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I have a strange way of writing Disney stories. I don't stick to the rules of the realm, there are some twists so no matter how close it seems to the original.. all stories are somewhat AU.
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Every morning he wakes up to the symphony of the dawn dancing over Neverland. The rosy fingered morning is made up of bird song and the soft sigh of Pixie Hollow's boughs bending against a cool breeze.
Today is no exception, though the bird song is soft when the ringing of rain drowns out that chirp chirp chirp. Still, even through the storms he hears something sweet in how mother nature speaks to him.
She says, wake up, wake up, my boy.
Says, the day is wasting away.
Says, rise, stretch those wings and fly!
Says, can you taste it in the air?
When Bobble wakes up it's with a jerk to his whole body and beads of glistening sweat rolling down his cheeks. His heart is faster than a hummingbird's and he places a warm hand over his core. His heart feels like it's going to burst forth from his ribcage and he just knows.
"Spring is here."
One day, he might be a seasonal minister. This is what Queen Clarion says. Him, a Tinker Fairy, might be watching over all of one season, might be telling spring to come quick, or might be slowing winter down.
Might even be telling summer to cool off with a few windy days.
That afternoon he's walking on the beach where the Lost things wash up when Tinker Bell finds him. She's breathless and her cheeks are pink, pink, pink.
"I thought I would find you here!"
He pushes his brass goggles up across his brow and rubs at his brown eyes. Sand has a way of getting everywhere.
"Looking for something?" She asks and he lowers the goggles, blinks rapidly and shakes his head.
"I'm like all these things," he gestures widely to the cove of lost treasures that litter the sand. "Lost. Or, trying to be. Where is Peter, hm?"
Peter is playing with the boys. Peter is having a grand time taunting Hook, flying circles around the Jolly Roger. Tinker Bell points out to sea and Bobble squints, follows her finger and…
Yup. There he is, darting in and out of the clouds like a little bird. Bobble used to feel such a painful ache in his chest when he watched Peter but now….
Now he's forgotten why. Maybe she has been gone too long for the hurt to be remembered. He knows she knows that he used to hate Peter Pan, and he can feel her eyes on him now trying to read his body language, his expressions, his mind.
Bobble sighs heavy and sits on the crest of a dune of sand. He gestures to the valley of sand beside him and the grains swirl in a small sandstorm from a sudden gust of wind. Another crest is created by the way these grains fall and Tinker Bell holds a hand to her mouth.
"It is true then!"
"I don't know what season I'm getting yet."
She sits, draws her knees up.
"You're a tinker fairy, Bobble," she says, as if he can't possibly be anything more than that. Normally, he wouldn't be. No one would be. Not even the great Tinker Bell could command the elements, why should Tinker Bobble be able?
"You never asked how I was born."
The quiet between them grows heavy and he glances over to see her scowling at her feet. She looks like a scorned pet.
"I was born from a kiss. True Love's kiss and there I am, wild and blind as a bat. Queen Clarion says I can't see well because Love is Blind. She also says I can do anything I want, that nature speaks to me because Love is the most natural thing in the whole world, and the older it gets the better it is, the stronger it is. It was easy, at first, to just be a Tinker. And then I grew into everything else.."
"Bobble…"
"You missed most of it," he hugs his knees tight.
There's that quiet again, thick, thick, thick.
"I have to go," she says finally.
"Wait!"
Tinker Bell is hovering, gossamer wings catching the high noon sunshine and sparkling madly. She waits, watches, but keeps shooting worried glances over her shoulder toward the boy in the sky.
"But Love can't force it's self on anyone, Bobble," he can still hear Queen Clarion's voice clear as day. He stands tall and shakes his head.
"Bye Tinker Bell."
She flies away, when she will return is never known.
"Because then it's no longer love."