A/N: You didn't think Stitch was always going to stay good, did you?

- 1955: a small farming town in Kansas.

The rolling crops of yellow were dulled naturally by February's unforgiving gust, it was the day of Valentine's and Angel had chosen to live a life away from Hawaii; as well as a life away from Stitch. He trampled around the hidden brush of the shagged bush area, mumbling to himself as his aging creator was at work building tin towers.

"These will do until we can drive to nearest city," Jumbaa told him, admiring the use of his makeshift workings. "And besides, you've given up on goodness. What point?"

"Yeah," Stitch muttered in agreement, depressed.

"Ah, now 626. The little girl is finally grown and has married her older Hawaiian boy who is friend," He chuckled deeply. "Biggest girl has family of her own now. And to what more do you owe your present time? Here, in this time my first prodigy; you'll be appreciated for what you are. Like in black and white movies, you will be feared."

The blue alien smiled encouragingly and then rubbed the scruff of white on his chin.

"And big battle tanks?"

"Yes, real earth fire power that is made pacifically to give you a challenge." Jumbaa fed him the knowledge he now craved in his void-filled life. "Think about it. Following what you were created for, 626. You can never get real job because, well, you are too smart for college education and the love of your life --- gone. And you are now alone."

He picked out a framed photo from the pocket of his lab coat and sighed, reliving the moment Pleakey had discovered 'he' was actually a 'she' and they had dated for one another for a very, very short time. Stitch ground his teeth together, flexing his arms.

"Time to get down to business." He grunted, uncoiling his other two blue arms from his lower rib cages and getting ready to slam a punch into a tin wall. "Stitch is ready!"

Jumbaa sighed patiently. "You have grown soft over years of lounging," he said to his irate creation, poking a sagging bag of furry blue flesh. "You will re-start all fitness."

" 'Ih!"

"And who knows?" His quadruplet eyes closed together. "Maybe they will try and to make the peace-offering with an Elvis autograph." He guffawed at this improbability.

Stitch sighed, remembering Lilo and their better days, then turned to his new lifestyle.

– At a local hardware store.

"I'm tellin' you!" The farmer told the bored-looking clerk behind the desk. "Dere was dis flying' surf board come sweeping over my head, my fields and then back yonder."

"Mr. Markesan, is it really necessary for me to call the authorities again?" Her well-manicured hand hovered near the wall phone. "I hear Happy Acres still has a place."

"I'm tellin' ya-!" He fought to climb over the false-oak-paneled front desk. "S'true."

"Hold on, hold on. There's someone coming in." She waved pleasantly to a grey coat-clad, derby-hat-wearing individual, glad someone had a bit of taste. "Sir, need help?"

The shadowy-faced man turned her way, shook his head and then proceeded down an aisle. "Saw… saw…" Stitch said under his breath. He had not yet decided how far he intended to go with his decision to start down his original path. "Jumbaa need a saw."

His eyes roamed carefully down the brands on sale. When at last they stopped on the one that looked about right, Stitch heard the strangest swish sound. He perked up his ears and turned to listen down the other aisle. Chi-chu, chi-chu, chi-chu, it was going.

"Hmm."

Stitch, in his moment of being side-tracked, scaled up the plastic tan shelves and then peered through the peg-holed wall to take in a rather interesting sight. A little girl was making a jangling silver coil contort down a pile of boxes; ones filled with other ones.

"A slinky, a slinky." She sang quietly to herself.

He cocked his head, intrigued at her display of genuine enjoyment of the simple toy.

Had there ever been a time when he was that wonder-minded as well?

To be continued…