Sal here.  I don't know why I wrote this, I don't know what came over me, and you probably won't understand what the heck this is for either.  it's tripe.  I repeat.  It's terrible, horrible tripe.  But I had to get it out of my system and be able to say I finished it.  Right now, it probably won't even make any sense. But I will say, it actually may help in the future if you know what you're looking for- and it is indeed canon, so here we go. 

1 July, 1977

There was only a moment of darkness, scarcely lasting longer than the blink of an eye, when he noticed there was light again beaming through his lids.  Feeling sufficiently rested, but nonetheless confused, he slowly opened his eyes, letting himself take in the scene around him before lifting his head in shock- then being slammed full-on by a wave of sheer apathy that pushed him presently back down against the cushion.

He was lazing on the sofa in a cozy-looking parlor with records hung plentifully all across the burnt orange walls.  To the side he saw the three humans, men to be exact.  They were all talking about something, but he didn't really feel like listening harder to find out.  Humans only talked about stupid things, there wasn't any point in finding out how stupid they were this time.  He was a cat after all, and cats don't care about much except getting scratched behind the ears, enticing humans to rub their hands along the back, and being fed either on time or early.

Suddenly he became aware of one such hand stroking his fur- albeit slowly, as though the human really wasn't putting much thought into it.  He looked up, then relaxed as he saw the face of his own personal human hovering there above him- the one the other humans called "Freddie."  He didn't much care for names personally; he just knew that the "Freddie" one belonged to him, and took care of him along with the other two cats who slept here- and that was good enough.

There was a thump upstairs.  The cat's ear twitched with interest, cut his purring short.  As much as he knew he shouldn't have cared about the sound, he lifted his head again and listened closer.  Come to think of it, there was a voice too- faint, but a voice just the same. Inadvertently he began to grow excited.

The human with brown hair and a big nose stood up and walked toward the staircase.  This gave the cat an excuse to follow him up.  He padded along at the quiet human's heels, making sure not too seem too curious and lagging behind a step or two.  It was against feline code to look interested, you see- unless it involved a brightly colored feathered wand, or a can of sardines. 

When the human turned right, the cat turned left, following the sound of the thump.  It came from within the green room with a bed no one but the cats ever got much use out of. On velvet paws the cat stepped further inside- and stopped.

There was a human in here- but not a man.  It was one of the other kinds, like that blonde human with the soft voice that came over all the time, and that grey-haired one who rubbed chemical-y stuff all over the windows and floors twice a week.  The "human version of a female cat," that was the only way he knew how to describe them.  This one had brown hair like the quiet human he had followed, but with bigger eyes- and not the same color either.  Hers were more brown, more golden- like those of that one tomcat he had fought and beaten some nights ago.

And why the cat was even thinking about the color of her eyes in such detail, he had no idea.

Suddenly the female picked herself up off the floor, fumbled around a second, then looked right at him- and his tail twitched.  Although it sometimes took the cat a while to decide if he would make friends of new humans, for some reason he liked her already, and she hadn't even given him any food yet.  It was like she wasn't new to him at all- which was very strange.

Not that she didn't seem weird to him, because she did.  The female kicked the big chest in front of her, then dove right back into the closet.  The cat just sat there blinking, licked his paw maybe once or twice, while she mumbled softly there in her hiding place until the quiet human walked in and peered inside.  She said something that sounded annoyed, chasing him away for a little while.  Then moments later, for no reason, the female jumped back out and crawled under the bed.

She must have wanted to play.  That had to be it.  True, humans didn't play like cats did, but- maybe she was part-cat; that certainly would explain this weird interest he had in her.  So he, too, wormed his way underneath the bed, ignoring the other humans as they entered.

The cat stared at the female, waiting for her to bat him away or do something else playful, but all she did was move her mouth and widen her eyes.  Clearly she didn't know the first thing about cat games.  But it was cozy under here anyway, and he liked the look of her face even if she sneezed a couple of times when he drew too close, so there he stayed until all the other humans were gone, and the only one left in the house besides her was the Freddie.

The Freddie walked back up the stairs, entering the bedroom again.  "Come out!" he said, among other things that didn't matter.  So the cat did; he never hesitated when the Freddie asked him to come.

Except this time he apparently wasn't even the one the human wanted.  "Not you, Oscar," he laughed, using the name he had given the cat.  But Oscar didn't really mind, he still kept rubbing his head against the Freddie's legs.  The Freddie had such nice shins.

Then the Freddie turned around, looked into the closet again, and picked up the bag sitting in the floor- which made the female scream, which made him jump and fall to his knees.  For a second Oscar thought he would crawl under the bed too, which wouldn't have surprised him since he had felt for quite some time that the Freddie was part-cat as well, but he didn't.  Instead, he made the female get up off the floor, pushed her into the water-place, and went downstairs.

A few minutes later, the female came back out.  But now her eyes weren't red, and her nose wasn't sniffling; Oscar approved.  She went down the steps and sat down with the Freddie, where they talked about boring human things for a while. Oscar certainly had no desire to waste his time listening in on that stuff, so he turned tail, headed back to the green room. He was just about to hop onto the cozy duvet when he heard the softer pitter-patter of the female's footsteps ascending the stairs. While at first Oscar almost felt annoyed at having his peace and quiet interrupted yet again, that all changed somehow when he saw her walk in again.  Now her whole face looked red, the scent of fear hanging heavily about her only growing more noticeable as she advanced.   

With a little shiver, she crawled up onto the bed and lay down right where Oscar had planned to curl up for the night.  The orange cat's tail twitched in mild frustration.  Humans could be so inconsiderate.  Very well, he would share the big bed with her. 

So deciding, he leapt up and stalked on over toward where her head rested, pushing his own against it to try and make her move.  She didn't, of course, but what she did next made it seem less important.  With an incoherent mumble, the female reached over and rubbed her hand over his head, scratching those oh, so sensitive spots right behind his pointed ears.  His green eyes closing sleepily under the skilled, tapered fingers, he curled up comfortably on top of her long brown hair, which had fallen across the pillow and smelled deliciously familiar, like Christmas  except without the peppermint. 

The two of them weren't asleep long when the Freddie entered the room as well.  Oscar looked up lazily, unmoved by the large hand pretending to swat him away.  The tabby had learned fairly quickly that as big as the Freddie's hands looked, they could, and would, do no harm to his kind.  Besides, he had no intention of leaving this cozy, sweet bed he had made for himself, not even when the Freddie actually dared to lift him off the pillow forcibly.  Eventually Oscar's human got the message, however, and left them alone- but not before pulling the female's shoes off and leaning so close over her face he thought the tip of the Freddie's nose would touch her forehead- but he pulled away again before that could happen, and ran back out into the hall.

Although the Freddie had assured Oscar that the female would be gone by the morning, he seemed to have changed his mind.  Out of the corner of his eyes, Oscar watched his face as he bit into the eggs she had made for him while his vague annoyance turned to a slight, appreciative smile; apparently she could cook pretty well, something at which the Freddie was notoriously inept.  It would seem this was reason enough for the Freddie to keep her around a bit longer. 

Not that Oscar minded, nor the rest of his feline roomies at that.  All three of them came to the unanimous decision that Eve (for that was what the Freddie came to call her) was a pleasant addition to the household.  Her hands were soft and smooth, just like her voice, and she fed the cats on time, sometimes giving them all a smidgen more than usual.  But only Oscar possessed anything close to a strong opinion about her; the other two were apathetic towards anyone except the Freddie.  He didn't even know why, nor did he have the energy to figure it out for himself.  Could have been her scent, could have been the way she would sweet talk to him exclusively, could have been anything, really.  He just knew he was drawn to her, and that was reason enough.

The Freddie himself, however, didn't seem able to make up his mind what he thought of Eve.  Of course, she was no better about him, either, but she wasn't the one in charge.  Although around other humans they behaved quite normally for their species, alone together they became entirely different animals.  Oh, don't misunderstand.  It wasn't that they didn't get along, because they did, and pretty consistently at that- until the morning the quiet, yellow-haired female dropped by.

All she had to do was come and go, but after she did, everything changed.  The Freddie came back inside the flat after seeing her off, eyes burning with rage and voice dripping with scorn.  At first Eve seemed confused- until seconds later she matched his contempt, and walked out the front door without a moment's hesitation.

"Bitch," the Freddie mumbled under his breath, turning to ascend the stairs.  When his eyes met Oscar's about halfway up, he added, "Women, Oscar.  I tell you.  It's all for show, you know.  She didn't take one thing along with her.  You wait, in five minutes she'll come crawling back."

But she didn't.  At least, not until after dark, when the Freddie returned late that evening to let Oscar and the others back inside from their daily prowl.  No sooner had he seated himself at the great big piano, when Eve crept out of the dining room and tried to sneak upstairs.  The mere sight of the girl made Oscar's spirit soar as he bounded off the sofa where he had just gotten comfortable and rushed to greet her.  Showing such enthusiasm for a human besides their own was frowned upon by most cats, but for whatever reason he cared little for feline etiquette lately.  Fortunately, the Freddie was just as happy to see her as Oscar.  Together they sang a song there at the great black piano, and spoke to each other in more gentle, forgiving accents. 

While this may have been the first fight, by no means was it the last- or worst.  The precedent had been set.  There was a sensitivity in the mix from then on- and much shorter tempers. With frightfully catlike speed the two would shift in disposition- one moment trading flirty smiles and batting their eyelashes, the next hissing and spitting like alley cats, all claws and teeth and arched backs. No one ever struck the other, and so a real fight was never begun- but they certainly liked to make noise as though getting ready for it. 

Most of these fights, curiously enough, only took place following a blond human, male or female, coming into the flat for one reason or another.  Sometimes it was the female; sometimes it was the blond man who could have very easily been mistaken for a female.  Nevertheless, after every fight (and occasional flight), they seemed to only grow closer and more tender with one another- until the next altercation, that is.

Granted, none of this affected their relationships with the cats.  Both humans maintained their sweetness whenever one of the three would hop onto the sofa and stalk on over, asking for a belly rub- something Oscar took extensive advantage of the following day, when Eve spent most of her time napping and sneezing among them.  But as for the two humans, the tension only grew with each passing day, to the point where it almost thickened the very air Oscar breathed whenever they stood too close to one another.  The orange cat was not the oldest of the three, but he could tell when his human wanted something- or in this case, someone. 

And the Freddie wanted Eve. 

But Eve did not seem to notice at first.  Granted, she wanted him, too, Oscar could sense that as plainly as anything- but she was always the one to push away when he proved a bit too eager, always found some reason to run in the other direction.  A strange human indeed, that Eve- and yet it didn't really surprise Oscar one bit. Perhaps she was merely toying with him, as a cat might toy with its prey before pouncing and killing it dead.  Humans might think this is mean, maybe even a little vicious, but for cats it is simply a game, a way to amuse oneself in the most satisfying way.  After all, cats are predators who find joy in the hunt even more so than in the victory. 

It didn't startle the Freddie either, but neither did he appear to understand.  Unlike most times when he found a challenging human to conquer, he did not seem at all pleased with her difficulty.  Instead, it made him angry.  So angry, in fact, and so impatient, that whenever he wasn't cursing her name, he was loudly scoffing at each and every one of her flaws. 

Now, that only went for the times when he decided he didn't like her- for there were the other moments as well.  The softer, kinder moments that Oscar also was lucky enough to witness.  Take for example, that evening when both of them had to be helped up to bed, they were so gone.  Eve was more gone than Freddie, who actually carried her upstairs himself while the brown-haired human spotted for him.  From his place on the sofa, Oscar watched them go up the steps, but he saw no one come down; he had drifted back to sleep before that could happen.

A few hours later, though, he was roused again by a sharp cry.  Under most circumstances he would not have paid much attention, for this had occurred often enough around that late hour of night- but this time, the shout belonged to Eve.  His ears pricked up a bit, listening for any more noise. 

Presently he heard rustling of sheets, followed by hurried footsteps padding out of the Freddie's room and into hers.  Against his better judgment, the sleepy cat left his warm, cozy bed and came up to investigate.  There in the dimly lit green room he saw them together- she lying there peacefully, while he, clad in only a pair of those long leg coverings humans wear, knelt at her bedside, studying her profile, gently gripping her forearm.  Without a word, the Freddie carefully pulled back the covers and slipped in beside Eve.  Oscar hacked a bit, something randomly catching in his throat, then slunk away again- but not before he heard that weird thing humans do with their mouths- sort of a sucking thing with a little pop sound at the end. 

If cats could smile, Oscar would have been grinning.  Humans only did that if they liked someone, and liked them a lot. 

Or that night after he and Eve came home from their weekend trip to wherever.  Eve was dozing away in her room when the Freddie walked in, alone and very quiet.  Since he was already up, Oscar padded over to greet him.

"Hello, darling."  The Freddie bent down, stroking the cat's back and making him purr against his legs.  "Is she home yet?"

Although cats do not generally stoop to the level of fetching this or that for a human (after all, that was what separated catkind from dogkind- among many other things of course), in this case Oscar would have been happy to make an exception.  However, he was far too enthralled with his massage to answer, leading the Freddie to believe she wasn't. 

"Probably not," he sighed, "otherwise you'd be with her instead of down here.  Wouldn't you?"

Something in the Freddie's voice made Oscar stop and back away a few paces.  Not that he didn't want to comfort his human, but even more than that Oscar desired to see the look on his face and match the tone with the expression- which, as it turned out, looked just as blue as he sounded.

"Can't really blame you of course," the Freddie went on.  "She's, um- she's rather charming, wouldn't you say?"

Oscar meowed.

"Oh, yes, yes, can't forget that either; she's very lovely indeed."  The Freddie chuckled to himself.  "She's a lot of different things really, but - that much is definitely true."

By now the other cats had congregated around him as well.  With a benevolent smile the Freddie knelt down and held out his hands to them, cooing when they gently nuzzled their faces into his palms.  In one smooth motion he scooped Oscar off of his feet and cradled him like a lazy, four-legged baby in his arms.  The Freddie peered hard into his green eyes for a little while, scratching his soft white belly while the other two cats looked on enviously.

"What does she see in you, hm?" the human joked, dark eyes crinkling up a bit at the corners. "What have you got that I haven't got?  Is it the tail?  The ears?  The tuna breath?  What?"

Oscar didn't answer, only purring louder while the long fingers rubbed just under his little chin.  Eventually the Freddie set him back on the floor and addressed them all: "Listen, my dears, I need all of you to give us both a little space when she gets here, all right?  I've got some very sort of important things I want to talk to her about, and uh- they might become rather personal, if you know what I mean, so, um..."

He trailed off, chuckling almost nervously.  Of course, none of the three had any idea what the Freddie was talking about, but it was clear he was feeling a little anxious.  After shakily pouring himself a drink, he walked over to the piano and began to play it, waking Eve who joined him shortly thereafter.  Despite his jitters, the Freddie was very happy to see her; his face practically shone with joy when their eyes met.  Right away he stood and led her back upstairs.  Only Tiffany took enough interest to follow them as far as the foot of the steps, but no further. 

A cozy, inviting silence settled over the flat.  Oscar's ears strained to pick up whatever was happening upstairs, but the two didn't seem to be speaking very loudly, if at all.  Before long, however, he heard a series of very faint sucking-popping noises, which grew faster and deeper with time.  Oscar snorted.  So that was what they wanted to discuss.

All of a sudden the noises ceased, and Eve let out a little scream.  Oscar's eyes widened, inadvertently licking his chops.  Why, they hadn't- they hadn't just mated, had they?  Impossible.  It had only been six minutes.

That's when the Freddie burst out of the bedroom, still fully dressed but no longer radiant with nerves or happiness.  His features were taut, his aura colder than ice.  Eve appeared seconds later, speaking in confused accents that he immediately shut down with a much louder, much angrier tone.  She said one more thing- but it seemed whatever words she had used in that single line were enough to put him over the edge.  He stormed out of the flat and didn't come back till hours afterward, when she and nearly everyone else were fast asleep.  But whatever he had done and wherever he had gone had had no effect on his sullen mood. 

Despite the negative energy hanging over the house all the next day, Oscar tried not to pay too much attention.  For he had gotten quite used to having her around.  The last thing he wanted was for the Freddie to dismiss her permanently, cutting the four cat count (if you counted both Eve and the Freddie as part of a whole, of course) back down to a measly three and a half.  With time, the Freddie would certainly forgive her again. He was too volatile to stay fixed on one emotion for Eve anyway.

Or so Oscar thought. 

Night fell hard that day, thanks to the heavy storm clouds shrouding the sky.  Eve was at home, puttering around wasting her time like usual.  But something was different.  Her face was more painted than usual, her scent much stronger, and her hair much smoother.  And her voice seemed to tremble even as she mumbled sweet nothings into Oscar's ear.  Even under all that perfume he could smell the fear, feel the tension in her muscles.  Something was very wrong- but he didn't realize just how wrong until the front door opened. 

Straight away Oscar's nostrils were blasted with licorice, vodka, and fury.  In staggered the Freddie, his eyes ablaze, his fists clenched.  This could mean nothing good.  Without thinking Oscar bounded back into the kitchen and stared at her.  What good this was supposed to do, he was not entirely sure, but it was something. 

Unfortunately, Eve was a little tipsy herself and didn't receive his message.  Like a complete idiot she crept out into the parlor, where the Freddie awaited her.  A pit forming in the cat's stomach, Oscar instead chose to stay in the kitchen.  He slunk over to his water dish and lapped up a few drops into his inexplicably dry mouth.  Somehow he already could tell where this would go, almost like he had seen it all go down before in some long-forgotten dream. 

He wasn't wrong, either, aside of one thing: it was worse than he thought.  The Freddie spoke softly, then sharply, then even more softly before shouting at the top of his voice, followed immediately by a whisper.  Eve said almost nothing throughout; any time she would, he simply cut her off except for the one or two times that she screamed as well.  Then for no reason they started running up the stairs together, where they both did a lot more yelling.  Confused and not a little scared, Oscar backed up into a corner.  Good grief, what could possibly have happened, that they treated each other this way?

Finally, Eve let out a roar- no, literally, that's the only way to describe the sound; Oscar had only heard something like it on some nature show the Freddie had accidentally left on the picture box before going to bed one night.  Seconds later she flew down the stairs, grabbed her things, and burst out into the rain.  Oscar peeked around the corner just as the Freddie stumbled out of the hall, gripping the railing for dear life as he shouted to her one more time.  But the door closed before he finished speaking, leaving the Freddie alone with the cats once more.

As Oscar watched, the Freddie suddenly plopped down cross-legged on the floor.  That was all he did.  He just sat there for who knows how long, a teardrop or two sliding halfway down his cheeks before he wiped it away and dried his hand on his leg coverings- till finally he stood up and ran back into his room. 

Not five minutes later there was a knock at the door.  Oscar's hopes lifted.  Had Eve returned so soon?

However, it was only the big human on the other side when the Freddie opened it.  Without a word, Freddie followed him out into the rain.  And just like that, the silence returned, and stayed for long enough to let Oscar finally get a good night's sleep.

He was drowsing away on the sofa again, fiddling with a meddlesome loose string on the pillow when Freddie came back early the next morning.  The big human was still with him, but Eve was not.  As angry as she had apparently made him, the corners of his mouth were still drooping, his face pale with fatigue and complete lack of sleep.  Very slowly he dragged himself over to where Oscar lay and sat down again, sliding his feet out of those funny white stilt shoes he wore.

"I'm sorry, Freddie," the big human murmured after a minute. 

"What are you sorry for, it's me who fucked up," the Freddie mumbled, rubbing his face.  "I- really do appreciate you staying up and driving me round, though, even as hopeless as- mmm- as hopeless as it was from the sort of start."

The big human shook his head.  "She'll be back."

"No, she won't," the Freddie hissed.  "She's going to be a nun.  And live in a fucking abbey.  Remember?"

"Freddie-"

"The farthest abbey possible, I'm sure.  No chance is worth taking.  Because that's the one place I would never ever dare show my face in a million fucking-" His voice caught in his throat, hands covering his face while the big human just stood and waited for the next command. 

 When the Freddie pulled his hands away however, there were no tears streaking his cheeks. "Oh, well," he sighed shakily.  "No use thinking about it anymore.  That's over and done.  As for you, Rudy- I don't think I'll need you for much, let's call this a holiday."

"Are you sure?"

"Completely.  I can do with a taxi- and I could always ring Mary if I need some help as well.  You need a day off, these- last couple of days, you've more than earned it.  Go on."

The big human gnawed a little viciously on his tongue, but nodded just the same, silently making his way out the door.  The Freddie didn't even bid him goodbye, just sat there staring at some spot on the carpet, elbows resting on his thighs.  What could the tabby do but nuzzle against his shins, softly purring when that obligatory hand came down and did what it did best.

"Hello, Oscar," the sad, dark-haired human sighed.  "I'm sorry for all the noise tonight- or, I suppose, last night, really, it's already half-past five."

Oscar bit his finger gently, assuring him that there were no apologies to be made here.

The Freddie smiled sadly.  "Thank you, I love you too," he chuckled, before sinking back into his melancholy and continuing the monologue he had running in his head.  "Anyway, she'll be happy now.  Maybe she won't go back to wherever she came from, but- I suppose that's second best.  That's where she thinks she belongs.  She doesn't, but that's what she thinks.  Fine.  Go for it, darling. 

"We- I just- we don't mix, I think.  She and me.  All we do, really- we just hurt.  We hurt ourselves and each other.  I thought I was the only one who did both, but um- it seems she's just the same.  Damn bitch.  Lovely damn bitchy fucking whore.  She's as bad as me. She's as mean and horrible and nasty as me.  And I hate it. I hate it almost as much as I love it.  I mean..."

Without warning, Freddie stood back up and hurried to the piano, fingers twitching.  Shutting his eyes, he laid his hands over the keys and played that same delicate little sequence he had been so obsessed with since the first night she ran away.  He played it over and over and over, pounding harder on the white keys with each repetition until he could stand it no more and just started banging around on the lower octaves before pulling the cover over them as if to save the piano from possible permanent damage. 

The cat hacked a couple of times, mind racing almost too fast, faster than it ever had before.  Maybe the big human would prove right, he mused; maybe she would come back.  She had come back before, hadn't she? Sure! Lots of times, in fact.  Oh, how Oscar wished for once he could speak as humans do, to assure the Freddie not to fear.  He knew the Freddie still wanted her- and if she was just like him, then there could be no question that she wanted him too.  She would return.  He was almost completely sure she would.  He could feel it. After all-

"Fuck!"  Freddie slapped his knee, shaking the cat from his strangely un-catlike worries and hopes.  "Now who's going to cook for us tonight?"

Just like that the apathy overtook him once again.  The Freddie's emotions no longer interested him, and Eve's absence stopped bothering him.  Having been reminded what he was, Oscar went looking for a shelf within leaping reach to doze upon.  Silly humans.  They did worry about such foolish things.

Man, it was good to be a cat.