Chapter Text
On his first night in his own bed in the Pelekai household, Wendy Pleakley lay on one side, pinching the edge of his blanket between two fingers, wondering where it had all gone wrong.
He had been a respected agent among the Galactic Council. He had, from the moment he was assigned his mission to chaperone Jumba Jookiba in the capture of Experiment 626 – no, the creature was “Stitch” now, he had to get used to that – been doing what he judged to be the right thing, at all times. Following the Council’s order to the letter, and being fired for it. Defying the Council directly in order to save the life of an innocent, and being banished for it. Going over it in his head, it seemed that the only logical thing he could have done to prevent his fate was to just let the Council destroy Earth. But that was inconceivable, now that he was here. Mosquitoes or no mosquitoes, he couldn’t imagine letting this planet, with its cultures and civilizations, become space shrapnel. Perhaps the old Pleakley, the one only concerned with protecting the habitat of the mosquito (and hadn’t that been a fool’s errand!), would have let it slide. A sacrifice in the name of the greater good. But things had changed.
And now he was stranded. Wondering if the book he’d been reading was still lying dog-eared on his desk at what had once been his residence, or if they’d cleaned that all out. Wishing he was lying on that bed instead of this one. Wishing he still had a job, a title, respect, instead of a group of strangers who had been altogether too kind to take him in, and he had to respect that, but as much as he hoped they would become friends (or this “ohana” Lilo spoke of) over time, they were still strangers.
All except the one who was sleeping not three feet away on the bunk bed above him, snoring so loudly that even if Pleakley’s mind had been enough at ease to let him sleep, he couldn’t have withstood the noise. This fact began to grate on Pleakley. His inner emptiness was filled with annoyance at the cacophony coming from his roommate. Soon, Jumba’s snoring became all Pleakley could focus on, and, fed up, Pleakley slid out of bed, grasped his pillow, and set out to get a little revenge.
The pillow hit Jumba’s face with a THUNK, waking the self-proclaimed evil genius with a “Wh…what? Who is there?”
“It’s me,” Pleakley snapped.
“Little one-eyed one…?” Jumba said groggily. “What is meaning of this disturbance?”
“Your snoring is keeping me awake,” Pleakley grumbled.
“Oh,” Jumba replied. “Well. Is too bad for you, then.”
This earned Jumba a second blow from the pillow.
“Hey!” Jumba grunted. “Please to be stopping with that! Now I am awake!”
“Good,” Pleakley retorted. “Now YOU know what it’s like to be kept up by your roommate.” With that, he turned and descended the ladder back into his own bed, aggressively pulling up the covers.
“Great,” Jumba muttered. “Am not sleepy now.”
“How’s your own medicine taste?”
“Bitter,” Jumba practically growled.
After that, he was silent, and Pleakley rolled to face the wall, attempting to find respite in the quiet he’d earned, but it would not come, swallowed up by the hollow space inside of him.
There still came no more snoring, a sign that Jumba was still awake. The emptiness was becoming unbearable, and perhaps, just perhaps, it could be filled up with words that described it. So long as there was a listening ear, why not make use of it? “I’m never going home again, you know,” Pleakley sighed.
There was silence. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Jumba was asleep after all, somehow without making so much as a single snore this time. But Pleakley had begun, and he felt compelled to continue. “I had a well-paying job, a place to call my own, maybe not the best relationship with my family, but hey, that’s…that’s just how family is.” Trying not to compare his blood relatives to the Pelekais and Lilo’s insistence upon Pleakley being part of that ohana now. It wasn’t the same at all. “And now, I’m stranded on a planet that barely registers on the Council’s map. I guess this is supposed to be my home now, but it’s not. It’s weird. This is a weird Earth house. And Lilo and Nani are very nice, but I barely know them. I don’t have any job anymore, I’ll never see any of my old friends or my family again…and all I did was…” No. He wasn’t going to cry. Jumba would latch onto his tears and make a mockery out of them. “All I ever did was what I thought was the right thing. I tried to get 6…Stitch back without destroying this planet. And it wasn’t even my fault I failed.” He was tempted, sorely tempted, to pin the blame on Jumba. After all, it was his experiment, his mission, his interference that had led to all of this. But Pleakley refused to do that as well, for reasons he had yet to divulge. “I just keep wondering…how did it all go so wrong? How did I end up here?”
“And I am caring why?” Jumba replied.
“Right,” Pleakley sighed. “Of course you don’t care. And I don’t know why I even thought I should tell you about any of it.”
Five minutes passed, and sleep came to claim neither. “Is strange to me,” Jumba said finally, “hearing you say all this. During day, you are always rushing to marvel at Earth this, look at Earth that. Are you saying you are not wanting to be here after all?”
“There’s a lot about it I love,” Pleakley confessed, rolling back to the side of the bed that faced away from the wall. So Jumba did want to talk after all: a relief. “I would love it even more if I were here on an educational mission or a vacation. Not permanent exile. I want to be able to go home when this is over. But this is home now.” He took a long, slow breath before letting it loose. “And maybe it’ll feel like that eventually. Maybe I just need to give everything time. It’s just that when the end of the day comes, I remember how different everything is from how I thought my life should be going.” Then, seized by an indignant streak, wanting to at least give Jumba a little grief for being the reason they were both there, he added more sharply, “But you wouldn’t know about that, would you? You were a criminal. You probably hopped laboratories every week to hide your illegal genetic experiments. I bet you didn’t have a home.”
“I had life too,” Jumba insisted, somewhat offended that Pleakley had made such an assumption. “I did not have new lab every week. Just the one. It grew familiar after so many years. Was interrupted during creation of 626, and ripped away from lab I had come to call home.”
“Did…” Pleakley wondered if he should broach the subject. “Did you have any friends?”
“Friends?” Jumba repeated. “Hmm. Was partner once, who funded evil experimentation. Jacques von Hämsterviel. We were close. And was married once.” A grunt of disgust. “Never again with that woman. Do not even want to speak her name. But as time went on, realized I did not need friends. I was own best friend, and was fine.”
“You weren’t lonely?”
“Lonely? HA! Why would I be lonely? I have genius intelligence and creativity! Is all anyone needs! Friends are unnecessary! As are wives. And you? Ever married? Girlfriend, even?”
“No!” Pleakley said hurriedly. “It wasn’t…I don’t…no.” He was afraid of the topic of romance. Shortly before his mission to Earth with Jumba, he had been in the midst of questioning some things about himself, things that scared him. Plorgonarian men were supposed to only have their eyes and hearts set on women, and vice versa, but a few passing feelings toward some companions and the lack of such feelings toward others made Pleakley wonder if he wasn’t as heterosexual as his family would have wanted him to be – or, for that matter, at all. And he would sooner throw himself out of the second story window than let Jumba Jookiba in on that. “I’m, uh…I’m sorry I said you wouldn’t understand.” There. The subject was changed. “Actually, you’re the only person I know who really would understand, after everything we’ve been through. You know, at first I thought you were just this big stupid evil bully who would end up either killing me or getting me killed.”
“Am big and evil,” Jumba confirmed. “The rest, not so much.”
“But it’s weird,” Pleakley went on. “Since moving in with Nani and Lilo, you’ve actually been really pleasant company. You might even be the one friend I have left. Oh, I’m sure Nani and Lilo will become my friends eventually, but right now, you’re the one I know best, and you actually have a lot of redeeming qualities. You did drop everything to save Lilo in the end, after all. Sure, it took Nani and Stitch to convince you, but you did the right thing. I thought I would hate being stuck on Earth with you, but I’m glad you’re here.” And that was why he didn’t want to fully place the blame.
“Is true?” Jumba replied.
“Yeah,” Pleakley confirmed. “It is.”
“Well, I am not feeling same about you,” Jumba huffed. “You are high-pitched goody-three-shoes nuisance who is keeping me awake. I couldn’t care less about your whining.”
“But you were just talking to me and asking questions – “
“Am scientist. Am naturally curious. That is it. Am wishing to sleep now. No more of your chitchat.”
“Well, that’s a fine how-do-you-do!” Pleakley rolled back over to face the wall in one sharp movement, folding his arms. “See if I open up to you again!”
“Please. Do not.”
That was the final word of the night. Not ten minutes later came the cacophonous snoring. Pleakley made do as best he could, lying still and hoping for sleep. For a moment, it seemed as though the hollow inside of him had been filled, just a little bit, with something light and gossamer, but now it was torn, leaving him more hollow than before.
Sleep was merciful to him at last, letting him slip away.
Daylight made a lot of things look better. Jumba had been right about one thing for sure: Pleakley was much more wont to admire the beauty Earth had to offer when the sun was up.
The inhabitants of the house all had a rather awkward breakfast together to kick off the day; while Lilo and Stitch had a ball cutting the pancakes Nani had made into shapes that vaguely resembled dinosaurs and drowning them in syrup “tar pits,” Nani, Jumba, and Pleakley had merely exchanged a series of wary glances and failed to dig up anything to talk about before Nani asked her sister to please go a bit easier on the syrup. After that, Nani had work – the orientation week of a new job renting out surfing equipment – and Lilo and Stitch ventured out to their hula class, leaving Jumba and Pleakley alone in the house. They left the table without so much as a word to each other.
It occurred to Pleakley that if he were going to live on Earth long-term, he would need to expand his wardrobe. He as of yet had no Earth currency with which to purchase anything new, but that wouldn’t stop him from looking at what was offered and remembering the best shops for later. First, of course, he needed a basic disguise with which to leave the house.
He never really overthought how much the people of Earth saw what they wanted to see. A set of human clothes was usually enough for Jumba and Pleakley to pass unnoticed among society; only occasionally did the average person on the street turn to regard either of them as looking slightly out of place. Pleakley considered the dress he’d first acquired in order to infiltrate humanity, but hadn’t he already worn that one so many times?
Pleakley knew he wasn’t supposed to raid the closets of his hosts. But, he thought to himself, his usual dress could use a wash, and he was only just borrowing something to wear for a short time. Yes, he thought as he entered Nani’s room, he would put it right back where he found it. No, he would run it through the laundry, like a considerate guest, then put it right back where he found it. And it wasn’t as though he wanted to look in the other corners of Nani’s room. He wasn’t a snoop. He was just seeking a fresh change of clothes.
And Nani had just the dress he was looking for. It was roomy, given Pleakley’s skinny frame, but it would do for the day when paired with the usual wig. Pleakley stopped in front of a bathroom mirror to give the entire sight a visual check before stepping out. Nani’s dress was a muted shade of orange, perhaps not the best contrast against a green complexion but not the worst either.
Outfitted with clothing and confidence alike, Pleakley stepped out into the heat of the day. He reflected, as he made his way into town, that Earth society, much like that of Plorgonar, drew a hard line between clothes for men and clothes for women. And the sad truth was that men’s clothes were altogether less vibrant, with less variety and far less creativity put into them than women’s garb. That had been true on Plorgonar and it held true on Earth, though it was only on the latter that Pleakley had been able to wear clothes specified as women’s. In the name of his disguise, he’d told himself, though in truth, he could have picked something more masculine – and thereby more boring – if he’d wanted. Wearing what truly looked good to him was exhilarating, and that was much of what led to his quest that day to seek out more of it, even if he couldn’t have it.
He searched through three different boutiques without incident; by the time he’d gotten a good read on the offerings of the fourth he visited, he noted the time, and he was certainly due to return home if he wanted to return Nani’s dress to its proper place without its absence being noticed.
A sales associate with a broad smile approached Pleakley, asking as her job mandated, “Can I help you?”
“Oh, no,” Pleakley told her, beginning to back away toward the door. “I was just looking. Though you have a fine array of Earth garments.”
“Thank…you?” The woman was confused.
“In fact, I shall most certainly be back to get – “ Pleakley was interrupted when he backed right into somebody else. Startled, he turned to apologize: “Sorry! I was…” He got an eyeful of exactly who he’d run into. “Oh. It’s YOU.”
Jumba had apparently also wanted to take the day out to look for clothes, though he tended toward the clothes delineated as male (his loss, Pleakley thought). Jumba gave a casual “Hmph” before remarking, “Is you.”
“I’ll just leave you to browse,” the sales associate decided before moving along.
In a low whisper, Pleakley hissed, “You better not be here to steal anything.”
“Stealing?” Jumba said defensively. “Who is stealing? No one is stealing anything.” At the same time, he fished a watch out of his pocket that he certainly hadn’t owned earlier that day and set it discreetly up on a shelf.
“Can I take my eyes off you for a MINUTE?” Pleakley groaned.
“What?” Jumba replied. “I put it back.” He looked Pleakley up and down. “Though you should be one to talk. Isn’t that dress of Nani?”
“I’m putting it back!” Pleakley snapped. “In fact, I’m going home to do that RIGHT NOW!” He twisted his way around Jumba and made a beeline for the door.
It took him a moment to realize Jumba was close behind him. “What do you want?” Pleakley sighed.
“Am going home,” Jumba told him. “If cannot steal anything, is no point in being out.”
“And here I was thinking you had a conscience.”
Their coordinated path took them out of the shop and down the same street together. Pleakley considered speeding up or slowing down so they wouldn’t have to accompany each other, but ultimately decided that would be immature. Slightly more acceptable was passive aggressive talk. “I’m surprised you can tolerate walking home with me,” he accused. “I would think I’m just too big of a NUISANCE to walk with. Oh, no, don’t tell me, I’m talking too much. There goes Pleakley, whining again! Whine, whine, whine, whine, whine – “
Jumba let Pleakley monologue for a while as he considered his position. He had long ago put up strong walls around himself: not to protect anything fragile, but to fortify what he already believed to be a solid structure. (Though that didn’t mean there weren’t parts of him that could be easily broken if struck at just the right angle, but he cared not to think about those.) Striking out as a rogue from the eyes of the government and all that was good in order to pursue the sort of science most would brand mad had made him an outcast, a label that he’d embraced wholeheartedly. Outcasts didn’t have friends. Outcasts didn’t have “ohana.” And here he was, cast even further out, exiled to Earth. The problem was that his way of life here relied on others. Nani had invited him in, Lilo had argued to give him a second chance, Stitch had convinced him to stay. And then, of course, there was Pleakley. He still hadn’t come to terms with admitting that he might actually be fond of any of these people, let alone all of them. It didn’t seem to be part of his nature.
He was being made very aware, however, of the fact that last night’s conversation during the wee hours had hurt Pleakley’s feelings. Now there was someone easily broken, Jumba thought. Easily set off emotionally in any direction. Pleakley could never have made it in the kind of life Jumba had lived out. And that, Jumba thought, should have made him desensitized to Pleakley, should have made it the truth when he said he couldn’t care less. But realizing just how upset Pleakley was at the moment, sewn together with the experiences the two had shared coming to Earth, ignited a strange desire within Jumba: the desire to fix what he’d broken. It was a rare feeling, one he hadn’t encountered since Nani had informed him that Lilo had been captured by Gantu because of Stitch. And he hoped desperately that this didn’t mark the beginning of an era in which this feeling would become more commonplace. But for the moment, he knew what he had to do, and that was own up to how he actually regarded his roommate.
“ – open up to you,” Pleakley was still going, “I listen to you talk about your old life, I admit where I went wrong, and you’d think that would give you a little sympathy at least. But nooooooooo!”
“Pleakley,” Jumba sighed, “stop.”
“Oh, what? You want me to stop whining?”
“I want you to listen to me for minute,” Jumba groaned. Here came the confession he hadn’t been ready to make, but if not now, he knew, he would have to come out with it eventually. “When I say ‘high-pitched goody-three-shoes nuisance’ last night, may have been…slight exaggeration.”
“Oh yeah?” Pleakley snapped, though he was interested to hear where this was going.
“You speak truth,” Jumba admitted. “We are ones who understand each other best in this moment. Is somewhat comforting to know am not ONLY one stranded on Earth who had life before.”
“Stitch – “
“626 practically began life here, despite short stint in lab. 626 would not understand. He has little girl for companion. Me? On most days, do not care for companion. Yet you are tolerable company. No…more than tolerable. Am not liking insinuation you make that I have conscience, but do like conversing with you on good day.”
Pleakley was completely caught off guard. True, his tirade had been meant to elicit some sort of apology, but this was a bit more than he was hoping for. “You mean it?” he asked eagerly.
“I mean it,” Jumba relented. “And is one other thing you should know. But am only saying this ONCE, you understand? Am never, EVER bringing this up again to you or anyone else.”
“Okay.” Pleakley shrugged. “I’m listening.”
Jumba stepped out in front of Pleakley in order to look him in the eye; they both stopped and stood still. “During chase with captain to rescue little girl,” Jumba admitted, hoping he wouldn’t regret the words the moment they came out of his mouth, “ship got blasted with enemy fire. One hit very near you. You screamed. I thought for moment you had been incinerated, and was strangely terrified. I had no reason to be. You had done nothing but aggravate and insult me. And yet very much did not wish you dead. Then saw you were fine, and forgot about it.”
“You…” Pleakley was stricken with surprise. He could vaguely recall the incident. His hearts were beating faster now; was that adrenaline from the memory of chasing Gantu down in the spaceship, or warmth from knowing that his roommate actually did care about his well-being? “You were actually scared for me.”
“Yes. Do not make me repeat self.”
“Oh, no, I won’t. I just…” He couldn’t hold back from breaking into a great smile. “You DO care about me!”
Jumba rolled all four eyes, turning to resume his walk. “Should not have told you. Now you will not shut up about it.”
“You do know I don’t want anything bad to happen to you either, right? I mean, I hoped that was obvious now, but just in case it wasn’t, I don’t.”
Jumba looked back over his shoulder, giving Pleakley a smile. “Is good to know.”
He slowed a little; Pleakley fell into pace beside him. Maybe it was a good thing, Jumba thought, that he’d aired the laundry he had. Still, he wanted to clarify his position. “You realize this does not make us friends.”
“Well, maybe not YET, but – “
“It does NOT. Make us. Friends.”
“Okay, okay. We’re not friends,” Pleakley relented, a little disappointed.
“We are roommates,” Jumba reiterated. “We are tolerable to each other. We do not want each other to die. Is more than could be said for when we first met. But we are not friends.”
“I get it, I get the point!”
“Good.”
That put a damper on the conversation until Pleakley brought up, “You know, I’m actually getting used to this tropical climate.”
“Not me,” Jumba grunted. “Is too warm.”
“Well, that’s what I thought at first, but…”
It was something as simple as the weather that kept their conversation fueled all the way home, where they found Nani waiting for them on the front porch, irked.
“What?” Jumba asked her innocently. “We do something wrong?”
“I think you have something of mine,” she said accusatorily.
The dress.
“I…was going to put it back?” Pleakley said sheepishly.
Nani sighed. “I just don’t want you going through my things.”
“I wasn’t going through your things! Just your closet.”
“My closet is where I KEEP my THINGS!”
This discussion only went on a little while longer; Nani eventually dropped the issue, figuring there were worse things to get worked up about than a housemate borrowing her dress for the day. Dinnertime had arrived, and, like the meals shared over the past few days, it would be awkward.
The mood would improve, of course. Nani, Lilo, and Stitch would become far more familiar and beloved to Pleakley as time passed – and to Jumba, though he would be loath to admit it. They would find more things to talk about over dinner. They would finally feel as though they’d made a home.
But that immediate night, Pleakley was once again faced with a lonely void as he tried once more to sleep. He tried to push it out of mind and avoid confronting it, but memories of his life before Earth were persistent.
He recalled Jumba posing the question of what it must be like for Stitch to have nothing, not even memories to visit in the middle of the night. Pleakley, at that moment, decided that it was better not to have the memories.
“Pleakley.”
Jumba’s voice cut through his reverie, and Pleakley answered cautiously; “Yes?”
“Are you asleep?”
“No.”
There was no response. Pleakley wondered what that had been about before returning to his internal battle.
“Pleakley. Are you asleep?”
The second time Jumba asked, Pleakley responded again with a “No.” And so he did the third time. But when Jumba asked the fourth time, Pleakley sprang up out of bed and scaled the ladder; “NO! I AM NOT ASLEEP! AND I’M NOT GOING TO GET TO SLEEP IF YOU KEEP ASKING ME IF I’M ASLEEP! WHY ARE YOU ASKING ME IF I’M ASLEEP?”
“Because,” Jumba answered casually. “You go to sleep first, then you will already be asleep when snoring starts, and you are not kept awake, so am waiting for you before I sleep.”
This completely disarmed Pleakley, who retreated back to his bed slowly. “Oh,” he said softly. “Thanks. Don’t worry about it tonight. Just go to sleep.”
“Well, all right.”
The void, Pleakley found, had been filled just enough for him to be able to get rest.