The Blue Werewolf

Part II: The True Hearted

C/By: Kenjaje

Edited by: raVen

Chapter 1: A Year Later

October 28: 10:44 PM: Rooftop

Night settled quickly and yet slowly over the island; a gentle fog had rolled in from the day's rain. However, above the low fog raised a small tower, connected to a very unique house, and upon the roof of that tower, sat a very unique, blue-furred creature, gazing up at the stars.

"Looking at the moon again, Stitch?" Softly asked the cheerful voice of his friend. She came through the skylight hatch; her feet were supported by a gravity lift, after an accident that occurred the last time they were getting up to the roof by that method. She balanced a bowl of ice cream in her right hand and a spoon in her left.

"Uh huh." He replied, averting his gaze toward her. She smiled and set the bowl down.

"I could only bring one up at a time." She explained unnecessarily, as she went back through to get the other.

"Isa oketaka, Stitch not hungry." He said after she disappeared.

"Well then I guess I'll have to eat both," she spoke in a light-hearted voice, which grew louder and sharper as she came up through the hatch again. She stepped off the platform which raised her and walked over and sat down next to him, taking a spoonful of mint-chocolate chip and eating it.

She looked at the scenery beneath and above her without words for a moment. It was like being in the sky, between clouds; the fog on the ground gave the illusion that they were much higher up than they really were. She felt a little dizzy.

"So…" She began, to get some talk from her friend, "Are you going werewolf when the time comes? It's Halloween, after all...makes it extra fun."

"Nabata-ista." He replied, looking back at her again. She smiled.

"Tonight would be a great time to start. But the moon's not quite full yet…" She looked up at the sky, where the giant pearl sat, gibbously gleaming at them. She tired to guess it at a little under three quarters full. "Maybe it's close enough…at least for a little bit of change."

"Naga tooka." He said, turning down her idea. "At least…not now." She looked at her friend with sympathy, and reached over to stroke his shoulder. He looked at her, a little uneasily, but didn't do anything to stop her actions—didn't want to do anything.

"I understand," She said, "just as long as you don't stop acting like yourself. I know it's odd to be a werewolf and all…and I know sometimes, while the moon's like this—before its full—you sometimes seem to get…restless."

"Restless?" He repeated.

"It's been a long year, hasn't it?" She said rhetorically, changing the subject with a spoonful of ice cream. He lied back and closed his eyes.

"Eh." He agreed. "Still no cure."

"Cheer up." She said, nudging his stomach with the handle of her spoon. The moon was abruptly covered by a dark, hazy cloud, which blocked its light. "Someday we'll find a cure. Besides…you kind of have a cure already. You can choose when you want to 'go werewolf', so at least you're not like those crazy ones that those brave camera men capture on film for our entertainment." She spoke with optimism, referring to many movies she had seen.

"Stitch still not understand why…" He said with a musing tone.

"Cause you're Stitch!" She said enthusiastically, setting the bowl aside and lying next to him. "And plus…you're a different werewolf altogether. You're not like that one in the story that attacks people who get lost in the woods at night, or on T.V. who keeps scaring people in their sleep; you're a lot nicer than I was expecting…considering all that damage you caused to the house last year." She turned around and sat up again, looking his face over. "To be kind of honest…I like you being a werewolf, a little bit." She admitted a little afraid of his reaction.

"Stitch like too, sometimes." He said, getting up. "Is different, like another Stitch." He pranced across the roof, toward the edge, where he paused and looked at the moon again. "Like Superman, or Batman...secret identity. Only Stitch and Lilo know."

"That's another thing I like; it's kind of our little secret." She commented, standing to face him. He turned around, a gust of wind ruffling his ears. The light of the moon came through the clouds above.

"Stitch feels stronger, even when not werewolf. Helps win against Gantu."

"He still can't figure out what's going on!" She giggled.

"Stitch faster, Stitch smarter, Stitch better!"

"You've always been awesome." She told him, making her way to where he was. The rooftop was covered in darkness again, making Lilo step hesitantly. Stitch put out his hand and kept her from going too far.

"Eh…" he replied, with a loss of enthusiasm. "But at same time," he paused while she petted his head, "seems bad."

"How so? You never talked about it like that before…" In truth they rarely spoke of it's pros and cons at all.

"Like Lilo said…Stitch getting…restless. Maybe is bad? Maybe Stitch slowly losing control?"

"Don't say that." She said with a slight plea. "If you do, you just might."

"And what about if Stitch bite Lilo?" He pondered. "Stitch been very careful, but could happen on accident." Lilo looked down, without an answer. "Then is cure…Stitch and Lilo can't find one…"

"Except for…silver." She pointed out; "But that's only for killing werewolves…" She said with a little shudder.

He gave her a quick glance, the moonlight shimmering across his eyes for a moment as it peeked out behind the clouds again. Then, he flipped backward to the center of the roof. "But maybe…is all in Stitch's head."

"If you ask me, I think it is." She said moving toward his new location. He smiled comfortably. "It's almost been a year…are you used to it now?" She asked, for she was still unsure of his sensitivity on the subject.

"Eh…but Lilo knew that." He told her reassuringly.

"Well then…how would you feel if there was no cure…would you go to Jumba then?" Stitch paused at her unexpected question.

"Naga nota," was the only thing he could say. He stared down at the bowl of ice cream at his feet. Lilo sat beside him again. He picked up the spoon in the bowl, and began swirling the slightly melted portion of it against the edges, marooning the frozen clumps to the center of the bowl. "…Thanks." He said suddenly.

"You're welcome—except, we were out of chocolate chips."

"Not ice cream." He told her.

"Yes it is." She said, not aware of what he was trying to say.

"Naga. Thanks…but not for ice cream." He clarified.

"Then…thanks for what?" The moon hid itself again, causing her to move a little closer to him. He took a bit of the slush in his spoon and brought it to his mouth.

"Lots." He said simply, a billion things on his mind. She'd done a lot of things with him since he became the howler to the moon: she'd watched his back and kept an eye out for anything that would help them find a cure, for one thing, though there wasn't much. They'd tried many experiments, mostly involving garlic, which gave him tremendous headaches, so they stopped eventually.

Another: she kept the secret well. She was very loyal to it too; if anything, he slipped up more times than she, and she even covered him when he did. He'd never asked her to keep it quiet, nor to even be concerned about it. She more or less assumed her part as though she were obligated, which made him feel sort of sad, actually. He would rather she not know, then she wouldn't worry so much.

On occasion she would come with him, when he was fully changed. She would ride on his back while he exhausted his energy running through the woods; an alternate medium to the destruction he'd caused the year before, which was much more costly. And then she would tell him how fun it was, even though it wasn't truly supposed to be "fun".

But most importantly, she generally treated him the same, as if nothing had happened. They still caught experiments—that was the same, and it was even easier too, because of the obvious. Somehow, she managed to turn what was supposed to be a curse, into almost what seemed like a pastime.

"I hope you weren't planning on wearing that…" She said, interrupting his thoughts.

"Gaba?" He looked down at his stomach. The bowl was resting on his knees, and it was slightly tilted, the soup of the ice cream dripped onto his coat. "Ah tachoota!" He moaned, standing up to prevent any more from getting on him. He scrubbed at his stomach, and ate it from his hands, until finally the sticky feeling went away. He picked up the bowl and drank the rest of the soup, now that he had acquired the appetite for it.

She took the bowl from his hand after the last drop popped on his tongue before he had a chance to blink. She smiled, putting his bowl with hers, and adding both the spoons to the stack.

"I'll be right back." She told him, stepping onto the platform and going back through the skylight, taking the bowls with her. And just like that it was quiet again where he sat alone on the roof. The moon timidly peeked out in the sky, shining down on him.

"Maybe I will." He thought. "There's no harm in it. I'm still in control of the curse; I'm the one that decides when it comes out after all." He stood to his feet, staring up at the moon. He moaned as though he was nauseated, slightly swaying forward and back. He kept the moon in his sights, as the curse elicited.

A few moments later, she returned, and stepped onto the gravity lift which had carried her from the floor to the skylight. But when she pressed the button on the floor-panel with her toe, it didn't move.

"Ah man…" She groaned, rolling her eyes. "Jumba's really gotta work with this one." She grumbled, stepping off of it and moving to her bed. She climbed up onto the mattress, turned, and stared up at the skylight. She took a deep breath and, with a count to three, jumped toward the hole in the roof. She caught it with her fingers, barely holding on. She pulled up, but didn't get far, her arms falling back and her elbows locking again. It was that first accident all over again.

"Stitch, can you help me?" She asked with a strenuous voice. But after a few seconds, there was no response. "Stitch!" She called, "I can't hold on!" She glanced back up, and saw a face staring down at her that was different yet familiar. He stood over the hole, his head and hand were leaning in, his arm was stretching out, shagged and ruffled with unkempt fur. She grabbed onto his fingers with one hand, and grabbed on to his forearm with the other. Effortlessly, he lifted her up, and set her down on the rooftop. She smiled, noting the changes: shaggier hair, longer claws, smaller eyes and the hint of a snout.

"I knew you couldn't resist." She teased, leaning over and scratching his chin.