Summary: The Grand Councilwoman realizes that the Hawaiian family is fine all on their own, and that they need no further help when such a strong bond is formed.
Disclaimer: I don't own Lilo and Stitch.
Handwritten Letter
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The Grand Councilwoman was grateful she was in her choice of office doing the task, and not in that throne room with all of its grandiose looks. Though good for receiving distinguished guests, it was dysfunctional for work. Which is where this office came in—half the size as the formal one, but still showcasing a ceiling higher than usual with three walls all glass. Four reptilian, masked guards were always at attention, two outside her doors, two on the inside. Their job was to stand still and look menacing, but they passed the time having staring contests with each other.
Not that it mattered. The Grand Councilwoman never paid them any attention, especially now as she was reading a letter.
…Believe it or not, this beautiful island is considerably the most picturesque place for such a ceremony to occur. Everyone was very content to finally see Nani and David wed. You see, they had been together, but circumstances had prevented them to hold the ritual off. And then after the wedding, Stitch drove the guests around the solar system on a newly built spacecraft. I must say that the luau reception was quite the party. The spit fire roasted pig and pineapple was especially delicious. In fact, everything here—from the culture to the people to the cuisine to the atmosphere—is ambrosial. Admittedly, I do not look forward to the day where both Earthians and we 'aliens' interact, for then more would vacation to this lovely island.
But I digress. While David and Nani are out on their honeymoon, Pleakley and I will be watching over Lilo and Stitch. Rest assured, all former experiments are content in their habitats and behaving.
Sincerely,
Dr. Jumba Jookiba, Evil Genius
Paper. The letter actually was written on paper. How archaic, when the galaxy society now held everything electronically. Yet somehow, seeing the awkward handwriting due to holding a too-small pen brought the note a sense of being thoughtful and personal. Almost charming for being old-fashioned. It wasn't the first follow-up report on paper she had received, but the effect still remained. Not only that, but his writing style had changed since the last year's file. It seemed lackadaisical—but maybe that could be accredited to the so-called 'island effect.'
Like the reports before it, she brought up a projected screen and keyboard. Her long, bony fingers pressed in a code, and the computer began to scan the long letter into a saved file. This way, she could destroy the hard copy so that the only space it took up was, literally, virtual.
How many reports had it been since Experiment 62—Stitch was taken up by the human family? At first she had demanded logs of the condition and behavior of Stitch and his 'ohana' every week. Gradually, that elongated to once a month, once every two months, and then once every three months. Finally, it was once a year. But now it seemed like it even that was far too often.
She had to admit, it was engaging to read about life on Earth. Their culture was fastidious yet homely, both intriguing and repulsive. Though she would never admit it, she looked forward to each report on how the family was doing. More than once she had the urge to visit, yet schedule and protocol demanded her attention to other, endless matters. Not to mention how ridiculous it would have been for her to visit the small young planet. And the truth that she barely knew them. No, it would have been bad taste to drop in on her space ship to witness one of these Hawaiian luaus.
Regardless, she was pleased to see that the two young humans, David and Nani, were wed after all this time. Agent Pleakley finally managed to open up his own clothing line. He ended up hiring a human to be his spokesman because people were still queasy at the notions of other intelligent life. Dr. Jumba eventually still called himself an 'evil genius', only now there was less 'evil' in his experiments. He used his knowledge to open up a laboratory for genomic biology, researching drugs, genes, and treatments for various human disorders and diseases.
Little Lilo was no longer 'little.' She had entered her secondary school, forming new friends and joined a surfing club. According to Dr. Jumba, she had taken up an interest in biology, offering help in his new lab with nascent talent. The Grand Councilwoman thought back to when she first saw the obdurate child. Her nature was definitely an original one—with a personality like that, her possibilities would be endless.
Finally, Stitch had a sort of girlfriend, apparently a fellow experiment named Angel. While he wasn't playing with Lilo, he often went on insane adventures on the islands. Who knew that a creature once thought of as vacuous could hold higher concepts of love? Stitch and his 'cousins' never ceased to amaze the Grand Councilwoman.
In short, they were all in high spirits. They had grown on each other, accepting their good parts and their flaws. Their family was no longer 'small and broken' as Stitch had initially described, but now happy, safe, and healthy.
She leaned back in her chair and exhaled. The Grand Councilwoman relaxed for the briefest of moment, allowing herself to be content with their happiness and peacefulness. She felt she had the right to relish in the thought; after all, it was her decision that allowed Stitch to stay with the family. Then again, because of his act of gathering up all the renegade experiments, she had granted both him and Dr. Jumba amnesty. Surprisingly, they elected to stay on earth.
Well, that was that. She straightened up, stretching her long fingers. As of this moment, it seemed like she would not need to bother Dr. Jumba with reports anymore.
She extended her hands over the floating symbols to type, but then withdrew. Instead, she pressed a small yellow button on the side of her wide desk. A screen appeared in front of her of the secretary, filing eight long nails all at once. The Grand Councilwoman narrowed her eyes at this—if it was one thing she despised, it was people not attending their jobs.
She cleared her throat. "Miss Sflikjsj."
The secretary jumped three feet up in her seat and saluted. Her long, elephant-like nose changed three shades paler in fright. "Y-yes, Your Eminence?" She realized the nail file was still in one of her hands. Quickly, she threw it off screen where a second later a loud "Ow!" and crash could be heard.
The Grand Councilwoman was silent for a moment, letting her secretary see the disdain on her face. Yes, Miss Sflikjsj knew this would be her last assignment if she did not quickly redeem herself.
"Your Eminence—I'm sor—"
"Enough of that. I need you to fetch me paper, an ink pen, and an envelope," she waved a hand mid-sentence.
"Yes, Ma'am. Paper." She paused, and then her eyes grew wide in shock. "Wait. Paper? Ink pen? Enve-what?"
The Grand Councilwoman only stared back. There was no need to explain herself to an incompetent secretary. Equally, the secretary had a deep look of consternation once she realized she screwed up again. The poor woman got the idea, and quickly muttered a 'goodbye' before signing off.
No doubt it would take at least an hour, maybe forty five minutes if her glare truly got to the girl, to find paper in the technology apt world. Meanwhile, the Grand Councilwoman ruminated on her draft. It wouldn't do to sit while thinking. So, she stood up and paced the length of her office.
The guards broke off their staring contest, watching her warily from the corners of their eyes. Only with important matters did she actually pace her office while thinking. They were curious, but knew better as guards to ask anything. She ignored their stares, folding her hands behind her back. She walked back and forth, gazing every now and then at the polished off-white floor and through lengthy windows at the galaxy she ruled.
Slowly, the essay formulated in her mind. Dr. Jumba would probably be reading it to the others. Perhaps it would be best to dim the syntax a bit—but no, that wasn't her style. She shook her head, striding along the windows.
She revised it, changed some words here and there, and corrected some errors. At one point she realized that her letter would come as a surprise. It had been a while since she last wrote to congratulate on their progress. Something…friendly would have to be done first. That being the case, she decided to start with a short panegyric, once again praising them for successfully finding all experiments.
Then, the essay would continue to explain the main points. Of course they would still be under the Federation's protection. However, annual reports would no longer be necessary. On the other hand if any problems arose, they would have the ability to contact Captain Gantu directly. Though, she doubted they would need any help with the indestructible Stitch around. Finally, the letter would conclude with more prosaic formalities.
At that moment, the secretary entered. This was surprising, considering she usually sent a runner to bring the Grand Councilwoman whatever she needed. The secretary must have been more frightened for her job that she initially thought. The secretary stumbled towards the desk, completely missing the leader of the galaxy at the periphery of the office.
The secretary looked completely frenetic and irresolute at the Grand Councilwoman's absence. Her hands were trembling with the weight of the enormous and unnecessary amount of paper she held.
"Miss Sflikjsj, you may simply set it down on my desk."
"Oh, Your Eminence!" she jumped, almost dropping the load. Placing what the Grand Councilwoman requested on the desk, the secretary quickly left. The guards closed the doors behind the her, staring dumfounded at the large pile of paper now dominating her work space.
The Grand Councilwoman strode over once again and sat in the familiar chair. Selecting a single pen from a large box of writing instruments the girl brought, she tested the weight in her hand. Pulling out a pristine white sheet, she began to write the letter she had formed in her head from memory. She wrote out the letter, she came to realize that she would miss the reports from Earth. Over the course of the years, it seemed she had developed a predilection for the family's tales and misadventures.
She vacillated when she got to the conclusion, debating once again in her mind on how to formally recapitulate all her points. Sometimes the Grand Councilwoman wished for another to talk to, to help sort out her ideas with. With her job came a lassitude over the years, yet she would not trade it for anything. And since she was the leader of pretty much everything—even unknowing populations—it didn't matter anyway.
Still, there were times she wondered what it was like to have a family. Neither being married nor having children of her own, she had no idea how it was to live with someone else, to hear opinions without being wary of authority, or to hold arguments without thinking of politics.
Eventually, she finished her letter. She read it over once, and then decided to rewrite it. Second time through, it still was not to her liking. After three drafts, she finished handwriting her final copy, signed it, and sealed it. The Grand Councilwoman looked at the letter, and then at her hand. How nostalgic it was to hold a pen again. Penmanship was a talent of hers for which classmates in elementary school loathed. It was a demanding and menial task, but tradition nonetheless.
The Grand Councilwoman called on the secretary again. This time, the secretary was ready at attention, smiling asininely. "Yes, Grand Councilwoman?"
"Summon Captain Gantu to my office," she notified.
"Yes, Ma'am. Would you like me to take away the writing utensils?"
"Ah, yes. That, too." The Grand Councilwoman ended the talk. A moment later, the secretary bustled in and took the clutter away. As soon as she left, the giant Captain strode in, his colossal frame practically taking up the massive doorway. The two diminutive guards tensed at his sight. His walk boomed in the openness of the space. Gantu cleared the distance from the entrance to a couple meters from her desk in three strides.
"Your Eminence summoned me?" he stood still.
"Indeed I did," the Grand Councilwoman said, also standing up. She extended the letter over her desk. "This needs to be delivered."
He raised an eyebrow. Not very often did she ask him to personally relay messages, save for extremely confidential matter. However, the look on his face conveyed that he already knew where the envelop was going. "Hawaii," he said gruffly.
She nodded in confirmation. "In all likelihood, it shall be your last visit to the planet as well." Her statement made him show a look of surprise. She bet that throughout all his trials with Earth and its peculiar inhabitants, he developed a sort of proclivity for the place.
"I…see," he said, his shoulders slumping for the smallest amount of time. He took the letter from her and placed it in one of his pockets. "It shall be done."
"You are dismissed."
Bowing, he turned and left the room. She watched him go, remaining standing until the guards closed the doors behind him. She sat in her hair, narrowing her eyes at the numerous electronic notifications that demanded her attention on a screen. The letter had set her back at least two hours—but with the amount of work that had already been ahead, it would have been a long night regardless.
If only she could take a vacation to that pleasant little bunch of islands…
End.
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Okie-dokie, my first Lilo and Stitch fanfic! 33 Oh, man, I just fell in love with the movie(s) all over again. Especially the aliens. It would be so awesome if there was just a movie with the aliens. They're all so adorable! (Grand Councilwoman aside, who's kinda unapproachable.) I know it was kinda word heavy, but I just want to try out writing a thought process, heh.
Well, please review and tell me wacha think! Would you guys like more little stories concerning the GCW? I need words of encouragement, ;) .
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Epilogue.
"Captain Gantu, what is all of this?"
"They're called leis, Your Eminence. They made them as a gift."
"Yes, but one hundred?"
"They said it was because we are all one ohana."