She was there, at the castle the next day, to Toby's dismay. Resting in one of the guest rooms nearby his own. The girl was not too much older than he; 15 or 16, maybe. Her face was deeply sunken in; creating the effect of bulging eye sockets of black; that was either bruises or lack of sleep, Toby decided. Her hair was very thick and very red...with large shiney ringlets curling around her gaunt face, she almost looked like a dead body...he shivered.

The bones in her slender neck were prominent, at best. He preferred to refer to it as jutting; tiny bird-like bones trying to escape from under the skin, only managing to frighten onlookers. The girl was very small, judging by her head and the slight impression she made under the sheets. He was small himself. This gave Toby a mingling sense of pride and worry. Was the smallness an after-effect of substance abuse for the girl?

Toby jerked around to find his older male friend amusedly watching him, leaning on a shoulder against the stone wall. He blushed slightly, still always surprised to see how attractive and otherworldly the King's look was. Physically medium-build with a slim waist always insinuated by tight leather and hair almost the color of the moon; just as glowing somedays. There were also his mischeivous mismatched eyes to consider about him.

"I see you've discovered our young guest," Jareth said casually. "What do you think of her?"

"Well..." the mortal started slowly. "She's sort of...pretty...but she looks like she's lost and hurt somehow. It's hard to tell since she's asleep, but I can feel it. She's hurting."

The Goblin King wasn't so foolish as to reply that she indeed looked beat up: he knew the boy meant a deeper pain than skin. An inner aching that he himself knew so well. "That's to be seen. The girl is not to wake for a time."

Toby looked troubled, and rubbed an awkwardly delicate hand in his nest of golden curls. "That's just it, Jareth! You call her a kid still; a girl, when the both of us know exactly of your intentions!" he exclaimed. "It's not right! Do you really believe that whisking her away from the Aboveground and then forcing her to be your bride is the best plan of action?"

Jareth waved a gloved hand dismissively. "Oh, calm down. I'm not so inept as to expect things to work out that smoothly," he replied. "There will be a time of courting; and an assigned time of getting to know another. She will come to enjoy this world; and love it. I have no doubts about that."

The girl sighed, alerting both males and causing them to jump a little and stare hard at her, almost expecting animation. When there was nothing, Toby heaved a collective sigh of relief. He wasn't quite up to dealing with a full-grown Wished Away. The teen imagined heartbreak, grief, even anger.

His own reaction to his death.

"Let's go on to breakfast, shall we? I believe Cook has prepared that revolting French toast you enjoy so much," drawled Jareth, with an effective yawn.

The youth smiled at his pal's attempt to rile him up. "You know I'm thinking about it, huh?" The king looked apprehensive. "Nah, I'm not going to flip out today...just thinkin', that's all." He grabbed Jareth's leather-covered hand and directed him down the corridor. Breakfast sounded pretty good about now.

--------

"Toby!" giggled Karen, as her only biological child flailed his chubby arms about in the bath, flinging soad suds around the entire room. "The water is for cleaning, not splashy-washy!"

The toddler laughed, and tugged at his mother's short mousy brown hair. "Mama!"

"That's right, Toby-woby!" She cooed, tickling his naked sides. "Mama wuvs you, yes she does!"

---------

"...fuuuuck."

What the hell! She'd just disposed of that last syringe...and now she was laying in a silken bed in the most elegant room she'd ever been in. The sheets covering her body were deep purple silk, with matching pillows soft to the touch that'd just been caressing her auburn hair. There was an antique dresser with more drawers than she cared to count against the stone wall surrounded by portraits of a strange man in tights. The huge window to the east was completely covered by draperies that matched the sheets.

Had she been selling herself again? Did she get that wasted? She felt nervous at the thought of a bald sweaty old guy traipsing into the room at any moment, demanding to perform anal sex or something. Better book it, girl.

She threw the covers off of her body, and was relieved to find herself fully clothed in a tank top and grey sweatpants. So maybe nothing had penetrated her, in her blacked-out state? One could only hope. The girl swung her skinny legs over the side of the bed and felt the cold stone floor with bare toes. Ugh, better book it faster.

The door was unlocked, so she slowly cracked it open inch by inch, keeping an eye out for anyone. There was a giant hallway with the same stone walls out there. It was empty, except for those goofy portraits of the dude in tights. Which was just as well, because the teen couldn't imagine walking the hallway alone without anything remotely resembling a human to be comforted by.

It was light out, so that meant morning, right? Sun light, she hoped as she wandered down the corridor without the slightest clue how to leave this mansion-type place.