn this into a little series of Cats stories if I am able. One can't say I don't have plenty of things to write. :B Don't worry, I -will- get back to Avatar soon, especially The Comet's Wake.

Just so nobody kills me about my choice of relationships here, I'll note that I haven't yet read the original book of poems by T.S. Eliot, but I do know that no set relationships were really made among the various Jellicles; it's all open to interpretation. This one's just mine. x3 Also, it helps to think of them as the cats they are, with cat rules of sociability much like in the real world, when noticing that said relationships won't always be monogamous. :B

Heh, that said, hope this cute little foray is liked. Victoria doesn't speak much more than her parts in the chorus, but the sweet little white cat certainly still draws the eye, and just makes you wonder what she's really like among the others.

So nobody sues, of course, most of the cats originally belong to T.S. Eliot, and the play belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber. And an amazing play it is.))

Victoria's Walk

The sun's light seemed to make the sidewalk in the view outside of the high windows shimmer as it rose further into the afternoon sky. Though it no longer shone through the glass and made a lovely beam in which to lie, it still made the window warm enough for a cat to lean on and view all manner of spectacles outside; from the humans that trotted along the road to the birds and squirrels hopping among the trees. It was a beautiful, not-too-warm, sunny-with-some-clouds day.

It was the kind of day, in fact, that would draw that same cat outside into the sunlit warmth.

Victoria, a fluffy juvenile with a coat of pure white, was certainly very tempted. Sitting within the windowsill, her eyes gazed around the landscape outside in the grand, green and park-like backyard of the house in which she lived, searching for any sign of her good friend. Quaxo, otherwise known to his family and to many cats as the amazing Mr. Mistofelees, had been a neighbor of hers for as long as they could remember, and they grew up together. She was one of the few cats that he trusted with his differing identities, and he always proved a fun playmate. She had been an assistant in the black-and-white tuxedo-colored kitten's magic tricks far too many times to count.

Usually on days like this, she would see him and steal out to play or to chat, or to go walking about the neighborhood. It was a fine neighborhood, so there were many fine things to see; once or twice they might even run into old Bustopher Jones, who shared a home with Quaxo...it was hypothesized that he was the adolescent's father (for they took more than a passing likeness to each other), but it was never dwelled upon, for most cats rarely knew their fathers. Still, the kitten treated the older, refined cat with respect, and he in turn treated the young lad like a friend, as well as the young queen if she were with him.

Victoria thought today would be one of those roundabout days. But in fact, she saw no sight of him. In that backyard, also shared by his own mansion-like abode, he would always have shown himself, for it was a private place that he only shared with her.

Quite strange, the white kitten mused with a flick of her tail. He is never gone during the afternoon. At the very least he would nap in the tree. Where could he have gone?

A notion then came to her, and she had to smile. The junkyard, perhaps? It is a lovely day; certainly the other Jellicles would be there and playing about as well. She stood up and stretched. It is settled. I will go too.

It was fairly easy to sneak out of the house at that hour; most of the family was still at work or school, so there wasn't a soul to stop the young queen as she slipped through the cat door, rushed through the yard with the grace and ease of a phantom, and padded her way across many other backyards and along the sidewalk of the boulevard. Soon enough, she would be within the reaches of the bigger, noisier city area wherein lay the Jellicles' favorite haunt, somewhere in the center.

Along the way though, she had to dodge a few large crowds of humans in a hurry, with their large shoes stomping about and their voices mingling and shouting to be heard. A few of them took notice of her, for she was as much an eye-catcher as a perfectly clean and beautiful white kitten with a jeweled collar could be. But none bothered to try catching her, for she was too swift, and humans always had other things to do. No, she never worried about the humans.

But as she went deeper into the city, staying off of the busy roads and tracing a trail toward the junkyard, there were certainly other things to worry about. There was a lot of traffic. And dogs often could be heard barking in this area, Pollicles that wouldn't hesitate to chase a little lost white Jellicle until it was cornered.

And who knew if Macavity was about, Victoria shuddered. Really, she had traveled through this path so many times, but still it wasn't recommended for juveniles to wander alone even in daylight.

Briefly, Victoria wished that she had run into Jemima, another kitten such as herself and one of her good friends. She was smaller than the white queen, but knew the streets fairly well. She didn't like to fight if she didn't wish it, but she was swift, and Victoria had sometimes witnessed her confuse a dog or two. They would see her run and give chase, barking up a storm...only to end up in a dead-end alley with no cat in sight.

But sadly, Jemima was out of town on a train trip with Skimbleshanks. He was her uncle, and as seen at the last Jellicle Ball, has proven quite protective of the wide-eyed kitten on her first yearly excursion to the magical night. It helped Victoria to feel a little better while strolling along the desolate surroundings, just knowing that Jemima must have been having some fun, riding on the train and watching the countryside go by through the windows.

But not long into her daydreaming, eyes to the sky and not to what was in front of her, the youngster suddenly bumped into something walking ahead of her with a soft thump. Shaken, Victoria leaped back and hissed, all strands of fur going on end as the thing she ran into did the same.

The two cats stared for half-a-second, teeth bared, until the other one regained his composure with a swift shake of his head and a snort. His spiked collar jingled, and his familiar smooth voice came out in a harsh sigh, while her eyes were wide with embarrassment. Of all the cats to accidentally run into like an idiot...

"Oh, goodness," the Rum Tum Tugger looked down as his fur smoothed down slowly. "It's just you...Her Royal Highness, out for a stroll among the filthy common rabble, are we?" he grinned with a bit of a flourish in greeting.

Victoria smiled, relieved that the older tom didn't seem too miffed by the accident. The kitten also certainly wasn't insulted by his teasing; because she preferred to go by the name that her humans gave her (she was given to them when she was too young to really remember the Jellicle name that'd have been given by her mother), the other cats of the tribe liked to affectionately compare her to the long-revered human Queen. And she enjoyed it, especially when the handsome and oft-chased-after male had used it.

"Hi, Tugger...Oh, uhm...yes, yes indeed," Victoria held her head high as she fought quickly through her stuttering. "Sorry about running into you though, um..." she couldn't help but smile shyly, "My head was somewhere else."

"Mm, don't worry, nothing's broken...my collar's still straight and everything," the Tugger hummed and nonchalantly cleaned his paw. "Though I must say," he smirked, "I never thought a little thing like you could hiss like that. A cowardly Pollicle would be running about now."

She giggled. "Thanks. So, um...what are you doing here?"

"Ah," he answered while still cleaning his paw, aloof as ever. "There's nothing to do around my flat. And my human is sick in bed," he paused while saying that; though he looked unperturbed by that fact, she could tell by the way his tail curled and his ears flattened a little that he held a small amount of concern. He straightened up again shortly. "So she can't entertain me, and things are boring. I'm out here, hoping to look for a bit of trouble to get into. A dog to taunt, a rat to chase..."

He stopped cleaning and leaned in close enough to make her heart race. "A lost Queen Victoria to escort, perhaps?"

"Uh..." she gulped.

The Tugger leaned back again and hummed a chuckle; there were days he loved to tease a stutter out of the young females, and other days when he would grow bored of it. Apparently, she figured out somewhere in the back of her star-struck mind, this was one of the former types of days. He resumed grooming his tabby-and-spotted paw. "What are you doing out here anyway?" he near-muttered.

"Oh," Victoria shook her head out of a stupor, "I was on my way to the junkyard. I was bored too."

An eyebrow was quirked out of the tom. "Really? Well, good, I was on my way there myself. One knows it's the best place to find the best rats, anyway." He stood and turned his back to her, stretching out and popping various muscles in his deep black midriff with deliberate slowness. "Follow along if you wish." His tail "accidentally" brushed under her chin. "And I know you do."

Victoria rolled her eyes slightly at his aloof, self-centered behavior, even though she felt like fainting, and trotted along. She was relieved at least to have company; the Tugger seemed like the sort to stay out of affairs other than his own, but in reality he was still a respected and honorable member of the Tribe, and wouldn't leave a kitten unprotected. He and Quaxo were in fact friends, and he liked the little tom as something of a protege. The Tugger was one of the few other cats who knew that the difference between Quaxo and Mistofelees was quite thin, and had so far kept it in confidence, though he still tried to coax the youngster into being more sociable every now and again.

"Actually, I was wondering," Victoria said as she hopped beside the older cat, "If you had seen Quaxo anywhere about. I could not find him anywhere today."

The Tugger's tail flicked, and he hadn't spared her a glance as he answered. "Nope, haven't run into him. But if you and I are on our way to the junkyard, I have the suspicion that he may be there too."

The two cats walked and trotted with swift ease under fences and over rocks, making their way deep into a dilapidated part of the city. Thankfully, no dogs or overly-tough alley cats or anything else of the sort had given them trouble, and soon they reached the inner border of the junkyard. Some of the garbage-pile scent reached her nose and made it wrinkle, although the juvenile knew that she should be used to it. They walked beside a chain-link fence that separated them from a vast plain of abandoned machinery and trash of all make and manner.

Finally, they reached a common entrance for cats; a giant metal pipe, concealed under a mountain of broken concrete and wood. The Tugger stepped back and grandly gestured with a paw. "Her Highness's Kingdom of Rubbish lies beyond. I though must be off hunting in another part of the yard."

"Oh...okay," Victoria said with a shy little giggle as she briefly rubbed against one of his forelegs as thanks. "Erm, I'll see you later?"

"Perhaps...perhaps not," the tom said with a cryptic tone and gave her one last smirk before making a dash, disappearing around the corner and into the shadows.

With a long sigh, the white kitten started a brisk walk into the pipe, her pads making little scritch-scritch noises along the metal and dust.

Suddenly, a voice from the other end echoed past. "Who goes there?"

Victoria's eyes widened with her smile. The voice was commanding, but familiar, and had the comforting tone of a protector to it. She stopped and raised her head. "Why, the Queen herself goes here!"

She heard scrabbling, and then a cat poked his silver-tabby-colored head through the other end of the pipe, his look skeptical. But when he caught sight of the white kitten, the guardian Munkustrap sighed with a laugh. "Victoria, child, it isn't too polite to impersonate the Queen."

"Well, I still told the truth," she giggled and stepped out into the light again. "I am a queen."

"So you are," the silvery tom replied with a smile. It seemed to Victoria that all cats could feel comforted in the presence of the Jellicle protector, the leader when Old Deuteronomy wasn't around. He lived nearby with the human security guard that watched the junkyard during the day, so evidenced by his black collar. And if Munkustrap was here, more than likely, so was Demeter. The street-wise queen had no real home, but Munkustrap's owner was kind enough to feed her and Bombalurina when they visited, and so they considered the junkyard their place more often than not.

It was also no secret that he and Demeter were happy mates. Victoria hoped that she would be happy with whomever she someday chose, whether it be one or more of the young males she knew.

Munkustrap walked along, and she easily moved up alongside. "At any rate, what brings you way over here?" he inquired of Victoria, curiously twitching one ear. "Aren't you usually inside that impressive house of yours, napping at this time of day?"

"Usually," she agreed. "But today was too nice to stay inside. Plus, I could not see Quaxo anywhere. I had the idea that he was here, so I came."

He chuckled. "Well, you had the right idea. He is here, as are a few of the other youngsters, just playing in the north clearing."

Not too long after he said that, as they came up on a blocky outcrop of tossed boxes that overlooked the dusty area, they heard playful shouting and screeching that could only belong to a group of juvenile males leaping about.

"Ah, that would be the trouble bunch," Munkustrap bemusedly shook his head and laughed. "That is what Demeter likes to call them, anyway. They're just kittens at heart, and more than a little in mind. I was like that once."

The white female snickered. "You?"

"Quite hard to believe, isn't it? Anyway, this is a good spot to see most of the yard from, so I shall leave you to your search, Victoria."

The kitten bowed. "Thank you, Munk."

He bowed back with a flourish, similar in style to Tugger, but straighter and more formal. "I am more than happy to help the Queen. Call if you need me."

With that, he leaped out of sight, and Victoria turned around again to settle on the boxes and watch the males play.

She leaned over the edge to discern the various cats. Her ears pricked, and soon she could tell the voices apart and what they were shouting.

"Over here, throw it to me; I want to play with it!" Pouncival shouted toward his brother, Tumblebrutus.

"No, you'll only lose it again..."

"I will not! Throw it or I'll come after it m'self!"

"Can we not start a fight today for once? You are all far too loud," Asparagus said from nearby as he lounged in the depression of a discarded kitchen sink. Victoria couldn't see him well, but could tell his voice apart because it sounded more mature than the others; a fair consequence of being the son of one of the tribe's kitten-watchers, the well-mannered Jellylorum. The red-and-striped youngster looked the spitting image of the grandfather for whom he was named, a famous theatre cat.

A fourth and final voice cut in with an exasperated growl. "Please, can't we compromise? There's a whole box of these things, Tumblebrutus, let him have one. And Gus, if you want quiet, you might want to just move," a laugh followed the statement.

Victoria interestedly leaned her head further over, looking for the owner of the last voice. A young male appeared, primarily white with red combination tabby-stripes-on-spots over his body and a striking white face that made him look as if he were wearing a mask around a red-and-brown ruff.

Plato.

The white kitten rather liked Plato. Though he was always among the other young males in many of their shenanigans, when not around them he proved a smart and quiet sort. He was her partner during one of the Jellicle Ball's interludes between dances, when the other cats paired up with friends or relatives or lovers to re-forge the bonds of the tribe. She remembered his touch, sensuous and tense, but with not a single sliver of claw brought out to her skin; even on accident. His purr had been deep and almost quiet. She had been shy when he came out of the darkness with his eyes set on her, but they'd ended up in the same tangle of warmth and comfort with the others, his hold gentle around her (if not a little provocative).

There were harsh rumors against him, though; it was said that he was an offspring of the vile cat, Macavity. But the older cats, if they believed it, didn't care, for they still let him frolic freely. If that was indeed the case, Plato was nothing like his father...just like Macavity was nothing like any descendant of Old Deuteronomy. The youngster's thin, pointed face and deep, knowing eyes were given by his circumstances at birth, but were his own to use.

When I someday have to choose fathers for my kittens, Victoria mused as she gazed down at the white-faced Plato, I think he'll be one of them.

"Look out!"

For the second time that day, Victoria's head had been roughly shoved out of the clouds. A plastic ball had been thrown in her direction, slamming into the box that she sat on and making it topple.

"YEEK!" she cried and scrambled onto a higher point of the mountain, narrowly avoiding an avalanche of cardboard and heavy containers that had been caused by the impact. As they rumbled and crashed to the ground, and she held on to her spot with her claws and several tufts of stuffed fur sticking out, she could hear the young males' laughter.

Looking back again once she knew the ledge was stable, the young queen noticed that it was only Tumblebrutus and Pouncival who were laughing. Asparagus had leaped out of the sink to slap at their ears. "You idiots, watch where you throw things! You scared poor Victoria!"

"It's 'er fault for not watching close," Pouncival sneered and flicked his head around. "Di'nt even know she was there."

"Clearly you two just never look right," Plato snorted, but chanced a short glance toward her.

"What's she doing here, anyway?" Tumblebrutus grouched. "The Queen Victoria, traipsing about in a junkyard and gettin' 'er feet dirty, the silly priss."

"Yeh, bet she ran away from home today."

"Away from that heavenly mansion? Not Her Highness, the conceited beauty."

The spotted brothers laughed uproariously again, and all that Asparagus could do was roll his eyes and start off in another direction in search of peace and quiet from the younger ones.

Victoria's hackles rose in anger; she never liked to be mocked. She looked down toward Plato for hope of some defense, but he was silent, his ears folded back and his eyes elsewhere but hers. The young female's heart felt like shattering.

"Well...!" she shouted above the snickering, "You boys are just plain rude! I hope the rats bite all of your noses!"

With that, the white cat turned and disappeared like a flash of a snowflake behind the mountain pile. Disheartened, Plato wanted to go after her, but his feet had been frozen in place. If he'd have gone, he'd be jeered at as well.

So, once Tumblebrutus and Pouncival ceased their laughter and ran in search of some other mischief to cause, he followed them, his thoughts heavy and just wanting to be distracted.

Victoria scrambled around the junkyard until her legs were tired and her paws ached from the constant stepping on hard rocks and ground...but she wanted and needed to run, until the junkyard and all of her troublesome thoughts became a blur. Once she stopped, all she could hear was her breathing and the faraway sounds of city traffic.

I guess it wasn't too good an idea to come here after all, she thought briefly, but shook her head. After all, she hadn't fulfilled her real reason for coming, and so tried to put the sound of the toms' laughter and the sight of Plato turning away out of her mind to search around for Quaxo; hard as it was to do so.

She wouldn't be searching for long. After a small stroll into a side alley to gather her bearings, there was a quiet "oh, drat," heard from behind a wall of discarded sheets. Ears perked, the kitten poked her head through to see a very familiar ebony form on the ground in the very center of a tiny clearing. He was observing the tips of his white paws (he was in disguise again; she knew they were actually black), and tipping his wide eyes upward to the sky in thought.

Smiling widely, she stepped through the curtain. "Quaxo, there you are!"

"Ah!" the tuxedo tom-kitten whirled around on his feet, surprised to have been caught alone. But he breathed an instant sigh of relief, his paw to his heart. "Victoria...what brings you here?"

"I was looking for you, silly," she bumped his head with hers in greeting, then sat before him with her head tilted. "You weren't in the yard this afternoon, and I was curious as to where you could be on a nice day like this."

His own head tilted the other way. "So you thought of this place?"

"Yep!" she chirped.

The magic cat chuckled, and then let slip his disguise. He looked like his entirely black-furred self, save for the white mark that started at his face and ended at the top of his stomach. He was Mistofelees in this guise, but she still knew him truly as Quaxo. "Your powers of deduction could rival Holmes," he complimented.

"No, I just know you well," she said with a light preening lick of her paw.

Quaxo only laughed and shyly averted his gaze. "I do apologize for not waiting to tell you, but it was far too exciting. I came straight to the junkyard to practice a new magic trick in peace."

"Ooh, a new trick?" Victoria watched him with interest. "You couldn't practice in the backyard?"

His head shook, and he observed his paw again. "No, actually...see, I've had little time to get it right, and it's a dangerous sort of trick."

"All the better," she giggled and relaxed on the ground. "Will you show me?"

Quaxo chuckled; there was little that he could ever refuse his dear friend, especially when she did the cute little quirk with her nose like that. "Alright; but I have to be a safe distance at the moment," he acquiesced and backed away several steps, all movements watched by his one audience member.

He stood on his hind feet and, with a flourish and a turn of his wrist, flicked it. In his paw he held aloft one single hovering ball of flame.

Victoria's eyes widened. "Ooh!"

"And that's just the start!" he smiled, and produced another ball of flame in his other paw. With another graceful turn, he started juggling the little fire orbs as they multiplied from two to four to eight. They made an impressive show of light, dancing around the head of the marvelous Mr. Mistofelees as he seemed to effortlessly conduct them.

But then, just as he started another dance while juggling, he missed a step and dropped an orb, the flames catching the very edge of his paw. "AH!" the young cat hissed and sat down as the will-o-wisps vanished around him.

Victoria gasped and walked to him. "Are you hurt?"

"Just singed a tad," Quaxo assured as he cradled his paw with a pained grimace, shrugging helplessly. "But now you see why I needed to practice it elsewhere. I could have easily set the garden ablaze, or one of our houses. I may be clever, as the Tugger says, but I am still learning about my own control."

Victoria nodded with understanding and leaned closer, reaching up with a paw and looking into his eye with silent permission. He hesitantly showed her his wound. Then, to his surprise, she had taken light a hold of his wrist and started to gently lick and clean the burn. The flames had only gotten two of his tiny pads and a claw, but it seemed that he sustained a few older burns from practicing. As she tended to him, he let out a sigh and a pleasant tingle overcame his body.

Before he knew it, he had leaned some of his weight onto her, his chin resting on her shoulder blades as she finished soothing the wound. Once she released him, her head rubbed against his shoulder with affection, and she was graced with his loud, grateful purr.

"Thank you," he whispered.

She smiled and gave his shoulder another rub before pulling back. "No harm done. I'm glad that I had decided to come about; you would have had to limp home."

He shyly shrugged. "Perhaps one of the guardians would have helped; but all the same, I'm quite glad it was you."

Victoria giggled, and looked up at him again. "So, did you show the trick to any of the others yet?"

"Not a one; you're the first," he laughed, and his ears flicked embarrassingly. "I wouldn't have shown an amateur trick to the others."

She sighed; one thing she knew about Quaxo was that he was somewhat self-conscious about his tricks. One of the reasons he was so amazing was that he practiced as meticulously as any other magician, if not more so, and he had mastered many a crafty illusion in very little time. But he had the true powers of a prodigy, and there were many things that he was only beginning to understand. He used the disguise of a slightly bigger cat when he wanted to be seen as a self-confident tom that sometimes stumbled like a kitten, and not as a great magical spectacle. Many of the other Jellicles couldn't tell the difference between Quaxo and Mistofelees. He was one, or two, of a kind.

She bumped her head against him again. "You really shouldn't be so introverted; the others would like you all the same if they knew you fumbled from time to time. Why, if the Tugger would, and Munkustrap and Old Deuteronomy would...and most certainly I would..."

He playfully flicked his tail in her face. "I know you would, Your Highness. But all the same, I will still keep my magical identity secret for now."

"Oh, fair enough, O great Mistofelees," she sighed and stood up with him to stretch. "Shall we go exploring, then? I feel the need to run about, if only to wear my claws down a little."

"They are always trimmed; they needn't wearing down," he pointed out with a laugh and resumed his disguise as they leaped clear of the barrier and nudged open the sheet covering the entrance.

She shook her body free of dust briefly. "Oh, that I know. But I did have the urge to sink them into someone a moment ago, and that always leaves them feeling too sharp."

His brow quirked, concern in his eyes as he caught her tone. "Whatever in the world would anger you?"

"A bunch of laughing, jeering toms," her fur bristled, and her tail whipped. "Pouncival and Tumblebrutus were calling me 'prissy' and 'conceited' and making fun after nearly knocking me off a perch."

A growl was heard low in Quaxo's throat as he flattened his ears. "I shall set fire to their tails."

"Oh, don't," Victoria sighed. "Sooner or later, they'll meet a bit of trouble; they always do."

"Quite true," he mused, but noticed a sort of deeper, annoyed anger in her shining eyes. He paused. "What else is on your mind?"

Her tail stopped with her footsteps. "Plato was there."

Quaxo's ears quirked. He knew that she held fondness for the other young tom; he was barely jealous, for he knew a queen would choose many worthy suitors in her lifetime. Still, he had to wonder what made her angry...he knew Plato to be an amicable sort, despite the rumors he'd also heard. "He mocked you as well?" he curiously asked.

"Well, no," she breathed. "He just sort of stood there. But as they laughed, I thought he would defend me, and he didn't. He just...looked away from me. And did not offer even a kind greeting."

"Oh," Quaxo's eyes rolled, and he comfortingly rubbed against her side. "I wouldn't think much of it. From what you describe, I will wager that he was just trying to save face in front of the others."

"Perhaps," Victoria hummed, and let her tail rise again with her mood. "No offense, but toms are so very strange and selfish at times. I dare wonder if they still prefer to jeer at the females of their age and lust after adults like Bombalurina."

He laughed. "No, I would agree. But give him a bit of time; he'll probably come around. I see the way his eyes light up when you cross paths, and he asks about you whenever I have the time to converse with him." Quaxo paused again in their walk. "You are one of the most beautiful of the queens," he murmured. "He would be a fool to ignore you."

Victoria glanced back toward him with surprise, and he had one of the softest of smiles on his young face. She gave a shy laugh. "More beautiful than Bombalurina?"

He smirked. "Well..."

"Quaxo, don't tease, it's unbecoming."

The black cat snickered and rubbed against her again, the both of them moving into an easy walk side-by-side. "You are quite beautiful, especially when you dance. And though I am master of illusions, my words are always truth."

Her eyes closed, and she started a gentle purr, and feeling as always lifted in spirit when around her dear friend.

I dare wonder if he would be another father to my kittens, Victoria mused. Someday we shall see.

Soon enough, the two of them found themselves wandering near the main clearing. But before anything else could be said, they heard a voice calling out. "Victoria...? Victoria, are you here? Victoria!"

The youngsters paused in their walk and swiveled their heads around, looking for the source of the calls. They looked over the ruins of an old car, where a fleeting shadow was seen. "Well, it looks like he found you," Quaxo smiled. "I was right."

Right then, over the hood leaped a familiar young tom, the expression on his mask-like face set to worry. Plato set his eyes on the two recognizable cats, his look softening as he saw the white queen that was the subject of his search. "Hello."

"Plato," she greeted, evenly but almost disdainfully. Quaxo was somewhat wary, and set a cautious paw in front of her.

He leaped from the hood of the old car and approached with his head and tail low; he was one of the cats that also knew of Quaxo's real power, and so knew to take caution. "I'm glad I found you guys. Victoria, I want to apologize for earlier, I..." he sighed. "Those two weren't right to jeer. Really, I'm beginning to realize that they aren't too right in the head anyway."

"He realizes it now?" Quaxo snickered, earning him a bat with her tail.

Plato shook his head. "They aren't always so...disagreeable, shall we say. I never knew that they could take their teasing too far, even if they were rather annoyed by their argument over a silly game. But, at least they got what was coming to them."

"They did?" Victoria said, and both hers and Quaxo's heads tilted.

Plato had a small smile in his eyes that he tried to hide. "Well, while I was about with them, I happened to notice Jellylorum and Jenny wandering by...and I...might have mentioned in passing how rude they were...and the brothers might have...just might have, mind...gotten their ears smacked off."

Quaxo fell to the ground in a fit of snickers, and Victoria let out a loud laugh of her own. "Truly, you did that?"

"I did," he chuckled. "It was fun to see them get what they deserved." He smiled. "But moreover, I couldn't let them get away with speaking to you like that, even if I had contributed by saying nothing." He dropped to the ground. "I am sorry, Victoria...will the Queen forgive this lowly peasant?"

"Mmm..." she hummed with narrowed eyes, pretending to think. "What say you, dear Quaxo?"

He smirked, but laughed. "I would say he made up for it."

"Then it's settled," Victoria giggled and stood, trotting over to the tom and rubbing her face and body against his. He responded in kind with his low, quiet purr, leaning his entire self into the feel of her slender body, and inciting memories of the Jellicle Ball.

With her tail in the air, Victoria circled around so that her two favorite toms were in her sight, and they both regarded her with kind, playful eyes that made her melt with happiness. Quaxo had been found as she had intended in the first place; her oldest friend, a gentle soul, and a cat that was most fun to be with. And Plato had regained favor in her eyes; he was clever and warm, smart, and had defended her without a fight.

I am perhaps quite the lucky queen.

"So then," she sat and regarded Plato with curiosity. "Just what were those two playing with that had gotten them so competitive?"

"Oh!" the masked tom exclaimed as if remembering something, and trotted over to a small garbage pile. He pawed through it a bit before returning with something clenched in his teeth. It was a rectangular sack that looked rather like a tiny blue pillow.

Quaxo blinked. "Huh, is it a catnip mouse without the ears and funny little eyes?"

"Un-uh," Plato shook his head and set it down so he could speak. "It's a human toy...I see them tossing it about in the air with their feet and legs quite a lot. And a whole box was dumped...the others are having quite fun tossing them around, trying to keep them from dropping to the ground. Tumblebrutus found that one could play Mouse Catch with them, as well."

"Ooh, I haven't played Mouse Catch in seasons," Victoria grinned. "Shall we play?"

"Certainly, but we need to find a fourth."

Quaxo hummed, but then his eyes lit up. "I have it! We could play Flaming Mouse Catch!"

His two friends stared. Then they playfully batted his ears, and resolved to play Mouse Catch without the aid of some dangerous magic. Quaxo and Plato tended to get competitive though, especially in the presence of Victoria, but they were still friends and comrades all the same, and all kittens still waiting to grow together to experience all of life's happiness.

A lucky queen indeed.