Crooked

Disclaimer: If I were Erin Hunter, then I wouldn't be writing on this site, now would I?

Okay, so, here's the deal: I was rereading the books, and a question struck me: who was Silverstream's mother? She was never talked about, not even when her daughter died. Which really made me wonder if she was from RiverClan at all. The more I thought about it, the more I was sure about two things: 1) Crookedstar's mate was definitely (hah, Tawny!) not from his own Clan, and 2) I just had to write a fic on it. And I did.

This goes out to Kewix, an amazing author whose writing and crack pairings tower above all else, go read everything by her if you haven't already:D

Enjoy, and be sure to read the A/N at the bottom!

A full moon drifted lazily above the tall treetops, casting a silvery glow over the forest. From where he stood on the Great Rock, Crookedstar gazed down at the cats assembled below him, their distinguished Clan scents mingling together. Beside him on the rock, the leaders of the other three Clans had already exchanged friendly greetings amongst themselves, and had moved on to commenting on each of their territories' hunting grounds. Crookedjaw was RiverClan's leader, representing all of his Clan at the full moon's truce, and was in no mood to join their casual talking. No, he was, at the moment, much too anxious for that.

The light-grey tom sighed; it didn't look like the Gathering was about to start anytime soon. Stepping forward to the very edge of the precipice, the tabby let his green eyes wander over the conversing Clan cats. Though he didn't want to admit it, he was specifically searching for one in particular. As he scoured the hollow, his head swam with memories, and he was being transported back to a Gathering long ago.

-::-

Crookedjaw's fur tingled with excitement as he followed his leader, Brackenstar, down the slope the Fourtrees, plunging into a sea of cats. His long whiskers quivered in exhilaration: it was his first Gathering as a warrior.

Nearly half a moon ago, Brackenstar had deemed Crookedjaw worthy of a higher status within the Clan, dropping the "paw" from his name and replacing it with "jaw." Now, he stood proud and wily, ready to show off his new name and meet cats of other Clans.

Unfamiliar pelts brushed up against his own pale grey fur, the strange over-the-border scents tickling his nose as he weaved among the cats that swarmed around him. Crookedjaw glanced around eagerly, bright green eyes searching for a face he recognized. But his Clanmates had already merged in with the rest of them, and he saw none.

He wasn't looking where he was going, and his paws stumbled on a protruding root, sending him flying. He hurridly picked himself up and glanced around, hoping no one had seen him fall.

As he turned his head, he gasped. He found himself gazing into the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen, the purest, clearest shade of blue. They sparkled at him, gleaming with amusement, and he felt his heart accelerate uncontrollably. Crookedjaw took a step back, taking in the rest of the she-cat before him. Her dark ginger fur was long and thick, and two small ears poked out from the top of her head.

Her appearance made Crookedjaw forget how to breathe. He managed to stutter out, "H-hi. I'm Crookedjaw, what's your name?"

The she-cat's striking eyes travelled over the jaw he was named for, twisted defectively from birth. "Hello, Crookedjaw. You must be from RiverClan, you smell like a fish."

Beneath his light grey fur, Crookedjaw's skin burned with embarrassment. He inhaled her scent, and it made his head whirl; it was sweet as honey. Taking a stab nonchalance he meowed, "That's right, I am. From RiverClan, I mean." He cursed himself silently; why was he acting like this? Couldn't he just talk like a regular cat? "What Clan are you from?"

Humor sparked in her gaze. "ShadowClan...couldn't you tell?"

Crookedjaw was astounded; he thought that every ShadowClan cat shared the stench that wafted towards RiverClan territory on breezy days.

"You never would have guessed it, would you?"

The light-coloured tom bristled, indigent, although embarrassment ran through his pelt. "Of course I would have," he muttered, but he hastily changed the subject. "Are you a warrior yet?"

The ginger she-cat looked smug. "Yes. Just a few days ago, actually. And I'd only been training for a few moons!"

"Wow." There was genuine respect in Crookedjaw's voice: though she was considerably younger than he, her leader had thought her worthy to become a warrior. He turned his head to look at her in awe.

His green eyes met hers, gazing intently into their perpetual blue. His heartbeat quickened as they stood there, frozen, in the middle of the hollow below the Great Rock.

The moment was over too soon. From far away, a yowl sounded, calling the Gathering to a start. The she-cat bowed her head. "I'm sorry," she murmured, "I have to go." For the briefest moment she touched her muzzle to the RiverClan warrior's, and the gesture sent a wave of emotion over him.

Then the ginger she-cat mewed, "See you around, Crookedjaw," before turning to bound away.

She was halfway across the clearing before Crookedjaw had realized she was gone. "Wait!" he yowled."

She paused, looking back over her shoulder with a curious expression in her eyes. "Yes?"

"You never told me your name!"

After a slight hesitation she meowed, "My name is Russetfur." Then she was gone, leaving Crookedjaw staring after her with a dazed look on his face.

-::-

Crookedjaw crept through the shadows nervously, tail tip twitching. Behind him, the Thunderpath was silent: no Twoleg monsters raced across it now. The world was dark and serene.

He stepped lightly on the soft ground, lifting his paws before they had the chance to sink in. He came to a wall of tall, feathery ferns, and he brushed passed them, being careful not to make too much noise: the night's peace seemed almost too beautiful to disturb. A large tree stump loomed out of the black before him, and he jumped up onto it, the wood hard and brittle beneath his waterproof pads. Wrapping his thick grey tail around his paws to keep them warm, he sat down and stared up at the sky. Tiny pricks of light twinkled at him, pretty and simple. Crookedjaw nodded his respect to them; his warrior ancestors in the form of stars.

The light tabby's head swiveled as the reedy grasses rustled. A lithe figure stepped out, and he caught his breath.

The newcomer leaped nimbly onto the stump beside Crookedjaw, and they touched noses lightly. He let himself become lost in her eyes, deep blue pools of beauty and wonder.

"Hello to you too, Crookedjaw," Russetfur whispered, pressing her long red fur against his grey. He purred in response and licked her ear.

They sat there for a while, heads tilted, gazing up at the stars, and leaning against each other in solitude. They said nothing, and the world was quiet except for the breeze in the pines.

Without looking away from the moon, Crookedjaw spoke. "You know something, Russetfur?"

She laughed. "Well, yeah, I actually do know a lot of things. You talking about anything in particular?"

Crookedjaw grew hot with embarrassment, and he dropped his green eyes to his paws. "Sorry, I was just--"

Russetfur butted his shoulder gently. "You daft furball, I was only joking. I may be younger, but you can be so dense sometimes!" Her voice was more serious as she added, "What's wrong? You can tell me anything, you know."

He sighed and continued to seem ridiculously interested in the patterns etched in the wood of the tree stump. The two of them had been meeting here nearly every night for quite a while now, ever since they had met at the Gathering. With every visit, it seemed to Crookedjaw like he found out more and more: he had realized things about himself that he had never known before. They now bubbled inside of him, threatening to burst out at any moment.

He struggled to get the words out. "Well, I've been...thinking lately. About a lot of things, really, but one in particular. And it's about us. The two of us, I mean."

Russetfur looked surprised, and shifted so that her pelt merged into Crookedjaw's. "Us?"

He finally looked up to lock eyes with the beautiful ginger she cat, taking strength from her warm body beside him. He knew that what they were doing was not right, and went against the warrior code. It was forbidden to interact with cats of other Clans, yet...how could something be so wrong when it felt so good?

"Yes, us. And I'm pretty sure I've come to a conclusion. In fact, I'm sure I have. I know it."

He hesitated, and found that he could not move, locked in place by the blue of her eyes. She nudged him gently. "Spit it out, Crookedjaw. Whatever it is, you can't hide it from me forever."

All of a sudden, the words spilled out in a rush.

"I know this is wrong, us being together, and that we're being unfaithful to our Clans because of it. But I can't help myself, Russetfur! I feel like I need you, need you to live. And we've only been seeing each other for less than a moon, but I don't know what I would do if you left my life." His panicked new dropped to a whisper here, so soft you could barely hear it in the still night. "Russetfur, I...I think I may be in love with you."

Crookdjaw could hardly believe he had said that, and when he saw Russetfur's shoulders stiffen he silently cursed himself. Her eyes closed, and he waited, pleading with StarClan that they would take back his mousebrained, ignorant words. This could not be happening.

Then the ShadowClan cat's eyes opened again, and the way she looked at him showed him how to breathe again. They were full of happiness, understanding...and love.

"Crookedjaw, I'm so glad you think that, because I'm in love with you, too."

-::-

When Crookedjaw pushed passed the ferns enclosing the tree-stump clearing, he saw that Russetfur was already there, the moonlight touching her fur to silver. Several moons had passed since they had confessed their love for each other, and they had continued to meet in secret, their relationship becoming stronger each time. It had been a few sunrises since their last visit together, and Crookedjaw was eager to see his mate again.

The gray tom bounded over to her, cocking his head in surprise when he noticed the way she was sitting, hunched over as if in misery. Crouching beside her, he rasped his tongue lovingly over her ear.

"What's wrong, Russetfur?"

She didn't meet his searching gaze. "There's nothing wrong, not really." When he opened his mouth to argue, she pressed on, "But you seem excited about something. What is it?"

Crookedjaw's green eyes gleamed as he mewed, "I've been made Clan deputy!"

Russetfur stroked his flank with her tail, a happy purr rising in her throat. "Well, that's great! Congratulations. Wow, RiverClan deputy. I guess...I guess that means you'll be leader one day."

Her tone dropped to a flat, dull meow at the end. It wasn't a question, just a fact. But Crookedjaw caught the distress in it, and he nuzzled her reassuringly as he understood what she was thinking.

"Don't worry, love, that won't be for a long time. Right now, you are my life, my most precious possession. You are everything to me."

The ginger she-cat turned so that their eyes met, and Crookedjaw could see despair and uncertainty swimming in her blue pools. "Are you sure about that? Are you sure that you love me?"

Crookedjaw was shocked. "Russetfur, what kind of mousebrained question is that? After the countless times I've proclaimed my passion for you...how in StarClan's name can you possibly think that I'm not in love with you?"

Her eyes burned into his, and when she spoke her voice was so quiet Crookedjaw had to strain to hear.

"I was just...just checking, I guess. I just had to know. Because, Crookedjaw...I...I found out something the other day. I found out that...I'm going to have you kits."

The light grey tom felt his jaw drop, and he stared at his mate without saying a word.

Russetfur took his silence the wrong way, and suddenly her voice rose to a panicky mew.

"Oh, Crookedjaw, I knew it! I just knew this would happen, that you wouldn't want--"

Crookedjaw touched his tail tip to her mouth, and she fell quiet. "Shh," he murmured, green eyes sparkling. "Don't be ridiculous, shh. For that's the best news I've ever received, a thousand times better than my becoming deputy, because I love you and just know that our kits will be the most beautiful in the entire forest."

She simply stared at him, not saying anything. Then, in one fluid motion, she reached out and buried her muzzle in Crookedjaw's neck. "Thank you," she whispered into his soft tabby fur, "thank you so much. I'm sorry I was so...incomprehensive, but I just couldn't be sure..."

He inhaled her familiar scent, rejoicing in the heat of her body against him. "Russetfur, you have nothing to be sorry for, absolutely nothing. You're perfect the way you are, and I don't ever want that to change."

Crookedjaw nosed her belly gently, and exhilaration rushed over him as he realized it looked and felt a little swollen. "I can hardly believe that you're going to have our kits!" he mewed.

Her eyes flashed, and he could not bear to see the pain that surfaced from their blue depths.

"I'm really worried about it, Crookedjaw," Russetfur confessed miserably. "I'm so scared. What are we going to do? They'll be half-Clan kits, and no matter what we think, we can't deny that."

The RiverClan tom hesitated before speaking. "It doesn't matter right now, love. It's in the future; we'll worry about it when it happens."

Russetfur's expression lifted a bit, although the strained look did not disappear completely from her eyes. "Alright," she sighed, leaning into her mate's fur for warmth. "But the day will come when we'll have to make a decision; just remember that, okay?"

Crookedjaw licked her cheek and purred, "I will never forget you; you will be in my heart always."

-::-

Two cats sat together, side by side, tails twined together and pelts bathed in a pale wash of moonlight. One of them, the light-coloured tabby tom, was broad-shouldered with strong, lithe muscles rippling underneath his pelt. The other, a long-furred ginger she-cat, was smaller, slighter, and sat awkwardly; her haunches were situated so that her swollen, bulging belly did not drag on the ground. The grey tom pressed closer to his mate, breathing in her warm, sweet scent hungrily.

"You look beautiful tonight," he murmured into her ear. His soft breath tickled.

She dipped her head in embarrassment. "You say that every time I see you."

"Why keep back the truth?"

The corners of her mouth turned up in a smile. "Well, I can actually think of--" she started to say, but was cut off as she inclined her head to the starry sky and let out a piercing shriek.

The tabby leaped to his paws, eyes huge. "Russetfur? Russetfur, what's wrong?"

She couldn't answer, for she fell to the leaf-strewn forest floor and yowled again, limbs stiffening and cringing as mighty tremors rocked her body. Her mate looked on in horror.

Russetfur finally managed to gasp out, "Oh, Crookedjaw, it's the kits! The kits are coming, right now."

His twisted jaw dropped. "Oh, no," he mewed. He crouched over Russetfur, nosing her gently. "What can I do? It's to far to go for a medicine cat--and I can't leave you here alone, it's the middle of the night!"

The angle of his head snapped downward as he felt something: hot, sticky blood was working its way across the ground, flowing freely from the limp body of his mate.

"No!"

Crookedjaw scrambled frantically around, casting desperately for something, anything, he could do to help. Below him, Russetfur writhed in pain, blue eyes squeezed shut.

"Crookedjaw, I don't know what to do! It's all going wrong, I know it; there's not supposed to be this much blood."

He already knew that, but, when the words came in the form of her voice, they seemed final, absolute. His legs trembled uncontrollably, fear for Russetfur swelling in his chest. He unsheathed his claws and they sunk into the ground, which was fast becoming saturated.

He shook his head to clear it; he had to stay calm, for the sake of his mate if nothing else. Forcing himself to speak slowly, he asked his her, "Russetfur, what do you need me to do? Just tell me, and I'll do it. Would you like me to go and get your medicine cat?"

The red she-cat's eyes snapped open. "No, don't! There's nothing you can do for me, Crookedjaw. Just... just sit and stay with me, alright? I'll be fine."

More out of exhaustion than anything else, Russetfur had stopped shrieking now, and was lying splayed out on her blood-soaked side. Her breath came in harsh, ragged gasps, eyes flickering like minnows under their lids while pitiful whimpers escaped her. Feeling helpless, Crookedjaw lay down beside her and pressed his pelt to hers. Through their touch, he felt strong, rippling convulsions making their way through her body. His heart beat faster than a bird's wings as he took in the fact that his kits were about to be born.

A spasm racked Russetfur's body, more powerful than all the others. She tipped her head back and let out a piercing screech that chilled Crookedjaw to the bone. Then she was quiet, except for her slowing, rasping breathing.

Silence swept over the forest. Crookedjaw pushed his muzzle into Russetfur's soft ginger fur, thinking back to happier times when all there was was their love. The memory was soothing, like honey in a sick cat's throat. And still, the world was quiet, quiet and serene.

Then there was a new noise, a tiny, almost inaudible tickling shiver on the breeze. He raised his head and looked warily around.

There, at the far end of Russetfur's body, was a kit, fur slicked back by a filmy white substance.

Crookedjaw sprang up and snatched the poor scrap off the bloodstained ground before carefully setting it in the curve of space between him and Russetfur. Then he stared at his offspring in awe.

It was a she-kit, and her fur was silver, even paler than Crookedjaw's own shaggy coat, and was dappled with silky black tabby stripes. As Crookedjaw watched in wonder, her minuscule eyelids blinked open to reveal bright blue eyes exactly the same shade as Russetfur's.

He crouched and began licking the kit, washing her shimmering pelt and warming her up. When he was done, she yawned hugely to reveal sharp, pointed teeth, then curled up against her mother's side and closed her eyes again.

Crookedjaw nudged his mate gently. "Look, Russetfur, my love, see our beautiful daughter."

She stirred at his touch, and slowly turned her head to gaze at the little silver kit nestled in her fur. Her pain-filled expression softened as she saw her daughter for the first time. "Oh, Crookedjaw," she whispered, "She's...she's..."

The ShadowClan warrior stopped mid-sentence, shifting to look directly at her mate. "I'm sorry, Crookedjaw. So, so sorry."

He frowned, and at his paws the she-kit squeaked in her sleep almost as though she too was confused. "What...what do you mean, you're..." He broke off suddenly, panic flaring in his mind. "No! No, Russetfur, you can't mean that, you can't die! Please, no, keep fighting, stay with me."

She shook her head. "It's too late, Crookedjaw. It's my time." Her voice was weak and feeble, but he refused to admit it.

"Please, Russetfur." He raised his green gaze to the star-speckled heavens. "Please, StarClan, you can't let her die."

He pricked his ears sharply as, from far away but rapidly getting closer, the undergrowth rustled.

Russetfur murmured, "Cats of my Clan are coming this way. Crookedjaw, there's something...something I need you to do for me. It's very important."

"Anything." The grey tom's answer was automatic.

"I need you...to take the kit. Take her...take her back with you, to RiverClan. We both knew that the day for this...decision to be made would come, and it has. I can't keep her now." Russetfur's voice was faint, rising and falling with her breath.

Crookedjaw nodded, pulling his daughter closer to him, her little body reassuring. "Okay, Russetfur, I'll take her to RiverClan with me."

"Good...I know you'll take wonderful care of her, better than anything I ever could have given her. Now, there's one more thing I must ask of you...I want you to forget me. Forget you knew me, forget you were ever with me. Make it as if I never existed."

The light-coloured tabby stared at her in horror. "What? No! I could never forget you, not ever. I will always be with you, because you're not going to die."

She shook her head dismissively. "You must go now, Crookedjaw. If warriors of my Clan catch you here... Go, quickly. Run far away."

He leaned in towards her and pushed his nose into her cheek. "I love you, Russetfur, more than anything. That will never change."

He pulled back, waiting for her reply, but there was none. She stared at him, the blue eyes he had fallen in love with cold and distant. "Just go, Crookedjaw."

Despair burning in his heart, he bent to pick up his daughter, who awoke as he lifted her by the scruff. She mewled miserably as she swung from her father's twisted jaw, and he tried to soothe her by purring half-heartily. With a last, agonized glance back at Russetfur, he turned and bounded away into the trees.

His mate stared after him with an unfathomable expression in her blue eyes.

-::-

Crookedstar's hungry gaze continued to sweep over the assembled feline shapes in the clearing below, hunting desperately.

When he spotted who he was looking for, he felt his heart skip several beats. The shame he knew there was in his actions shrivelled from his conscience, to be replaced with sheer joy and happiness. His heart swelled as he took in the familiar, well-groomed red pelt and lithe, slender figure of his beloved she-cat for the first time in moons.

She was crouched alone, a ways apart from the other cats. Her sleek head was bowed, staring at the leaf-strewn forest floor with a fixed, unmoving intensity. Crookedstar looked at her achingly; how he had missed her! Yet there was one last detail, by far the most important, that was missing, and the grey leader craved it more than anything.

Come on, please, look at me. I need you, please.

Crookedstar begged silently in his head, willing the ginger she-cat to turn her beautiful eyes to him instead of at the ground.

Please, just look at me, please.

He repeated the phrase over and over, pleading. But she still did not abide.

Deciding to try a different tactic, he conjured up an image in his mind, a scene of truth: a silver-and-black kit, bouncing inquisitively around the RiverClan nursery. Through the connection he had always felt they shared, Crookedstar tried to send the picture. A message.

See our daughter! Silverkit, named after how you made my life glisten. She's almost as beautiful as you.

And it worked.

Very slowly, just a little bit at a time, the long-furred she-cat inclined her head, raising it so she stared up at the Great Rock. At long last, her blue eyes met Crookedstar's, and he was instantly lost in their radiant wonder. He stayed perfectly still, frozen in his position, hardly daring to breathe for fear of ruining the moment.

Her whiskers twitched at his reaction, and she smiled slightly. Her mouth opened to say something, and though he could not hear her, Crookedstar could clearly see the words that Russetfur purred.

I love you too, Crookedstar. I love you too.

So there you are! After writing this, I've really come to adore both the crack pairing and the characters. I hope you did, too!

Now, dear readers, I'd like to ask something of you: please review, and tell me what you thought of it! I worked really hard on it, and would just love to know what you guys really thought. No one-word reviews, please and thank you!

Hmm...maybe I should do a sequel oneshot, of Crookedjaw/Crookedstar's life after this, leading up to his death? Tell me what you think after clicking that purple button!

All the best,

--Deputy of Desperate Matters (the parallel account to Queen Annie-Ferny Cullen)