A/N: Here's the next chapter.

The fingers were back. They stroked her hair gently, soothing away the headache within. Coraline hesitated, letting the fingers play across her face and brush her eyelids lightly, urging her to open them.

She paused for a moment more, and then took a leap of faith. She opened her eyes.

A pair of warm button eyes met her. She gasped, sitting up quickly in bed and hugging her visitor tightly. "Wybie…"

Other Wybie smiled widely, hugging her hard and stroking her back lovingly. He didn't say anything, as Coraline expected. He just communicated what he could through touch and touch alone.

"Oh God, Wybie. Don't worry. The Other Mother will let you go soon…"

Other Wybie pulled away, his smile falling away and his buttons shining with fear. He touched his left button and looked at Coraline with horrified questioning.

"No, she's not going to sew the buttons in my eyes. She wants to teach me how to be like her. I don't know, something about me beating her…"

He jerked slightly, shaking his head sharply and holding her face in his hand. She realized with a small jerk in her heart that his right hand had not come back. "You don't want me to learn from her?"

There was a screaming in the distance, and Other Wybie looked back sharply. He pushed her back on the bed and impulsively kissed her forehead.

Coraline's eyes snapped open.

Her room was dark. Had she really spent the entire day? Luckily, her head only had a slight headache from hangover. Wybie had probably forced her to drink a lot of water before she had gone to sleep. She'd have to thank him.

Damn it. She had hit him. And Vera.

She buried her face in her pillow with a frustrated growl. What was going on with her? Why was she hurting the people who just wanted to help? Damn. This was all because she was too damn weak to not reach immediately for alcohol. She used to not be that weak. There was something wrong.

Yeah. She was an alcoholic at the age fourteen. New record. Whooo…

She sat up, sighing. The reality of the situation settled in her stomach. Everything was going wrong. But she was too. Wybie and Vera hadn't done anything, and she would have saved them a bruise, a cut, and a few hurt feelings. What would happen next? Would she take out something sharp? Would she try to sew buttons?

She shuddered. Just because she was the Other Mother's pupil now didn't mean she'd sew buttons on people.

Coraline crawled to the foot of the bed, looking down at the place she had broken the bottle. It still smelled strongly of whiskey, but all the glass had been picked away. Wybie had probably cut up his fingers awfully.

She sighed. No. She wasn't going to hurt him again. Her fists tightened in determination in her lap. She broke her whiskey bottle. She swore not to touch any other.

Of course, her head had to ruin the moment by giving her a big pulse of pain.

She moaned softly, but she forced herself to stand up. She noted that there was a glass on her bedside table next to her picture of Alfred and Vera, presumably containing water, her mood was more stable, suggesting someone had given her her daily pills, her pajamas had been changed, and her hip was clumsily but passably wrapped. Wybie, and possibly Vera and Alfred, had been busy.

Coraline smiled despite the situation, a surge of affection for all her friends warming her heart. Maybe she wasn't as alone as she thought.

There was a soft meowing at her door, and then an even softer knock.

"Wybie?"

The door opened slowly and he peaked in. They both smiled at each other at the same time and he padded in quietly.

"Oh God, Wybie." She came forward and hugged him gently. He blushed and clumsily hugged her back. "How's your lip?"

He pulled away, smiling and shrugging. "Ah, you know me. I can deal with a little bloody lip."

"What about Vera and Alfred?"

"They went to the hotel they're staying at. I explained the version of events your shrink's been giving your parents. They told me to say that they're there for you and you all can talk later when I'm not around."

"Well, at least they don't think I'm going crazy," she said, giving Wybie a pointed look, but the glimmer of amusement gave her away.

Wybie just grinned cheekily in response. "What'd you expect? You were babbling about my grandma's doll being a spy."

"Well, she was. Do you have any Advil?"

"I thought you'd need that." He reached into one of his many pockets and pulled out a pill. "Hey, was it okay that we gave you your pills while you were drunk?"

"Well, I'm not supposed to take it with alcohol, but I guess that it's better than not taking it at all." She sat on the bed, taking the cup of water next to her and taking it with the Advil. "I've become such a pill-popper. I gotta work on that."

"Hey, you hit me a lot less when you're loopy."

"But I also happen to feel like my head's wrapped in cotton."

"You don't feel like that now, right?"

"Nah. Not now." The cat jumped up on Coraline's bed, curling up in her lap. Wybie sat besides her right on the edge, blushing slightly. "But we need to figure out what to do for the Other You. I don't trust the Other Mother."

"Yeah. The cat and I were talking, and while we were with your Other Mother, he found the Other Me."

"What?" She stiffened, her eyes widening. "Why didn't you say this before? Don't answer that. What happened?"

"He said that the Other Me is still alive. But he doesn't want you to go to… what's the word he used?... Right, Beldam. He doesn't want you to save him."

"I don't understand…" Coraline frowned, the image of Other Wybie's upset face flashing through her mind.

"I didn't either. The cat just said that Other Me was scared about you being around her. I'm quoting the cat here when I say 'he doesn't want you to lose yourself.' Don't ask me what that means." Wybie leaned back, frowning at the ceiling. "Does Other Me like banana slugs?"

"What? Wybourne!" Coraline chuckled briefly, pushing her friend gently. "But I don't get it either. Cat?"

She glanced down at the cat. He elegantly sat up, licking his paw and glaring at them as if to say 'I will work on it.' He always hated admitting that he didn't know something.

"I thought he was mute. How can he talk to the cat?"

"Something about superior senses, right?" Coraline looked down at the cat, smirking slightly in amusement. His ears twitched and he narrowed his eyes, sensing that he was being mocked.

Coraline stood slowly, brushing herself off. "Coraline, your parents called earlier. They said that something came up and they were going to be out of town for a bit. They said they were sorry they missed you."

She didn't pause. "They've been going out more often lately. Something about trying to get a promotion, I think."

"Where are you going?"

"The Other Mother said I had to go back to her every night." She looked up, cold, unflinching determination in her eyes. "I don't care whether or not Other Wybie wants me to see her. I'm going to save him."

"Coraline…"

"Stay here. If your Grandma calls, go to her. You can worry if I'm not back in the morning."

She left without looking back at her friend. The cat padded quietly at her heels.

---

"Your parents tell me that your friends from Pontiac are visiting."

Coraline hugged her knees, staring at the blank yellow ceiling. This room was so bland. It smelled like wood polish, and the fact she always visited Dr. Windsor in the hospital's psych ward made her nervous. Would her parents one day not come back to pick her up? Will she become a permanent fixture to her psychiatrist's office?

"Yeah."

"Does that make you feel anything?"

"I'm glad they're here. But I can't get distracted. He's depending on me."

"Ah, yes. The boy who protected you from the Other Mother."

Coraline nodded slowly.

"Coraline, do you believe that this is becoming an obsession?"

"It has to. His life is at stake. I already lost my Other Father." She sighed, burying her face in her knees.

Dr. Windsor leaned forward slightly. She didn't look up at his face. He didn't have a face in her mind. He was the faceless doctor without even a pair of button eyes. "Don't you think that it would be healthy to play with your old friends?"

"Maybe. But my health isn't what's concerning me right now."

"Your mental health should be your main concern. You are very sick, Coraline."

She looked up, staring past the psychiatrist and at the window. "I know."

---

"Ah. So you came back."

The room was dark. Too dark. Coraline could barely see through it. But thin needle fingers stroked her hair, sending shudders down her spin. "I thought you lost your hand."

"A hand is easy to recreate, Coraline. It is made of needles. All you need are the skill and the tools. Before long, you will have both."

A light came on. Fire. Like a candle. Coraline didn't know how or where. It lit up a cozy room. A workshop.

Coraline shuddered when she saw all the macabre half-finished dolls, sawdust, and dolls with missing parts. She couldn't help but remember that these dolls might as well be living, breathing humans. A window opening to the night sky was on the far wall, and a small old-fashioned sewing machine was on top of a table, and counters littered the place, as well as drawers and cloth and materials in general. It seemed messy and well-used at first glance, but Coraline felt that she would be able to find her way around it easily after a few days.

"Why are you teaching me about this?" Coraline asked, refusing to be intimidated by the sight of the Other Mother's true, cracked, spider-like form.

The Other Mother turned predatory buttons on her. "All will become clear." She forced a smile, delicately opening one of the drawers with a needle-like hand and picking out a needle and a spool of thread. She placed the tools on the counter next to Coraline, taking out a few pieces of cloth and handing them to the girl. "Show me what sewing you can do."

Coraline frowned, but she obediently picked up the needle and threaded it, being sure to tie the two ends together after cutting the string. The Other Mother remained expressionless. Coraline slowly sewed the pieces of cloth together. She didn't do anything fancy—just what her mother had taught her when she had finally gotten tired of darning her clothes.

When she finished, she tied the thread and cut it free of the needle. She pulled at it experimentally, making sure it could handle movement out of habit. All the practice she had had with darning, sewing, and patching her ripped up clothes was finally coming to use.

She presented it to the expressionless Other Mother. The spider-like woman grasped the cloth, examining the stitching critically. "Firm. Nothing impressive, but a start." She smiled down at Coraline, stroking her hair lightly. Coraline shuddered again slightly, but it was less violent than last time.

"Then you can start teaching me then. The sooner Wybie is safe, the better."

Her Other Mother smirked, dipping her head. "Very well. Now, the first step is learning about the different kinds of stitching…"

---

Wybie quietly padded outside and down to the lower apartment. Coraline had come back from the Other World, but she was sleeping now. He had questioned her about what had happened, but she had said that the Other Mother was teaching her how to sew living dolls and recreate worlds. She didn't seem that upset. More like a residual disturbance that the Other Mother's presence seemed to leave. But, despite that, she seemed much more cheerful than usual. That in itself was odd. Maybe… facing her Other Mother was helping her? He hoped so.

At any rate, he had called his grandmother. She had hesitantly agreed to allow him to stay at the Pink Palace for the night, if only to watch over 'that nice little Coraline of yours' while her parents were gone.

But he was antsy. So he might as well visit someone. Why not the old ladies in the lower apartment?

A few minutes later, he knew exactly why not.

"Oh, you are such a dear. You're watching over Caroline while her parents are gone?" Ms. April Spink asked, grinning widely.

He sighed inwardly, ignoring the mispronunciation and averting his gaze from the angel dogs on the shelves. Good thing Coraline had warned him about those things. He took a sip from his tea quietly. "Yeah. She, uh, had a nightmare last time. I got kinda worried, you know? She's been really having a rough time…" He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably.

"I'm sure she appreciates it, dear." She shifted, smiling. "Would you like me to read your tea leaves?"

She didn't wait for a response as she took the tea cup from him. He shifted nervously, waiting for the old woman to say something.

"Oh dear…" She shifted, frowning. "A great change is coming, and not necessarily for the better. But not to worry, dear. You have friends who are going to help you through it."

Wybie just nodded, worriedly contemplating the implications of the prediction. He hoped that they weren't accurate.

---

"Wybie!"

Coraline grinned and immediately sat up in her dream-bed, hugging Other Wybie tightly. He smiled, hugging her back gently.

He pulled away, picking up a pack of cigarettes from her bedside table and frowning. He didn't need to speak to get his meaning clear. Coraline smiled sheepishly, shrugging a little.

Other Wybie's gaze got more disapproving, but it never lost its soft and gentle sympathetic edge.

"I'm sorry, Wybie. I don't know why I've started doing all this stuff. I… used to never need a crutch. I don't know why I do now."

Other Wybie shook his head slowly, his button eyes becoming understanding. He held her hand gently, trying to get his message across somehow.

The button-eyed boy cocked his head, concentrating, then he hesitantly touched the bandage on her hip. He touched it and pointed to her, shaking his head, and then pointed to his missing hand, holding it close to his chest. She was still strong. She was still able to endure. He then put the cigarettes aside, pointing to her and shaking his head. Coraline was a little confused as to what he was trying to say, but he was either saying that her habit wasn't her fault or that she didn't really need them. (She begged to differ on both points.)

And then he grabbed the doll that Coraline hadn't noticed was still on the chair besides her bed. It was the little-her. The Coraline-doll spy.

He touched the doll's button eyes, nodding slowly. The Other Mother. It was the Other Mother's fault.

Coraline cocked her head in confusion. Other Wybie sighed in frustration, obviously angry at his own inability to speak. He put the doll aside, scowling slightly at himself. Coraline smiled gently. "Thanks for trying, Wybie." She touched his cheek lightly.

Other Wybie looked up pleadingly, shaking his head. He tapped his button eyes with a finger, shaking his head.

"I told you. I'm not having them sewn in."

He shook his head, tapping the buttons again.

"I don't understand…"

Other Wybie frowned, then picked up a few strands of cat hair from her bed.

"Ask Cat?"

He nodded. He stiffened suddenly, and there was screaming in the distance. He kissed her forehead gently and she woke up.

---

'She is trying to make Coraline like her.'

Wybie looked down at the cat sharply, leaning against the wall of Coraline's kitchen. "What?"

'The Other Wybie told me so. He doesn't understand how or why, but she is trying to make the girl like her in every way.'

"That's crazy. Coraline would never be like her. She hates the Other Mother…" Wybie nervously shifted.

'You have not noticed the change about her?'

Wybie said nothing. He looked at the window, watching rain patter against the panes.

'Your Other Self is very concerned. He does not want Coraline to lose herself, but he fears that the Beldam has already caused her to.'

Wybie just shook his head, his tightly curled hair bouncing slightly with the movement. "She's strong. She's just… having an off-year. Right?"

The cat just arched an eye-ridge. 'Whether or not his concerns are founded, Wybourne, his main worry is: Coraline is in danger.'

---

"Coraline?"

Coraline didn't feel like talking. She stared at the window above her psychiatrist's head, envying the birds that nonchalantly sang from the tree branches just outside. She hated being in this stuffy room. The warmth was the sort that stuck to you sluggishly, seeping into your bones and making you fall into an uncomfortable sleep. It was awful and dry, the type that made one's lips all parched.

"Coraline."

She couldn't bring herself to pay attention. He was nothing but a doll. And her thoughts were centered on more important things. She had been having her lessons for two weeks now. And each night, the cat came back with messages of increasing desperation from Other Wybie. In her dreams, he had been trying to convince her to stop seeing the Other Mother with more determination. But she hadn't listened. She wouldn't have been able to stop even if she wanted to.

Dr. Windsor shifted, not letting his mood show. "How is your training with the Other Mother?"

"So far she hasn't tried sewing any buttons in my eyes," Coraline said, staring at the window distantly. "And that boy I was talking about? He's still safe. He's missing his hand still and he can't talk, but he's safe."

"Hmm. What about the Ghost Children?"

"What about them?"

"I find them fascinating. Have they appeared again?"

"No. They went to heaven. I saved them from the Beldam."

"Beldam?"

Coraline frowned, still staring at the window. "Yeah. That was their name for her."

Dr. Windsor chuckled softly. "La Belle Dame Sans Merci?"

Coraline looked at him sharply. "What?"

Her psychiatrist smiled. Suddenly, he had a face. Soft features took form, neatly trimmed brown hair came down to his earlobes, and intelligent pale blue eyes were prominent. He wasn't a doll anymore. "La Belle Dame Sans Merci, Coraline. I believe I am beginning to solve this riddle." He leaned forward, clasping his thin fingers together. "Beldam, in the English, is an archaic insult for older women who are seen to be malicious. But the word comes from the French, Belle Dame, which is pronounced the same way. Belle Dame means 'beautiful lady.' La Belle Dame Sans Merci means 'the beautiful lady without mercy.' It is a ballad."

The beautiful lady without mercy. "A ballad?"

"By John Keats. He was a Classical poet, and he wrote La Belle Dame Sans Merci." He leaned back, closing his eyes and concentrating.

"O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,

Alone and palely loitering?

The sedge has wither'd from the lake,

And no birds sing."

He nodded slowly. "That is how it begins, if I remember correctly." Dr. Windsor looked at Coraline, letting a small self-deprecating smirk cross his face. When did he acquire a personality? "I had an English minor in college. It was a ballad that one of my classmates analyzed. I had to sit through so many talks about it—I am surprised that I only remember one verse. If you like, I could dig it up someplace."

She nodded quickly, smiling. "Yeah, I'd like that."

Dr. Windsor smiled, then he turned to his desk and opened the drawer, taking out several papers. "Hmm. Here it is." He chuckled softly. "My old classmate dropped by recently. He gave me a copy as a joke."

He gave a few pages neatly stapled together to her, smiling. "It seems that you need it more than I. Keep it."

Coraline noticed how his smile seemed to light him up and warm his face. She smiled back. "Thanks."