A/N: I suppose this is my first Cats fanfic ever! I used to read them a lot before I discovered that the site was free and I loved them. When I heard this song called Black Roses Red, I had a small story going through my head, and because my favorite pairing is Jenny and Skimble, I had to do it this way. Enjoy and Please review!

Black Roses Red

Jenny sat in her house, more depressed than she had ever been. Bustopher Jones hadn't spoken to her in months, and the last thing he told her was that he was breaking off their relationship. This has happened before: they would get into an argument, he'd tell her he was leaving, then he'd come back to her. They would move on like nothing had ever happened.

But, not this time. He had left the Junkyard, and if he was around, he had made absolutely sure she hadn't seen him. Jenny sighed, thinking this was it for them. He did say he was serious, but that was what he'd said before. Maybe this time, he really meant it.

They'd been in love for so long, Jenny almost blamed herself. He had mentioned kittens a time or two, but Jenny didn't feel she was ready for her own yet. She'd been taking care of other cat's kittens and she enjoyed being around them, but she wasn't sure she was ready to take on her own 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Bustopher had gotten a little upset with her for not wanting to try after a few weeks of discussing it. Others had heard about this, for it was everywhere after Tugger found out. Dang Tugger, he could be such a prat. Jelly, her best friend, told her it was nothing to be ashamed of, though it was sad he left for what seemed like for good this time.

Still, a small part of her blamed herself.

A knock came at her door, breaking her deep thoughts and startling her. Her candle was still lit and it was probably Munkustrap about to ask if she was alright. He'd been coming by for the past few weeks, most likely worried about her. She got up, knowing who it was, but her mind was in for a shock.

When she opened her front door, Skimbleshanks stood there in his brown vest and gold collar as usual for his line of work (pun intended).

"Jenny," he said. "May I come in? I would like to talk to you."

"Sure," the Gumbie said tiredly. She hadn't slept in days. Her and Skimble had been friends for a long time, ever since they were kittens in fact. They'd just talked mostly and when Jenny found herself at the train station, she'd made sure to see if Skimble was coming in from another trip about the Northern Hemisphere. If he had, they would talk for a few minutes, but then Jenny would have to get going.

"You've been distressed I hear," the railway cat said, sitting down on a couch in her living room. Jenny sat down across from him, only nodding. "I'm sorry about Bustopher."

"It's alright," Jenny sighed, though both of them knew it wasn't. "Maybe it was me."

"Don't say that," Skimble said, almost scolding her. She looked up at him with curiosity. He was shaking his head. "Bustopher left you, that's his problem. He must've had an issue..."

"With me," Jenny replied. "It was this kitten thing we'd been talking about for a while. He wanted his own."

"What was wrong?" Skimble asked in his scottish tongue. "You take care of kittens all the time."

"I just don't think I'm ready for my own yet," she told him warily.

"Well, if yer sure," the railway cat said. "In my opinion, you'd make the perfect mother for any kit." Jenny smiled weakly.

"Thanks Skimble," she sighed, looking into her fireplace. "I'm just unsure of myself."

"You shouldn't be," he said. "You're an excellent queen, you love what you do, and everyone in the Junkyard shows you respect."

"I suppose, but I must have something wrong with me if the smartest cat in town left me," Jenny said, looking into her kitchen where there were black roses in a vase on her table. Skimble's glass green eyes followed hers and he saw the vase.

"Why do you keep those around?" the railway cat asked.

"It was the last thing Bustopher sent me," Jenny sighed.

"Well, that's jus' depressin'," he said. She knew he was right, but she was hoping every day that the cat about town would come back through that front door. "Ye need to move on."

"I know, but it's hard," Jenny said as Skimble got up and looked at the black roses. "Especially when I fear another tom I know would never see me the same way Bustopher did." Skimble's eyes averted to Jenny to see her standing weakly before the fire, her orange fur reflecting the light of the flames.

"I'm sure whoever you're thinking of would try something if you asked him," Skimble said, a touch of sorrow in his tone Jenny didn't catch. She wasn't sure she was ready for this, but she decided it was now of never.

"Skimble," Jenny said, clearing her throat, making sure he was looking straight into her eyes before she went on. Her voice was a little rusty, for she hadn't sang a note since Bustopher left, but he wasn't the only tom in her life. Sometimes he had failed to understand that. Her paws shook slightly, but she ignored this. Her voice rang at a volume only the two of them could hear:

"Can I ask you a question please? Promise you won't laugh at me. Honestly I'm standing here, afraid I'll be betrayed. As twisted as it seems, I only fear love when it's in my dreams, so let in the morning light and let the darkness fade away.

Can you turn my black roses red? Can you turn my black roses red?

Drowning in my loneliness, how long must I hold my breath? So much emptiness inside I could fill the deepest sea. I reach to the sky as the moon looks on, one last year has come and gone. It's time to let your love rain down on me.

Can you turn my black roses red? Can you turn my black roses red? Can you turn my black roses red? 'Cuz

I'm feelin' like I'll blame it on love, I'm feelin' like I'll blame it on love, I'm feelin' like I'll blame it on love, I'm feelin' like I'll blame it on love, I'm feelin' like I'll blame it on love, I'm feelin' like I'll blame it on love!

Can you turn my black roses red? Can you turn my black roses red? Can you turn my black roses red?

Cuz I'm feelin like I'll blame in on love. I'm feeling like I'll blame it on love ..."

Her voice gave way and she stopped singing. Her paws shook more than ever, and her legs became weak. She knelt on the floor, sobbing. Skimble couldn't believe what she had just done. He hadn't heard her singing in a long time and what she had sung about...

He ran to her side, putting a paw on her collapsed form. He sat down and took a crying Jenny into his arms. He had always had a fancy for her, but he felt they were just friends and he didn't want to ruin that for his own admirations. Truth being, he hated seeing her in such a way for so long, and tonight he felt that he should talk with her. He didn't expect this at all. Her head rested on his shoulder and she kept crying.

"You must think I'm a fool," she sobbed.

"No," Skimble contradicted. He licked her headfur, which hadn't been groomed in weeks. "Yer strong, and to see ye like this breaks my heart." Jenny looked up at the railway cat who seized the moment, and pressed his lips to hers. She felt his paws come off of her and something being placed her fur. Their lips unlatched and she stared at Skimble.

"There," he said. "You need some sleep, lay down." She laid on the floor, but Skimble disapproved of the place she chose. He lifted her up and put her on the couch where fresh tears fell from her face. She glanced in the mirror across from her to see a rose in her fur. Smiling, she felt Skimble come next to her.

"I'll not leave ye tonight, lass," he said softly, coming behind her and placing one protective paw on around her waist as he laid next to her.

"What about the Midnight mail?" Jenny asked.

"What about it?" Skimble asked in a whisper. "Sleep." The Gumbie yawned, placing her own paw over Skimble's that was around her waist.

"Yer more important to me," she heard him say before she fell asleep for once in a long time... in his arms.

I need your reviews!