April 2001
Humans, fussy creatures that they were, had long since abandoned the building. Most of the windows were broken out, half the walls were in danger of tumbling down. And it was crawling with mice.
In a nutshell, it was a perfect place for cats to live.
Sometimes in the hour right before sunrise, before falling asleep curled against each other, they would talk. Places they had been, fights they had had, foods they had tried. Even if their friends knew the stories in and out, they still allowed them to relate them.
Duo didn't remember much of his earlier life. He couldn't tell you who his parents were, or if he was pure Maine Coon, or if he'd been born in a mansion or a hovel. His earlier recollection was being a kitten; cold, wet, and afraid, and mewing at a back door, hoping that someone, anyone, would answer and take pity on him.
The door had actually been at a church, and the priest (an elderly, lonely man) had been delighted at his new guest. He had immediately adopted the little orphan, boldly violating all church guidelines to keep him in his own room, and no one had the heart to argue with him. He had given them over 50 years of his life and service; they could not begrudge him a little comfort in his final days.
He and Duo had become fast friends. Sometimes they'd sit in front of the fireplace, and Father would read to him out of a thick, black, book. Duo admitted he didn't understand a lot of it, but he always listened intently and meowed back a response if Father asked him anything about it.
By his count, a year passed by, a year of helping Father find his glasses, of keeping him warm at night, his purring as comforting to his friend as the priest's snoring was to himself. Of discussions on literature and music. Father had adored music and Duo had developed a taste for it as well. Once he had tried to be helpful and sing in the choir. Father had laughed so hard they'd almost called an ambulance, and afterward had assured the cat that he was probably the most talented singer there.
But the day came when Duo's thick fur and loud purrs were not enough to wake the Father from his sleep. Father had gone to meet the God he loved so much. He'd told Duo once that many people believed Heaven was off limits to animals. He disagreed. "No one would make sure a beautiful, incredible being as a cat, and bestow it with all His own attributes, and then leave it soulless." he'd said, his gnarled hands slowly pulling a brush through Duo's bushy tail. "No, my friend. If we part, it won't be forever."
But they had parted. The good sisters had run to the Father's chamber to find the cat wailing pitifully over his body, nudging him again and again to try and wake him, licking his hands with a raspy tongue, hands that never would again stroke his head at night and tell him what a wonderful friend he had been.
The next days were a blur. Father did not come back, but a new priest did, one that did not like cats. One of Father's flock had offered to adopt the cat and taken Duo home with them.
Duo despised them. The adults had no use for him, he was merely supposed to entertain their young ones, who were obnoxious, abusive, and had no business being given toys, let alone a live animal. He had tolerated them for two days before making his escape. It wasn't long afterward that he had met Heero.
Heero didn't like talking about his own past very much. His eyes would go wide and he would shudder and change the subject. However, one night he had led them to the other side of town, and gestured with his tail to an innocent looking while building with a sign announcing "Crestford Research and Development."
Inside that building was hell, Heero had said softly, if you had the misfortune to be anything other than a human. Cats, dogs, mice, rabbits, monkeys, all in cages too small to turn around in. "You don't pity rats as a general rule but you'd pity the ones there." he'd whispered.
The new animals were noisy. Those that had been there for a while made no sounds. He would watch them from his own cage, waiting for the next pain to arrive, waiting to have their eyes burned or fur shaved, or force-fed vile tasting concoctions. Waiting for their own deaths. As was he.
Heero would not say how he had escaped, and again no one pressed him. He simply stated that he had taken a slim chance at freedom and won it. Only Duo had an inkling of what he had really suffered in that white building, for he had felt the scars under his tongue when bathing his friend. He had felt Heero twitch in his sleep, scissoring his legs like he was fleeing for his life; had heard the tabby cat mutter "nononono" in his dreams. He would drape a paw over the other cat, and sometimes knead the soft fur on his back, and Heero would quiet down. The dreams came less lately.
Heero, understandably, hated humans and trusted none of them. He didn't trust a lot of cats, either, and no one really outside of their own small group. Wufei had had to steal a lot of crab cakes to earn Heero's grudging permission to enter their home.
Quatre and Trowa had both been born strays. Quatre's pure bloodline, which was chance rather than design (his father had very little care what breed his current lady of choice happened to be) could have gartered him a real home somewhere. However, unless the people in question were willing to adopt Trowa as well, then the Persian was more than content to keep living in the condemned building.
Trowa's mother had been a carnival cat. He had been born during one of their summer stops. The kittens had been offered as prizes at a dart booth. After watching his siblings be adopted one at a time by horrid little children, Trowa had taken matters into his own paws and fled for his life. He hadn't had any idea where he was going or what he was doing, but anything had to be better than that.
A few days later he had holed up in a cardboard box to take shelter from a storm. Seeing it already occupied he had apologized and turned to leave, but the little Persian kitten had stopped him, admitting he was afraid of the loud booms and didn't want to be alone. They had seldom been apart since.
Wufei, for all his complaining, adored the middle-aged women who fussed over him and stuffed him full of choice-leftovers. He reigned king of The Scarlet Dragon, although the sisters would have blanched to realize how many customers had walked out after noticing the small black cat strolling through the kitchen. And he always had the good sense to hide himself away during health inspections. As if, he had sneered, his onnas would ever serve unsanitary food. Not with him around to supervise.
Wufei divided his time between the four strays, Treize, and Zechs. Treize lived in the nicer part of town, in a large, roomy house a cat could wander about for days and not get bored in. He was very proud of his home, and the splendid garden behind it, always full of delicious flowers. He had invited Wufei to move in numerous times, but the little black cat had always sighed and said his women would be lost without him, and might end up completely letting the restaurant go to pot.
Duo yawned and stretched, arching his back in the late afternoon sunlight. Time for breakfast, his stomach informed him.
He didn't have to wait long. With a quick snap he had a small, grey mouse dangling from his jaws.
He was just about to chow down when he noticed another mouse watching him from the baseboard, a pleading look in it's eyes. He sighed in frustration, remembering Heero's lab stories suddenly.
He dropped his breakfast back on the floor and it ran to join the second mouse, giving him a puzzled look.
"You guys better pick a different floor." Duo told them. "You're lucky I'm a nice guy, if my partner had found you you'd be souffle by now."
The mice chattered and disappeared back into the wall.
"Softy." Came an amused voice behind him.
"What can I say? He was a family man." Duo sighed, leaning against Heero to bathe.
Besides, he thought Father might approve.
The End
(:./lasha/meow2)
