Disney's Tinker Bell in Storybrooke
A Disney Fairies / Once Upon A Time Crossover
Season 1, Episode 8, Chapter 4

STORYBROOKE, MAINE

"Here, drink this," Hartley instructed in a kind voice.

"Thank you." Claire sipped hot chocolate to warm herself. "How did you know where to find me?"

"I went to your house and Tina informed me," he confessed. "I went to offer a helping hand."

"I'm so glad you did," she responded with a blushing smile. "I can't believe what those people did. Or that I fell for it so easily."

"Do not blame yourself," he told her. "They are nothing but hooligans. Disgraceful people."

Claire loved how his proper British accent could make even words like hooligan sound so charming. She was tickled by it.

Hartley Winter had taken Claire to his house. She sat at his kitchen table wearing his robe, a thick, ice blue colored terry cloth affair under which was one his t-shirts and a pair of boxer shorts. "If I were to fit into these, I'd kill myself," she teased. Fortunately they didn't, but some well-placed safety pins did help the matter.

"Would you care for some dinner?" he asked.

"Why thank you, kind sir," she answered. "But first I have to call my girls. Oh! My two day laborers. I need to pick them up."

"Leave that to me," he told her. He arranged for Ned to pick up the two at the house where they were working, while Claire called home to inform Tina of what happened. "I'll be here for some time waiting for my clothes to dry, can you manage on your own until I get there?"

"Yeah, no problem."

"Okay, dear. Bye."

"Everything alright?" Hartley asked her.

"Oh yes. Tina is a very responsible young woman. I'm so very proud of her."

"Excellent. Now then, would you like to stay for dinner?"

~O~

"Tinker Bell! HELP!" Vidia called. "HELP!"

Tina and Penny ran upstairs to a washing machine knocking and spitting out suds. "What happened? What did you do?" she asked accusingly.

"I don't know," Vidia replied, "I did everything you said." She did, however, confess to putting in much more soap than was necessary. "I thought that more soap would get the clothes clean faster."

Tina pulled the dial which stopped the machine. "Just let me finish this," Tina gasped. Vidia retreated to her room, unhappy with Tina's angry response. The young blonde turned the dial to "spin" and pushed it back down again. The machine began to drain the excess soap and water from the drum. Her plan was to remove as much of the soap as she could, rinse and then let the washer run an entire wash cycle to clear out the remaining suds. Tina was quite fortunate that nothing spilled over.

Unfortunately, when the machine tried to run the spin cycle, nothing happened. The cover was down which unlocked the safety, however, the transmission did not engage and Tina could not hear the drum moving. "Oh no. Val broke it. Now what?"

Seconds later the house phone rang. It was her mother calling to say she would be late. "…can you manage on your own until I get there?"

"Yeah, no problem."

"Okay, dear. Bye"

"Bye, Mom." Tina hung up the phone. "Houston, we have a problem."

"Well can't you fix it?" Penny asked.

"If I had the time…, and the parts. But Mom will be home in about an hour or so. I can't hide this from her. I'm doomed."

PIXIE HOLLOW, NEVER LAND (The Early Edwardian Period)

"Hey, anything I can do to help?" Tinker Bell asked some garden fairies who were painting leaves in the Autumn Forest. Tink facing a serious bout of depression and needed something to do.

"No, you've done plenty already," Daffodil sneered.

"Um, okay." Tinker Bell was perplexed by the strange response. She flitted over to another tree and asked the garden fairies who were working there.

"We're just fine," Bluebonnet sniffed. "We don't need any tinker interference."

"What? Hey, what's gotten into you?" Tink asked.

"Humph, like you don't know," Bluebonnet replied indignantly.

"Tink! Tink, I have to talk to you." Rosetta come barreling through the branches to pull her friend away from the angry garden talents. They found a secluded spot to talk.

"What's going on?" the little blonde asked her friend.

"It's a revolt," Rosetta answered worriedly. "The garden fairies don't want to use your inventions. They say it stunts their talent."

"What? That's impossible. It helps them work faster and better."

"Faster, yes, but not better," said Sprig, a tall garden fairy with dark brown hair. She was known for a brusque and opinionated personality. Her honesty and directness could sound cruel even when it was unintentional, which was often. She had followed the pair to deliver a rebuke. As she spoke several other garden talent fairies and sparrow men joined her.

"Watch yourself," Rosetta advised.

"Your invention is certainly faster, but the results are deadening and dull," Sprig said angrily. Sprig orated a manifesto of sorts as she spoke. "We don't want your machines muddying up our talent. We pride ourselves on our artistry and your machines rob us of that. Production is bland, homogeneous and uninspired. In a word: repulsive. We garden fairies revel in our talent and in the lovely colors we paint the leaves of the forest and the flowers of our gardens. Each nuance of color is an expression, every brush stroke a work of art. At least to those of us with the intelligence to know the difference."

Sprig addressed that last line directly at Rosetta who championed Tinker Bell's sprayers.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rosetta responded defensively.

"You know exactly what I mean. I see the despair in your face, Rosetta. Each time you use that machine to spritz a flower a little bit of you dies. The brush is like an extension of our bodies, the paint an extension of our souls. With your machines, tinker fairy, our flowers look lifeless and soulless."

To prove her point Sprig brought with her a sample of a hand painted leaf and one tinted with Tink's sprayer. The hand painted one was clearly different. Brush strokes created subtle and beautiful changes from one color to another. The different hues, tints, shades and tones on a single leaf were enlivening and wondrous.

The leaf sprayed with Tink's invention also had different hues, tints, shades and tones. However, these did not bleed into each other with any skill or heart. Tinker Bell had designed the sprayer to replicate the different colors that were applied to leaves. However, what it could not replicate was the artistry, liveliness and inventiveness which resulted from the painstaking process of painting by hand.

"We are artisans who take pride in our work. What you are asking us to do is an insult to our talent. With these machines any idiot can paint flowers. And where will that leave us?"

"But you have more free time to explore your talents," Tinker Bell said in her defense, hoping to rescue her machines from the scrap heap. "Now you can stretch your artisanship, free your soul to do what previous garden talents could never do?"

"THAT'S WHAT WE WERE DOING BEFORE YOUR STUPID MACHINES GOT IN THE WAY!" Sprig shouted furiously. She took a few deep breaths to calm down. "You restrain us and make us into talentless drones. That is not who we are," Sprig said, finishing with emphasis.

"Ask her how many machines she's tinkered for her own guild," Bluebonnet yelled. "I'll tell you: none. She's a hypocrite."

"Yeah, she pollutes our guild with this trash, but keeps her own pure," Foxglove bellowed. This was followed by a hail of boos. "What is Rosetta going to do about this outrage?"

"Nothing," Sprig announced. "She will do nothing. After all, friendship means more than guild solidarity, doesn't it?"

Tinker Bell looked at her friend. The redhead appeared ashamed. "Ro? Do you hate my sprayer, too?"

"I.., I don't hate it, sugarplum. But the flowers don't look as pretty," she painfully admitted.

This hurt Tinker Bell. It cut her so deeply that she felt betrayed. "Fine. Do whatever you want. I was just trying to help," Tink whimpered as she turned to flitter away.

"Tink, wait," Rosetta called out to her.

"Let her be, Ro," Sprig said. "Eventually Tink will understand. She just needs some time to calm down and think about this rationally."

The other garden fairies dispersed, dropping their leaf and flower sprayers into a pile. Rosetta, however, watched as Tinker Bell slowly flittered away. Ro could see the despair her friend was feeling just by the way she flew.

"Oh, Tink. I'm so sorry."

STORYBROOKE, MAINE

Regina was in a very sour attitude on her drive home. When Emma Swan barged into her office and pointed out that according to the town charter the mayor only had the power to appoint a candidate, she knew exactly who had informed her: Mr. Gold. And she had just left his store after a rather disquieting conversation with the man.

"You're the only one who could know about that loophole," she had said, calling him out.

He admitted to having a penchant for such things. "I prefer small weapons, a dagger, a pen, the fine point of a deal."

Regina could not understand why he had decided to back Ms. Swan. Gold said that they both wanted the same thing, they were just taking different paths. As for Ms. Swan, she was doing this for her son.

"She's not her son," Regina stated hotly. "Not legally."

It was a meaningless point. Emma was Henry's biological mother, legal or not biology still mattered. It was the driving force in Emma's life right now, doing what she thought was best for Henry.

That was the key point that Regina hated the most. Biology was not something that could be so easily severed. She would have to resort to her old tricks again.

Her phone rang, a call from her pet enforcer Sydney Glass. He had some good news for a change. Using Regina's influence he had managed to locate more dirt on Ms. Swan. It was quite damning in fact.

"Good, make it your lead story in tomorrow's paper," she ordered. Finally, something that could drive a wedge between Emma and her son. And if nothing else, it would sink Swan's bid for sheriff.

~O~

"Thank you, that was a delicious meal," Claire said. Hartley had served pasta in meat sauce which Claire could not stop talking about. "It tasted so authentic."

"I have a confession to make," he said. "It came from a bottle."

This minor revelation sent both in a fit of giggles. "Oh, well, I certainly stepped into it that time, didn't I?" Claire said.

"Well, I did open the bottle and heat the sauce," Hartley said, "that should count for something."

Claire laughed even more. "Oh, Hartley. Knight in shining armor, cook, comedienne, is there anything you can't do?"

"Why don't we find out?" Hartley Winter took Claire in hand and brought her into the living room where he pulled the coffee table aside. He turned on the radio to the local station which was playing Christmas carols.

"Shall we?"

"I'm not dressed for it."

"Nonsense, you look stunning." Hartley Winter put his arm around her waist and clasped his hand to hers. The two danced and swayed in rhythm to the music. At first, Claire couldn't stop giggling. He in his work clothes, she in a robe. They must have made for quite the odd looking pair. Yet each fell under the spell of the music and the moment and neither wanted it to end.

Eventually the dryer's buzzer sounded disrupting their pas de deux.

"My clothes are ready, I should get dressed," Claire said, wishing for more time.

"You don't have to go right away," Hartley answered.

Claire shook her head, "I can't. My girls are waiting and I need to make them something for dinner."

Hartley nodded and smiled. "I understand. Your children are your first priority."

"Thank you," she said with a smile before going to the laundry room to collect her things.

Hartley lamented that he could not find a reasonable excuse for her to stay a little longer. But he treasured the time they did have and before Claire left he arranged for them to meet again in two days' time for a proper date. "I look forward to it," she told him.

Before saying goodbye they kissed ever so sweetly. It sent Claire home dancing on a cloud.

Yeah, wait till Claire gets home. That isn't going to be pretty. Thank you reading. Feedback is always appreciated.