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“Gus?” a voice asked softly.
Gus stirred weakly and blinked blearily, lifting his head in confusion. A figure hovered in front of him, head tilted to catch his eyes. He couldn't quite make out the features, the world seeming to blur as if he was staring through warped glass.
“Gus?” the voice asked again and this time he recognized the feminine softness of it. “Are you alright, dear?”
Dear? There was only one person who called him dear. “Grizabella?” he murmured uncertainly, struggling to focus. He tried to pull his thoughts together but they slipped through his fingers. By the cushioned softness and his own scent permeating the materiel under him he could tell he was in bed, but he had no idea what he was doing here or why she was with him. “What are you doing here?” he asked, wanting to sit up straight and make sure his hair was in place. The desire to make the best impression possible on the glamorous queen filled him but a strange weariness made his limbs feel like they were weighted down with lead.
The insubstantial figure in front of him stiffened slightly and was silent for a long moment before speaking. “I was coming to see if you wanted some dinner now or later.” she told him, voice slightly strained.
“You cooked for me?” Gus was surprised and deeply touched. He didn't even know she knew how to cook. “That was awfully sweet of you, Griz.”
“So do you want some now or later?” she repeated her question, pushing slightly, but unusually patient.
He sighed, feeling strangely worn out by the conversation. “I'll have some of your lovely cooking later.” Gus decided. “I think I need a little nap. I'm feeling so tired for some reason. When I awake, we can eat and then perhaps we could have that dance? That one you promised me?” he suggested hopefully, raising his brows as he looked up at the figure leaning over him.
She gave a broken little sound as if she was fighting back tears. “I'd like that, dear.” she murmured, sniffling slightly.
Overwhelmed with concern, he reached out and cupped her cheek in a shaking palm, wiping away her tears with thumb. “Why are you crying, amore mio?” he asked worriedly.
“It's alright.” she assured him quickly. “Don't worry about it.”
Ah, such an uncharacteristic display of empathy! He was deeply touched by her consideration. “Just you wait. After my nap we shall dine and I will dance with you until you forget your troubles. We shall dance just like we did the first time, mio caro Griddlebone.” he smiled softly, remembering how they had danced together in the play they had put on during the Jellicle Ball. The moonlight shining down like a spotlight, the rest of the tribe fading away until it seemed like it was just the two of them, Grizabella staring at him as if really seeing him for the first time. “Perhaps I shall sing to you again as I did that night? Do you remember, mia carissima, the song we sang that night?” he asked her and began to sing the chorus.
“Il mio cuore è trafitto da Cupido.
Disprezzo tutto l'oro scintillante.
Non c'è niente che possa consolarmi
Ma il mio allegro marinaio audace.”
She was crying in earnest now, but he felt her face move as a smile spread pulled at her cheeks. She gently took hold of his hand and drew it away from her skin to press a gentle kiss to the palm of his hand. “We will sing again,” she promised him in a low murmur, “together. We will dance and sing as we once did. But for now, you need your rest. Dormi, caro.” she urged him, laying his hand gently upon his stomach. “I will be here when you awake.”
He smiled softly at this and shut his eyes, dreaming of their dance. It would be magnificent.
Jellylorum watched as Gus' breathing slowed, feeling as if someone had reached in and ripped her heart out through her throat. She wiped angrily at her tears and rose to her feet, puasing only breifly to press a gentle kiss to the Theater Cat's temple. Feeling as if the walls were closing in on her, she left of the den and stepped out into the cool night air. She took a deep breath, desperate to steady her nerves and sooth her raw emotions.
It had been many years since Gus in his delirium had mistaken her for Grizabella. She had never suspected his feelings for the Glamour Cat before the first time he had called her by the other queen's name. Oh, she had known Grizabella had been cast as the original Griddlebone all those years ago. She had known Grizabella had been quite the flirt as a young queen and had gone through toms like catnip, leaving many of them thoroughly off balance and with sore feelings when she had abandoned the tribe. She had thought Gus had been just another broken heart to add to the list. Until she had actually started listening, until she saw how the thought that Grizabella returning had cheered him. She didn't think she had seen love until she had heard him talk about their promised dance.
That was why she hadn't rebuffed the scraggily old tart when Grizabella had shown up at the last ball. At least, not at first. She had thought the worn queen had come to fulfill her promise. Instead it had seemed the Glamour Cat had only come to accuse and frighten kittens. Angry for Gus's sake, she had come down on Grizabella as hard as any of the others.
Then, impossibly, it was Grizabella who was chosen to be the Jellicle Choice. An honor most of the tribe, including herself, had expected to go to Gus.
She had felt conflicted then and felt conflicted now. Jilted on the old tom's behalf, happy for the ragged and troubled queen, heartsick at the thought that Gus and Grizabella would now never have their long desired dance. Her only comfort was that Gus did not know that Grizabella had returned, that she was gone for good.
And now even that slim comfort had been snatched away.
After all, why would Gus be mistaking her for Grizabella again after all these years if he wasn't somehow aware of the events of the recent ball?
Jellylorum raised her eyes to the sky and stared up at the stars. The stars every cat was taught were the souls of Jellicles not yet reborn, watching over the living. Was one of them Grizabella? “Are you watching us now?” she demanded of the distantly blinking lights, rage and pain and the strain of caregiving overwhelming her. “Do you see? He loved you and you left him! You left him, old and sick and waiting for something that will never come! I will never forgive you for how you've hurt him!”
She buried her face in her hands as she broke down in tears, breaking under the weight she bore alone.
She never felt the cold breeze that slipped past her into the den. Nor heard the sad voice that whispered into the ear of the old sleeping tom.
“My heart is pierced by Cupid.
I disdain all glittering gold.
There's nothing that can console me
but a dance with my jolly sailor bold.”