Sindey City: Winter Troubles

By Guille van Cartier

Author's Note: Sindey City... an amalgam of all Disney animated movies all poured into a single mold to create... a crossover fanfic. I know that not many people appreciate crossovers... but the reason I write them is because I want to know how the characters would react to one another... Sindey City: Winter Troubles was the first of three concepts of the Sindey City world that I had come up with, but it will probably be the only one that people would see. ANYWAY... this story follows the lives of three characters: Belle, from Beauty and the Beast, Jim Hawkins, from Treasure Planet, and Casey Frollo (or Quasimodo as most know him) from Hunchback of Notre Dame. Several ages have been changed, but I hope characters are still intact. So, if you're there, read and review, if you please! OH YES! AND TO SPAZTIC ARWEN! I'm expecting at least one review, and that's from you!

Disclaimer: I do not own pretty much anything in this story except the plot... I think. Everything belongs to Disney. I'm just playing around.

Chapter One

Belle

It was a gloomy Sunday morning in Sindey city. Snow dropped onto the tight cluster of pointed skyscrapers, swirling downward in a flood of white while supported on the back of the loudly howling wind. The sounds and sights of normal day were seemingly lost in the overcrowded metropolis, reduced to little more than a muffled honking of car horns and the blurred sight of traffic jams and crowded sidewalks. Above, the sky beyond the snow was gray with clouds, the city air flustered by the prospect of a hard blizzard.

It was election time in Sindey city, one of the busiest times in the entire year, and winter was hewing its unfortunate course through the congested conurbation.

It seemed that despite the cold, demanding weather, many of the city's workers and inhabitants had decided to brave the ice-filmed walks that veined alongside its monstrous buildings, risking both life and the day's pay in that single excursion. Upon the narrow boulevards, herds of people, appearing to be no more than a mass of dark business suits and open umbrella tops, walked along, struggling against the gale. Suitcases were gripped protectively, important documents held beneath the closed flaps of overcoats, and hats were jammed unceremoniously atop heads in an attempt to persevere unscathed. Little more than car-less, business underlings seemed to trek along the dangerous walks, though the streets, jammed and barely moving as was usual that time of year, seemed little better.

Walking with obvious effort in one of the laboring herds was a young woman, unusually discernible amongst the collection of expensive clothing. She was pretty, with long brown hair that fell behind her, held in a ponytail, the hood of her pink, fur-trimmed parka barely clinging to it, apparently blown off during her time outside. She wore a blue dress, which blustered about her legs, both in heavy stockings, revealing the tops of her leather, winter boots. In her gloved hands was a pile of papers, an ungodly large pile, mind you, which she held onto with all the strength that she could muster, fighting every one of its threats to blow away.

Belle was thoroughly unhappy about her situation, though she had little mind to reflect upon those feelings at that moment. She had done her best in researching for the election, and had, she thought, done a bang-up job with the task, but she doubted the group that she worked for would be able to see what she had produced. The snow was thoroughly dampening the sheets already, Belle having no overcoat large enough, no matter how hard she may look, that would accommodate the evil-looking bunch. And already, the wind was trying to undo it, the pile barely kept together by the pressure of her hands and the slight weight of dozens of binder clips. Not to mention the fact that she might not make it to the meeting on time; she had already been late that morning in leaving, not even taking the time that she normally did to read her email. She could have gotten there punctually had her car been available.

In fact, when she had woken up she had counted on that fact. But, unfortunately, her father, whose car had broken down just the day before, had need it to help his friend, who had asked old Maurice that favor because his car had broken down days before as well. Belle had agreed grudgingly; she supposed that a visit to the hospital was more important, though, she thought now, not by too much.

"Well, I hope you're having a great time at your doctor's appointment, Mr. Doppler," she said beneath her breath as she narrowly avoided losing a sheet of paper, grabbing it with one of her fingers just before it flew off with the white-tainted wind.

Suddenly, not half a mile away, Sindey's central clock rang out in a loud, clarion chime, strangely audible in the unhappy swirl. Belle stiffened at the noise, stopping in her tracks as she listened, forcing those that walked in that mechanical group to flow about her like a sort of human river. When the ring of the last peal died down, Belle let out a disconsolate groan.

"I'm going to be late!" she proclaimed anxiously. Madame DeChâteaupers would not be happy with her if she arrived tardy, if the woman would even let her into the meeting at all. This was horrible!

"Time to hurry it up, Belle!" she told herself strongly, a look of sudden determination claiming her face. She shifted the weight of the papers into a more comfortable position, and taking in a deep, biting breath, she made a break for it.

Belle sped along the slippery sidewalks, stepping on unlucky toes and screaming back half-heard apologies to their owners. She stumbled once or twice in her desperate sprint, a shock that served as only a minor disturbance, and she barely caught herself before falling onto the black asphalt of the streets when she made a sharp, almost forgotten turn. She hurried past buildings, jostled people accidentally as they walked unknowingly out of revolving doors, saying millions of sorry's as she tried to get to the rented hall that held the group's meeting.

Finally, she reached her destination, pushing against the bar handle of the metal door with her back, still clutching tightly the papers. She entered the lobby briskly, receiving several stares from those around her that she ignored easily, and she made her way toward the elevators.

"Wait!" she exclaimed, hurrying to an elevator whose doors were coming to a slow close. She stepped between the metal gates, holding them so that she could make her way in, and she managed to squeeze into the crowded compartment, the unhappy group morphing with a few miserable groans to allow her and her ungodly pile space. Belle found a spot in the corner of the elevator, stopping just as the twin doors shuddered to a creaking close. She let out a relieved sigh as the elevator made a short jerk upward, slowly climbing to its first destination. She didn't have to worry about pressing the button for her floor; practically all of them had been pressed, most of the panel glowing a cheery shade of yellow.

"Belle, is that you?"

The young woman turned to whoever had spoken, catching sight of one Aurora Stephenson, an attractive friend of hers with a voice as golden as her hair.

"Hello, Aurora," Belle greeted her politely, a subtle smile, only slightly forced, coming onto her face.

"It is you!" her friend exclaimed chattily. "It's been ages, hasn't it?"

"Yes, of course," she replied, only half-listening, watching the glowing floor buttons with a mild impatience as the elevator arrived at its first stop. A few people spilled out of the compartment as the doors opened up, causing several uncomfortable movements by the group, before the elevator once again closed its entry and started upward with its slight but familiar jolt.

"You haven't been at any of our little princess parties," Aurora said, referring to some selected days when they got together with several of their old friends (who long ago dubbed themselves the Sindey princesses) and had something of a tea party. Belle, of course, had to miss the past few that had last come around, too busy with the information jobs that she had been assigned.

"I know," Belle replied contritely. "And I'm sorry about that. You know I would've loved to come, but I've been so busy, lately."

"I can tell," Aurora replied, her eyes falling upon the enormous pile of papers that Belle was clutching to protectively. "What's all that for, anyway?"

"It's information that Mme DeChâteaupers needs for the election," she answered, looking over her pile of papers in a proud but tired way. "Things like statistics, polls, background checks..."

"Background checks?" Aurora asked unsurely, raising an eyebrow at the stapled and binder-clipped pile.

"Don't ask," was the only reply that she received from Belle, who shook her head wearily at some supposed memory. "It's a lot of hard work... more than I've done in a while."

"You must be exhausted," Aurora said, a note of sympathy evident in her voice.

"Oh yeah," Belle muttered, nodding her head. "But, at least I got here on time," she added with a smile. "And without a car, too!"

"You walked here all the way in this weather?" Aurora asked incredulously, her eyes widening at the news. "You're a brave woman, Belle!"

"My father needed the car," she told her. "His old friend has a cold and needed a ride." Belle let out a happy sigh, feeling a subtle lightness as the elevator slowed, nearing its second destination. "It's weird, but I feel lucky today."

"You shouldn't say things like that," Aurora warned her, shaking a finger. "You might jinx it."

"Jinx it?" Belle repeated, laughing slightly. "What could possibly go wrong?"

"Your floor?" Aurora inquired as the compartment came to a shaking stop, seemingly ignoring Belle's previous question.

Belle shook her head.

"No," she replied, a quizzical brow lifted in her friend's direction. "Why--?"

Suddenly, the whole of the crowd seemed to jolt forward, pushing out of the elevator even before both doors had pulled open. Belle let out a surprised scream as she was pushed unceremoniously against the elevator's wall, closing her eyes tightly as the stampede of people rampaged outward, waiting for it to come to an end. Finally, she heard the elevator's closing chime and she opened her eyes, only to see that the compartment now held less than half of its original riders, and that practically all of her papers had been scattered onto the floor. Belle looked, shocked, at the number of documents that riddled the once clean elevator floor, their black and white faces now smudged with muddy footprints, their edges crumpled and torn. It took all the self-control within her to keep her from screaming.

Aurora knelt down, pulling a soiled sheet toward her guiltily.

"I'm sorry, Belle," she said, glancing up at her friend with a regretful look. "It's been the busiest floor for a week... I've been working her for a while, so I knew and... I suppose I should've told you..."

Belle, though decidedly angry, let out a quiet sigh, shaking her head unhappily. "It's alright, Aurora," she said, joining her friend on the floor in an attempt to reformulate the pile. She glanced unhappily at her wrist watch, the appointed time of the meeting coming closer. Shaking her head, she returned to her work, chatting with her friend about life's frustrations all the while.

In the end, she, Aurora, and one considerate young woman named Anita Radcliffe, had remade the stack, though it was obvious that it wasn't the same. It was very much away from its original order, but Belle had decided there was little time to be worrying about something like that at the moment. Not to mention the fact that it had turned to be slightly more horizontal than it had been beforehand, spreading between both of Belle's arms like an untrustworthy bridge. But, as long as she had the papers in hand, the young woman showed little care about it. They had just finished before the elevator halted at her floor, and, with many thanks, she left Aurora and Anita behind. No one left with her; she supposed the person who had pressed the button had done it by accident.

Belle made her way toward the meeting room, whose large twin doors she spotted just beyond the short hall that she was walking down. She entered the waiting room that existed just before the two doors, where two sofas and an array of chairs were set against the white walls for anybody to sit. All were empty but for one of the armchairs resting beside a thin-legged desk with flowers. In that seat, there was a young woman, pale as the snow that shared her name, tapping constantly the keys of the notebook that she had on her lap.

Belle approached the two doors at the end of the room, glancing at Snow questioningly for a moment. She stood before the entrance, staring unhappily at the two curved handles that sat easily upon the door's white faces. She realized that she couldn't open it with all the things that she was carrying.

Sighing, Belle made her way over to the sofa on one side of the room, putting down her tainted pile. She hurried back to the doors, and grabbed one of the handles, and tugged it hopefully. It wouldn't budge.

"The doors are locked," she muttered in disbelief, pulling on the knob again to no avail. "The doors are locked!" she repeated, staring at the handles in shock. She listened quietly to the muffled discussions she could hear going on beyond the white-painted wood before her. Biting her lip unsurely, Belle lifted a gloved fist to the surface of the door, preparing to knock.

"I don't think you should do that," a soft voice said behind her. "It would upset Mme DeChâteaupers if you interrupted the meeting."

Belle turned about to face Snow, who had finally looked up from her laptop, her fingers still twitching above the keyboard despite the slight pause.

"Interrupt the meeting?" Belle inquired, confused. "But, I'm only a minute late!"

Snow White-Charming looked at the girl questioningly, closing her notebook quietly. "Belle, the meeting started an hour ago!"

"An hour ago?" Belle asked in disbelief, walking away from the door toward her coworker, who nodded her head in reply. "But I was told the meeting was at eleven!"

"It was changed to ten at the last minute," Snow informed her. "It was in the memo..."

"There was a memo?" Belle asked, obviously shocked at the news.

"Yes... we sent it out yesterday. Don't you read your email?"

"No..." Belle replied truthfully, letting out a whining sigh. In a defeated motion, she took a beaten seat beside her disorganized information, looking at the non-stack with a sort of gloomy disgust.

Snow White-Charming looked at the young woman quietly, feeling a touch of sympathy at her predicament. Placing her notebook on the table beside the vase of flowers, she made her way to the loveseat and, nudging the pile of papers aside, took a place beside Belle. "You've had a hard day, haven't you?"

"I guess you can say that," Belle replied with a slight laugh.

"It's because of this horrible weather, that's what it is!" Snow said resolutely, nodding her head at the thought. "Maybe if it were sunny out, we wouldn't all be stressed out!"

"And maybe if it weren't election time," Belle added.

"Yes, that too," Snow acceded. "Mme DeChâteaupers is very serious about this year's elections... I'm afraid that maybe she's trying a little too hard this year."

"It makes sense," Belle told her. "The current mayor is a biased pig... the only reason the crime rate's down is because he's throwing anybody and everybody who doesn't wear a business suit and polish their shoes in jail."

Snow nodded at the grim reality, the cold feeling toward one Sindey Mayor Claude Frollo rising. Frollo seemed to be irrational about a lot of issues, including religion, rank, race, and, in a quaint and alliteration-breaking manner, women. Though it was obvious he tried hard to hide his prejudiced ideas from the public, many people had experienced firsthand the unfriendly impression. Enough people, it appeared, that many had lost confidence in his governing.

"Do you think that people will listen to Mme DeChâteaupers, Belle?" Snow asked anxiously. "I mean, she isn't exactly what most would consider being a mayor of a city. After all, she is a woman, not to mention a—"

"Don't say such things," Belle broke in, an annoyed look on her face. "Of course they'll listen to her; they'll have to. Sindey's not doing very well nowadays, Snow. If they don't notice it, then they're blind, and we're going to do our best to help them see."

Snow nodded, obviously unsure, but nevertheless inspired by her coworker's words. "We'll show them, right?"

"Yes, we will!"

Both of them raised their fists, punching the air in a triumphant gesture. After a moment, one white door creaked open to the side, and the head of Jane Porter peeked out at the two associates.

"Excuse me," she began, bringing both women's attentions to the door. "Yes, um, would Belle please come into the room? Mme DeChâteaupers has been waiting for her."

"Oh yes!" Belle said suddenly, shooting off of the chair and picking up the pile of stepped on papers from its spot beside Snow White-Charming. Bowing her head politely at Snow, she made her way to the twin doors, and stepped into the room. The meeting restarted promptly.