Clopin in Neverland
Chapter One: Tinkerbell's Arrival
This is a Hunchback of Notre Dame and Peter Pan crossover inspired by an idea for a picture that *someday* will get drawn. Basically, Tinkerbell fell in love with Clopin's puppet, whom I have named Pierre. It takes place after both movies. Clopin is unhappy and a little jealous that Phoebus and Esmeralda are together. Peter Pan and Tink are just, well, the usual.
(And girls, I love Phoebus just as much as the rest of you. But I love Clopin too, and I had to do him justice. Besides, Phoebus got Esme anyway. So, when Clopin insults Phoebus or anything like that, just know it's him, not me. Lol)
It's understood that when Pierre speaks, it is really Clopin. And Tinkerbell can "talk" to Peter Pan; that is, he can understand her.
Their flight over the real world was warm and only a little breezy.
A perfect night. The moon was a silver sliver in the partly cloudy night sky. It shone milky gray and shadowy on the city below. The city, asleep and unaware.
Except for those wishing on a star, making underhanded arrangements or sneaking around the back alleys of Notre Dame, everybody was asleep and didn't notice Peter Pan and Tinkerbell flying across the sky.
"This is crazy, Tink," Peter Pan said, alighting on a balcony of Notre Dame. He pushed his hat back to scratch his head. His hand was out flat in front of him with the blonde fairy, Tinkerbell, standing on his palm.
She tossed her head; her hair flipped out of her eyes. Think what you like, she seemed to say, I don't care.
"Aw, it's just – We can't take somebody from here to Neverland if he doesn't want to go." Peter gazed around at the sleeping city.
Tinkerbell shook her fists and stomped furiously. What about that girl and all those children you took last time? It's MY turn!
"Oh, all right," Peter agreed grumpily. He tugged on his hat and jumped off the balcony rail. They zoomed down together to the Parisian streets where the large gypsy cart was parked.
Clopin sighed; his cheek sank further into his palm and his chin inched closer to the empty wine bottle in his left hand lying horizontally on the sideboard of his wagon. He hiccupped morosely.
"Oh Esmeralda, jewel of the Court, finest dancer in Paris –! …" he slouched even more and tipped the bottle far back. It slammed on the board, rattling the row of puppet props and causing a couple to drop to the floor.
"…GONE with that pretty boy, that Captain Oh-so-golden-haired-and-muscular Phoebus! I should've strung him up by his thick neck when I had the chance…"
Clopin couldn't have noticed the landing of Peter Pan outside his wagon for Peter, as always, was noiseless. Clopin didn't hear Tinkerbell's bell-like wings as she tried to find a way into the wagon. Not in the state he was in did Clopin even realize there was no more wine in the bottle.
"I'm ruined. Paris is saved but I'm ruined," he contemplated, thinking of the loss of Esmeralda's dancing. I can't make a decent living off just puppets." He glanced briefly at the miniature Clopin puppet in front of him. "No offense, Pierre."
Pierre's large button eyes stared back blankly.
"None taken," he piped.
Clopin turned away with a detached expression on his face and listlessly dropped the bottle on the floor. It cracked.
Tinkerbell fluttered just outside the boarded window. The slightly faded paintings of Clopin's puppets smiled straight at her from the wood. She brushed their faces affectionately with her hand.
Then she pounded impatiently on one's nose, trying to get in.
Peter Pan stood back on his heels, arms crossed smugly until Tink shot him an angry glare. Clearly, she wanted him to help. He rolled his eyes. Putting his fingers in his mouth, he gave a sharp whistle, loud enough to wake the dead.
Inside, Clopin started up, bonked his head on the ceiling, and viciously took off the window board to see what had made the noise. The board swung down, nearly squishing Tinkerbell, who moved out of the way just in time, chinkling indignantly.
"Who's whistling at this time of night?" Clopin called out. "Not everyone in the world is as happy" he focused on Peter "as you."
Tinkerbell flew upward to Clopin's nose and tinkled excitedly, her face aglow. But only for a moment; Clopin batted her away before she could make him understand.
Peter Pan stepped forward.
"Tinkerbell," he exclaimed, scandalized, "he's an ADULT!"
Clopin scowled at Peter, pulled up the window board, and shut it tight. Tinkerbell just managed to dart in before it closed completely.
"No, wait – Tink!" Peter slapped his hand on the board, then gave it a hearty shove with his shoulder.
Now inside, Tinkerbell zoomed around, looking for something. Her tiny hands were balled into fists.
Clopin's head swiveled in effort to follow her whizzing movements. His head was so muddled he couldn't see her clearly.
"What are you, little creature?" he asked, clawing the air to catch her.
Tinkerbell stopped flying. She made a jingling sound, delighted at what she had spotted. Another second and she had zipped down to sit beside Clopin's puppet, Pierre, who was still sitting on the sideboard, gloved hands held out wide. Tink scooted sideways and kept sneaking bashful looks at the puppet.
Clopin's eyes lit up. "Ah, mon Cherie has l'amour for mon ami, Pierre!" he exclaimed. He tapped his long, pointed nose knowingly. "Pierre," he scolded, scooping the puppet onto his hand, "you didn't tell me you had a lady friend."
Tinkerbell fluttered eagerly, nodding in agreement with Clopin's words.
"I wanted to surprise you!" Pierre cheeped, with his usual dimpled smile.
Tinkerbell grasped Pierre's hand. She tugged on him and pointed at the closed window, then up.
"I don't understand, little fairy," Clopin said, frowning. He bent down, lowering the puppet to look Tinkerbell in the eye.
Tinkerbell made a series of hand movements and gestures indicating that she wanted to take Pierre outside to see Peter and then fly to Neverland and live happily ever after.
But Clopin, of course, didn't understand.
So he opened the window, coming suddenly face to face with Peter Pan, who was rubbing a bruise on his cheek where the board had hit him.
"Ow!" he whined.
Clopin raised an eyebrow. "What were you doing?"
"I was trying to get Tinkerbell back – wait. How can you see me?"
Clopin's eyebrow rose further. Then he smiled. "You are a strange boy." He turned to Tinkerbell. She was wildly chinkling to Peter and pointing at Pierre. Because Clopin had his elbow resting along the windowsill, the puppet was face down.
"Is this your fairy?" Clopin asked Peter.
"Tink! Come here, Tink," Pete called. He made a grab for her and caged her in his fingers.
"Yeah, this is Tinkerbell. And I'm Peter Pan." Peter rubbed his chin, puzzled. "I still don't get why you can see me though. Cuz you're an – ADULT."
Clopin prided himself on his good connection with children; they loved him because he was like them. Offended, he put his face very close to Peter's so their noses were almost touching.
"Excuse me for nosing," he snapped, "but the little lady had something to say. You seem to be ignoring her."
Tinkerbell pouted. Her lower lip poked out and she peered through Peter's fingers like they were prison bars.
The corners of Peter's mouth went down and his nose wrinkled in an expression of affront. He frowned.
"All right, Tink," he released her, "What is it?"
At first, Tinkerbell just strutted indignantly around in midair. Then she stood next to face down Pierre, her hands on her hips.
"Come on Tinkerbell," Peter cajoled, "You can tell me." He shot Clopin a cross look. "I wanna hear."
So Tinkerbell told him.
"What did she say, M'sieur Pan?" Clopin asked, spreading his hand(s).
Peter looked as if he had been forced to eat raw vegetables.
"She says she has fallen in love with –" he pointed at Pierre "that, and wants to take him to Neverland." His hand sliced through the air. "But that's NOT gonna happen!" he added fiercely.
"Neverland? Who's that?"
Peter Pan looked Clopin's wagon up and down. "It's my place," he replied.
Glancing at the amorous Tinkerbell, Clopin raised his eyebrows again. Seldom had the street children who watched his puppet shows shown such affection for his puppet self.
Only ever Esmeralda. When she was a little girl.
Clopin swallowed hard. The wine, he thought as he felt tears prickle in his eyes at the memory of her soft little brown hands clapping in delight at Pierre's antics. Or her gentle touch when she helped him mend a popped seam.
Clopin raised his puppet hand to look at Pierre. The fixed smile, happy expression, oversized gloves.
Why not go? If not just to please Tinkerbell, his new devotee, to spite Esmeralda, he thought with a reckless burst. Bitterness made him daring. And jealousy.
Peter Pan called to Tinkerbell.
She didn't come.
He called again.
She looked beseechingly up at Clopin, big tears wobbling under her eyelashes.
Finally, Pierre spoke up.
"Let's go, Tinkerbell! I want to see Neverland!"
Peter Pan scowled darkly. "But Tink –!"
But Tink was just a blur of blonde and green as she spun around in happiness, filling the air with golden pixie dust.
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Keep checking in for more chapters! I promise Esmeralda and Captain Hook are gonna be in the same shtoree!