Author's Note: Hey, y'all, it's been a long while, hasn't it? Believe it or not, I've been trying for forever to get the right wording on this story, and, I think, this is the longest chapter I've had so far. i don't know why I decided to make it so, but it is! Frollo's in it, but only breifly, but, hey, he's in it right? Read and Review!
It was rainy in Hawaii, the dark grey clouds having come overnight to the chain of islands, a strange bout of weather against the recent history of sunny days. What it meant, nobody knew, but some foreboding could be felt in its sudden chill. The rain seemed to mark the day as a day of possibilities, of quaint happenings, a day of action.
And yet, so far, nothing too out of the ordinary seemed to occur that day. No strange appearances, no shady people, not even an unrecognized noise or anything of that sort. Not yet anyway.
Until, suddenly, accompanied with a flash of near blinding light, a single house, sitting near the edge of an incline, seemed to explode with noise. It was a loud humming, an uncomfortable buzz of mechanics and other unknown things, one that spread out far from its source. What it signified, none out of the household knew, and not even all in the painted dwelling understood it. But, before too much alarm was aroused, the sound died out as well as the blinding light... and it took all the electricity in town with it.
Past the town, if one ignored the rain and the sudden outburst of noise evoked by the unexpected blackout, into the attic of that peculiar house through the broken upstairs window, one would see a number of strange things. Gears and springs and other such things were littered about the place, which was at the moment illuminated only by the bare light that broke through the dark clouds without. Further on a cubicle could be seen, attached by a number of cords and wires to outlets and several different pieces of machinery that stood just feet nearby. Beyond that was little more than boxes.
Stitch sat on the floor of the Dimension Hopper's compartment, groaning disconcertedly. He was dizzy; he had guessed at the time of his departure that the transmitter would have sent him home soon enough, and yet the exit was so sudden and unexpected he hadn't time to prepare himself for the travel. The trip, though quick, was never really that much fun; he had exerted quite a bit of energy the first time around, and he was ready enough then because of Jumba's warning. But this instance... Stitch felt sick.
It was almost silent in that compartment; little could be heard besides the muffled tones of the falling rain. But some strange incessant buzzing seemed to linger in the experiment's ears, and it nearly drove him mad. It was a strange feeling; he hadn't felt so uncomfortable when he had been transmitted over to Paris. There must've been some strange malfunction in the computer this time. He could tell. It was very dark.
Slowly, the buzzing disappeared, replaced by the creak and strain of the old attic steps being climbed. Stitch's ears perked up at the noise, which arrived with a murmur of incomprehensible speech that the experiment strained to discern. It was only a short time later when the voices became familiar and understandable, and it was obvious that there was more than one person coming up into the attic. Stitch listened closely to the first voice, which was rumbling as its owner came up.
"—and is causing black out... too much energy, I am thinking. The Dimension Hopper has been on, after all, for three days straight. Is understandable, eh?"
"I guess so," replied another voice, high-pitched and worried. "But what about Stitch? What will happen to him if the machine is out?"
"Do not be worrying, my little one-eyed friend," the first assured the other loudly. Stitch could hear the rustle of clothing, and several quiet thuds, as if the first were patting the second on the back. "Is seeming that 626's time to come back is being a little bit before blackout. He should be back."
"Then where is he?" the second asked unsurely. Stitch lifted his head up to the small glass window that was cut into the cubicle. He saw the excitable Pleakley looking around the dark room with a strange quick jerk of his head. Beside him, Jumba stood with a flashlight, beaming it around as if in search, and... Stitch stiffened at the sight. Standing behind both of them, clutching herself, seemingly hoping for warmth, was Nani. She looked weary, her face, usually smooth and beautiful, was lined slightly by worry, her cheeks hollowed, though almost unnoticeably. The experiment gulped unhappily. The situation had suddenly become uncomfortable for him.
Suddenly, the light came across the window that Stitch's was watching them through; the experiment blinked in discomfort.
"626?" Jumba asked, the outline of his bulky form just evident beyond the bright orange illumination of the flashlight. "Is that you?"
Stitch took a deep breath, shielding his eyes from the brilliance, and kicked the door to the Dimension Hopper's compartment open. It swung violently on its hinges, knocking the side of the cubicle hard, just barely keeping itself intact. Stitch stepped out of the small compartment, his legs wobbling slightly from the remaining dizziness, and he stared up at Jumba, muttering the word "Ih" in reply before collapsing onto the attic's floor. He sat there quietly, staring down at the floorboards in discomfort, realizing the questioning stares that the others in the room cast him. A silence ensued, Stitch not very keen upon discussing his travels so soon after his return, the pitter-patter of the descending rain creating a strange and ominous backdrop to the uncertainty within.
"Well?" Jumba asked, breaking the silence that had threatened to continue for too long. "What happened?"
Stitch turned his head upward to stare at his creator, a frown apparent upon his wide face. Stitch felt a sort of annoyance at having been asked that question. He wasn't angry at the scientist for inquiring upon his experience; it was a point of interest amongst everyone in the room, he supposed. It was, after all, meant to be a rescue mission, designed to hopefully retrieve a person that meant a lot to everyone that stood in the draft of the old attic. But he couldn't answer it. Not happily, at least. There was no way he could figure, no response he could concoct that wouldn't further his 'ohana's misery.
"Stitch found Lilo," he said at length, speaking in his native tongue, a language that only he and his master Jumba could understand.
A smile appeared on the scientist's face for a second, but was soon diminished when he realized the look on his creation's face. "Where is she, then?" he inquired, looking at Stitch closely, as if he were attempting to figure the answer before the experiment could speak.
Stitch closed his eyes, looking down again in hopes of finding the correct words within. "Not here," he said at length, a brief, but bleak answer to Jumba's unhappy question.
"But you found her," the alien said, as if attempting to point out the good in Stitch's search.
"You found Lilo?"
Stitch jerked his head toward Nani, who had been the last to speak, and who now approached the blue creature in a hopeful way. Stitch watched her without replying. What was he supposed to say?
The young woman looked down at her sister's pet, awaiting an answer to her question. But he remained silent; it didn't seem he wanted to speak. There was something unsettling about that sort of behavior, something that Nani didn't appreciate experiencing. She made her way to stand directly before Stitch, then moved downward to kneel before him, trying her best to look him in the eye.
"Stitch?" she muttered his name, but received no response. "Stitch, look at me." Her tone was gentle enough, but there was a small twitch of desperation, just barely obvious as a tremor in her voice. The experiment listened sadly to her as she spoke, but did not comply with any of her orders.
Nani's mouth tightened into a line, her face stretched tight. She was trying her best not to cry, not in front of them. Not when there was some hope left to rescue her sister.
"Stitch," she repeated, taking his head by both of her hands and turning him to face her. The experiment, though against having to confront Nani, did not fight her. The two looked upon each other, one searching the other for answers, the other trying to answer without words.
Stitch had not said anything. He spoke freely only to Jumba, because nobody else understood his speech. He was trying to hide something from her; Nani could feel it deep within, a cold and unhappy feeling. But, she was not going to surrender to hopelessness just yet. He had said that he had found her, didn't he? Jumba had said that Stitch had found her, or at least, he was trying to verify it. So, what was Stitch trying to hide?
Finally, Stitch seemed to want to speak. He opened his mouth quietly, and Nani waited for him to answer, her heart pounding anxiously in her chest. But, instead of replying to her question, the experiment turned once again to his creator, and muttered to him something that sounded almost like a question.
"We were having no choice," Jumba said in reply to Stitch's unknown inquiry. "If you were seeing her, 626, you would understand."
Stitch asked something else, his expression looking somewhat betrayed.
Jumba nodded as he replied, "Yes, 626. Everything."
The experiment frowned, looking down, staring unsurely at Nani's shaking hands, which had not yet left his cheek. They had told her everything. Everything, starting from Lilo's disappearance to the steps that Stitch had been taking in an effort to finding her. She didn't seem every angry at them. Perhaps she was just too worried about her sister to be angry. Maybe she was hoping so desperately that Lilo would come back with him that Nani had forgotten that it was their fault in the first place that she was gone. But still... it couldn't help but anger him. Why did they tell her? Why? Wasn't she the reason that Lilo had left? Wasn't she the reason that he had been only allowed to stay in Paris for three days? Wasn't she the reason that he couldn't save Lilo?
Stitch clenched his teeth in anger. She shouldn't be in on this, she shouldn't be here, she shouldn't be asking him questions, or making him guilty. Nani... she had called the police. She had almost foiled their plans for saving Lilo. Why was she here?
"Don't be angry with her, Stitch." Pleakley stepped forward, speaking to Stitch for the first time since his arrival. The experiment jerked his head in the cyclop's direction, his eyes narrowed irately. How dare he protect that woman! After all that she's done...
"You knew everything, Stitch," the ex-agent continued, ignoring the stare, exuding a sort of serious maturity that Stitch hadn't thought Pleakley capable of. "I know you were sad, but at least you knew everything from the time it started. Think about Nani. Think of how she felt, feeling sad too, but not knowing what had happened, or what could be done to save her sister. Think of it."
Stitch blinked uncertainly. It was strange, listening to Pleakley talking like this, acting more adult than he had ever before. It was true that the skinny alien was usually the voice of reason in the group, if that was the way to describe it. Or at least the voice that stood in the background complaining about Jumba and Stitch's occasional illegal activity (though usually minor offenses), and its effect on Lilo's character. He was usually a panicky alien, aware of all the rules and adult in only the wish and ability to abide them. But now, there was a strange understanding in his voice, one that was patient, one that resembled the serenity that a real aunt, an identity that Pleakley had been so far unsuccessful in copying, would own. Stitch slowly began realizing Nani's uncertainty and deprivation for the past days, and understood, finally, what Pleakley had meant.
"Stitch," Nani began again, sadness becoming more and more evident in her voice and expression. "Please, Stitch, tell me. Did you find Lilo?"
Stitch soughed harshly, then turned to Nani, finally read to answer. "Ih," he replied with a nod. "Stitch found Lilo."
Nani let out a seemingly happy sob, and she fell forward, a relieved but subtle smile appearing on her pretty face. Stitch watched her quietly, slightly better-off, but nonetheless feeling a sort of sinking in his chest. He could guess her next question, and he knew, with a strong sorrow on his part, how his response would affect her. He wouldn't lie to her; he couldn't lie to her. He would answer truthfully. And, she would get hurt.
"Where is she?"
Stitch blinked uncertainly. He had been right after all. He once again looked away from Nani's expectant face, and once again she forced him to look upon her. She repeated her question, her hands slipping onto his shoulders.
"Where is she?" Nani asked this, the fear in her voice now blatant, knowing that Stitch's lack of a reply meant something significant. Her grip on his shoulders intensified, and Stitch felt a vague discomfort in his upper arms. She wasn't strong enough to harm him too much in that way... at least, not physically. She was doing a very good job other ways.
"Lilo..." Stitch muttered, biting his lip as if trying to keep himself from replying.
"Yes?" Nani asked, her eyes wide and begging.
"Lilo is not here," Stitch said slowly, laboring hard to explain himself with his limited English.
Nani looked shocked. "But... but you said—"
"Stitch found her," he agreed, nodding his head. "But... I could not get her."
Nani shook her head in disbelief, her eyes wide with distress. "No... No! This doesn't make any sense! You found her, didn't you? You found her!" She shook Stitch violently by the shoulders, her tears glazing wet with tears. "Please, Stitch, please! Tell me you found her!"
Stitch shook his head sadly and looked away. Nani watched this quietly, muttering denials beneath her breath, far from ready to accept this news. "She's not here..." she whispered, her hands dropping from Stitch's shoulders, falling to clutch her knees tightly. "She's gone... No! Not again, Lilo, not again!" She screamed, her face twisted with both anger and hopelessness, expending all her strength into a defiant "NO!" before dropping her face to her chest. Her hair hid her face like a funeral shroud, and the room went silent, Nani's surrender punctuated dramatically by the flash and crash of thunder and lightning from outside.
The whole room had gone silent. Stitch remained standing before Nani, his face still turned away, not wanting to look upon her in such a piteous state. He would not believe that Nani, the Nani, stern but friendly, could exist in such a fashion. He did not want or wish to ever see her act so desperately. He had wished never to see it again, after Lilo had been first taken away.
Then, slowly, the silence moved away, the soft but depressing tones of miserable sobs gradually becoming heard. Stitch twitched uncomfortably. He didn't like the situation.
"Oh dear," Pleakley muttered. Stitch watched him as he made his way to Nani's side and knelt beside her, patting her consolingly on the back. He was twisting his mouth unsurely, as if wondering what it was that he was trying to say, but, for the first time since the experiment had met the alien, he was at a silent loss for words. Stitch stared at Nani, for a long while, regarding her for a long while, noticing every tear that fell from her cheeks. It took less than a moment for that twinge of guilt and hopelessness to appear.
Nani was crying. It was just then that he realized it fully. She was crying; she had given up. She had given up on Lilo ever coming back. But... she couldn't have given up... not Nani, not Lilo's older sister. Life wasn't always patient with the strange little family, and the demands that were to be faced seemed to rise in difficulty every day. But, Nani was always there, persevering despite hardships, raising Lilo, dealing with Stitch and the rest of the alien outcasts whenever they screwed up (which was, sad to say, oftentimes the situation). She was young; had she been more fortunate, she wouldn't have to face these problems. But she did. And she got through them. But now... to look upon her, crying on the floor, hopeless... what was that saying? What was Stitch supposed to think after this? How could she give up?
Stitch turned away again, looking past the bewildered form of Jumba, off to where the Dimension Hopper and its compartment stood, temporarily disabled. He would not be able to go back. At least, not until the power went back up. Lilo was on her own for now, or at least until Clopin saved her from the guards. Stitch's ears perked, suddenly remembering the Gypsy king, whom he had assigned just minutes earlier the task of retrieving Lilo in his place. Perhaps there was some hope after all for Lilo to come back unharmed. If Clopin saved her and protected her, she could come back! But... they would still need to use the Dimension Hopper to retrieve her, wouldn't they? It was still a dilemma; if the machine was off, how could she get home?
But, at least for the time being, he hoped that Clopin was doing his best to get Lilo back. Even if she couldn't be home, Stitch wanted her to be safe.
"King," Stitch muttered, looking out the cracked attic window. "You better be saving her."
Clopin Trouillefou sat, now wearing dry clothes, on the bumpy floor of the Court of Miracles, cleaning one fingernail with the tip of his dagger. He leant against one of his wagon wheels, whistling gaily, his legs crossed before him, seemingly carefree at the moment. Nobody took notice to him; Matthias wasn't even bothering him at the moment, though the old Gypsy had seemed to want to argue over the king's supposed proving of his dog theory. He had, finally, a time to sit alone and to contemplate whatever it was that the Gypsy might consider contemplating. This, at the moment, seemed little more than a clean nail.
He hadn't expected anyone in his domain to suspect anything out of the usual with him that afternoon. If one knew him well enough, though, they would realize that, when the man pulled his brim down low, there was something very serious on his mind. And, at the moment, it seemed that Clopin had tugged his hat so hard that one could not even see his prominent nose. But, it appeared that only one person in the whole of the court realized that, and, sadly for Clopin, she felt rather intent on finding out what it was that was on his mind.
"What happened?"
Clopin glanced up from his finger to the figure that stood before him with her hands on her hips, frowning. He smiled quietly, then returned to his finger acting almost as if she weren't there. She was just about to speak again when he acknowledged her.
"Why, my dear Esmeralda," he greeted, lifting his brim up slightly with his thumb, as if trying to relinquish some of her suspicion. "Whatever are you talking about?" he asked her. He spoke genially, but it was apparent that he was not keen upon answering her question.
Esmeralda would take none of this, ignoring his inquiry and repeating her own steadfastly. "I mean it," she added, making it evident to her leader that she was serious upon the matter. She would not be very happy if he attempted to skirt around it again.
"What happened? What happened where? What happened when?" he said. Esmeralda kept her stance. She knew what he was trying to do, and he was not going to confuse her with his nonsensicality. "Clopi-i-i-i-in," she muttered, stretching the end of his name, noting her annoyance.
"Ye-e-e-e-e-e-s?" the man said, mimicking her without even looking up from his hand.
"Clopin!"
"My dear, Esmeralda, no need to be so forceful!" Clopin exclaimed. A grin twitched on his lips. "Not here or now, at least. Now, if you'll answer my previous question...s... What happened where, when, and all that?"
"I mean what happened today," she informed him, her hands moving to cross against her chest. "What happened today with the little girl?"
Clopin was silent for a short moment, as if devising an answer, then replied easily, "She left, obviously."
"After she left," the young woman specified.
"After she left?"
"Yes, Clopin, after she left!" Esmeralda seemed to be losing patience with her king. "What happened after she left?"
"Well, how would I know, mademoiselle?" he asked, giving her a look that suggested he thought her stupid. "She left!"
"You went after her, Clopin," Esmeralda reminded him. "Don't think that I didn't see you."
"Oh, I didn't do anything untoward to her!" Clopin told her, sheathing his dagger. "It was just to return her bag! That's that!"
"Then why didn't you?" she asked. Esmeralda gestured behind Clopin, where, sure enough, Lilo's yellow bag sat, imprisoned behind the numerous spokes of the Gypsy king's wagon wheel. The king stared at the sack for a long while, as if trying to work out some sort of excuse toward its existence. Esmeralda watched him as he gazed at it silently, awaiting the answer that he was not doing well on giving.
When it seemed that Clopin would not answer at all, Esmeralda decided to track back to her earlier question. "What happened today with the little girl, Clopin?"
"Nothing happened today with the little girl, Esmeralda," he answered, his attention still set resolutely upon the bag.
"Something happened today with the little girl," Esmeralda corrected him. "Otherwise you wouldn't be acting like this."
"Oh, don't be like that!" Clopin told her, shaking a gloved finger at her without turning round. "You know I'm always exasperating; don't try to make something of it."
"You're not only exasperating today, Clopin," Esmeralda said, a small portion of the annoyed tone disappearing for a small moment. "You're also worried. Something's wrong. I can tell. What happened today with the little girl?"
"I already told you, Esmeralda," Clopin snapped, the carefree feel in his voice slowly melting away by heated irritation. "Nothing happened today with the little girl! Nothing, at least, to do with me, alright? Now, if you don't mind, I'd quite like to come up with an excuse for the bag being here and then continue with my manicure. So, might you leave me be?"
Esmeralda noted the sarcasm in his voice, a typical thing, but this moment he didn't seem happy to be using it. He was irritated by something, most obviously her continued inquiries upon the Lilo. Something must have happened, she decided. He's worried... it's so obvious he's worried. But why won't he tell me? Is he ashamed?
"Clopin, please," Esmeralda said softly, thinking that maybe it would be best to be polite. "I need to know. What happened to the little girl?"
"She told me to safe keep it!" Clopin exclaimed, jumping to his feet as if he had discovered something of vast importance. He turned round, a smile, partially forced, shining on his face. "That is why I still have her bag!"
Esmeralda felt almost like giving up. He seemed steadfast on ignoring her question, or at least lying to her about it. Were it someone else, she would've left long before this point. But, this was Clopin she was dealing with. It seldom came about when his worry was so evident, for few things seemed to cause him disquiet. Few knew the worrier side of their king; the carefree and night idiotic attitude that he displayed most of the time seemed inbred and was undoubtedly the most suitable expression that the man could harness. Whatever he was striving so hard to conceal from her must be a matter of great importance. She needed to know, if not for safety's sake, then for the sake of pure curiosity.
"Something bad happened," she asked softly, walking to Clopin. "Didn't it?"
Clopin frowned, tugged down his brim yet again, then returned to his place by the wagon wheel. "You ignored my excuse," was all that he muttered.
A small smile flitted across Esmeralda's face as she realized her accuracy, but it disappeared soon enough. She knelt down and looked at him with a serious look. "What happened?"
Clopin seemed to stiffen at the familiar inquiry, but instead of exploding at her, as it seemed he was planning to do, he let out a tired sigh. "Why are you so interested in the little girl, my dear?" he asked Esmeralda wearily, looking at his newly manicured fingers. "She isn't even a Gypsy. Why should we bother with her...?"
Esmeralda looked at her leader curiously, supposing that, hidden beneath the question, was something more.
Clopin continued without an answer from the young woman. "She is very small, though, isn't she? She's young, so full of life... Is that a reason to care about her welfare? Is it a duty of ours, as adults, to care for her, because she is so young?"
"Clopin," Esmeralda muttered. She didn't completely understand what he was talking about, but it appeared to her that he was dealing with something inside. She couldn't provide answers for his questions, only because she wasn't sure entirely how she was supposed to answer them. She didn't know against what situation they were being asked.
"If it is our duty, isn't it unfair?" he asked, staring out into the square, where his people worked and played, lived and laughed. "Doesn't everyone need care? If it is my duty to protect the little girl, then why didn't I protect the rest of them? If I get her now, would it be wrong to have left so many before her, fellow Gypsies unlike herself, to suffer? To die?"
Esmeralda felt uncomfortable listening to Clopin; his solemn expression was frightening, his conflicted thoughts making her uneasy. Whatever he was dealing with, it seemed a monster of a problem, something that she was only lucky to never have encountered. She perused his face quietly. He seemed so much older now, as if he had aged before her eyes. There was a wise aura about him, something that he displaced every time he wore his colorful mask.
"What do I do?"
Esmeralda seemed to jump at the question. He had been silent for a long while, probably contemplating his problem, and now he looked at her almost desperately, seeking an answer to his dilemma. The sound in his voice... it lacked the unwavering strength of the Clopin that she was used to, the mocking hilarity that had seemed before then ever perpetual.
"I don't know, Clopin," Esmeralda answered, lifting a hand to his shoulder. "It's your choice. What are you going to do?"
Clopin let out a deep sigh, and turned upward to the unseen sky above. "I don't know, Esmeralda," he said, biting his lip. "I just don't know."
The sky continued to issue rain in Hawaii, pattering loudly against windows, then sliding quietly out of view. One little girl sat next to these many windows, staring out at the rain-soaked streets without, a bored but thoughtful look upon her bespectacled face. She had little more to do than watch the weather; the whole town was blacked out. She had no television to watch. Reading was never a real hobby of hers (she'd much rather wait until the movie came out than deal with black words on white paper), and doing it while having to hold a flashlight... well, it seemed too much trouble for a stupid story.
And besides... she had a lot on her mind at the moment. Quite a bit on her mind.
Ever since Cobra Bubbles's visit to her school, she had been wracked with guilt. She had only admitted it once after he had left, and it was only in a state of shock that she had claimed that it was "all her fault". Afterward, she had acted as if none of it had taken place, and did her best to act indifferent toward the situation, though her friends seemed pretty shocked about it. Myrtle did not like giving off the impression of ever experiencing guilt, because in turn it would show to her friends that she did wrong. She wanted to be perfect; she wanted to be the best.
But, nevertheless, she knew, deep within herself, that she had been the cause of Lilo's disappearance. She supposed that Lilo had felt bad about the whole cootie deal, and, being the impulsive girl that she was, she had run away. "Well," Myrtle had tried to reassure herself, "it's not my fault that she does stupid things like that."
Myrtle had thought that a life without Lilo would be wonderful. After all, the little girl was a point of more than a little annoyance for her, and tended to get in the way most of the time. But, for one reason or another, it made her incredibly sad, now that she was almost experiencing the sensation full time. She wasn't sure what it was. Maybe she just didn't like that she didn't have anyone to push away like that anymore. But, there was one thing that Myrtle knew about it. It was very annoying. She wondered how Lilo's sister was dealing with all this. It must be a lot more annoying than what she was feeling.
Myrtle pushed away from the window and waddled her way down the hall from the living room that she had been sitting in. She walked into the kitchen where her mother, whom she resembled amazingly sans the kind look, read a toy magazine by candlelight.
"Mom?" Myrtle asked, entering the dimly lit room slowly, making sure not to trip over anything that might've been lying on the floor.
The woman looked up from her reading. "Oh, hello, honey!" Myrtle's mother greeted cheerfully, a smile on her face. "I'm just getting ready for your next birthday party. Don't look at what I've circled, dear!" She closed the magazine and sat on it. "It's going to be a surprise. Believe me, honey, you'll love it!"
"Uh... thanks, I guess," Myrtle replied. Her mother wasn't always conventional, but she was kind, and it seemed that she loved to spoil her child. She also seemed to understand a lot of things that Myrtle didn't always get. "Mom?" she asked tentatively, wondering whether or not she should ask what she wanted to ask.
"Yes, honey?"
"If I ran away," she began, standing at her mother's side, "how would you feel?"
"Myrtle, honey, I'd be devastated!" She picked her daughter up and sat her on her knee, hugging her protectively. "You wouldn't do that, would you?"
"No!" Myrtle answered angrily, pushing away from her mother as if offended. "Of course I wouldn't, I'm not stupid, like Lilo!"
Mrs. Edmonds seemed startled by the proclamation. "Oh, honey... Is that what this is about? I know you feel bad about, Lilo, honey... you shouldn't worry. We're all worried about her. You shouldn't feel as if you're the only one who has to be concerned."
"That's not what I—"
"If you need anything, anything at all, just tell me, honey. I'll make you feel better."
Myrtle was surprised by her mother's words. "Anything?" she asked, wondering whether or not her mother meant it (though usually she did).
Mrs. Edmonds nodded. "Anything."
Myrtle sat on her mother knee, for the first time in a while feeling something of an inner conflict. Would it be right to gain from Lilo's disappearance?
"Can I have ice cream?" Myrtle asked at length, brushing away the guilt with the thought of sugar.
"Of course honey," her mother said, putting Myrtle down on the floor and making her way to the freezer.
The Palace of Justice was a terribly cold place. This, Lilo had learned quickly, as she sat unprotected in her new cell, shivering violently as the frigid temperatures permeated her muumuu. She had tried to warm herself up, burying herself in the stale hay that had been deposited long ago in her prison, but it was only minutely better. She was wet, and she was cold, and it wasn't long before she had begun to feel ill.
She had spent most of her time in the cell crying. It seemed she was doing that more and more these days, and the thought didn't comfort her at all. She had given up fighting for her freedom long ago, having no man nearby to hear her screams, or at least acknowledge them. But, even if they were there, nobody seemed to listen to reason in this place.
"What does it matter anyway?" she had asked no one in particular. "Everyone'd probably be happy that I'm gone. I only cause trouble anyway..."
That was the fate that Lilo had decided upon. It seemed the most appropriate, the most possible... who cared if she disappeared? Who cared if she didn't come back? They'd get over it... then they'd realize that it was good that she was gone.
Nani... Nani wouldn't have to take care of her anymore... she'd be able to spend her time with David as much as she wants and she wouldn't have to worry so much about having a really good job. David would be happy too... Nani wouldn't be busy so much of the time.
Pleakley wouldn't have to clean up all of her messes anymore. Jumba... well, he'd be unhappy about having to find another test subject, but that's probably the only reason he cared about her in anyway.
Quasimodo... no more broken windows, no more broken promises, no more screams from his master.
Stitch...
Lilo felt the tears beginning to fall harder at the thought of him. Stitch... her best friend... he'd come to rescue her, he'd come to bring her back... But he's gone! He was hurt... he had tried to protect her... but she still got dragged away. She didn't try hard enough to save herself, or both of them... he had tried to help her get to Quasimodo, but she couldn't even climb up the steps and open the door... she was useless... a stupid useless girl who only got in the way.
She sniffled miserably. She really was getting sick. She was getting chills, and she could feel a feverish warmth about her neck and forehead. It was beginning to worry her; if she got sick and didn't get proper treatment, there could be serious damage. She learned that a long time ago, when she was younger and she hadn't told her parents what was going on... her parents... it really was a long time ago...
It was relatively quiet in her prison, little more than the constant drip of leaks and the unsettling squeak of passing rats seemed to accompany the darkness. That was why Lilo had been so surprised by the sound of footsteps that seemed to be approaching her cell. She stood up suddenly, disturbing the hay that had enveloped her, clutching her fingers almost protectively around Quasimodo's medallion. She had luckily been able to take it with her into the cell; it seemed that the guards hadn't taken notice to it.
The footsteps gradually became louder, and Lilo knew that somebody was going to make their way by her cell. She remembered her sickness. She needed to tell them what was going on...
"Help!" she screamed, running up to the bars. "Please, help me! Somebody, please!"
She continued to cry out these things, desperation heightening every moment that passed. Lilo could've sworn she felt her neck becoming hotter with a rising fever. She had learned from TV that if her temperature became too high, she might die!
"Please!" she exclaimed as the footsteps sounded very near. "Please, help me!"
Soon enough, she saw a shadow, standing just outside the door of the room that housed her cell. She squinted her eyes. Though she couldn't make out the forms definitely, she was almost sure that there were three figures standing in the darkness staring at her. They had stopped before her cell, watching her quietly, as if waiting.
"Please, help me!" she told it, brushing a hand against her cheek to get rid of a tear. "I think I'm sick."
The figures were silent, continually staring at her, until finally, the form standing in the center made a movement, and the other two moved to stand posts at both sides of the door. It seemed he was the leader.
Lilo felt a strange sort of apprehension as she watched the leader of the pack, who seemed to continue his stare despite his lackey's actions. She felt her skin prickling uneasily. For some reason, this thing, whatever it was, didn't seem very friendly. She regretted having called it. She wanted to tell it to go away, she wanted to scream at it to leave her alone, but for some reason she could not find her voice.
The figure stepped in after a long while, carefully avoiding the flickering light of the torch that was set in the wall just outside Lilo's cell. It turned its head back toward his underlings.
"Close the door," it ordered, and immediately the guards closed an iron door behind their master. Lilo's anxiety rose exponentially at the sound of the figure's voice. It was familiar... an icy tone, silky smooth yet undeniably frigid. She didn't like the voice... she didn't like it at all.
"Ah, I see that you've gotten yourself quite comfortable, haven't you gypsy?" the figure asked mockingly, making his way forward as he spoke. "It suits you, does it not? Dark, dirty, housing the sinful..."
Lilo found her voice for but a second. "Who are you?" she asked, her voice shaking. She felt a chilled shiver shoot through her spine.
The figure let out a laugh that made Lilo shiver ever the more. It was deep and mocking... hurtful, barely human.
"I thought every Gypsy knew my name," he sneered. He made the final steps into the room, the illumination of the torch finally striking his features. Lilo gasped as a wizened face came into view, large wary eyes staring at her from under heavy lids. Its thin lips were twisted into a scoffing smirk, beneath the hook of his large nose.
"Frollo!" Lilo screamed out, a mixture of fear and absolute anger churning deep with her.
Judge Claude Frollo released another cold laugh. "So, I see I was not mistaken."
"What do you want?" the Hawaiian asked, suddenly belligerent. She remembered how the man had treated Quasimodo; she was not going to forgive him easily for that.
Frollo raised an eyebrow at her impudence, his smile disappearing almost suddenly. He enjoyed fear from the Gypsies; to them, he was the grim reaper, the torturer, death and pain personified. To be treated in such a disrespectful manner when they were face to face, especially by someone other than that stupid storytelling jester, was a strange thing. Not to mention that the little Gypsy was already in his clutches; he could easily torture her on a whim.
"What do I want, indeed," Frollo said calmly, taking a small stool at the side of the room and placing it before Lilo, brushing the dust off its surface and sitting on it. "What I want, Gypsy, are answers."
The little girl scowled. "My name is Lilo," she told him angrily. "Stop calling me Gypsy!"
Frollo tented his finger above his mouth, gazing at her from over his hands. Lilo was somewhat taken aback by the bitterness in his stare... everything about this man was cold... his voice, his laugh, his look... if she touched him she wouldn't be surprised if he were as warm as a dead person...
"You were seen trying to get up to the bell tower," the Judge said softly, ignoring what Lilo had said beforehand. "Why?"
Lilo looked at him defiantly. "How is it any of your business?" she asked defiantly, using as much of her self-control as she could to keep herself from calling him a butthead.
"It is my business," the man replied in a quiet yet angry voice, "if a Gypsy is trying to poison my son!" He stood up suddenly, his long black robes shifting about. "Admit it, Gypsy! You are the one who's been lurking up in the bell tower! You're the one who has been tainting my son!"
Lilo felt a sudden and new explosion of anger at these accusations. "I would never do that to Quasimodo!" she shrieked back. "You evil man! You're the one who's hurting him!"
"How dare you, Gypsy!"
"My name is Lilo!" she screamed. "And you do hurt Quasimodo! You yell at him like he's some stupid little boy, but he's not!"
"Silence!" Frollo exclaimed, unhappy at her words.
"He's kind!"
"Silence!"
"He's smart!"
"Do not speak of him as if you know him, Gypsy!"
Lilo was seething. "I know him a lot more than you do, you... you abusive... butthead!"
She screamed the last word with the loudest voice that she could manage, all the anger and frustration that she felt toward him exploding at that single moment. Frollo was taken aback. He had never before heard that word, but he understood its meaning and no prisoner within their right minds had called him such a thing. He scowled at her angrily, his teeth bared like an angry dog.
"Mark me, Gypsy," he said, kicking the stool to the side, "you are going to suffer for this night."
And he turned, making his way back toward the door.
Lilo watched his back as he tried to leave. She was livid... she wanted to hurt him so badly, wanted him to feel what Quasimodo was going through... but most of all... she really wanted to chuck something at him. So, without a thought, she did.
Frollo stopped short at the sudden pain that struck the back of his head, and he turned suddenly, his scowl deep and angry on his thin face. "You—" he began.
But he stopped. Something was glittering upon the floor, the thing, he supposed, that the little girl had thrown at him. He looked at it quietly, examining it as thoroughly as he could from his point above it, and then, slowly and suspiciously, he knelt downward. His fingers hovered above the object, as if frightened that it might burn him, but in the end, he picked it up.
Lilo watched as he stood up once again, staring at the projectile as if it were a familiar thing. She squinted her eyes, trying to discern despite the darkness what it was that she had thrown at him. She had been too angry to realize it...
"Where did you get this?" Frollo demanded suddenly, Lilo noting, for the first time ever, fear in his icy voice. She didn't answer; she couldn't. She didn't know what the object was. Frollo looked at her, his wide-eyed stare becoming crazier. "Answer me, Gypsy, where did you get this?"
"I don't know!" Lilo told him. Just go away, please, she thought, the anger slipping away for a sudden fear.
Frollo shook his head and dropped the object back on the floor. "I'll be back," he told her, his statement soft and threatening. He opened the iron door, the hinges creaking loudly as it moved, and he stepped out. Lilo could hear him mumbling orders to the guards, followed by the sounds of footsteps and armor moving away. Lilo listened in silence, waiting until the noise disappeared. Soon enough, she was left with naught more than just the normal dripping and the rat squeaks that she had been dealing with before hand.
Lilo, sure that she was alone now, strained herself to see what it was that Frollo had been so afraid of. The torch only barely illuminated it; she couldn't see it... it was hard to detect on the floor. It was seemingly flat, but that was all that Lilo could surmise. Heaving a sigh, she returned to her hay stack, deciding to attempt sleeping.
As depressed as she was, she was tired. The adrenaline caused by anger was ebbing away and once again the thoughts of her 'ohana were entering her mind. She rubbed her eyes wearily. She hoped Quasimodo wasn't too s—
"Omigosh," she said suddenly, staring down at her empty hands. It was gone. Quasimodo's talisman was gone! Where did she put it? She looked at the haystack, hoping that she would see it lying amongst the disturbed straw. But, no, it wasn't there. It was gone! How did she lose it? Where could it have—?
Lilo's panicking stopped abruptly when a thought entered her mind. She made her way back to the bars and stared again, as hard as she could, at the floor. Her heart skipped a beat. Quasimodo's talisman lay glittering on the prison floor.
So that was what Frollo was frightened of... Lilo tilted her head curiously. She couldn't help but wonder why he had reacted that way. He had known the talisman, she knew he had. She could tell by the look in his eyes... Why...? Could there be something about the medallion that had scared him?
With these questions on her mind, Lilo made her way back to the haystack. She'd have to think it over some other time... right now, she needed sleep.
A/N: AND THERE WE ARE! It's going to be a long while before I start writing something THAT long again! Thanks for the reivew, yaarp16, and your reasons. I suppose I really don't have enough time to redo the beginning, and I guess I'd like to keep it as a reminder to my previous writing style. Spaztic Arwen? You really WOULD read the story? Well, alright. I'm writing it now. And, I'm going to abort it if i don't see a review from you, alright::wink: Do it! NOW Y'all REVIEW!
Funfact: In the original story, the old captain of the guard was supposed to be on Frollo's last nerve because he dealt with Lilo wrong. This started Frollo's distrust in him, which, in the end, resulted in his being sacked and Phoebus replacing him! I thought of tying in things like that, but I couldn't cram in EVERYTHING.