Episode 7:
Original Sin

I

"I…" Stitch started speaking before he was ready.
He simply took in the sight of Zorek waiting patiently at the other side of the metal table. He had to keep reminding himself that Zorek was, in fact, not the hulking squid-like machine hovering across from him and Angel, but the small octopus creature held within its dome-shaped water tank.
Stitch recalled many friends and neighbors who thought he looked monstrous before they discovered that he was cute and fluffy. He thought Zorek looked cute; he liked the black birthmark which ran down the center of his forehead - it looked like a shooting star.
It made Stitch terrified at what he would discover.
"I want to thank you for letting us visit you out of the blue like this," Stitch finally said.

"I don't get visitors," Zorek said. His tone was bizarre and distant, lost somewhere between a statement and a complaint.

"And… Thank you, I guess, for not attacking us right away," Angel said. "We were ready to fight you until you agreed to hear us out, if it came to that."

"If you are here simply to talk, then I see no need in any of us expending so much energy," Zorek said. "I had actually been hoping to get the chance to speak with you. I thought I would have to wait until I could apprehend you, so this comes as a pleasant surprise."

"Why's that?" Stitch asked.

"Since you were last here, I have researched you and your homeworld more and discovered your affinity for 'music.' I have taken to listening to some from your world as I work and I find it quite uplifting."

Stitch and Angel exchanged surprised, hopeful looks.

"How did you get hold of our music all the way out here?" Angel asked; she and Stitch instantly regretted it.

"You should know by now…" Zorek said, his brow rising, crumbling the shooting star shape on his forehead.
"That there is little in the galaxy which I cannot access."

He glanced towards a vast computer console on the wall beside them. It clicked to life and played a song.
If nothing else, Stitch and Angel had to admit that the audio quality was perfect.

"I've been looking for an original sin,
"One with a twist and a bit of a spin,
"And since I've done all of the old ones 'till they've all been done in,
"Now I'm just looking, and I'm gone with the wind,
"Endlessly searching for an original sin…"

Stitch and Angel turned to each other again, feeling each other's hearts sink.

"I, uh…" Angel said. "I played this at a Halloween concert once… I dressed as Doctor Frankenstein…"

"I can understand your fascination with all of it," Zorek said, his tone softening to something surprisingly casual.
"I don't view my work as anything other than that. However, listening to these sounds, these words, I find it becomes more than just work."
He turned back to Stitch and Angel, his eyes taking on their own gravity.
"But you've come to discuss more than 'music' with me. Please, begin."

Stitch and Angel were frozen for a while. Minutes seemed to pass before either of them thought of anything to say. Zorek seemed content to let much more than minutes pass.

"Well," Stitch said, "I mainly wanted to ask…"

II

"HOW CAN YOU BE THIS DENSE?!"

"YOU'RE CHILDREN! IGNORANT, NAIVE CHILDREN!"

"WHAT'S CHILDISH IS THINKING YOU KNOW BETTER THAN EVERYBODY ELSE JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE SADDER!"

"EMOTIONAL SIMPLETONS! YOU CAN'T THINK CLEARLY! CAN'T YOU SEE HOW MUCH THEY'VE MUDDIED YOUR MINDS WITH THEIR MANIPULATIVE GARBAGE?!"

"AND YOU THINK YOU'RE ANY BETTER?!"

"I'VE ALREADY TOLD YOU THAT I DON'T! IF YOU'D BE RATIONAL AND LISTEN TO ME YOU'D REALIZE-!"

"NOTHING YOU'VE DONE IS RATIONAL! JUST CRUEL!"

"NO! IF YOU'D LET ME EXPLAIN-!"

"EXPLAIN WHY YOU WERE RIGHT TO TAKE AWAY ALL THOSE PEOPLE'S-!"

"NO-!"

"WILL YOU-!"

"LISTEN-!"

"TO ME!"

III

Stitch and Angel leaned their foreheads against each other, nursing the worst migraines they'd suffered in ages. They absent-mindedly stroked behind each other's ears, feeling their last passionate shouts fade with their calming heartbeats.
Angel turned to look at Zorek, who floated in his towering machine's water tank with his eyes shut. He looked like he might be asleep, but Angel knew that he wasn't.

"Hey, Tyr," she said. Her heart skipped a beat when his black eyes snapped open.
"Let's start again. We're never gonna get anywhere unless we have a solid idea of what each of us is thinking. So why don't we let you explain what you think, uninterrupted. Pitch it to us like we're…"

"Emotional simpletons," Stitch wearily added.

Zorek's eyes rolled upwards in a befuddled, pleading glance. His brow then furrowed, staying that way for at least a minute before he spoke again.

"Animals exist only to survive," he said. "Everything they do is to ensure their survival; gathering food, finding and creating shelters, killing other animals for food or simply in self-defense. But over millennia, animals across the galaxy have evolved into more sophisticated, complicated creatures. We are capable of deeper thought and analysis, or more thorough communication, of creating much more than the bare minimum of shelter."
His tentacles gestured to the vast steel walls around them.
"And with all that comes more sophisticated methods of ensuring one's survival. We can form institutions, so advertising and sometimes propaganda are used to curate a positive image for those institutions, ensuring their survival. We can acquire authority by any number of means; the average revolution, in essence, is no different than a challenge to become alpha.
"We may dress ourselves in gentler language and conventions, but that core principle of survival, all that defined our earliest ancestors, is still there within us. We fear anything that will keep us from surviving, including - especially another's fear that we will keep them from surviving. So we all do whatever we can to ensure our survival, first and foremost."

"You're wrong," Stitch said. "There's more to life than just getting by one more day."

Zorek blinked slowly. "Life is one day followed by one more day, again and again, until our bodies expire. Our greatest ambitions, whether we acknowledge them or not, are to reach as many days as possible. Surely, you realize that."

"I'm sorry, but I don't."

"I'm certain there have been times when you did something terrible to somebody because you were afraid they would do something terrible to you."

"No."

"Humor me."

Stitch and Angel exchanged looks. The air around them burned.
Angel spoke first.

"I was going to use my song on someone who'd captured my cousins," she said. "He wanted to use us to help our creator conquer the galaxy. I thought I'd beat him to it… I didn't really want to conquer the galaxy; maybe just a few stars and a moon or two. But I knew that one of us would end up under the other's heel and I just knew where I didn't want to end up."

"There was a man," Stitch said. "He got hold of one of our cousins, who helped him brainwash everybody into acting the way he wanted. When he found out he couldn't do the same to us, he had us rounded up and frozen. A few of us were free and broke us out, then we went to talk to him. I wanted to convince him to stop. He listened, but I was ready to make him stop if I had to… Rip my cousin off of his head and drag him out of there, kicking and screaming. It was the only other way it could go, but one way or the other, I would never have let him keep me and my ohana prisoner."

Zorek's eyes lit up as their faces fell. "Don't be ashamed. Those were natural thoughts - rational ones, even."

"But we're not talking about our pasts," Angel snapped. "We're talking about you. So how does that make what you've done to people okay?"

Zorek's tentacles made a motion like a defensive shrug. "Well… If I can determine what everybody in the universe will do, then nobody in the universe will do anything to prevent my survival."

The room suffocated in silence for a moment.

"That's it?" Stitch said, restraining himself from roaring at the top of his lungs.
"It was all just so you could… Live one more day, again and again, until your body expires?"

Zorek blinked. "Why else would anybody do anything?"

Stitch glanced at his and Angel's hands and found eight clenched fists.

"Aloha 'oe…"

"It's a little bit funny…"

Their hands found each other as they hummed. They looked at Zorek again, statuesque in his machine's tank, observing them like either a prison guard or a tourist.

"Hey," Angel said. "I've got an idea. You'll like it."

IV

"Okay…" Stitch stood on the table, gesturing a sweeping arm over the model made from empty containers, loose nuts and bolts, spare wires, and strips of metal.
"This is Kokaua Town. This is our home."

"I see…" Zorek said, his machine lifting him closer to let his black eyes scrutinize every detail. Stitch and Angel couldn't help but imagine a war general studying a map of a battlefield.
"And what is the purpose of this model?"

"To show you a day in our lives," Angel said. "And that there can be more to life than just living one more day until our bodies expire."

Zorek's machine lifted him back; his eyes already seemed heavy.

"You look like we're about to show you our boring vacation pictures," Stitch said.

Zorek cocked an eyebrow at him. "For all I know, you might be."

Stitch clenched his fist again, then swept his arm to point at a looped bundle of cable near the model's edge.

"This is Aloha Stadium," he said. "This is where people come to see sports games and concerts. Our band plays there a lot; we donate most of the money we make from ticket sales to the Ohana Foundation."

"They set up shelters all around the world for people who don't have shelter of their own," Angel added. "Or who do have one, but it's… Broken."

"You provide shelter to those who cannot provide it for themselves?" Zorek asked.

"Yes," Stitch said.

"And the resources you give to provide it could otherwise be used to benefit your own survival?"

"Well, we don't really need that much. Nobody needs that much, or at least they shouldn't."

"I agree."
Zorek's words hit Stitch like a meteor in the gut.
"So you ensure others' survival at some risk to your own."

"... Yes. We do."

"How can you be certain that none of these people will prevent your survival?"

"I can't be," Stitch shrugged. "But I don't think they will."

"Why not?"

"I showed them I wanted to help. That might make them want to help, too."

"It might. It might not."

"Why do you have to talk like that?" Angel interjected.

Zorek blinked. "I… I don't understand."

"You talk like you know everything. I thought scientists were supposed to admit that they don't know everything."

Zorek looked down at the model. Bubbles rose from where his mouth would be.

"Show me more," he said.

So they did.

"This is Finder's Detective Agency," Stitch said. "He runs a team that helps people find anything they've lost. Bonnie and Clyde help him out; they used to be thieves until Finder helped turn them around."

"This is the circus tent," Angel said. "A lot of our cousins who used to want to hurt people and break things work here now, using their powers to put on amazing shows."

"And this is the ice cream parlor," Stitch said. "Our cousin Slushy owns this place. He used to want to freeze the whole island, but now he's happier making treats for all our neighbors."

"Hm," Zorek muttered.

"Yeah?" Stitch and Angel perked up.

"I think I'm beginning to understand… Perhaps we have more in common than we first believed."

Stitch and Angel could only offer him frozen, blank looks, waiting to melt into either relief or horror.

"You recognized that these 'cousins' of yours were a threat to your survival," Zorek continued. "You had to pacify them to maintain yourselves."

"What?!" Stitch said. He clenched his fists, letting the record player in his head play another verse of Aloha 'oe before he spoke again, softer now.

"I wasn't trying to pacify them. I wanted them to be happier, creating instead of destroying, like I was."

Zorek nodded. "And I'm sure they are, as the people of Nyell have been happier since I took control. You know my methods, but I do not know yours. How did you convince them to stay where you wanted them?"

Stitch's jaw froze.

"We told them we wanted them to be happy instead of angry," Angel said. "And that we cared about them because they were our ohana. And ohana means nobody gets left behind."

"Or forgotten," Stitch added.

They watched Zorek's black eyes as they shimmered like a great machine processing a complex command.

"It's gentler than the belligerent patriotism I've seen from the Federation," he said, "but perhaps more effective for it. It's personalized to each individual… Rather like my own methods, come to think of it."

Stitch and Angel felt something inside them begging to be let loose on the tiny octopus.

"The difference is that we actually care about our cousins being happy," Angel said. "You just want to be sure nobody can do anything you won't like!"

Zorek blinked. "A superficial difference, surely."

The words leaped out of Stitch's mouth of their own accord.

"Would it be so terrible if you were wrong about everybody?!"

Zorek froze, not even blinked for what seemed like ages. Stitch waited to see the wrath flare up in his eyes, just as he'd seen in the eyes of everybody he'd ever tried to prove wrong: Flute, Chopsuey, Checkers, Hamsterviel, even Gantu right up until their last conversation across reinforced glass.

But Zorek's eyes didn't flare up. They shivered with fear. Stitch felt his skin crawl when he recalled the last time he'd seen that kind of fear; when Lilo discovered that he was an alien.

"I think…" Zorek said. "That we are in need of sustenance. Shall we take a break?"

V

Even though they were starving, Stitch and Angel's food went cold before they were halfway finished. The Salisbury steak and mashed potatoes which Zorek had prepared were as delicious as they could expect, but looking at him spoiled their appetites. He faced his computer console, which flickered with light seemingly without any input from him or his machine.

"What was your family like, Tyr?" Stitch said, sick of the silence.

"I thought we were taking a break," Zorek's voice abruptly answered in Stitch and Angel's heads.

"I don't think you take breaks."

"... Correct."

"So, what was your family like?"

Zorek didn't answer for over two minutes. "I'm not sure how to answer that. Why don't you tell me what you would answer first, then I will know what to say."

Stitch and Angel exchanged weary looks. "We have a big family. What do you want to know?"

Another minute. "Start with your father."

Stitch felt his ears and his heart fall. He gave Angel an apologetic look, although they both knew the apology was for somebody else.

"I don't really have a father," Stitch said. "I have a lot of people who are old enough to be my father, but they're more like older brothers to me."

"But somebody created you," Zorek said.

"Yes… Dr. Jumba Jookiba, but… I don't really think of him as my father. He created me, and he's been there for me since we decided to stay on Earth… Well, most of the time. But I feel like all the best parts of me came from Earth. I love Jumba, and I wouldn't change anything about him, and he'll always be a part of my ohana… But he just doesn't feel like my father. I wish I had somebody I could call that."

"I have somebody like that," Angel said. "Hammerface looked out for all of us while we were stuck in Gantu's ship. He was the oldest of all of us, sure, but he was also the most level-headed… Looking back, I wish I hadn't made him worry so much, sneaking out all those nights and needling Gantu…"

"He still tells you to cut your hair, doesn't he?" Stitch said, smiling.

"Yeah, well," Angel chuckled, "just because I wish I listened to him more then doesn't mean I listen to everything he says… But I like to think a lot of the best parts of me come from him."

Stitch nuzzled her cheek; he purred at the sound of her purring.

They looked to Zorek. "That enough for you to go on?"

"The best parts of you…" He said. "Yes, I think so… You don't know what Nyell was like sixty years ago, do you?"

Stitch and Angel shook their heads.

"There was a revolution. An elite council governed over everyone, and my father didn't like that. He established a group that intended to dethrone the council by force, if necessary, replacing them with leadership that he and the common people would find more agreeable."

"He sounds tough," Stitch said.

"Not particularly," Zorek said. "He was ordinary."

"But was he a good dad?" Angel asked.

"He always made time for me," Zorek said. "He answered my questions about schoolwork and about his ideas. He'd see me off to sleep each night, assuring me that tomorrow we'd be a little closer to the world we wanted. He shared meals with me as often as he could; I'd tell him about my studies and he'd tell me what new mission he and his comrades had undertaken."

"Did he win?" Angel asked.

"Eventually."

"Did things get better?"

"For the revolutionaries? Yes, of course."

"What do you think he'd say if he saw all this?" Stitch asked.

"... I think he'd be disappointed."

"Really?"

"... That he didn't think to do it first."

"Oh…"

"He wasn't a scientist," Zorek said, "but I think I learned everything I know from him. Perhaps, then, the best parts of me did come from him."
He tilted in his tank; the motion seemed like a human cocking their head.
"Is that not the answer you wanted?"
Stitch looked solemnly at his half-eaten steak.
"What had you expected?"

Stitch didn't respond for two minutes. "I thought he'd be more like you."

Zorek blinked.

"I'm sorry."

VI

Angel's eyes hovered open as she awoke from her nap. She darted to her feet, perching on the wall behind her like a spider when she found Zorek's machine hovering over her. She didn't have to look to know that Stitch had mirrored her movements perfectly.

Zorek seemed to be smiling. "I believe I have some compelling evidence for you."

"We'll be the judge of that," Angel said.

"Naturally." One of the serpentine arms of Zorek's machine gestured behind him, revealing a doorway shrouded completely by a familiar towering silhouette.

Stitch and Angel felt their hearts stop as the figure stepped into the light. They never imagined they'd shed tears over him.

"Aloha," Gantu said, his stare vacant and distant.

"This is supposed to convince us?!" Angel said.

"I hope it will bring us closer to that conclusion, yes," Zorek said. "As I understand it, it's a rarity that you've been able to stand in a room with Gantu without either a verbal or physical confrontation taking place. One way or another, this should be enlightening. Please, ask him anything you like."

Angel couldn't find any words.

"How… Do you feel?" Stitch finally asked.

"Fine," Gantu said. Somehow, Stitch and Angel felt that nobody had ever used the word so accurately.

"What do you do these days?" Angel asked.

"I drive ships for Dr. Zorek, picking up and dropping off patients."

They let the silence deafen them for a minute.

"Are you okay with this?" Angel finally asked.

"Of course," Gantu said.

Stitch glanced at Zorek at the other end of the room. He spotted a program open on his screen, revealing a wall of stark white text. Squinting, he could make out a new phrase appearing.

Command: speak your mind.

Gantu's face contorted into a whirlpool of desperate fury.

"You never tried to help me," he spat. "You tried to help everybody who tried to hurt you, but you never tried to help me! All that talk about leaving no one behind - you never said there was any fine print!"

"Hey," Angel said, trying not to sound angered. "You can't blame us for everything-"

"And everybody always took your side! One minute, you're called abominations, the next, everybody's tripping over themselves to apologize for it! You're not the only ones who ever got called freaks! My whole life, ever since I enlisted, I've been reminded that I don't fit in anywhere, literally or figuratively-"

Angel felt Stitch take her hand.

"Shut up!" They both yelled at the same time.

Gantu froze and stepped back, as if the two Experiments had suddenly grown to twice his size.

"You're really gonna try to use our motto against us?!" Stitch bellowed. "You wanna go back to Earth and tell Reuben about how much you believe in it?! You think we tell that to people just because they screamed and cried for it long enough?! Is that the kind of people you think we are?!"

"And you're really making this a competition about who's had it tougher?!" Angel roared. "Well, guess what?! Everybody's had it tough! Everybody's lost someone in their lives or something in their soul! Everybody's taken something from somebody else, whether they meant to or not! That's life; get used to it! But we help each other and we deal with it! We rise above it! We don't drag everybody else down into the same miserable pit!"

"You could've stopped anytime! You could've stopped listening to Jacques! You could've helped us find the rest of our cousins! I would've thanked you! I would've called you my cousin! I would've gotten on my knees in front of the Grand Council and begged them to give you your old job back! But you just wouldn't put down the shovel until we pried it away from you! You just love hating too much-"

"I KNOW!" Gantu's voice shook the room. "AND NOW LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT WHAT I'VE LET HIM MAKE ME INTO! DOES THIS FINALLY MAKE YOU HAPPY?!"

Stitch and Angel couldn't bear to tear their eyes away from his burning, flooding face.

"No," Angel said. "Why would this make me happy?"

Gantu shut his eyes and hung his head. His tears fell to the floor like sporadic raindrops.

Cancel last command. Command: be calm.

He lifted his head, his expression flat. The tears stopped coming, leaving only a few old ones drying on his cheeks.

"Thank you, Gantu," Zorek said. "Please leave us."

Gantu turned and left instantly, as fleetingly as if he were going to bed.

"What do you think?" Zorek asked.

"I'm not convinced," Stitch said. "But… I am impressed."

"Oh?" Zorek sounded hopeful.

"That's the first time I've ever heard Gantu say anything honest."

VII

Tyr struggled to concentrate on his work knowing that his guests were in the next room. He wasn't used to spending so much time near people who weren't his. Nonetheless, the work had to continue; Project Dionysus was too important to wait.
He was thankful to the music for keeping him focused.

"No one ever said I was a gullible girl,
"I don't believe everything that I'm told,
"I've been around and I know the ropes,
"And I won't get fooled again,
"I don't believe in no fairy tales,
"I don't believe in the man in the moon,
"And no pot of gold or anything else,
"Is waiting at the rainbow's end…"

He checked every monitor camera, every reading, triple-checking for the numbers and signs he wanted: steady pulse and breathing, healthy muscle formation and blood pressure, and brainwaves developing at precisely the correct pace. As long as they stayed their course, he would succeed at the mission in a greater manner than anyone ever dreamed before or ever will again.
The last step was to let the computer's psy-scanner program record the day's memories. For this part, he could simply enjoy the music and wait for the green light on his console to flash.

"I got no illusions now,
"I guess I lost them long ago,
"You're not gonna get me with this,
"'Cause I already know…"

He was sure he was close to breaking them down. The music assured him. It was simple logic; if their ideals were truly believable, then why would their people write words like these?

"We have an idea."

Tyr looked up to find the two creatures perched like gargoyles on each corner of his computer's lengthy screen.

"Must you climb on everything?" He said, returning to his work. "You act as if everywhere is your own personal jungle gym."

"Sorry," Stitch grunted.

"And don't say that word so often. It's such a meaningless, inconsequential gesture. Just listen to my points and I'll know you've considered them-"

"Hey, we'll do that as soon as you stop paying attention to people just so you can find things to whine about," Angel said.

Tyr looked up at her. He struggled for a minute to find something to say, then decided simply to take his own advice.

"What did you want to tell me?" He asked.

"Your telepathic powers," Stitch said. "How strong are they?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Yes, I would. Especially since there's nothing I could do about them right here."

Tyr blinked. "The average Nyelian does not have a particularly strong telepathic ability, only enough for basic communication. In generations long past, some have managed to hone their abilities to create minor hallucinations or coax others to obey simple demands. But they've let themselves become fragile over the centuries; any significant amount of psychic exertion can injure the Nyelian in question. I've elected not to let myself become so fragile, but even with all my practice, I can only do… So much."

"Would 'so much' include something like…" Stitch said, "showing somebody else an old memory?"

Tyr stared at him. "What are you suggesting?"

"We're not getting anywhere with words or evidence," Angel said. "Our perspectives are too different. But that's because our experiences are too different."

"So what if we traded experiences?" Stitch added. "Not our whole lives. Just one memory each. You'll let us see one and we'll let you see one. Then, maybe, we'll have a better idea of what we can do about… All of this."

Tyr felt the water in his tank turn to ice. "You want me… To show you… Something from deep within my mind?"

"Yes," Stitch said. "I want that more than anything right now."

Tyr lost track of time as he lost himself in those terrible black eyes, threatening to swallow him into their unending darkness. The music was all that kept him anchored to his Executor.

"There's always the danger of giving too much,
"Love is often a drug, love is often a crutch,
"There's no guarantee I can handle it all,
"The higher the climb, the longer the fall,
"There's always the danger of losing control,
"And of breaking my heart and exposing my soul,
"There's just no protection from that look in your eyes,
"Or the touch of your hand when I break down and cry,
"There's always the risk of revealing much more than I ever intended to do…"

"Fine," he finally said. "Close your eyes."

He didn't need them to; he just couldn't bear to look into those eyes anymore.

VIII

All Tyr ever wanted was more time to study. There was so much to learn, yet the wheels of time kept turning, always threatening to leave him behind. He recalled something his father had once remarked: 'had I but world enough and time, I would do everything I ever wanted to do and then finally have time for everything else.'

Tyr felt he would have it very soon.
He abhorred leaving his room in such a mess; he found it harder to focus through the clutter. He'd already made a note to find a tidier and more efficient method for his new procedure. Still, science demanded progress, and progress demanded mistakes, and mistakes were often messy.
But they were always worthwhile.

He saw his father's reflection appear between the green text on his computer screen. He could recognize him from the shooting-star birthmark they shared on their foreheads.

"You sleep okay, Tyr?" His soft telepathic echo sounded in Tyr's mind, as buoyant as ever.
Tyr simply watched his reflection.
"I'm just on my way to the office. The team and I are going to put some new policies into effect today. It's another stepping stone on our path to a bright new Nyell."
Tyr was impressed; he was as articulate and energized as ever.
"I take it you'll just be studying again today? Good on you; you've got such a great work ethic. I know you'll do great things, son."
Tyr squinted at the screen, watching as the words in his mind appeared in green text that blocked out his father's reflection.

Command: speak your mind.

Without sight of his father's reflection, Tyr was left to wait until his father spoke again. But he could afford to be patient now that he had world enough and time.

"Where did I go wrong?" His father's telepathic echo was weak to the point of being almost unrecognizable.
"What did I do… What did I say… That made you want to do this? I wanted to be a good example to you, show you that we could make a difference to others. That we could be more than what we used to be."
He counted a minute before his father spoke again.
"It's not just me… You're going to do this to everybody, aren't you?"
Another minute.
"I'm sorry…"

Cancel previous command.

"Have a good day, father," Tyr said, lifting his tentacles to massage his aching tentacles.

"... You too, son," his father's voice regained its usual strength. "See you tonight."

Tyr was pleased; his headaches weren't as painful as they were yesterday.

IX

Stitch and Angel found themselves in each other's arms when they returned to Zorek's laboratory. For minutes, they could barely fathom the notion of looking at Zorek again without feeling sick. When they finally managed it, they found his pale expression a reflection of theirs.
It wasn't the sort of look Stitch expected to see for the story of his first meeting with Lilo at the pound.
They felt an electric hum in their minds as Zorek finally spoke again.

"You were free…" He said, for the first time sounding as if he didn't know what he would say next.
"You were free in a way none of them could ever have hoped to be… That I could never hope… And you… You let them enslave you…"

Stitch thought his face would twist with rage, but he only had enough energy to cry. The first thing he could think to say was the last thing he'd ever want to hear. He thought he could stop himself saying it, but he didn't think it would be worth the effort.

"You really are a monster."

Stitch waited for the befuddled response, for that infuriating blink, but he got so much more and so much worse. Zorek's eyes lit up; his face lifted into the best smile he could offer, which still seemed sad. A column of bubbles stretched from the bottom of his tank; Stitch could tell it was a sigh of relief.
One of his machine's tentacles hovered towards him like an old friend offering a helping hand. Its claw, with surgical delicacy, wiped a tear from his furry cheek.
For the first time, Zorek's voice sounded kind.

"I know."