Quell

(A/N: My first Lilo and Stitch fan-fiction. I'm placing this story under the "M" category for future descriptions of violence and possible adult-situations. This is mainly a Jumba/Pleakley story, but other characters may take the spotlight from time to time. I own nothing, except my imagination.)

Lips moved in quiet murmurs, soothing maternal tones. They didn't quite belong to him, but he felt as though he saw that mouth every time he looked at himself in a mirror. The image changed, replaced by a mouth that was much thinner, devoid of fine Quelta-Quanian fuzz. The motherly tone remained, though the voice belonged to someone quite different.

Sharp sound barreled through the dark, red wetness and charred, black carbon painted the area. A slim hand curling post-mortem, poking out from underneath rubble. The warm tone continued on, though the voice had been silenced. A child's bellow of rage echoed around the blood and soot-coated walls.

All four of Jumba's eyes snapped open at once, he tensed his body, and he was brought back to earth as he stared up at the plastered ceiling of the bedroom he shared with Pleakley. He was not unfamiliar with nightmares, but this was the first one that had involved any member of the Ohana.

He heard a muffled sleepy sound from the bed below as the Plorginarian shifted. Jumba wondered if he had cried out in his sleep. The thought was humiliating, and he clenched his jaw. The genius scowled at the ceiling and crossed his arms, willing himself back to sleep.

The following week passed by normally. At least, normally for the Ohana. Lilo and 626 were joined at the hip, doing everything together and occasionally coming to Jumba for help. Nani oozed stress and weariness, balancing the bills, diffusing arguments, and trying to maintain a relationship with David. Pleakley tried to show off his earth knowledge and played the part of a chipper housewife.

If Jumba seemed quieter than usual, no one noticed it. He spoke only when spoken to, and spent a lot of time silently-observing the other members of the household, or tinkering away in his lab. He watched them all, absorbed in the hustle and bustle of daily life, while he was unable to stop himself from thinking.

He didn't want to think. He wanted to be able to bury himself in his projects, or in the illusion of family normalcy. But the nightmares wouldn't go away, and his mind wouldn't leave him in peace.

Finally there came a day when Pleakley was a little too pushy, and Jumba was a little too stubborn. The Plorg had sashayed up to Jumba's side in a neon-orange tube-top and a beaded bikini wrap, both hand-sewn, no doubt. The smaller alien then proceeded to cling girlishly to his arm while sweetly-insisting that the large scientist accompany the family to a relaxing day at the beach.

Jumba lifted his grabbed arm up high, almost casually, and watched Pleakley yelp and kick his three legs in the empty air before letting go and falling in an undignified heap on the floor.

"I do not want to be relaxing." the Quelt said calmly, refocusing his attentions back onto the device he had been toying with. A day at the beach sounded anything but relaxing to him right now. Sitting around, watching the others playing with reckless abandon in the water, building sand castles. It left far too much un-focus, too much opportunity for his mind to be drifting into something unpleasant.

Pleakley gathered up his bruised pride, and whatever qualified as a Plorgonarian backside, and fixed Jumba with an incredulous glare.

"What's your problem?!" he shrilled in a high voice, one that contrasted sharply with the low, flirtatious one he had used in an attempt to coax his friend seconds earlier.

"Is no problem. I simply do not want to be going anywhere." Jumba replied, making some small adjustments.

"Well you could have just said so! Instead of…of…Man-handling me!"

Jumba scoffed at this.

"There was no man-handling." the scientist's voice raised an octave as he turned in his chair to look at the smaller male and shook his head for emphasis.

"Yeah? Well whatever you want to call it, I have bruises." Pleakley huffed and crossed his arms.

The Quelt simply scowled and turned back to his worktable, having nothing to say to this.

"You're not even going to apologize are you?" Pleakley said flatly, his eye narrowed.

"Sorry. Am forgetting what delicate flower little one is." Jumba didn't turn back to look at the other as he said this, but raised both hands in the air and wiggled his fingers in mock gesture. He sounded a lot more cross than apologetic.

"Oh! Well excuse me for not being a mountain of muscle!" The Plorg snapped, the beads on his wrap jingling as he tried popping his hip to one side in imitation of an angry woman.

"You could easily have saved yourself fall. I have seen you climb up my arm many times before without problem. Am not feeling bad for you. Do not be treating me like bully!" Jumba insisted.

"Well…I'm not wearing pants. That would have been very un-ladylike of me." Pleakley confessed, and flushed with embarrassment.

Jumba just stared at him, until a drawn-out snort fought it's way through his nose, and finally he burst out laughing. Pleakley looked offended and stalked out of the room. Then poked his head back in the doorway a few seconds later.

"You sure you won't come with us?" he asked timidly. Jumba was still chuckling to himself.

"Eh, fine. I will join family." He said with good humor. His bad mood seemed banished. He hadn't laughed like that in a long time.

The beach trip went much like he had predicted, except with him participating instead of watching from the sidelines. He had fun playing 'secret agent' with Lilo and 626, where their sole mission was to get the sun-bathing Nani and Pleakley wet and covered in sand. When Nani scolded Lilo for ruining her 'relaxing time', Jumba defended the little girl.

"Is my fault, am bad influence!"

Not wanting to deal with the older girl's anger in the house later, however, he led Lilo and 626 back to the water and suggested they leave the sunbathers alone for now.

"Bah, they are just not knowing how to have fun!"

Truthfully, Jumba didn't understand the benefits of 'relaxing' to relieve stress. He doubted he was truly designed for such a thing. When he was suffering from negativity, he needed to burn it off somehow, not sleep it away. So he played with the child, and swam in the water.

Everyone returned home, and took turns rinsing the salt and sand from their bodies. Pleakley made dinner, and Lilo watched old movie specials with Stitch until Nani ushered the two of them up to bed. Nani went to bed soon after, complaining about work the next day. Jumba put his things away, so no one would get into anything dangerous or delicate. Pleakley cleaned the dishes and tidied up the living room.

Jumba was already settling into the top bunk when Pleakley came in the room to get dressed for bed. The Quelt put his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling again, thinking. But the thoughts didn't fill him with a sense of foreboding.

"Jumba?" Pleakley's voice flitted up to him in the dark.

"Hm?"

"You did really nice at the beach today. I think Lilo had a lot of fun."

"Yes…Am feeling glad, that you dragged my lazy patooki out of lab."

"Well, I'm glad that you're glad."

Jumba chuckled softly at this, and settled down comfortably for sleep. He felt good tonight.

Another nightmare came to him, worse than any of the others before it. Childhood faces from Quelta-Quan suffered agonies in the hot sun of Hawaii. The Ohana died cruel deaths in the frozen shelters of his old home. His beloved laboratory seemed to spring to life against him, machine and experiment alike intent on his dismemberment and subsequent dissection. Foolish creations then, cannibalized one another and the survivors were swiftly terminated by members of the Federation.

That warm tone was speaking to him again, as he curled up bitterly, wondering why he wasn't dead yet. Maybe he was. Maybe it was his mother, happy to see him again. Maybe it was planet of Quelta-Quan, praising him for his bravery, telling him not to be ashamed…

The tone turned to one of worry. He felt light, ticklish strokes on his ears. He growled in confusion, and then slowly blinked his eyes open, out of sync.

"Jumba!…Hey." Pleakley was hovering over him, slim hands resting on his shoulders, fingers nervously petting the sides of his face. Jumba wondered which of them the action was meant to comfort, and if the Plorg even realized what he was doing.

The Quelt shifted away and then sat up, looking over to see Pleakley clinging to the wooden frame of the top bunk with his feet. He hadn't even bothered to use the ladder. Pleakley blinked at him nervously.

"Nightmare?"

"….Yeah."

The Plorg paused to watch him for a moment, looking like the kid in class who had a burning question, but was afraid to ask it.

"Was I screaming?" Jumba asked half-jokingly, with an uncertain smile.

"No."

"Oh. Good. Would not be wanting to wake entire household."

"You were crying." Pleakley said this very softly and gently, as if he hoped the larger alien wouldn't hear him. His concern for the other was just barely overriding his fear of making Jumba angry, and he cowered slightly.

Jumba regarded him for a minute, bearing an eerily calm and unreadable expression. Then he studied one of his paw-like hands for a second, and touched his face, checking for any wet residue. He could honestly count the number of times he remembered crying in his entire life on one set of digits.

"Appears that way…" he said distantly, rubbing a bit of moisture between finger and thumb.

"Can I ask why…?"

"Was bad dream." Jumba said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and shrugged his shoulders. He laid back down again, and pulled the covers back up to his stomach, resting his hands there.

Pleakley finally climbed over the frame and into the bed, cautious but insistent. He copied Jumba's position, laying down next to him and clasping his hands together over his waist. He didn't say anything, just joined his friend in staring up at the ceiling that suddenly seemed so interesting.

They stayed that way for a long time, until Pleakley began to think maybe he would just fall asleep there. If Jumba was assaulted again by his own brain during slumber, Pleakley would be there to rescue him from the perils of dreamland.

"I do not think…You should be sleeping here. Do not want to be squishing you, my little one." Jumba said finally, turning his head to look at the other. Pleakley mumbled an affirmative and climbed back down into his own bunk. Jumba heard the sounds of deep-sleep breathing within seconds, and peered over the side of his bed to look at the Plorgonarian, curled tightly around his pillow.

Months went by, and things were normal again. Jumba would pull in close to his Ohana, and then turn and hold them at arm's length, as if realizing he had made a mistake.

One morning, Pleakley was making breakfast for the family, and his phone rang. He set down a plate of pancakes at the table for Lilo and Stitch to dig into, and went to check on it. Sure enough, the readout told him his mother was calling him.

"Well good morning, mother!" he greeted cheerfully after pressing the necessary button.

The face that appeared on the little video screen was off somehow. He was used to his mother looking concerned, but in a 'Have you been eating?' kind of way. This older female looked positively frightened, as if merely speaking would rain doom upon her.

"Wendy!…Are…Are you alone?" she whispered, placing nervous fingers to her lips.

"Well…I'm at home. So no, not really." Pleakley blinked at her in puzzlement.

"Honey, you have to get out of there! You need to get away from him!"

"What? What's going on? Who's him?"

"Oh dear, I knew you wouldn't be checking the news feeds on that backwater!"

"Mom, what-"

"That Jookiba-person is a monster! The Federation is going to be putting him on trial for murder! Oh Wendy, you should have seen the families! They-" his mother's eye was tearing up, but Pleakley didn't notice, he'd already dropped the phone.

He heard her voice filtered through the tiny speakers, shrieking at him in panic. Chair legs scraped against tile as people in the kitchen got up to see what was going on. He ran past them, out the front door.

Jumba had gone out to the ship, needing special tools to fix the little hover car Stitch had accidentally run into a large tree. Pleakley had a sudden vision of the ship taking off without him, wondering frantically if Jumba had known this was coming. He was trying desperately not to trip over his own feet.

"JUMBA! Jumba have you seen the Federation newsfeeds?! Do you know anything about this? Jumbaaa-ha-ha!!" Pleakley wailed as he shoved open the entry-door to the ship and went speeding down the hall toward the lab. He turned a corner and ran directly into Jumba's chest, the larger alien having heard him coming.

Jumba steadied the hysterical Plorg with one hand and pulled off his work-goggles with the other. Pleakley was crying now, fingers clutching Jumba's lab-coat.

"What is matter, Pleakley? Be calming yourself!" he truly had no idea what was going on.

"My mom called, and-and Federation! Murder trial! And you…" he trailed off, and just stared imploringly at his friend.

Outside, they both heard a high-pitched scream that could only belong to Lilo. Next came plasma blasts, the sound of something breaking, and wood splintering. They ran to the entryway, and were stopped before they got more than a few feet outside.

Lilo was being restrained by Nani, who was trying to apologize fearfully to a Federation police officer who happened to be picking the fragments of a ceramic dinner plate out of his hide. Stitch was surrounded by more officers, growling and snapping at them as they held him at gun-point.

Directly in front of Jumba and Pleakley was a small troupe of more heavily-armed officers, Cobra Bubbles, and the Council-woman. Everyone looked fierce, save Cobra, who simply looked grim. The Council-woman spoke, in a voice like the sentence of a cold machine.

"Mister Jumba Jookiba, the Federation will be taking you into custody, in light of recent evidence and charges of murder against you. You will be given a public trial. Your family and friends may attend."