[Okay, I have thunked it through. I know I said it would be a while until I uploaded. Unfortunately, I have less of a life than I thought I would. Sad, isn't it? I can't believe the reads I got on the last part! I was 'Ohmigahhh'ing. It was spectacular, really! Thanks for the comments. I thought I would put the next part up, the one from Keith's point of view. So you can see what it's been like for him since he 'left'. Happy reading! ^_^]
Her green eyes were the last thing he saw before the dark swallowed him. When light finally reached him again, he was cold and everywhere he looked was unfamiliar. There were small things he thought he recognised - a merry-go-round, a house, a pool - but they were in odd places. His senses were raw and sharp, making him flinch at the smallest of noises. He looked further afield, trying to see where he was.
Just as he thought, he was no longer in that park with Belinda and Andrew. He only prayed that wherever he was, Belinda and Andrew were separated. He couldn't bear it if everything was for nothing, if she had to suffer unnecessarily. But there was no way to be sure. He had no idea how long he had been asleep - it could have been an hour, it could have been a week - but he knew he was in the other dimension. The last thing he remembered before her eyes was the blinding light from the portal.
And now...well, he would be lucky to get out of here now. He had no ingredients, no spell book...he might as well be dead now! He knew he had to get back, to see Belinda if nothing else. To make sure she was okay, to protect her from the rest of life...Wait, no, he had to get back to make sure he hadn't totally wrecked her life. He had to help her onto her feet again and then go to the next damsel in distress. That was his job.
And yet, instead of focusing on Maggie, or his mother, it was Belinda he thought of, Belinda he sought out. Her light was brighter in his head than anyone else's, a blazing beacon of brilliance that blinded him with purity. Her face was so easy to picture, something he could almost grab hold of and keep. And the rest of her was easy to imagine: gentle curves that showed her slightness, fragile stature that belied her stubbornness.
And, slowly but surely, the world shimmered around him. She was standing in a kitchen, red hair loose about her shoulders. It must have been early morning or late night - she was wearing pyjamas, her short and cami-top set leaving little to the imagination. He felt like a peeping tom, watching her from the shadows. He could still see the world he was in, but she was the focus of his attention.
She looked at him, confused. He could see in the mirror, as she leaned close to something that looked like a smudge in the- oh. That was him. He didn't look a lot like himself so he concentrated a little more, trying to force his presence into his shape. It took a lot of effort and he could see the shock on her face. She was holding a glass of orange juice - but only for a moment. The next, it was crashing to the floor and she was sinking, as though her legs couldn't support her.
"Belinda," he whispered, relieved to see that she was okay. Better than okay...she looked fantastic. "Belinda, what's going on? Where are you? Is everything okay? What's the date? Are you-"
The look of frustration on her face was enough to make it clear that she couldn't hear him. She looked so tormented, so- so unhappy that he couldn't help but go to her. He was reaching for her face, wanting to touch her - just touch her...maybe kiss her...he didn't know. He just wanted to know that it was real, that she was really okay - when a strand of hair fell into her face. He was annoyed with it, wanting to brush it away. But she was reaching for his hand, they were only seconds away and his heart was beating like a bat's wings, trying to free itself from the cage his chest was.
But then her hand went through him. Her eyes went wide with horror and even if he couldn't hear her, he knew she was screaming. Her chest was shuddering, tears spilling from those beautiful green eyes. It cut him like a knife, knowing that he had caused that pain, knowing that he was the one who was making her cry. He had to leave, try to stop the heartbreaking torment so plain in her eyes.
Even as he disappeared, he could still see her. He tried to leave more quickly but part of him lingered, trying to stay with her. Part of him knew that if he left now, he would never get the courage to come back again. But he couldn't cause her pain like this, not knowing that was all he was doing. And somebody was talking, saying her name, again and again- oh, wait, that was him again.
With sheer will power, he forced himself to stop saying her name. He refused to let himself think of her again, of that vibrant person who made him feel like more of a teenager than he had ever thought possible before. He had always been distant, controlled, calculating, like his mother. But Belinda...she made him feel like spontaneity might not be such a bad thing. She made him want to run, shout, love...
No, he thought vehemently. You will not think of her. She's happier without the spontaneous visits, the sudden shock. You messed her up once - don't do it again. It's not fair on her or you. Sadly, he listened to the voice. He would just have to hope that his mother or Maggie would manage to send someone after him. Someone who could get him out without getting hurt.
