Disclaimer: I own nothing but Toby, Christine, the plot, and James.
A/N: I am soooooooooo incredibly sorry for not updating for the longest
time. But here is the next chapter. Hope you like.
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Jareth and Toby walked into the kitchen, terrified at what they were seeing. The bag that Sarah had taken with her was lying on the floor, the things she had picked up now scattered everywhere. The glass of water she had been drinking was spilled over the counter.
"My God, what has happened to her?" gasped Jareth.
"Where are you cousin?" asked Toby, looking out the window. Jareth walked up behind him and placed his hand on his shoulder.
"Don't worry, son," he said. "We'll find her soon. She is a strong girl. You know she can live through the toughest of events."
"I just hope that you're right," sighed Toby. ~*~
Christine woke up slowly, her head pounding from the heavy object that had struck her on her head. She opened her eyes to see that she was laying in a bed with soft blankets and a feathery pillow. She shot up straight in the bed and automatically felt the side effects of doing such. Her headache intensified for thirty seconds and then slowly went back to what it had been before.
She carefully got out of bed, her feet landing on the soft carpet that lay on the ground. Ignoring the fact that the room she was in was simply magnificent, Christine went for the door when she realized that she was in nothing but a nightshirt that barely covered her bottom. She turned to grab the blanket from the bed when the door opened and a tall man with slick, black hair and green eyes walked in. Christine jumped, scared by the newcomer.
"I hope you don't mind the shirt I gave you," he smirked. "Your clothes needed to be washed."
"Where am I and who are you?" asked Christine, backing up as the man proceeded to walk closer to her.
"You are in my house," smiled the man. "You don't remember me, do you?" Christine looked at him, confused. "Of course you don't," he smirked. "It's been at least, what? Fifteen years since the last time I saw you or your aunt? How is Sarah, by the way?"
"She's fine, thank you," said Christine, growing panicky. She looked around for something heavy to grab in case he decided to attack her again. "I want to go home now."
"But you don't live at that house anymore, do you?" asked the man. "Not since she married that chump. What is his name? You see, I couldn't get much in the way of details. You aunt cared nothing for me when it came to romance. I was just a friend to her. I was always Bill the nice one; Bill the sweet one; Bill, the friend. I was never Bill the boyfriend or Bill the lover."
"Bill?" gasped Christine. "That's right! Bill Thomas, the man my aunt worked with before she got married."
"That's right," frowned Bill. "Now, where is your aunt?"
"Why do you want to know?" asked Christine, suspicious.
"Because I wish to settle things with her once and for all," replied Bill, pulling a pocketknife from his pocket. "I have a little unfinished business with her. I am also looking to discuss a certain thing with her husband. It's a silly little thing called death."
Jareth and Toby walked into the kitchen, terrified at what they were seeing. The bag that Sarah had taken with her was lying on the floor, the things she had picked up now scattered everywhere. The glass of water she had been drinking was spilled over the counter.
"My God, what has happened to her?" gasped Jareth.
"Where are you cousin?" asked Toby, looking out the window. Jareth walked up behind him and placed his hand on his shoulder.
"Don't worry, son," he said. "We'll find her soon. She is a strong girl. You know she can live through the toughest of events."
"I just hope that you're right," sighed Toby. ~*~
Christine woke up slowly, her head pounding from the heavy object that had struck her on her head. She opened her eyes to see that she was laying in a bed with soft blankets and a feathery pillow. She shot up straight in the bed and automatically felt the side effects of doing such. Her headache intensified for thirty seconds and then slowly went back to what it had been before.
She carefully got out of bed, her feet landing on the soft carpet that lay on the ground. Ignoring the fact that the room she was in was simply magnificent, Christine went for the door when she realized that she was in nothing but a nightshirt that barely covered her bottom. She turned to grab the blanket from the bed when the door opened and a tall man with slick, black hair and green eyes walked in. Christine jumped, scared by the newcomer.
"I hope you don't mind the shirt I gave you," he smirked. "Your clothes needed to be washed."
"Where am I and who are you?" asked Christine, backing up as the man proceeded to walk closer to her.
"You are in my house," smiled the man. "You don't remember me, do you?" Christine looked at him, confused. "Of course you don't," he smirked. "It's been at least, what? Fifteen years since the last time I saw you or your aunt? How is Sarah, by the way?"
"She's fine, thank you," said Christine, growing panicky. She looked around for something heavy to grab in case he decided to attack her again. "I want to go home now."
"But you don't live at that house anymore, do you?" asked the man. "Not since she married that chump. What is his name? You see, I couldn't get much in the way of details. You aunt cared nothing for me when it came to romance. I was just a friend to her. I was always Bill the nice one; Bill the sweet one; Bill, the friend. I was never Bill the boyfriend or Bill the lover."
"Bill?" gasped Christine. "That's right! Bill Thomas, the man my aunt worked with before she got married."
"That's right," frowned Bill. "Now, where is your aunt?"
"Why do you want to know?" asked Christine, suspicious.
"Because I wish to settle things with her once and for all," replied Bill, pulling a pocketknife from his pocket. "I have a little unfinished business with her. I am also looking to discuss a certain thing with her husband. It's a silly little thing called death."