The Bard would just like to open this chapter by proclaiming, "HOLY COW, YOU GUYS!" Really, I never expected this story to get 15 views, much less the 50-some-odd it got in the first three days of posting it! The Bard proceeded to drive his/her friends nuts by shouting out the stats of my stories every day. "Guys, my stories have gotten 40 views." "They got 20 more over the last few hours!" "OVER 100 PEOPLE have read my crap, you guys!" So without further ado, here's the next chapter for what seems to be a small fanbase. You guys are awesome.

Edgar was awoken by Santa's reindeer as they jingled above the cabin on their morning laps. He stretched and yawned, disengaging himself from his covers. The massive pile of throws and quilts that Sally had stacked on the couch had made it nearly as soft as his bed. Looking around the room, he found Jack somehow already awake and just beginning to string some cobwebs on a Christmas tree that he must have dragged in even earlier. Seeing Edgar rise from the couch, he gave him a toothy grin.

"Good morning, my boy!"

"Good morning, Dad," Edgar managed with almost half of his father's enthusiasm. He had only just woken up, after all. "Why are you up so early?"

"I thought I'd have this tree looking beautiful as a surprise for everyone." Jack gave him a playful glare. "I guess two out of four isn't a complete loss."

Edgar chuckled. "I almost forgot we had a guest." Jack only started humming and turned back to the tree. Edgar realized that he hadn't thought to bring any clothes out of his room to change into, so he headed that way.

"Edgar," Jack called softly. "Try not to wake anyone up. I still want this to be a surprise." He winked, and Edgar nodded, continuing down the hall.

When he reached his door, Edgar considered knocking, but figured that Christine wouldn't be awake anyway. He ever-so-slowly turned the doorknob and inched his way in. Sure enough, the sound of light snoring and a lump under the duvet were all that greeted him. He took a step forward, and was startled by a squeak. A rat had been sleeping soundly when Edgar's foot came down on its tail. Edgar jumped and stumbled, banging his hip loudly against the bureau. Christine sat up with a start, hugging the duvet to her chest.

"Who's zere?" she called out.

"Ow…it's only…only…" Edgar's mouth suddenly went dry, and his cheeks turned bright crimson. When he turned towards Christine, his eyes wandered to her shoulders. Her bare shoulders. There was no break, no strap of a nightgown or anything else, between her neck and her shoulders. The implications of such did not escape him in the least, and, as his mother had always dressed fairly modestly as he grew up, it left him utterly speechless.

"Edgar? What is it? Is somesing wrong?" Christine scanned the room, letting her arms droop slightly, and the cover slipped half and inch further downwards.

"Oh, oh, oh, n-no! I just came to get some clothes," Edgar blurted, his face growing impossibly redder. He turned away, reached into the bureau, and pulled out a shirt and trousers at random. "Don't mind me," he spouted, refusing to look at her. He all but ran out of the room.

"Edgar!" Christine called after him, still clueless. "I wonder what is ze matter wiz 'im zis morning." She then pulled the covers up over herself and drifted back to sleep, wondering over that strange boy.

Edgar, on the other hand, had gotten dressed in the washroom and trudged back into the sitting room, where his father was hanging eyes of newts onto the Christmas tree.

"Edgar?" he asked when he saw his son's face, which was still quite pink. "Are you feeling alright? You look a little feverish."

"Oh…yeah. I'm fine, just fine…"

~Time skip reluctantly brought to you by the Easter Bunny. Yes, he's still traumatized.~

Later that morning, Christine was indeed surprised by the brilliant Halloweenified Christmas tree. Sally, not so much ("But sweety, it looks more beautiful each year," she grinned, leaning into an only slightly disheartened Jack). The tree was covered in cobwebs and crows' feathers. Eyes of newts, spiders, random bones, and bits of candy intermingled as makeshift ornaments, and shining purple and orange lights glittered through the boughs. At the top, instead of a star, sat a tiny Jack-o-Lantern that glowed a misty green from within. The rampant mixture of colours and decorations should have looked tacky, but it was just chaotic enough to work.

"Monsieur, zis is…tres belle!" Christine exclaimed, amazed beyond English.

"If you think this is beautiful, just wait until you see the ones in town," Jack replied merrily. Christine froze, and the candy she'd snuck off of the tree skittered on the floor.

"Ze…ze town? Are we 'eading zere today?"

"Oh…" Sally murmured, seeing Christine's fright. "I suppose you don't have to come if you don't want to. I'd forgotten how terrified you were of the place."

"I'm not sure. An empty 'ouse doesn't sit well wiz me," Christine mumbled.

"You should come," Edgar said definitively. Everyone turned to him, surprised. He blushed a bit, then explained himself. "Maybe if you saw a little more, you'd see that there's nothing scary about ChristmasTown." Christine looked at him doubtfully. "Trust me," he finished, smiling.

"Alright," she said, steeling herself. "I will try. Only if you strike a deal wiz me."

"And that would be?"

Christine glanced over to Jack and Sally, who were watching them intently with amused expressions. "If I go wiz your family to zis ChristmasTown, and I get too frightened, you will allow me to come straight back 'ere, no questions asked. But, if I can stay wiz you ze entire time…" She leaned forward to whisper into his ear. "Zen I get to read more of your stories." She leaned back and let out a laugh at his tomato-red face.

"Deal," he barked softly, looking away.

Jack and Sally just watched, puzzled as their son and their guest shook hands.

"Jack," Sally whispered, leaning towards the skeleton. "I believe that our son may have gotten himself into a tough spot."

"I was just thinking the same thing," Jack replied, whispering as well with a wide grin. "But this tough spot, I think, will have a happy resolution." Sally just hugged his bony arm closer to her side.


The cheery music of ChristmasTown grew louder and louder as the Skellingtons and their guest made their way down the snowy road. Jack was happily informing Sally of his plans for the visit, and Edgar walked with Christine behind them. Edgar was trying his hardest to ignore that, since the music and light from the town could be discerned, Christine had clasped onto his hand, and that her grasp had grown tighter and tighter. Now, as they approached the first main street and rosy cottages on the edge of town, her grip had extended to his upper arm which, she was holding against herself like a shield. Poor Edgar had read enough stories and novels to know what was wrong with him; he was falling for her, hard. Yes, he was indeed in trouble.

Jack turned around to ask Edgar his opinion on something (likely where he thought one could find the best Christmas pies) and promptly burst into laughter at the sight he beheld: Christine, almost wrapped around Edgar's arm, but pulling it behind him awkwardly so she could hide like a child behind its mother, and Edgar, looking downright determined, but his pale face blazing red. Christine snapped out of her stupor to realize just how tightly and awkwardly she'd been clinging to Edgar when Sally turned and joined Jack in his laughter. She let go and jumped a bit away from him, her face turning as rosy as his. Somehow, through the tears of mirth and fits of giggles and painful awkwardness, they all made it to the main street of the town, where the ChristmasTown archway towered above.

And where Edgar became painfully aware of Christine's hand clutching his once again.

"So, my dear," Jack beamed, sweeping an arm around Sally. "Where shall we begin our tour of ChristmasTown with our guest?"

Sally, not even sparing a second glance at Edgar and Christine's intertwined hands, began walking into the fabric store. "You know, I think Edgar can handle giving Christine a tour." The other three looked at her, shocked. "Can't you, Edgar?"

"I-I suppose, b-but, Mom-"

"Excellent. Jack can you help me pick out some new fabric for drapes at the cabin? The house rat decided to make a cozy little nest out of the last ones while we were gone." She wasn't even slowing down or showing any signs of paying them any attention.

"Sally!" Jack called, jogging to catch her just as she stepped inside the shop. This left Edgar and Christine staring after them, slightly dumbfounded.

Inside the shop, Sally had already greeted the clerk and had begun sifting through the bargain bin to see if she could spot anything good. Jack scanned the shop, spotted her (not that hard, as he was tall enough to see right over the shelves), and sped over to her.

"Don't you think it was a little rude to leave our guest before we'd shown her about?" he asked, a bit exasperated. This wasn't like his polite little Sally at all.

"Nope," she answered shortly, continuing to dig through the clearance fabric.

"Really?" Jack asked again.

Sally set the fabric aside and smiled up at him. "Really."

As she stepped around him, Jack simply stood there, unsure. "…And why would that not be considered rude?"

"Oh, Jack," Sally sighed, looking tired. Finally she turned to him. "As brilliant as you are, you can be downright slow sometimes."

Jack brushed off the tiny insult. "What do you mean?" He smirked lightly. "What are you up to, you little demon?"

"If you can't see what's going on between that girl and our son, and I of all people can, you are beyond help." She began to pore through the racks of fabrics as Jack grew contemplative. Several long moments and long aisles later, he suddenly gasped.

"Wait! Edgar, he…"

"Yep."

"And the girl, she –"

"Yes again."

"And they –"

"Yes, Jack."

"I…I…" Jack stood there for a moment, then sighed in defeat. "You're right."

"About what?"

"I am downright slow sometimes."

Back in the streets of ChristmasTown, Edgar was trying his hardest to be a tour guide, which wasn't hard. Since Christmas was only a few days away, the town was in full swing. More lights, garland, wreaths, Christmas trees, and snowmen were strewn all over the town, with more being added every second. Elves were scurrying and hurrying in and out of the shops, decorating, stocking up, and making foods, toys, and clothes to sell. Smoke drifted lazily out of every smokestack, and Santa's factory and the town's train could be heard in the distance, chug-chug-chugging along at full throttle.

Unfortunately, Christine was still rather terrified. She'd taken to hugging Edgar's arm against her again, trying to dodge elves as they bustled past with packages piled higher than their pointy hats.

"S-so…" Edgar stuttered, a little flustered. "There's a frozen pond over here where the elves like to ice skate." Christine glanced in the direction of the pond, still shaking. "Hey." She looked up at him, eyes wide. "Are you still alright?"

"Ou-oui…" Christine shook herself a bit. "It's just…just, uh…startling."

"Is it getting any better?"

"A little bit. It's kind of busy around 'ere."

He paused. "I know where we can go."

Edgar led the both of them through a back alley. "Where are we going?" Christine asked. He didn't reply, and opened a door, which led to a flight of stairs. Dragging her along by her hand, he pulled her up after him and opened a door to the roof of the building, pushing through the snow piled in front of it.

"Not very many people come up here…" he explained. Christine just watched, until Edgar reached for her hand. Blushing lightly, she took it and followed him out the door and onto the roof.

This particular roof was on one of the tallest buildings in the town. From that high up, Christine and Edgar could see just about everything in town. The streets looked like a swimming, glowing hodgepodge of Christmas colours, while the music floated softly to their ears. Christine's grip loosened slightly on Edgar's hand. He looked down at her curiously.

"Is this better?"

"Much." She smiled up at him.


So, I'm planning to have two more chapters of about this length in this story. The Bard knows just where he/she is going now, so now he/she just has to get it typed.