Copyright notice: Disney owns Disney characters. All I own are my words. I bow before the mega-conglomerate shadow of Disney.

Town Hall Meeting

The only sound Elisa heard as she entered the Hall was the soft, steady pace of shoe-falls near the podium. She wondered if Matt had decided to come early, but instinctively knew better- Matt never arrived on time. Her instinct was confirmed when a spat of agitated quacking echoed throughout the rotunda.

"Donald, calm down. You know we can't understand you when you're like this."

Another string of angry clucking, an irritated calm, then, in a perfectly clear and mellow baritone, "Why now, Mickey? Why don't we do this more slowly?"

"I think Donald's right, Mick," came another voice, slower, less refined, usually far more jovial. "This all seems kinda…sudden."

An aggravated sigh. "I know it seems that way, fellas. But it's not like we haven't talked about this ever in the last seventy years…oh, hiya, Detective."

She frowned inwardly as she walked down the aisle towards Mickey. She was starting to get clumsy- there was no way that he should have been able to hear her coming from so far away…unless those ears really were for something more than ornamental.

Mickey, Donald and Goofy all stood in front of the central podium, Donald's arms crossed and eyes narrowed at Mickey. Goofy seemed to be refereeing whatever conflict they seemed to be mired in. Elisa almost didn't notice Minnie sitting off to the side, watching the three, even her bow attentive to the proceedings. Briefly wondering if Minnie was the real glue that held Animasia together, Elisa held back her speculations and focused on her reason for being there.

"Hi, Mickey. Did you still want a perimeter check and a crowd control group tonight?"

The Mouse nodded. "That'd be swell, Elisa. Can you tell Goliath to stay inside tonight instead of taking the aerial watch?"

"Absolutely." She cocked her head, questioning. "Expecting some problems tonight?"

"Indubitably," Donald muttered, his comment lost in an irritated squawk.

"No, Detective," Mickey replied, losing his happy-go-lucky demeanor for a second as he flashed Donald a biting glare. "It would be nice to see Goliath in person for once rather than just his silhouette."

Not buying the glib answer for a second, Elisa nevertheless nodded. "I'll make sure he gets the message. Do you want anyone up in the air tonight?"

"Not tonight, Elisa."

She cocked her head, questioning. "You don't think there's any threat from the Exiles."

"No."

"I'd like to be prepared-"

"We'll be fine," came the succinct reply, and for the second time that night, Mickey briefly let his cheerful guard down. In that instant, she could see all of those seventy years of existence wearing on him, seeping downwards into that always genial smile, harrowing his warm eyes.

Elisa let the matter drop, at least in front of the Mouse. "We'll keep the windows open, just in case."

Mickey nodded.

"What windows?" Donald muttered sullenly.

"Stop it, Donald."

All three turned towards Minnie, silent up till that point. It constantly amazed Elisa how Minnie could immediately hold all attention in the room with a simple command. She was Mickey's total complement…just with more grace.

The bickering quieted down, Minnie turned her attention to Elisa. "The clan should be arriving soon, and the rest of the security patrol should be around. Do you think now would be a good time to set up a check point?"

Knowing a brush off when she heard one, Elisa simply nodded. "I'll come back when everything's set to go."

"Thanks, Detective," Mickey said as she turned to leave.

Thanks, nothing, her mind whispered as she trod back up the plush rotunda. What are you hiding from us?

Once back outside, waiting for the rest of the security crew to meet her, she focused her thoughts back to the present task. She weighted the size of the crowd against the number of patrols there ought to be, then worried about the instability of the crowd given the range of topics that could be broached.

As dusk settled into the still-chilly winds of mid-April, Elisa braced her back against the side of the Town Hall, waiting for the familiar wings to appear in the sky and always, always protect her.

The heart of Animasia remained an enigma even to those who dwelled there since its creation some 70-odd years ago. In a world imbued with magic, the Town Hall still radiated mystery. Its exterior was nothing remarkable: a stand-alone Colonial courthouse, stacked brick, white trim, flagpole in front with a minute-by-minute unfurling new flag. It was the interior that caused far more consternation.

No one knew what the interior looked like.

Perhaps more accurately, no one knew how it looked like it did, for everyone had a different vision of it.

Elisa recalled the time she had seen a photograph, and a well-hidden one, of the American Senate assembly, and realized how very similar the Town Hall appeared to that picture. Ever the traditionalist, Mickey paced down the aisle of benches which could easily have doubled for pews on a Sunday morning in 1774 in a small New England village.

No one saw the same room.

It was an unspoken rule not to ask others what they saw within the inconspicuous building; some speculated that it was like prying into someone's mind.

In a world whose foundations rested upon creativity, of the brilliance of the mind, privacy was usually held as sacrosanct, sometimes much for the worse.

Rippling arm wrapped around her waist, Gaston led Belle into the Hall. Belle sighed as she crushed orange blossom and fire lily petals below her feet; the arboretum had never before seemed so withered before her eyes. Even the warm radiance of the setting sun refused to liven the haggard flora. She quickened her pace, falling out of step with Gaston's more strident gait.

"Ah, ma chere!"

Suddenly swept into the kindly embrace of her friend, Belle returned the hug, smiling. "It's wonderful to see you, Lumiere."

The manservant beamed, his dashing, cavalier smile a welcome sight. "It has been far too long since we've had the pleasure of your company."

"I know."

Gaston coughed.

"Where is…everybody else?" she asked.

"They are on their way, ma chere. I simply took it upon myself to enjoy this little gathering and…" His voice trailed off, eyes meandering over to a very single, very eligible Nakoma. Smoothing the lace at his cuffs, he finished in a distracted voice "…mingle with society before the meeting."

Knowing his attention span was almost entirely gone, Belle quickly asked. "So everyone from the castle is coming?"

He paused, then in a slightly more somber tone, "Except the Master."

"Of course," she replied.

Gaston leaned over and offered his hand to the lanky attendant. "Good to see you again, Lumiere."

Lumiere shook it gamely and returned a curt, "Monsieur." Turning back to Belle, he saluted, "I must bid you farewell for the moment, but I shall see you again later, perhaps?"

She smiled. "Later."

"Till that time, ma chere." He bowed, then hurried over to the far end of the room where the unsuspecting maiden was about to be swept off her feet.

"I don't think he likes me."

Belle sighed. "He just doesn't know you."

"He doesn't want to know me, Belle. And I don't think he wants you to know me, either."

"You're being paranoid."

"I'm trying to be protective. I don't know what I'd do if you were hurt again."

"Lumiere is not going to hurt me."

"Probably not. But with the company that he keeps-"

"Please. Stop." Realizing that her hands had clenched into fists, she consciously loosened them, indented crescents seeped in her flesh where her fingernails had been. "Let's just take our seats. Please."

"I didn't mean to upset you."

"I know."

Neither said anymore as they took their seats on a long cushioned bench, wrought-iron legs disappearing into the piles of unswept leaves. Turning around to look more closely at the tired flower beds, she realized what was troubling her more than anything that evening.

There were no more roses.

Couples, families, friends and neighbors slowly trickled into the Hall as the long evening drew itself into dusk. The empty auditorium filled with Animasia's dwellers, a bobbing mass of individuals greeting, laughing and talking to each other. Minnie wandered around, mingling from group to group, smiling and never giving the slightest hint as to what was about to take place.

Above heads, Genie floated around the room, cracking jokes, keeping the mood festive as Mickey had quietly instructed him to do. Spotting a worried-looking Webigail, he immediately zoomed down next to her and poofed himself into a little blue Pomeranian. Delighted, Webby giggled, and scratched the happily slobbering mutt until a wayward fire cracker exploded close by. As Webby jumped, the Genie-dog hollered cheerily, "Watch where you aim that thing, old man!"

In response, Merlin conjured up airy smoke figurines for Webby to chase and giggle at. Soon several of the younger Toons saw the wispy butterflies and prancing unicorns and quickly ran over to join in, Lilo leading the way.

Minnie meandered by the huddled cluster of fairy godmothers. Eavesdropping, she leaned in just in time to hear Merriweather exclaim, "My blueberry bundt cake can bake circles around your banana bread!"

"It's all in the wrist, dear," Flora said frostily, demonstrating as she did so. A large, steaming loaf of bread appeared in mid-air amid the fairies, and the scent of warm cinnamon drifted lazily over the foyer.

Once the Pride found their usual seats, Mufasa and Taka excused themselves. King Stephan, Shang and Mulan were already gathered together when the brothers approached. "Stephan!" Mufasa greeted warmly as Taka bowed his head in familiar salute to the warriors.

"Sit down, my friend, sit down," Stephan returned, smiling under his thick mustache. "What news do you bring?"

"The whisperings of danger, good king."

The small circle eyed each other warily.

"No one would ever fault you with discretion, Mufasa," Taka drawled.

Shang nodded, but his face remained grave. "We too have heard such tales riding on the wind."

"We'll be ready for them this time," Mulan said quietly, fingering the hilt of her sword.

Above all the noise, the happy cacophony resonated with apprehension. In all of the conversations, no one still knew why they were there, why this meeting had been called, why now?

In the shadows by the front, Mickey heard their fear, knew what such a sudden gathering could excite in them. He had half a mind to call the whole thing off, tell them it had been too long since everyone was in good spirits, and who wanted to host the Halloween party this year? Thanksgiving? Christmas?

But no. This was no longer a decision he could no longer carry by himself. We have grown so much, too much for just me. You didn't plan on this, Old Man. You couldn't have.

…had they outgrown him?

At least Mickey could reassure them that there was absolutely nothing going on with the Exiles. That would be the first order of business.

The entrance door opened with the Wyvern clan striding into the foyer, Elisa leading the way beside Goliath. Out of the shadows the gargoyles emerged, their imposing, winged frames silhouetted against the evening closing behind them. Matt, Darkwing and Launchpad brought up the rear, trying their best to look capable beside the formidable group. With a single nod, the eleven gargoyles spread their wings and leapt into the air, circling the rafters and landing on small outcroppings against the wall. Finding Minnie in the crowd, Elisa nodded.

"Elisa gave the go-ahead."

Mickey turned towards Minnie, seeing the support, the only support he ever needed. "Thanks, Minnie. We're just waiting on a few more people."

"Who…?" Minnie began, searching the crowd and immediately getting her answer. "Oh."

Conversations stopped in mid-sentence as Snow White and Cinderella made their distinguished entrance. Both nonchalant to the spectacle they garnered to themselves, they swept into the Hall in a procession of dignified silk and tiaras, stirring forgotten discussions into awed whispers. Goddesses rather than matriarchs, the two princesses exuded a comforting mystique befitting two of Animasia's greatest recluses. Their shining perfection dulled all other warmth in the amphitheatre as they took their seats in the front row.

"I guess we can start now," Minnie sighed to Mickey.

"They got nothing on you, Min," he whispered as he took the podium, squeezing her shoulder on the way up.

She said nothing, only turning to take her own seat.

And watch.