AN-Right, final chapter! I was upset writing this; I don't want to finish it, I've loved writing it. But maybe it's for the best; I've been neglecting my GCSE coursework to write this. I had another random surge of reviews again and I really appreciate everyone reading and reviewing. I hope you enjoy the sixth and final chapter of my second fanfic.

-Demeterfan

Shout outs: Thank you to Tantomile Forever, DemeterJemima, jojoberry, Meow Miss K, Lazaela, Orluna and Malllladelmaginaire for all your lovely reviews; they mean a lot to me :-)

Disclaimer: I do not own CATS, it belongs to T. and Andrew Lloyd Webber.

Chapter 6

I was well and truly in the doghouse. That's such a ridiculous expression; I wasn't a dog and I didn't have any sort of house any more, as Bomba hadn't spoken to me since I tried to beat up Tugger three and a half weeks ago and she wouldn't let me back in our den. I'd been staying with Munk, who's being extraordinarily understanding and sweet, considering I slapped his brother. I love Munk to pieces and adore being with him, but I miss Bomba so much. She may force me into dates, make fun of me, lock me up when things don't go her way, but she's my sister, and she has stuck up for me, protected me, and when I was beaten and bloody after running away from Macavity, she was the one who cleaned me up, comforted me and helped me pick up the pieces. I felt incomplete without her. I kept trying to corner Bomba and talk to her but she always shrugged me off, barely glancing in my direction. If I started gabbling an apology she'd clamp her hands over her ears and sing at the top of her voice, something she used to do as a kitten. I'd forgotten how stubborn Bomba could be.

To make matters worse, I'd started to feel ill. I felt sluggishly tired all the time; even if I slept as soon as my head hit the pillow I'd spend the next day struggling to stay awake. I had occasional painful cramps in my stomach and I was often hit by random waves of nausea, that disappeared as quickly as they came. I tried to place the strange symptoms with the correct ailment, but no illness seemed to fit. Pushing the thought to the back of my mind, I concluded that I was simply a bit run down at the moment. If the symptoms got more frequent or aggressive, I'd just go and ask Jenny what she thought was wrong.

First things first, I needed my sister back. I knew I was going to have to grovel, something I hated, and I wasn't sorry I'd stuck up for Bomba. But, I'd upset her, and I really was sorry about that. I could scream inside my head that Tugger was a lying, cheating jerk with an ego as large as the Heavyside Layer, as long as I didn't say it out loud.

I waited until she left her den; this was harder than it sounds as she had barely shown her face since the fight, she'd just mooch about inside, singing mournful break up songs and reading sad poetry. Even for my sister, that was a bit melodramatic. But Jelly wanted her to help with some sewing, so I was able to sneak into her den, crouching behind a large pile of cushions; I had to be completely hidden or Bomba would just walk right back out when she spotted me.

I didn't feel at all like confronting Bomba; I was feeling even more tired than usual and I couldn't really be bothered with an all out battle. I was about to give up and carry out my plan when I felt more up to it,, when Bomba came back in, looking cheered after talking to Jelly. I froze, still as a statue, until she had moved away from the door. I had developed horrible pins and needles from crouching for so long and I wriggled just a little bit. One of the pillows toppled to the ground, giving me away. Bomba shot me a ferocious glare and started towards the door. No, I'd got that far, she wasn't getting away now! I jumped up, sending the pillows flying and stumbling on my scrunched up legs, and sprinted to the door, dodging Bomba's swipe at me.

I stood flat against the wood, digging my claws in when Bomba tried to detatch my arms. She growled viciously at me, but I didn't even flinch.

"Move."

I shook my head fiercely. Bomba tried to yank me away again, making me scream as her claws dug tiny holes in my flesh, but I still didn't move an inch.

"Will you move, Demeter!"

That hurt more than the glare, the scratches. 'Demeter.' Bomba never called me Demeter, it was always Deme, or Demmie. The formal way she said my name made her seem like a stranger instead of my sister.

"No! I'm not moving until you listen to what I have to say."

Bomba crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, but she didn't refuse to acknowledge me, like usual.

"Fine. I'll listen. But it won't change anything."

That didn't sound very promising, but I knew it was the best offer I would receive. After all, if she still hated me after this, I least I could say I tried.

"I'm sorry! And I mean it this time, I'm really, truly, seriously sorry."

I tried to take her paw but she wrenched away from me, scowling. I let my arm fall to my side, hurt and rejected. I tried to carry on, though my voice kept catching.

"I know I was stupid to try and fight your battles for you; I just lost my temper when I saw how broken you were. Surely you would have done the same for me?"

Bomba's eyes softened a little, but her face stayed resolutely hard and indifferent. But, when I clamped onto her paw again, she didn't pull away. She didn't clutch me back; she kept her paw as limp as a dead fish, but it was still an improvement, albeit a small one.

"Please forgive me, Bombs; I miss you, I feel like half of me is missing."

Bomba sighed, but clasped me in an embrace, squeezing me tightly. She sniffed a few times, as if holding back tears, but when she released her grasp there was no risk of emotion in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Bomba..."

"I know."

"Are you going to start being kind to me again?"

I asked sceptically, afraid of the answer.

"Well, there's no point being nasty to you; it's like kicking Bambi."

She paused for a moment.

"And maybe I over-reacted just a little bit."

I grinned playfully.

"I'm used to that!"

Bomba giggled and pretended to throw a punch at me. I mimed reeling,staggering about the den. We were suddenly us again, the fight instantly forgotten. I was thrilled, but was abruptly hit with the nausea again. I really was reeling then, and had to clutch onto the wall just to stay upright. Bomba didn't react for a while, thinking I was still messing about, but when my knees buckled and I slid to the floor she crouched in front of me. She wriggled back a little when she squinted at my face, getting out of vomit-range.

"Deme? What's up? Don't puke on my floor!"

I tried to breathe deeply as the sickness started to subside. Bomba was staring at me, her eyes wide, a peculiar look on her face. I felt weak and shaky, so I leaned against the wall and embraced my knees.

"You've been feeling sick?"

she said, her voice excited, Everlasting knows why.

"I thought that was obvious."

Surprisingly, Bomba ignored my snippy comment, the strange expression still playing on her face.

"How long for?"

"About three weeks. I've been feeling tired and having stomach cramps, too."

I said, still racking my brain to try and find a diagnosis. Bomba seemed to have one. She squealed happily, making me start.

"Everlasting Cat! When were you planning on telling me, you lucky thing?"

she cried, looking put out. I wrinkled my nose in confusion, making my whiskers quiver.

"Tell you what? Why am I lucky?"

"Well, you're pregnant, aren't you?"

I gasped and looked down at my tummy, examining it; it did seem to be sticking out a bit more than usual.

"I'm-I'm pregnant?"

I whispered, sounding like I was asking a question. Bomba rolled her formidable eyes at my stupidity.

"You didn't know? Honestly, Deme, you are so dim sometimes. What else causes sickness, fatigue and cramps? Hey, wait... oh wow! I'm gonna be an Auntie, Deme!"

Bomba seemed so sweetly happy, but I wasn't as thrilled. My hands curled protectively around my stomach as I imagined tiny kits snuggled up in the dark. My heart started thumping with love.

"I'm going to have kittens..."

I whispered, needing to say it out loud to make it feel more real. Bomba picked up on my uncertainty.

"What's wrong? Don't you want kits?"

"Of course I do. It's just... what if Munk doesn't?"

Bomba laughed at me, shaking her head.

"It's a bit late in the day to be worrying about that! Look, you might not even be pregnant. Go see Jenny, she'll tell you."

So I went to the infirmary to see if Jenny could confirm my suspected conseption. The infirmary was joined onto Jenny's den: a white-washed room with matted curtains to form little cubicles.

Pouncival and Victoria were sat in two of these cubicles, the stained curtains pulled back so I could see them. Victoria had a reasonably large gash on her arm, the red magnified by the white of her fur. She flinched as Jenny dabbed at it with disinfectant, but bore the pain silently and valiantly. Pounce, on the other hand, had a bandage on his hind leg and looked to be fine, but he was bawling his head off. Every so often, Jenny would tut and scold him, saying he wasn't a tiny kitten anymore and look how well behaved Vicky was being, which only made Pounce howl harder.

I patiently waited until Jenny had treated Vicky and stoppered Pounce's mouth with a biscuit, then I told Jenny I needed to check something. I hesitated; the two kits were still present, and I didn't want to blurt out my suspicions in front of them, they'd doubtless giggle and snigger. I whispered in Jenny's ear and she cried out joyfully and clasped my paws.

"That's wonderful!"

she cried, smiling all over her face.

"What's wonderful?"

Pounce asked, his voice still thick and jerky from crying, his eyelashes still stuck together with tears.

"If Demeter is here then she must be sick; that's not wonderful."

Vicky nodded in agreement and eyed my stomach meaningfully, but Pounce still seemed none the wiser. Jenny ruffled Pounce's headfur and tapped Vicky on the nose.

"Ask no questions and you'll be told no lies!"

she said, and drew the curtains, cutting us off from the kits.

I had to lay down whilst Jenny felt the bottom of my belly, kneading it like dough. It felt strange and awkward; I was glad I hadn't dragged Bomba along as she'd have caught my eye and made me giggle. After a while, Jenny straightened up and nodded at me knowingly.

"Congratulations, mummy; you're pregnant."

she assured me in a low voice, in case the kits were lurking. My heart started racing, so fast I thought it was going to burst out of my chest and spatter my fur red.

"How many?"

I asked, suddenly imagining a dozen boisterous kittens running around, creating havok.

"Only one."

Jenny reassured me, making a 'you were lucky' face. I thanked her fervently and she gave me another thrilled hug.

Pounce had long since scampered but Vicky was still there, waiting for me.

"Are you going to have kittens?"

she asked quietly, her large blue eyes perplexed.

"Jenny only ever looks happy like that when someone has kittens."

I glanced at Victoria's petite frame; she was so tiny and young that I often forgot how clever she really was, and how extraordinarily observant she was.

"Yes, I'm having a kitten."

"I hope she's a Queen. And I hope she likes dancing."

Vicky said, clearly longing for another who eats, breathes and dreams dancing like she did. I thought about the sex of my kit; did I want a Queen? I thought of Plato and Tumblebrutus, such sweet, polite little Toms. I thought of Tugger.

I'd like the kitten to be a Queen, too."

I said hurriedly, the added,

"And I dare say you could teach her to dance, Victoria."

Vicky beamed at me, her eyes shining. From far away, we both heard Tugger's obnoxious laughter and several squeals from Etcetera.

"Do you think your kitten will like Tugger?"

Vicky pondered, her eyes going dreamy as she thought of her idol. I scowled at the dreadful image.

"Not if I can help it!"

I muttered darkly, and Vicky giggled, nodded goodbye and ran off towards Misto and Plato.

Watching her dash off gracefully, I felt a little squeezing in my chest; becoming a mother seemed to become more desirable every second. Parenthood may be growing on me, but what if Munk didn't want a kit? He might think it was too soon, too early, or we were too young? What would I do if he didn't want to know? I couldn't bear it if he left me and the kit. My hands cupped the tiny bump of my stomach, anger coursing through my body at the thought of anyone taking such an instant disliking to my kitten. Looking down at my belly, I wondered how such a tiny little thing had captured my heart so quickly. I just had to pray Munk would be affected in a similar fashion.

I waited until the evening, when we were in the solitude and privacy of Munk's den. I was petrified, my breathing fast, my legs shaky, my voice wobbling up and down. I felt so torn; of course, I'd never even dream of giving up my kitten, but I wished I didn't have to tell Munk.

We sat down on a small pile of pillows and he wrapped his arms around me. I looked away from his dark green eyes, taking several deep breaths to steady myself.

"Munk..."

I whispered, so quietly I had to murmur his name twice more before he heard me. He gazed at me expectantly, his face kind, his unusual eyes trustworthy. Part of me knew he wouldn't ditch me to have my kitten out of wedlock, so why was I still suffering through agonies to tell him? I kept trying to start but not quite managing, opening and shutting my mouth like a goldfish, and his face gradually grew concerned as he watched me struggling.

"Munk...I've got something to tell you...and I don't know how you'll react..."

I stammered, giddy with fear. I felt a tiny stirring inside my stomach, as if the kitten was scared, too. Munk gently kissed my forehead lovingly, making me shiver delightedly.

"You know,you can tell me anything, Deme."

he said, calming me slightly. Glancing down at my stomach, I suddenly knew Munk would stand by me, whether the kit was a welcome surprise or a disastrous bombshell.

"I'm pregnant."

I blurted out. Munk stared at me like he couldn't believe what I'd said, making me prickle with alarm all over again.

"We're-we're having kittens?"

his whispered, sounding dumbfounded. I nodded slowly, incapable of speech, fear sticking to me like slime.

"Oh, Deme!"

Munk cried, swinging me round and round, his face alight with ecstasy. He set me down, dizzy and giggling, and crushed me into a hug, though he was careful not to squash my occupied stomach.

"Deme, that's wonderful! Holy Heavyside, I'm going to be a father! I'm going to be a father, Deme!"

Munk chanted, rubbing his chin on the top of my head. When I wriggled round to look at him I saw his eyes were shimmering with unshed tears of happiness. I became chocked up myself, so relieved and so touched he was so excited.

"How many?"

"Just one."

Munk grinned.

"One precious little kitten; our kitten! Our little Queen."

Munk said, placing his hand on my slightly swollen stomach. He had no way of knowing that the kit was a Queen, but he seemed to have made up his mind that she would be, so I humoured him.

"What should we call her?"

I asked, planting a delicate kiss on his flushed cheek. Munk was quiet for a moment, searching for the perfect name. Abruptly, his eyes lit up.

"How about...Jemima?"

Did you like? R&R so I know! Well, that concludes my second fanfic; thank you to everyone who reviewed and read it. I hope everyone likes the last chapter. Just for the record, the way Jenny feels the number of kittens Demeter is having, that's the way actual vets do it.

I've really loved writing this story and I hope to post a lot more! TTFN!

-Demeterfan