AN: Hello and welcome! This used to be my first fanfic under the title of "Can a Broken Heart Still Race?" But now it's being renamed and rewritten, and will become bigger and better than ever. If you're familiar with my other fanfic "I Won't Say I'm in Love Again", the sequel to this original story, I would just like to put out there that it is on an extended hiatus, and I will be rewriting it after this story is complete, also under a new title ("All Over Again") – although it's worth noting that I'm also toying with the idea of combining that story with this one to eliminate the hassle of there being two stories following the same plot. Thoughts, anyone?

Anywho, I hope you enjoy this!

-x-X-x-

Music blared. Lights shone. Cats pranced and twirled every which way. The whole of the Jellicle Junkyard seemed alive with energy and delight. It was a typical Ball, not unlike any other. The kittens who were finally old enough to attend for the first time took in everything with wide eyes and huge grins. Yesterday, this junkyard was their home, and it would be again tomorrow – but tonight, it was a dance floor, and their young minds were captivated by it all. Even the adults who'd been coming year after year still couldn't help but find themselves caught up in the merriment with kittenlike wonder.

And, of course, the Ball was also a time for couples to bond, as well as for new ones to form. It happened every year, but this time around, one couple in particular stood out above the rest. The queen was snow-white and the tom was as black as the midnight sky with only a white face and chest to set him apart from the shadows. Under the spotlight, they were the picture of perfection together. The way they danced, each move synchronized and flawless, was nothing short of breathtaking. They were perfectly matched, almost as if they were meant to be from the very beginning.

As the two dancers took the stage, the onlookers couldn't help but find their eyes automatically drawn to them. The two could sense their tribemates' gazes upon them, but it was as if they didn't even notice. In the tom's case, there was only one set of eyes he was concerned with – and those were the crystal-blue eyes of his partner locked into his own deep brown ones. It seemed that even he was enchanted by the dance, and it was with every ounce of willingness that he allowed himself to be swept away by it. His footpaws felt lighter than air, and not a single step he took was out of place. The moment was indescribably perfect.

It was Mister Mistoffelees's second Jellicle Ball, and it was Victoria's as well. It was the previous year that he'd begun to notice Victoria for the first time, dazzled by the utter grace and perfection with which she moved, both in and out of the spotlight. And ever since then, he knew that he simply had to dance alongside her. This year, his wish had been granted when he'd been given the opportunity to perform the Invitation with her, which he happily accepted. They were now in the heart of the Ball, where every cat joined in to dance the night away, and Mistoffelees had asked the snow-white queen for another dance. So dance they did. When it was over, the tuxedo tom hardly felt tired; he was simply too exhilarated. His paws longed to keep dancing for as long as the night would allow.

"Misto, that was wonderful," Victoria purred as they took a seat in the shelter of the old oven. "You're a fantastic dancer."

Misto grinned half-sheepishly. He was glad that the dim light of the oven hid the pink tint that was entering his pale cheeks. "So are you," he replied sweetly. Extending a paw toward her, he asked, "May I have another dance?"

Victoria giggled. "Later, silly," she mewed, giving him a playful nudge. "We've just sat down, and besides – it's almost time for the Mating Dance."

The grin faded the slightest bit from Misto's face. "Oh, right . . . that," he mumbled unenthusiastically, and let his paw drop to the ground. Each year, one young queen would be chosen to perform what had come to be known as the Mating Dance, which signaled her entrance into adulthood. It usually happened during her second or third Ball, and was performed with a tom around the same age as she. The tom and the queen would perform a pas de deux together, and, traditionally, it was then that they would become a mated pair – but in recent years, some of the queens had begun to choose not to be mated to the tom who participated in the dance with her. The real purpose of the routine, after all, was to establish the queen as a full adult, not to pin her to a tom for the rest of her life. But, due to the tradition, the dance was still known as the Mating Dance nonetheless.

"Oh, Misto . . . lighten up," Victoria sighed. "I know you're still a bit upset that I chose Plato over you, but that silly old dance doesn't mean anything anyway." Having taken quite a liking to her over the course of the past year, Misto had made it rather obvious when it was announced that Victoria was to perform the Mating Dance that he wanted to be the tom to perform it with her. But Victoria had chosen Plato instead. It was the rust-and-white tom's third Ball, and Misto assumed that he'd been chosen simply because he was bigger and stronger and had less of a chance of dropping the white queen during the routine. And so he'd accepted Victoria's choice, but not without making his disappointment quite clear to her.

"I know, I know," he mumbled, dismissing her rather apathetic remark with a flick of his ear. "But promise me we'll have another dance later?"

"I promise," Victoria replied with a smile.

The Mating Dance came and went. Misto tried not to think too much about it, but he couldn't help but envy how happy Plato looked throughout the routine – and, more to the point, the look of pure bliss on Victoria's face when she was in his arms. With a somewhat disgusted sigh, he turned away from the couple in the spotlight, as if they would go away if he didn't look at them. His younger half-sister, Electra, batted at him playfully, seeming oblivious to his sour mood. Because the kittens were too young to participate fully in the dance and understand what it really meant, they were usually paired up temporarily with a sibling. Needing a distraction, Misto halfheartedly pawed back.

-x-X-x-

From where she was laying next to her brother, a small dark calico kitten stared at Misto with sadness in her wide blue eyes. It was her very first Ball, and she'd spent the night so far utterly amazed at the tuxedo tom's dancing. When he was beneath the spotlight, she could focus on nothing else. The way he leapt and pirouetted was so majestic and so perfect . . . and he made it seem so easy. She'd also noticed the way he'd been eyeing Victoria, and now she saw the disappointment shimmering in his gaze. A tom like that with so much talent and charm shouldn't have to be lonely, she thought. Not on a night like this.

Her brother looked at her, confused. "Jem?" he murmured to her, trying to follow her gaze. "Are you all right?"

Jemima blinked. Shaken out of her thoughts, she looked back at him. "Yeah . . . just fine, Tumble," she mewed absently.

The dance was winding to its close, and Tumblebrutus didn't look very convinced by her answer. But when the music livened up again, he glanced up as another figure approached behind them. "I think there's someone here to see you," he hinted.

Jemima turned around, and a black-and-white harlequin tom smiled at her and held out a paw. "Shall we dance?" he invited. It was his third Ball, but only because he'd managed to sneak into his first one after a disagreement with his mother concerning whether or not he was really old enough to attend. He was convinced that he was, and once the lights went down, he'd crept out of his den and hid among the other kittens once he reached the center clearing. By the time his mother realized he was there, it was too late to send him back. It was an achievement that he'd remained very proud of ever since.

Jemima couldn't help but smile back at him. "Sure, Alonzo," she answered, taking his paw and rising to her feet. Despite the age difference, it was no secret that Alonzo quite fancied her – and because she was too young to know better, she supposed that she fancied him too. He didn't exactly captivate her the way Misto did, but he was brave and strong and knew how to be gentle. To her, that was good enough. And besides, she told herself, it was useless concerning herself with Misto. He had other things to devote his attention to.

-x-X-x-

Misto was more than relieved when the Mating Dance was over. As the next song started, the more fast-paced music made him grin, and his paws itched to dance once again. Without a single moment's hesitation, he looked around for Victoria, and his heart sank as he spotted her still in the arms of Plato. Ears drooping, he made his way around the other dancing cats to them. "Um . . . Vicky?" he called once he was close enough.

Victoria's ears flicked up, and her gaze snapped away from Plato and onto the tuxedo tom. "Oh – hi, Misto," she greeted him with a pleasant smile.

Misto didn't smile back. "You . . . promised me a dance . . ." he reminded her in a mumble.

The snow-white queen blinked. "Oh . . . yes, I did, didn't I?" she mewed. "Well, just give me a few moments. Plato asked me first." She giggled and looked up at the other tom with a grin.

"No he didn't," Misto growled, though he was glad that Victoria didn't hear him. With a sigh, he turned and sulked away to dance alone.

Hours passed, and Victoria showed no signs of keeping her promise. Dawn was fast approaching, and Misto was beginning to consider simply giving up – but before he could leave to go home early, the Jellicles' old foe, Macavity, attacked the junkyard and kidnapped their leader, Old Deuteronomy. While the tribe sat around in hopeless confusion and wondered what to do, the Rum Tum Tugger, the tribe's teen heartthrob and wannabe superstar, called upon Misto and his magic powers to bring the leader back. Misto did so with ease, and had the opportunity to perform another of his incredible dance solos in the process. Suddenly, the entire tribe adored him, and his spirits lifted considerably. By the time he was done, he'd decided that it would do no damage to stay until the end of the Ball.

His performance brought forth another reward, too. In the pre-dawn darkness, there was time to spare before the Jellicle Choice was made. And so another dance erupted. When it began, Victoria came running right up to Misto and hugged him tightly. "That was incredible!" she exclaimed. "You saved the whole tribe!"

Misto squirmed in her grip, trying to make enough room for himself to breathe. "Well, not really," he replied with one eyebrow slightly elevated. "But thanks anyway. It's nice to know you appreciate it."

"Oh, I do!" she declared, releasing him and giving him a wide grin. "We got our leader back thanks to you – why wouldn't I appreciate it? Who knows what that horrible monster might've done to him if you hadn't—"

"Yes, yes – I know," Misto cut her off, not wanting to talk about it considering that Victoria seemed to have forgotten that the "horrible monster" was also his father. "It was no big deal, really." He grinned back at her rather eagerly as he prompted, "Now what about that dance you promised me?"

Victoria giggled. "I can't think of a better time for it," she purred.

And so again they danced, and again every onlooker was enraptured, fascinated by their seemingly impossible perfection. And again Misto's worried seemed to evaporate and the world around them seemed to disappear as he lost himself in the dance and in those eyes that were the color of liquid crystal.

The dance ended, but there was still time enough for one more before the Jellicle Choice. And so, after all of the high excitement and energy that had fueled the whole night, a slow dance seemed to be the perfect way to conclude the Ball. As the slow music started to play, Misto gingerly took the snow white queen's paws in his. He wasn't about to stop now. "One last dance?" he requested softly, his voice tinged with longing.

Victoria just grinned. "You're so charming when you want something," she told him affectionately. Before Misto could apologize, her paws were draped over his shoulders and she was looking at him expectantly.

When his brain caught up with her action, Misto grinned right back. His paws dropped to her waist, and as the music went on, the black-and-white couple began to sway back and forth. Soon, they were sweeping gracefully around the dance floor once more, and under the glow of the spotlight, black and white had never looked more beautiful together.

Misto soon became aware of his heart pounding aggressively in his chest, and he knew that it wasn't because of the dancing. He couldn't take his eyes away from Victoria's; it was as if she had locked him in her gaze and thrown away the key. And Misto didn't mind it one bit. He adjusted his grip on her slender waist, pulling her closer, and the little smile she gave him made his heart begin to melt. He smiled back and began to purr quietly, but then a sense of desire began to tug at the back of his mind. The song would be over soon, but he couldn't let the night end with so many feelings unspoken; there was something more that he wanted from his partner. He began to lean toward her, and his purr grew louder when she did the same. His eyes began to close as he became aware of nothing more than the two of them, the soft music, and her warm breath on his muzzle . . .

"A-hem."

Snapped back into the junkyard, Misto jumped and drew away from Victoria, whose lips had been scarcely a whisker-width from his own. Plato had appeared next to them, and was now looking at them with his arms folded across his chest and a disapproving glint in his eyes. There was a moment of awkward silence undertoned by the music, and Misto took the opportunity to loosen his grip on the white queen and shuffle half a step backward.

"Terribly sorry to interrupt," the rust-and-white tom murmured, "but . . . may I?"

Misto's heart sank. He glanced at Victoria, who shot him an apologetic glance and then nodded her approval. He nodded back halfheartedly, and released her and watched as she and Plato pranced away. The song was now drawing to its close, and he turned away with a sigh a second too soon to see Plato and Victoria kiss under the dying light of the moon.

The Jellicle Choice was made, and the Ball came to an end. Unbeknownst to a certain group of young cats, however, the conclusion of the night was nothing more than the end of the beginning.