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the-cat-at-the-theatre-door · 2 years ago

Text

You have no idea how confusing it is

To love someone so much, who looks like someone you hate.

A continuation, of sorts, of this fic here. Or Alonzo meets a baby Jemima for the first time and makes a decision. Warnings for mentions of typical animal possessiveness, suggestions of difficult birth, post partum depression, and brief implications of abuse.

Alonzo couldn't remember exactly where he'd heard it (he hears lots of things from lots of cats), but it had always been stored somewhere distantly in the back of his mind that the birth of kittens was meant to be one of the most indescribable experiences of a cat's existence. A - ah, what was it? - truly life changing moment, unlike any other, that was joyous and grand and…and…all those other big, positive describing words that escaped him. There were very few things, they said, that even came close to it.

Hmph. In reality, it was just bullshit for cats to mutter to one another to encourage the continued security of their familial line. Or, maybe, so they had something to do - with someone. And that's only what he's heard. Somewhere.

Or, maybe, he hadn't heard it at all; maybe it had been instinctually hardwired in him to think so. An internal nudge that was meant to prompt his own rear end into action on that specific front. Make the effort. Leave a mark - a legacy, the boss says. So you won't be forgotten.

Alonzo exhales, brushing that aside.

Frankly, if you asked him (and you did, didn't you?), the tomcat wasn't convinced of the validity of this so called "joyous occasion" - whether it be from his own lack of experience or lack of interest - and this particular situation in question that had had him pacing restlessly for several hours hadn't really helped sway his opinion. It hadn't at all sounded wonderful or even happy. "Indescribable"…maybe. But, if he were to put words to it, it had been terrifying and stressful, setting his teeth right on their grounded edge. Hardly the mood one would expect for said "extraordinary" event.

Extraordinary his tailbone.

All Alonzo knows for certain is that it had very quickly prompted him to add a particular noise that had accompanied the event to the very top of his list of sounds that had managed to curdle the blood in his veins. And he hadn't even been in the room it'd happened in. He hadn't been allowed anywhere near it. But he’d heard that sound; Cat help him, he'd heard that.

Word spread quickly in the Palace; he found out - near instantly - the eventual, faded silencing of the horrid noises drifting through the vents hadn't meant what he'd feared when it had stretched on a moment too long. It hadn't meant what he'd thought he'd prepared himself for as a constant, looming possibility in this place, but had very quickly realized - in a moment of unreasonable despair - that he hadn't been prepared for at all. They hadn't lost her.

He hadn't…

Not that he'd thought about it in that way. Not that she was his to lose in the first place. But the thought lingered, like a starving rat after crumbs in a cheesemonger, the damned thing.

In reality, the silence had meant the complete opposite: it had meant that she'd been successful. An heir had been born and acknowledged, and it had announced itself in a string of pitiful wailing all its own. A single, squealing cry, heard clear across the place. Then nothing.

And Alonzo was finally able to release the breath he had been holding for several months, baited and stinging, since Demeter had first told him - so quietly he'd thought he'd misheard - that she was pregnant.

They hadn't privately spoken much since the incident; at least, not as much as they used to. Back before…so Alonzo had been surprised, certainly, that she'd told him at all. He was surprised she even approached him. It didn't seem like news that would cross her mind to share with him, intimate as it was, none of his business as it was, yet she had. And he hadn't even thought to ask why tell him, or a much more obtuse how. He knew very well how; it made his chest hurt to think about.

Instead, all he could manage, after pinching off the immediate expletive that sprang to the tip of his tongue, was a blunt, practical: Does Bombalurina know?

She had nodded, glancing over her shoulder.

Then, stomach sinking: …Does he?

And that had been the end of that. He still remembered the glimmer of tears dripping down her whiskers.

The patched tomcat didn't believe in deities - human, cat, or otherwise- or spirits or watchers or makers or whatever it was he was meant to be thanking for the preservation of Demeter's life. But he thanked every one he could think of nonetheless, just in case. You never knew who was listening.

It was several days before he plucked up the courage to visit her. A multitude of reasons for avoidance, really, most having to do with the safety of all parties involved, and the rest having to do with Alonzo's pesky tendency towards emotionally charged, self-preserving instinct. But when he'd stopped feeling numb, or at least stopped trying to numb himself to the situation, guilt had started gnawing persistently at the back of his skull instead. And if there was one thing Alonzo couldn't stand, it was feeling guilty; he’d felt guilty enough in his life.

In reality, Alonzo hadn’t seen Demeter personally in weeks. After the announcement, she had made herself remarkably scarce (though, he thinks, likely not on her own accord). Any and all updates of her well being had come from Bombalurina begrudgingly whispering in passing after Alonzo had coaxed it out of her, glancing about to ensure no one unwelcome was listening. The most he had gotten of her were glimpses here and there, at roundtables and the occasional meeting, but those glimpses were enough to burn themselves permanently into his memory. She'd looked so…sickly, eyes sunken, dull coat, and bones sharp even beneath her swollen middle. It looked, Alonzo had thought with no shortness of alarm, like she was being eaten from the inside; siphoned of her blood and being. It had not looked a beautiful thing like they had said - it had looked frightening.

But there was nothing he - lowly nanny cat extraordinaire - could do about it. The summertime heat was suffocating them slowly; they were all hungry, in one way or another.

At least - though Alonzo was hardly willing to give him any sort of benefit of any doubt for doing the bare minimum - Macavity had had the decency to keep his paws off of her in her "delicate condition".

The skin around her neck and arms was unbroken, anyway.

Macavity had practically fastened Demeter to his hip with a chain, and locked her in his chambers, letting her out of his sight even less than usual, and not for long. The list of cats allowed in her company was practically non-existent. Such was his normal, possessive behaviour. Nothing particularly out of the ordinary, and certainly not the most unusual or anger inducing thing he'd done to her in Alonzo's recent recollection. This one…almost (almost) made sense to him in the most twisted way possible. In a way, the whole rigamarole had the entire Palace on edge - even the father-to-be himself. But that’s about where any sort of sympathy Alonzo had came to an abrupt halt. Macavity's heirs - or, at least, the one or two failures Alonzo was concretely aware of - had almost always sent the place on high alert, and this hadn't been an exception. If anything, the rumor mill was even more alight than usual; this one was to be from one of the boss' favourite little baubles, after all. Not just for good, carefully cultivated breeding, then. There was at least some feeling involved here.

As a result, somehow, this one felt different than the others. This one felt…ominous.

The reason why became clear soon after it had happened; in the end, Macavity's patience (though Alonzo would hardly call it patience) and persistence had finally paid off. He'd finally gotten what he wanted: the kitten was born with magic, according to the birds. Powerful, too, perhaps extraordinarily so, to have genuinely impressed Macavity to the extent that others could readily tell.

Alonzo's fear for them had doubled the moment the news slipped through his ears. Tripled, in fact. As had his curiosity. Sue him.

But he had waited a week, just to be sure the gossip train had slowed, the news had cooled, and the interest had started to shift. Never could be too careful, even if it was killing him.

In the meantime, Alonzo had privately observed Macavity during the off chance he happened to be in his company, searching for something - anything - useful. As usual, Macavity's general disposition suggested nothing of his personal goings on, but Alonzo would have sworn there was…something different about his gait; a peculiar spark in his eye and a flushing of his ears he'd never seen before when the others had been born (and cast away, a little voice reminds him). Alonzo wasn’t certain the extent of what any of that was meant to be telling him, but any change in Macavity, no matter how small - concerned as he was with appearances - was noteworthy nonetheless.

Alonzo thought, at first, to ask Bombalurina for an update; ask perhaps if she’d noticed the subtle shifts in their leader. But she had disappeared alongside Demeter, only existing in flashes of red he occasionally caught out of the corner of his eye. He was on his own again for this one. Wonderful.

On the evening of the eighth day post event, when he finally couldn't stand it any longer, right as the Sun began its descent, and he was certain (or at least as certain as he could be) that he wasn't being followed, Alonzo began his hunt. Nose in the air, trying his best to look casual and disinterested in case anycat stopped him, he'd gone upstairs first, reasoning she would be in the rooms there, but they were sealed off. While Demeter's scent was around, certainly, it was faint - far fainter than it usually was in these parts. She hadn't been there in a while, then. Huh.

Alonzo was slightly relieved; henchcats were not allowed in or around Macavity's own personal quarters (so strange for a cat to have such…human hangups in regards to lodging), and he couldn't imagine the rule would be relaxed in this case. If anything, he'd been expecting a guard, not an empty hall in dead silence.

But then, if she wasn't in his quarters, and she wasn't in hers (he'd checked - that door had, oddly, been shut as well. The Demeter he knew never shut the door all the way - she said it made her feel…some long word that began with "c" that escaped him at the moment). That meant there was only one other place, logically, that Demeter could be. Alonzo couldn't decide if that was better or worse.

Setting his teeth harder against the dry cloth in his mouth, Alonzo gingerly climbed down the winding stairs to the basement, also known commonly as storage for whatever (or whomever) happened to be in need of storage at the time. It had also, over the years, become somewhat notorious for housing queens and mill kittens that Macavity deemed as belonging down there; to keep them safe, if you were to believe what Macavity told you blindly and without question. Family (because they were all a family, weren't they?) deserved the utmost protection from its higher ups - never knew what could become of such fragile lives up in the real world above ground.

Sewage directly from the pipe’s mouth. Keep them safe. Keep them out of the way. Keep them out of sight and out of mind until they were needed, of course.

Or until they were forgotten about.

So storage, then, certainly, of the Palace's most…precious items, living and otherwise, damp and unguarded and one of the last places any sane henchcat wanted to find themselves trapped in. Unless, of course, they were shopping, so to speak. Yet, here he was, like a madman. Perhaps he should chalk up his sanity as another thing he'd lost to this place.

Sure enough, when he wandered down the main row of massive shipping crates, listening to the tangled sounds of other kittens spread in various corners of the warehouse, he was finally hit full in the face with the sweet familiarity of Demeter's scent, intertwined heavily with the perfumed notes that he now knew as Bombalurina, peppered liberally with Macavity's own sour overlay, and - if he really concentrated - a soft, unfamiliar undercurrent that could only be baby.

So, it really was true. Fuck.

Not that he hadn't believed it - he had seen the evidence with his own two eyes. Maybe it was moreso he hadn't wanted to. Like if he didn’t, it couldn’t possibly be real.

Pausing outside the crate he was now certain housed Demeter, a tidal wave of nervous energy hit him so suddenly, that he almost turned right back around to leave. Couldn't miss what you didn't know was there, right? The tomcat rocked back to his haunches and removed the cloth from his teeth, wincing as the threads caught and pulled on his fangs. He stared blankly at the strange human symbols that littered the side of the wood, and debated on his next move.

Alonzo’s first thought was to lay his bearings on the ground for them to find - that would be the most efficient. Bombalurina would most likely stumble on it and maybe bring it in, and when they inevitably saw it as useless, they could dispose of it. No problems. His pride wouldn't have to be singed. He wouldn’t have to try and explain his absence, or hide how uncomfortable he was, or how unfairly hurt he felt. He wouldn't need to even see…it. He could separate and cut ties - like he should have in the first place. He could stop…

He shook his head.

Alonzo’s second thought that pushed out the first, was that even the suggestion of that plan was so in line with his much maligned emotional cowardice, and such an…an asshole thing to do, that it made him sick to his stomach.

Alonzo glanced down at the cloth he had begun twisting nervously in his paws; it was white, with pale yellow blocks stitched through. Or, at least, he thinks they’re yellow, anyway; that's what he can see of it. It was slightly rough to the touch, meant, he thinks, for hanging by those strange silver handled wash basins humans kept in their houses that ran water from the tap, rather than the purpose he'd had in mind when he’d "borrowed" it from a clothesline. It had smelled vaguely sharp - maybe soap, maybe bleach - and tasted just as sharp in his mouth, but Alonzo had kept it with him long enough that the smell had started to fade and warm up into something less…clinical. Nothing particularly fancy; they couldn't afford much more than practicality where they were. But it was something. At least it was something.

He could always knock.

While Alonzo struggled with himself trying to decide, he nearly missed the soft cracking of a board being shifted on its hinges, and a flash of a familiar red pelt.

Bombalurina slipped out of the crate and into the makeshift hall before he had a chance to further consider dropping the offering and running. She visibly startled and paused, but didn't seem too surprised to see him. They stared at one another, a strange tension crackling in the air. Bristled…defensive. They had both gone immediately on the defensive.

This had absolutely been a mistake.

"Hey."

"...Hey."

Bombalurina kept her shoulders square, but her tail had begun lowering cautiously. "I'm sorry for not coming to tell you everything. It's been a little…hectic."

An apology wasn't exactly what he'd been expecting to hear, but it was certainly an interesting strategy, he had to admit. Alonzo nodded tightly, any annoyance he'd felt at her for disappearing without a word, and leaving him to stew, quickly cooling.

"How…how is she?"

"Alive," the queen answered, simply.

There looked to be more she wanted to say, but she kept whatever it was to herself. Instead, Bombalurina lowered her gaze, focusing on the dishcloth with a mildly distasteful raise of her brow.

"What do you have there?"

Alonzo twisted the fabric in his paws again, ears hot; there was a flash desire to hide it behind his back, ashamed of how pathetic it must have looked to her. But she’d already seen it; no use tucking his tail between his legs just yet.

"It's for, uh…" Alonzo trailed off, realizing all at once that he knew absolutely nothing about anything regarding the kitten other than whose it was and what its crying sounded like muffled through wood and sawdust. "It's for the kid. I didn't really know what kittens would even…want?"

That was the truth, at least; Alonzo's experience with kittens was limited at best and even less so with newborns. He'd never had any interest, nevermind any chance, or any...hells, cats already had their own built in insulation with their fur - what would the kid need a blanket for? Nothing practical he could think of.

If anything, this was an extension of good will; a slightly desperate indication that he'd thought about her. That he had worried and, in a roundabout way, that he was sorry. About everything - both in his control and out of it.

Alonzo clicked his jaw shut, readjusting his nerves into a more familiar, disinterested tone. He had caught himself on the cusp of rambling and making an even bigger fool of himself, but it was too late to save face with this particular queen. Bombalurina stared at him as though she were dissecting a particularly large frog.

“I mean nothing I can provide anyway, right? I thought…I guess this will keep it warm or something. I figured it-"

"She."

He blinked, thoughts grinding to a halt. "What?"

Bombalurina gave him a pitying look. "She - it's a queenkit."

Alonzo inhaled, looking just the slightest bit dazed at the reveal. Oh.

"I figured…she deserved a present for her birthday, since, you know…I missed it."

Bombalurina bit the inside of her cheek, her fur dimpling. She didn't look amused, persay, but it was a step up from the venom a moment before. "That's nice of you, patches."

"What can I say," Alonzo muttered, having enough good sense to glance away from the piercing needle of her gaze. "I'm a nice guy."

The queen's eyes sharpened at that, the vein at her temple pulsing once in annoyance. One step forward, two steps back. The uncomfortable silence that settled wasn't unusual; realistically, neither of them would have even thought to speak to one another beyond a casual slip here and there if it weren't for a particular golden thread currently strangling both of their necks into playing nice. All he really knew about Bombalurina for certain was that once you were on her bad side, it was nearly impossible to be re-inducted otherwise. Trust him; he was almost certain he had been on it before they’d even spoken.

Bombalurina looked to be seriously debating something, pursing her lips. Alonzo waited, feeling his stomach sink further.

The words that eventually left her mouth looked like a struggle to produce, as though she would rather have said literally anything else.

"Did you want to see her?"

There it was - moment of truth. Alonzo froze in the face of it, wary all over again. The rambling was harder to staunch this time, his voice nearly cracking: "Oh, no, no that's…no, I'm good."

He cleared his throat, struggling to get a handle on himself. He tried again, slightly lower: "I don't want to bother Demeter, you know? Can you just give it to them? You don't even have to tell her I got it, I just -"

"You won't bother her," Bombalurina cut him off bluntly, an unfamiliar look glittering in her eye. Maybe it was disgust. Maybe impatience. Maybe understanding. Maybe all three. Hard to say. "She'll be happy to see you. She's been asking after you - though I can't imagine why."

Alonzo was under no such delusion, in spite of the trembling it sent through his paws, but it was nice to hear, regardless. There was no way Demeter had given him a second thought, even if it had been for the best. Asking after him in this situation just sounded like a cleverly crafted way for Bombalurina to make him hurt the way he deserved. To get his stupid hopes up so they could be crushed again to teach him a lesson. Alonzo couldn't say that he blamed her. He may have done something similar in her position.

He didn't realize, at the time, the level of honor being bestowed upon him. In his defense, it's not like he could have known.

Tentatively, the tomcat stood.

"Just no funny stuff," Bombalurina continued, trying to slice through her imposed tension with little success. She smiled, but it was cool and just shy of calculated. Like she didn't approve - like she would have rather saved a handful of choice words to shove directly into his ears with as much force as possible - but knew better than to interfere.

Old habits died hard. "When have I ever pulled anything funny with you, red?"

"Don't push your luck."

Alonzo managed a quick, half-smile in return, but there was little humour left in it. He adjusted his posture, mustering every ounce of courage he had to push past the mental roadblock and into the crate behind her. Stiffly, he moved towards the gap in the planking.

"Alonzo?"

The tom stopped, feeling the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Bombalurina had never called him by name before that he could remember. Hells, he wasn't sure if she'd even known his name - Demeter must have told her, surely. Names around these parts carried respect. Names also carried a call to attention - a solidification of identity; of being somebody, when they'd all spent so long trying to be nobody at all, losing themselves in the disconnected frame of the reality they operated in; a warning.

So, he stopped. And listened. Very, very closely

She settled herself down when she was sure she'd caught his attention, no doubt intent on keeping watch. “Be careful.”

Alonzo nodded, immediately reading between the lines - this was bigger than the lot of them. The boss wouldn’t like another tom anywhere near Demeter or his new prized heir; even down here, that was a call for trouble. Alonzo couldn't imagine he would like anycat near either of them, but the line of tolerance needed to be let out somewhere. Macavity was many things, but he was hardly a caretaker; he was barely a father - just a map with an end goal.

Alonzo knew. He knew, and yet here he was. Though there wasn't a cat he trusted more to keep a secret than Demeter, with her satchel full of cunning tricks, they were all headed, in that moment, down a slippery slope towards dangerous territory. Worse still, they were doing so with their eyes wide open. There wouldn't be any taking it back should it go sour. It was all or nothing.

Alonzo - in that moment - had to decide whether it was worth it. Whether she was…

…

He made up his mind and slipped through the boards, feeling the sides of the unfinished wood drag along his ribcage like a final warning.

The crate was dark and almost too warm inside; it was that sticky, heavy kind of heat that settled in your whiskers and made it difficult to breathe. The various scents, many of them that usually signified danger and leave immediately, tangled together in a thick knot, faintly washed over in the sweet smell of milk. It was dizzying, almost, all at once, but the space smelled so predominantly of Demeter - finally, at long last, that traitorous little voice whispered - that it didn't agitate him nearly as much as it should have. If anything, it finally put something in his brain to rest.

Movement caught his eye before anything else came to. A bubble of relief passed through him, seeing the steady rise and fall of her chest cast a pulsing shadow with his own eyes. It was the first time in weeks his jaw fully unclenched, and it was only then he realized how much his neck had started hurting - how stiff he'd been holding his shoulders, tied tight with his nerves.

There is a familiar (but not entirely welcome) feeling that curls in Alonzo's breast when Demeter's form comes through in the dim light, outlined by the golden halo of dust drifting in the air. She looked, somehow, so different than when he'd seen her last, and yet near exactly the same. There were changes, certainly - her belly was softer, still bowled beneath the curve of her body, and the sharp angles of her face and hips had finally rounded. Her fur was mussed and dull looking. The shadows surrounding her eyes had deepened, and she looked exhausted, same as ever, but there was an air about her that he didn't recognize, and an expression on her face that was almost serene. She looked…healthier, maybe, he supposed. A little stronger than the wisp she had started fading into.

And, his train of thought continued without him, slamming him fully in the face, she'd maybe never looked as beautiful as she did right at that very moment.

Shut up, shut up, shut up.

Demeter finally looked up at him, most likely having guessed at his presence (or having been informed of it) before he'd even entered, considering how calm she was. Maybe she had been expecting him - maybe Bombalurina had been right. Her ears perked up, and the motion twitched the protective curl of her tail away from her belly, revealing the guest of the hour beneath it. Only one; black and red and white, two ears, four paws, one little black nose, looking altogether too small and too frail, but alive. Alive and squeaking her displeasure loudly, already in protest of her own existence in this place at hardly a week old. Poor kid.

Alonzo stopped dead in his tracks, confidence in his decision draining away right back from whence it came. Everything narrowed to a single focal point and he couldn't breathe.

Now what? something screamed at him. Honestly, he hadn't thought this far ahead. He hadn't even thought he'd get this far.

Demeter made a soft noise in her throat.

They stared at one another then. An entire conversation occurred between them in a span of seconds - a fragile spider's web of understanding and hurt and curiosity and undercut shyness weaving itself and disappearing, all at once. He felt as though he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't be; and, really, what right did he have to be here, anyway? This was stupid and dangerous. He was stupid for thinking-

"Hi." She almost mouthed the word, coming out as barely more than a whisper. Suddenly, Alonzo's heart was in his throat, and his guilt was threatening to suffocate him. It had been for her own good. It had been for -

"Hi."

And, because he hadn't a clue where to go from there, he unceremoniously dropped the washcloth in front of her and backed up a pace, trying to ease the pressure in his chest. Trying to sever the new chord before it tied ‘round his neck for good this time.

Blinking, Demeter bent to examine the object. "What's this?"

"It's a present," he muttered again in explanation, tucking his tail close to himself as he nodded towards the kitten. "For…for her."

Demeter glanced up at him through her lashes, pensive. Alonzo felt incredibly thick headed - even moreso than when Bombalurina had been analyzing him through the plane of her magnifying glass. He almost thought she'd laugh at how pitiful it was; that would somehow be more devastating than Bombalurina's unspoken criticism had been.

"A…blanket?" the queen ventured, tentatively.

"...Yeah."

Demeter smiled, and the sun came out. "Lucky you, she doesn't have one yet."

Alonzo sighed. The tomcat couldn't help the relieved feeling that settled in him at her correct guess, and the assurance that came with it; no explanation needed. Demeter always seemed to know what the roundabout function of his thought process was, even when he didn't.

Shifting her weight, Demeter carefully laid the cloth over the kitten's body. Alonzo opened his mouth to protest, but the words stuck in his throat at the sight. The kitten immediately snuffled her nose blindly into the makeshift blanket, mewling and squeaking as she struggled to lift her heavy head. It covered her whole body, plus at least three more of her, and he saw the bony ridge of her tail curl underneath it. Demeter's smile got even bigger as she tucked its corners underneath the kit and pulled her closer. The perfect picture of maternal tenderness.

Fear won out in the end over his moment of instinctual sentimentality, as it usually did. "You might want to, you know, keep it away from her a bit." Alonzo bit his lip, trying to articulate what he meant without saying it directly. For once, his own skin didn't even cross his mind; I don't want to get you in trouble. Cat help me, I don't want to get her in trouble.

Demeter tightened her jaw, eyes suddenly bright (and on the cusp of upset) as they flicked back up to look at him. It was almost as if he'd forcibly woken her up from the soft dreamy haze she was in. Kitten brain, she'd dub it later. Potent stuff.

"Just until the scent wears off," he clarified.

He carefully avoided the word "my" in tandem.

"I can't take it from her now," Demeter said eventually, watching her daughter move under the dishcloth. "She loves it."

Wariness settled over Alonzo's body in response to Demeter's glimmer of boldness. It wouldn't be the first time he questioned the queen's good sense, but he could hardly call the kettle by any other name in this scenario, could he? Still, it wasn't without risk. She certainly didn't need another thing to add to her laundry list of worries.

…And yet there was an infinitesimally small part of him that sparked alight with a… conceited kind of contentment. That kind of instinctual tomcat pride that came along with the idea that this new kitten would smell, even for just a little while, like him. Like him and Demeter together. Almost like if he closed his eyes and ignored everything else about their situation - everything else about the reality he was forcibly dragged through every day of his miserable life - that the moment they were in was a different one; one where the kitten that lay against Demeter's breast was…was…

Was his instead.

The sickening sense of satisfaction grew at that. Yes, that was right, that same treacherous thread of thought picked up again. His little one with her mother's pretty face, tangled in her might-be-yellow blanket, nursing a paw languidly in her mouth. His little family, far, far away from this place where no one could hurt them ever again. His. Not that sorry, good for nothing, son of a rat bastard -

The anger flared so hot and fast in his chest that it took Alonzo by surprise. He released the fists he had curled his paws into when Demeter's expression turned to one of wariness and she instinctively pulled the kitten closer to her. She stared at him, sad - regretful; he couldn't even look at her.

Alonzo pushed the intrusive wayward thought deep into the caverns of his mind. The audacity. The nerve and the balls on you, 'lonz. He was over that; he needed to be over that right now if there was any chance at salvaging the scraps they'd laid out and patching them back together again. She wasn't his. She couldn't be. She never would be. Here you are thinking about yourself - can't you think of anyone but yourself, for once?

He inhaled. Then exhaled.

"How are you feeling?" Dumb question.

Demeter tilted her head. "I've been better."

"I heard you," he murmured, the noises echoing in his mind.

"I'm sure the whole neighbourhood heard me," she replied, looking back down at the kitten, who had popped her head from beneath its covering. Her eyes fogged over. "But I did it."

Alonzo nodded, feeling suddenly like he might cry. "You did good."

"Not like I had a choice." It sounds like a joke - sarcastic like he'd known her to be before - but there was absolutely no bite to it. Not a joke, then. The painful, raw truth.

Alonzo sat, puzzled and stewing. In reality he had no idea how to feel; he wanted to be happy for her - dizzyingly and unfalteringly happy for her. This was one of her most treasured dreams. Something she'd always wanted; it had been one of the last secrets she'd shared with him, all those nights ago. He is happy for her, he supposed, and that in itself feels like something traitorous. Something that he shouldn't be; not like this. Demeter's first kitten, something that should have only brought her joy and togetherness and that sense of completeness she was so desperately searching for, had only brought her pain instead. Would only bring more pain as it went on. There is something missing. There is something in Demeter's eyes that scream in that same echo as he'd heard a week ago, but Alonzo couldn't figure what it was. Let me out, they seemed to say. Let me out.

Alonzo's blood chilled; yet again, he was demoted to watching on the sidelines, powerless to protect her. Useless.

"You just missed her name day," Demeter ventured eventually.

Alonzo blinked at her, slow and dumb. What?

"I've thought on it," Demeter continued, breezing easily past his ignorance. She lowered her voice, as though sharing a particularly valuable piece of information for his ears alone. "Her name is Jemima."

Alonzo repeated the name quietly to himself, committing it to memory; testing how it felt. It came easily, rolling off his tongue in a way that felt inexplicably right, but fragile. Like it wasn't quite meant to be there, but it would be safe until anyone realized it. He thought, briefly, to ask where she'd heard it; figured, quickly, that it didn't matter.

"That's a good name, I guess."

Demeter raised her brows, the corners of her mouth twitching. "You guess?" she echoed, almost incredulously. "I wanted you to like it."

Alonzo exhaled a laugh, though there was little actual humour in it. "What does it matter if I like it?"

Demeter cast her gaze down, looking almost embarrassed. "It matters," she muttered. To me. It matters to me.

Alonzo paused at that, running the exchange back through his head with a distantly echoed you idiot trailing after it. He hastily corrected himself: "I mean, isn't it important that you like it?" He thanked whatever was left of his good sense for cutting his trail of thought off before he continued to say something stupid like: isn't her father supposed to like it? He couldn’t imagine that would have helped his case at all. Instead, he deflected. "I don't know anything about naming kittens."

It was Demeter's turn to laugh. "Evidently not."

"Seems about as good a name as any," he continued, crossing his arms.

The queen sighed. "Thank you."

Alonzo backed up and settled in the corner of the crate, as far as he could away without leaving the space entirely. Not very far at all, considering. "Don't mention it."

He would learn, much later, that he'd, yet again, trodden on the knife's edge of a time valued tradition that Demeter thought - for whatever reason - he should be included in. But judging by the tiny smile that had crinkled the sides of the queen's eyes, he hadn't fully bungled it this time.

The conversation trailed off again. Alonzo hated how awkward their silences had become - hated how she looked after him with that forlorn look in her eye. He hated it so much. It was like they'd gone right back to the beginning where they'd started.

But rather than fall back into his clutches of selfish despair (there was plenty of time for self pity later), he focused instead on the little red and black pinpoint of fur poking from beneath the cloth that was… Jemima.

"She's…she's really little, huh?" he whispered at last. She looked, to him, like a grain of rice. A kidney bean, maybe, if he were being generous. She would fit directly in the center of his paw, he was certain. She didn't quite look the way he'd pictured her to; somehow, he'd been expecting an heir of such prestige to look different, considering the word of mouth that had inflated her importance to gargantuan levels. Should she not be as big as the words that were murmured about her? As the power and magic that pulsed unnervingly in her veins? "Are they always that little?"

"I…" A flash of uncertainty passed over Demeter's face. "I don't really know."

And Alonzo realized, all at once, that this was all as new to her as it was to him. This wasn't a story of kings and legacies, or any such bullshit. This was just a new mother with her new baby, scared and uncertain of the future; nothing more, nothing less. Who they were before or who they would be, be damned; at that moment, it was just Demeter and Jemima, newly acquainted in each other’s company, trying to figure one another out. There was no sheltering them from each other in their isolation. They were all the other had.

"Bombalurina says she's not too far off the mark. She should grow pretty quickly so long as she eats." Demeter looked anxious at that; whether at her daughter's inability to eat or her inability to provide, he wasn't certain, but it was concerning nonetheless. He'd have to figure something out on that front. Not that she needed his help; not like there was much he could do.

At the mention of Bombalurina, Alonzo thought briefly of an entirely different rumor that had passed through his ear once or twice. "I'm sure she knows better than me, then."

They continued to watch Jemima for a while as she blindly wandered up Demeter's side as far as she could go, sneezed, tumbled down, and rolled back around to do it all over again. She looked to be having the time of her life in that shitty little crate, under the roof of a tyrant, on her scratchy blanket like it was a goosefeather pillow and not a ratty old dishcloth - like she didn’t have a single care in the world. Alonzo almost envied her.

"You don't have to stand so far away,” Demeter coaxed, noting how intently he had started staring at her. “You can come and touch her.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?”

“She’s my kitten,” Demeter said, a bit too firmly, sending those same hairs on the back of his neck standing up as before. “And I get to decide.”

Couldn’t argue with that. Who was she trying to convince, anyway?

“She won't bite you,” she tried again, covering up the slip in her emotional palette - a slip back into the old Demeter, fires blazing - with another attempt to lighten the situation. “No teeth yet."

"Are you just saying that to lure me into a false sense of confidence?" Alonzo joked. Well, half joked, anyway.

Demeter narrowed her eyes. "You're full of shit."

The smile that made it to his face that time was genuine. "Language - there are infants present."

Demeter’s attempt succeeds with very little extra effort; Alonzo supposed he was already long up the river being there in the first place, so it's not like she had far to go. He approached them hesitantly, and before he could think too hard about more repercussions, he soothed himself by figuring now was as good a time as any to finally find out what all the fuss was about.

It's awkward and an unpracticed action, but the careful drag of his paw pad against her temple feels more natural than he thought it would. Jemima is soft and downy right at the base of her ear. Alonzo’s previous fear had been correct; next to her tiny little head, his paw seemed massive and dangerous - as though one wrong move would crush her, or one unsheathed claw would slice something clean off. That image didn’t exactly put his mind at ease, but he found as he continued the action that he wasn’t fully in control of the movement. Something instinctual was doing all of the gentling for him. That same kitten brain was slowly blurring the edges of his thoughts. A marvel for later consideration.

"She looks like her father," Demeter finally muttered as she watched the two of them, acknowledging the elephant in the room head on, tearing up the pleasant blurring to reveal the overly tender flesh underneath. As though they hadn't been dancing around it the entire time. There is no affection in the observation, but there is not quite malice either. Just a statement of fact.

And she does, there was no denying it. Right down to the sunken black rims around her eyes and the spiderweb cast of her lashes. The reddish tinge beneath the black scratches of fur - bloody and stained - couldn’t be farther from her mother’s golden coat. A permanent reminder, then, of where she’d come from; the cursed whispers running through her veins and the horrific things that had had to happen to lead to her birth in the first place. Her looking exactly like him felt as though the universe was mocking them with a particularly hard slap across the muzzle.

The returning anger inside of Alonzo - the terrible, irrational, dark thing that eats away at him deep in the night — wanted, in a flash of ludicrosity, to hate her then; hate what she represented and where she came from. This was not his kitten; Alonzo owed her absolutely nothing, but especially not his tolerance or gentleness. She was a warning of the worst yet to come. This little thing signaled, what? One cat’s twisted idea of legacy? Power? A make up for the ghosts of his failure hanging heavy in the hallways?

It’s an irrational thing, but in a way that brings about a modicum of despair with it. As though confirming that nothing they did would ever truly matter - they were all firmly part of the wheels and cogs that kept the underground running, no matter how hard they tried not to be; the slippery slope had become a cataract of gushing water, determined to drown them all with it.

But on the heels of that irrational hatred came another feeling; something much stronger that pulsed through his fingertips and up his arm, straight into his heart. It is an overwhelming, confusing feeling, that cools the fiery spark until it is a whispering smolder; then nothing at all.

Jemima yawns, a tiny, squeaky noise, and presses her face closer to him.

Love. The soft, sticky feeling was love.

Yes, love - Alonzo's old friend.

Jemima was not a monster - Jemima was not Macavity, and she perhaps never would be, appearances be damned. Monsters were not born; Jemima was just a baby. A baby born in a terrible place, through no fault of her own. What say did she have in her own existence? She was precious to Macavity, but she was equally - if not more - precious to Demeter, whom Alonzo held more love for than he ever wanted to admit to himself again. Didn't that count for something? Who’s to say how she would turn out, or how much of her father truly lived inside of her? How could she possibly be aware of the kind of gravity she carried for the rest of them when she could barely keep her head up? Where was the justice and fairness for her?

Jemima’s eyes opened, then, in response to the increased pressure against her ample cheek. They are clear and pale - the kind of stormy grey that he thinks must have reminded those old human poets that Demeter likes of oceans – and Alonzo loses the picture of Macavity's face from his mind entirely. It will return, surely, in shadows and ghosts when the world gets dark, but for now it is gone, leaving behind a wide, innocent gaze sparked through with stars. It felt…hopeful, almost, like a promise. It kindles the fledgling love from a dull spark, to a warm, steady burning flame. One Alonzo would keep alight through all their trials and tribulations for the rest of his life.

And some picture that made. They may not be any semblance of what Macavity had in mind when he spun his twisted fancies of familial trust and bonding, and perhaps they would never be the type of family that he could confidently pull from his silly little dreams and Demeter’s storybooks, but he had never felt as much part of something as he did in that very moment.

Perhaps that was all that mattered in the end.

Alonzo managed to shake his head, lump forming steadily in his throat as he felt the warmth of Demeter’s gaze burn against his face.

"Nah," he managed, watching her little gummy smile bloom. And like a foolhardy knight errant, braver than he’d ever felt, he made a vow. Not a vow he had any reasonable expectation of keeping, at least not in one piece, but a vow nonetheless. He decided then and there that he may not be a kittens cat, but he would be this kitten's cat. For her and Demeter both. For as long as she needed him to be.

"I think she looks exactly like you."

#Alonzo #Jemima #Demeter #Bombalurina #Macavity #demlonzo #fanfiction #my fanfic #i'd like to clarify that the distaste both of them initially feel towards jemima is a result of heavy trauma #and literally has nothing to do with her at all #it's an extremely complicated emotion that would take pages and pages to unpack #no one loves jemima like demeter does but alonzo sure as hell comes a close second #technically fits with today's prompt of family for cats-pril but i don't want to clog the tags with my bs #see if you want content you have to write over 6000 words yourself #alonzo's a little dense in regards to jellicle traditions but he's got the spirit

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