by Stormlight

The spotlights were hot on the stage, beating down on the single woman that stood in the center of it, gowned in a long, flowing dress of rose silk. The woman was beautiful, tall and graceful and slender. Her alabaster skin glowed, as did her chocolate hair, which was arranged in elegant curls on top of her head. Her dark eyes, the color of a shadowed forest, seemed to shine with excitement as she recited her lines.

Nobody seemed to realize or care that her pale skin glowed from the sheen of sweat that covered it, and her brilliant eyes were glazed from fever, not excitement. She was so thin because of the meals she wasn’t able to eat, from lack of time, or appetite. As she spoke, her voice seemed to grow fainter and fainter, and she began to sway, but that was okay. It was all part of the act. That was what her adoring fans had come to see, after all, the Tragic Death of the Heroine. When she swooned, it was sooner than expected. She didn’t even finish her lines. But her coworkers, the well-trained actors that they were, took it all in stride as they rushed to complete the play, carrying the fallen form of the heroine off the stage with properly mournful expressions.

The lights dimmed, went dark. The heavy, wine-red, velvet curtains descended. The audience swarmed to their feet, cheering and clapping and cheering some more, shouting their praises.

"How marvelous! Such an exquisite actress!"

"Her best performance ever! Such grace! One would think she was really dying!"

"Who was she? Laura?"

"No, Sarah. Sarah Williams."

"Oh, she’s even better than her mother!"

"Bravo! Bravo!"

And so it went, on and on, as behind the curtain the stage hands waited in concern for the arrival of the ambulance. Yes, it was most certainly Sarah William’s most successful show to date.

It was a shame that she wasn’t acting…

It was time for a change.

Jareth sighed heavily and slumped down in his throne, deep in thought. Twelve years had passed since his shameful defeat and the destruction of his kingdom; twelve years spent in restoring it, by magic and physical labor, to its former glory. Mostly by physical labor, in the beginning, when his magic had been shattered by six careless words spoken by a single, heartless, mortal child. A beautiful child that had quite captured his heart and soul, but heartless, nonetheless.

His castle alone had taken three years to rebuild when it had crumbled into dust, and if not for the hard work of his people it would still be dust. He himself had spent weeks in a deep trance, calling upon the little magic he had left, rebuilding the Labyrinth itself and making it grow as a vine grows, its twists and turns and dark secrets writhing like snakes. And now it was finished, darker and more forbidding than ever. Even he did not know what might lurk within its walls anymore, for it did not speak to him as it had before. He had the feeling that it might even one day turn on him, like a half-breed wolf-dog grown too feral for its master’s touch.

It was just as well, he supposed. In these twelve years he had discovered that he no longer had the taste for ruling. It had soured for him as soon as she had set foot within his kingdom. Sarah Williams. The cause of his downfall, with her spirit and fire and dark, soulful eyes. Her cruel, heartless words… He would never forget those words. They were seared into his soul forever.

And yet, as much as he wanted to, he had long discovered that he could not hate Sarah Williams for what she had done to him. After all, she had been merely playing her role as much as he had been playing his… He had simply underestimated her—or maybe overestimate himself—in her ability to play out her part to the bitter end. And how very bitter that end was…

It had been a sad error on his part. And a very uncommon one. He had been so enamored, so caught up in seducing her, that he never saw the danger until it was too late. It was his own fault, he supposed. He had mocked the dwarf once, chiding him for losing his head over a girl. But Jareth knew the truth now. It was he who had lost his head, not the dwarf. He, the mighty King of the Goblins, falling head over heels in love with a mortal. A creature whom he’d normally hold in the same regard as his goblins. Someone to dominate and intimidate…not to love. And he had never even seen it coming.

How very sad.

Jareth slumped even further in his throne and sighed again, running a gloved hand over his face. He was unaccountably exhausted with this life he led. How long had he been here, watching over a gaggle of creatures with barely enough intelligence to feed themselves? A millennia? Longer, perhaps. He failed to remember a time when he had not been a king.

A memory would surface occasionally of a bright, laughing woman with golden hair and blue, blue eyes. His mother? Perhaps. It was said by fae who were far older than he that she had been mortal, although he himself didn’t remember. Maybe that was why he was held in such contempt by his kin, being only half-blooded. He was not the only one who held mortals in contempt, after all. It was ironic, really, that he should feel that way about mortals when he almost was one. As ironic as that he had fallen in love with one. A sadly mocking smile twisted his lips at the thought.

He supposed he might one day die, although it was unlikely so long as he had the magic to sustain him. In some ways it was a pity, for he felt old. Especially since the fall of his kingdom. Old, and tired, and very, very lonely.

He rose from his throne and glided across the newly restored room to the window, not even bothering to kick the goblins who stood in his way out of it. He merely side-stepped them, and they ignored him. He had not kicked a goblin in years, truthfully, for what had once amused him now merely disgusted him. What was the point of it, after all? It served no purpose. It helped no one. He gazed out at the Labyrinth stretching away below him. The setting sun turned it a hundred different shades of gold, with shadows lingering in its corners, possibly hiding new and unpleasant dangers.

He frowned. The Labyrinth was growing wilder every day. His control over it was slipping from his grasp; it sensed that he no longer had the will to keep it firmly in check. The magic he’d used to reshape it had been weakened and twisted by his defeat, almost as unpredictable and wild as the Labyrinth, and it was feeding off itself. Slowly, he was gaining back his control of the magic, but he had little doubt that the Labyrinth would one day turn on him, probably before he had fully recovered his power, and that would be the end of it. "Ah, well. At least then perhaps my miserable life will end, and I’ll need not suffer this fate put on me anymore," he murmured wryly.

He glanced at the goblins, cheerfully oblivious to everything but their own pathetic little needs. They hadn’t a care in the world. Even the simple task of watching an insect creep across the stone floor was enough to fascinate them for hours.

How he envied them.

Jareth grimaced and turned away in disgust. When one started envying the goblins their stupidity, it really was time for a change! His eyes fell on a short, squat figure shambling along the castle walls below him, spraying the obnoxious little fairies that inhabited the weeds surrounding them. He watched as Hoggle hobbled along, muttering to himself.

Now that, perhaps, was the oddest thing of all, Jareth thought with amusement. After the dwarf’s betrayal, he had, ironically, ended up being the most useful in rebuilding the kingdom. He had overseen the goblins as they reconstructed the castle and the city. He had saved them from disaster after disaster by his quick thinking and skills. Because of that, the entire kingdom had been rebuilt in only twelve years. With Jareth overseeing the goblins and doing the delicate job of reconstructing the Labyrinth all on his own, it would never have been completed. Which was probably why the dwarf was still alive. Such a betrayal was punishable by death, but Hoggle was simply too useful to have around.

Hoggle had changed, though. He treated Jareth the way one might treat a wounded wolf, circling cautiously with respect, but not the sniveling fear he’d used to hold in regards to the king. He’d finally developed a backbone, thanks to Sarah, and Jareth wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or amused by that. In fact, he’d often gotten the impression that Hoggle had only stuck around and helped because he wanted to, not because of any orders from Jareth. Which was odd, considering that everyone else not having anything to do with Jareth or his kingdom had pretty much abandoned him to whatever fate lay in store for him. He was, after all, a disgrace to his people. On his father’s side, anyhow. Apparently he wasn’t too popular on his mother’s, either, if Sarah was any indication.

It was so nice to be loved…

Well, he thought wryly, at least he still had his sense of humor, even though he suspected it was a bit on the warped side. Long years of living like a pauper after a millennium of living like a king tended to do that to a person. But it was something, wasn’t it?

As Jareth watched Hoggle at his work, he began to wonder as to how the dwarf might fair at running a kingdom. He was crafty enough, not to mention stubborn as all-get-out, and goblins were not particularly difficult to rule over, if one could tolerate the smell, and the fact that most of them couldn’t come up with more than one coherent thought in an hour’s time…

Wait a minute! What was he thinking?! Was he actually considering handing over the reigns of his kingdom to Hoggle? Jareth held his breath and watched the dwarf’s retreating back. Although he’d never admit it out loud, Jareth was actually somewhat grateful to him for sticking by the fallen king when he could easily have left him as so many others had. True, he was cantankerous and grouchy and suspicious of everyone…but then, so was Jareth. But…a dwarf ruling a kingdom of goblins?

Well, he supposed it made as much sense as a fae ruling a kingdom of goblins…

Jareth rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He had to admit, the idea held merit…and now that it was firmly lodged in his mind it refused to be so easily dispelled. A chance to escape, to run away, as it were. What wouldn’t he give to be able to do that? But where would he run to? The rest of the Underground was no different than his own kingdom; a perfect world of Chaos and unpredictability that was perfectly predictable in its never-ending Chaos. After a hundred and more lifetimes of that, Jareth was ready for some Chaos of another kind. A kind called Order, and the best place to find Order, naturally, was in a place where Order ruled.

The world Above.

Sarah’s home…

Night came and went, and the dawn showed Jareth frantically pacing his bedchambers, hands clasped behind him, his shirt untucked and his waistcoat and boots lying in an untidy pile beside his bed. He’d been up all night, pacing like this, his mind hard at work, planning and discarding plans and planning some more.

More and more the idea of escaping Above appealed to him. Truth to tell, he had always been more than a little curious about the mortal world, but as most of his trips Above were simply to collect away wished-away children, he had never had the opportunity to fully explore the world, to see its treasures and to drink in all of its life. He’d never wanted to before. There were dangers, of course, iron being the greatest of them, as it could kill a fae with a mere touch. But he was only half-fae, so the affect was not so severe. It was more like what mortals would call an allergic reaction, although it did wreak havoc with his magic, as iron was prone to do. But, as he didn’t intend to use his magic while Above, anyway, it didn’t really matter.

A part of himself—the haughty, aristocratic part of him—could hardly believe that he was willing to give up his comfortable (if not mind-numbingly dull) position as king and go live among mortals, of all people, just to satisfy his sheer boredom and morbid curiosity.

It was the bored, morbid, curious side of him that finally told the aristocratic side to piss off.

The first thing he had to do was summon Hoggle, and the fox-hybrid knight, Sir Didymus. He called upon a crystal, and it floated delicately from his fingertips to the ground, fragile and shimmering in the faint dawn light. He frowned as he watched it. His crystals had never been the same since the fall of the Labyrinth. They were still beautiful to behold, and to the unobservant they appeared as powerful as ever, but he could see that the crystals now really were no stronger than the bubbles they resembled, a result of his weakened magic. He had to concentrate hard to make it grow larger without it shattering into dust.

When the crystal had grown to the height of his waist and three times as large around, he allowed it to burst, and when the flash of light had faded, both the dwarf and the fox stood there, looking around dazedly. Considering they both wore their night shirts, Jareth had no doubt that he’d woken them both up.

Hoggle’s tufted brows drew together in a fierce scowl when he realized where he was, and Didymus bared his canines in a silent growl. "What dost thou want of us, Your Majesty?" he asked politely, if not somewhat cautiously. Hoggle didn’t say anything, but from the expression on his face whatever he may have been thinking was probably unpleasant enough to melt rock.

Jareth smirked a little in the old, superior way. "So sorry to have disturbed your slumber," he replied, sounding anything but sorry. "I’ve a matter of importance that I must discuss with you. Both of you."

Dwarf and fox exchanged identical looks of skeptical astonishment. Whatever they’d been expecting, it was obviously not this. They turned cautious gazes to their king. "Go on," Hoggle said grudgingly.

Jareth straightened. "I have decided that a leave of absence is in order," he informed them in clipped tones. "I’ve run this kingdom for eons of time, and it is high time I took a vacation. I don’t know when I’ll return. Perhaps next week. Perhaps not for several years. Perhaps never. At any rate, I need someone to stand in my place as king and make sure the goblins keep themselves out of trouble. Hoggle, in the past twelve years you have proven yourself to be intelligent and cunning in your dealings with the goblins. This kingdom was rebuilt with little mishap because of you."

Hoggle looked so astounded at this completely unexpected (and exceedingly rare) praise that for a moment Jareth thought the dwarf might pass out. "Er…thank you, Yer Majesty," he stammered after a long moment. "I done my best, is all."

"Yes, I know," the Goblin King replied. "Which is why I have decided that you should stand in my place as ruler of this kingdom."

Now Hoggle really did look as though he were about to pass out. "Me?" he squeaked. "What does I knows about rulin’ a bunch a goblins?!"

Jareth waved his hand dismissively. "It isn’t a difficult task," he replied. "Just be sure they stay within the Labyrinth. Also, you must watch the Labyrinth itself, to be sure that it does not begin to grow beyond its set boundaries. Don’t worry. When I pass the kingdom to you, so will my magic pass. Not all of it, mind you, but more than enough to see to the kingdom and its needs. You’ll need an advisor. One whom you can trust and who is skilled in the ways of battle, should a problem arise. Sir Didymus, you are a brave and noble knight, and I would not see your skills go to waste. You shall be Hoggle’s advisor, and the commander of the goblin army. It’s in sorry shape, but I’m sure you’ll be able to whip them into it again. It will give you something to do."

Sir Didymus was, for once, speechless. "Why…I…Your Majesty!" he stammered. "I shouldst be delighted to command thine army! I thank thee!" He swept a bow, doffing an invisible hat.

Hoggle scratched his head. "Beggin’ yer pardon, but how comes the sudden urge ta leave?" he asked. "I mean, we just gots this place rebuilt…"

"That is not important," Jareth snapped. "Will you take the job, or need I look elsewhere for a suitable king?"

Hoggle drew himself up. "No, I’ll take the job," he replied hurriedly. "Thank ye fer askin’ me. I’ll do ma best ta be a good king."

Jareth nodded. "Good," he said, and conjured two lists out of thin air. He handed one to each of them. "The rules that must be followed," he explained. "Read these over, and be sure to commit them to memory."

When Hoggle accepted his scroll, a tingle raced up his arm, and he jumped. "What was that?" he asked suspiciously.

Jareth smirked. "That was the magic you are now entrusted with," he replied. "Use it wisely."

Hoggle summoned a crystal from the air, and was astonished when one appeared in his hand. "Cor…" he breathed.

Jareth smiled grimly. "Just so you know, while I am gone I will be checking up on you, so you’d best be sure that you do your jobs," he told them sternly. He straightened, then swept a low bow to Hoggle, that mocking grin fixed on his face. "If you’ll excuse me, Your Majesty…I have other matters to which I must attend."

"Wait!" Hoggle called. Then, more respectfully, "Where d’ya intends ta go? You know, in case we needs ya?" he asked.

Jareth hesitated, a far away look coming into his eyes. "Earth," he finally murmured. "I’ve decided to go to Earth…"

"How is she, Dr. Thompson? Will she be all right?"

Dr. Thompson sighed and rubbed a hand through his graying hair. "She’ll live, but she’s weak. The bronchitis was harder on her than it would have been, had she been given proper treatment. She’s very lucky it hasn’t developed into anything even more serious, like pneumonia." He eyed the other, dark-haired gentleman before him. "You’re her manager, aren’t you, Mr. Trent? Didn’t you notice that she was seriously ill?"

Clifford Trent shifted, absently picking a bit of lint from his expensive, pinstriped suit and draping his leather trench coat over his other arm. "Well, you see, Sarah is very stubborn," he began uncomfortably. "She’s been fighting this cold now for weeks, ever since winter set in, actually. I have suggested…once or twice…that she take a rest, but you know Sarah. The ‘show must go on’ and all that." He laughed, somewhat nervously, and picked another piece of invisible from his shoulder.

Dr. Thompson coughed and tried to look understanding, but on the inside he was rolling his eyes in a most unprofessional manner. "Well," he said firmly. "As her physician, I am now ordering her to complete bed rest until she is completely recovered, no matter how much she protests. It’s too risky for her to be working so hard. She could have a relapse, and this time she may not be so lucky."

As he suspected, Clifford looked anything but thrilled with the prospect of losing his meal ticket, even for a short time. "But what about her fans, Doc? She’s the hottest thing to hit the theaters in years! We’ve got shows scheduled all over the United States, three more in New York alone! What am I supposed to do? Cancel them?"

"Yes," came the firm reply.

Clifford spluttered like a fish for a moment. "But…but people have been paying good money to see Sarah perform! Her popularity has skyrocketed since her final performance before her collapse! How can I possibly cancel?"

Dr. Thompson fixed the manager with a hard look. "You pick up the phone, and you call," he replied sternly. Clifford hesitated, then threw his coat around his shoulders and prepared to leave. "If I didn’t know better," the doctor added slyly, "I’d almost think you were more worried about the money you’re going to lose than Sarah’s health. But that’s not true, now is it?" Clifford glared at him, then turned and strode out of the office, heading toward Sarah’s room.

Sarah leaned back in the hospital bed, exhausted after another round of coughing. Her chest felt like it was on fire, but still she felt a lot better than she had before. At least her fever was down, and she could breathe. She took a sip of water, wincing as she swallowed. Of all the lousy luck, to take sick like this when she was needed so badly on the stage. She lived for her work! She was needed and loved by her fans. Her room was already filled with flowers and balloons from well-wishing people, most of whom she didn’t even know. She was touched, and somewhat put out, that so many complete strangers cared so much about her. There came a knock on the door and Clifford stuck his head inside, giving her a strained smile. "Hi, Cliff," she managed to croak out, returning his smile.

"So, did you hear the verdict yet?" Clifford asked, ignoring her greeting as he settled himself into the plastic chair beside her bed.

She nodded. "Yeah. Complete bed rest until Doc says otherwise," she rasped with a sheepish shrug. "Guess the show isn’t going on for awhile." She attempted a smile at her joke, but it fell flat. She knew how disappointed Cliff was bound to be, and she hated letting him down, but even she knew better than to strain herself more than she already had. It was humiliating, collapsing in the middle of a performance, even though it had, for some reason, made her more popular with theater buffs than ever. Still, she didn’t care for a repeat of the incident.

"Are you sure you should talk?" Clifford asked worriedly. "I mean, that throat sounds bad. You could end up ruining that gorgeous voice of yours. Then where would you be? Fans pay to hear you sing like an angel, not a frog."

"You are too kind," she replied dryly. "Look on the bright side though. I can still act. I could always become a mime." Clifford looked so horrified at that comment that she had to laugh, despite the considerable pain she put herself through by doing so. "Relax!" she rasped. "It was a joke! I’ll be fine. But Doc is right. If I keep pushing myself like I have been, I’ll only make it worse. In six months, or a year, I’ll be back, and better than ever! You’ll see!"

Clifford smiled. "I wish I had half your optimism," he replied fondly. "You would be so good for me. Too bad you didn’t except my proposal last Christmas."

Sarah’s eyes darkened. "You know I can’t marry you," she said gently. "You’re my manager, and my friend, and anything more would ruin it. Besides, who would take care of Toby? Ever since Mom and Dad died in the accident, he’s been getting into more and more trouble. He needs me, and starting another family would just get in the way of that. I can’t abandon him, too. It would break his heart. It would break my heart."

Clifford sighed. "I suppose so," he replied grudgingly. "I don’t see why he couldn’t still be with us even if we get married, but I’ll go by your wishes. But don’t think I’m going to give up. To a lot of other people you’re known as the Ice Queen, but not to me. I know that under that man-hating exterior you have a loving heart. You just need to learn how to show it."

Sarah forced a laugh. "I never said I hated men," she protested. "I just don’t date them. A relationship would only get in the way of my career, and I don’t want that to happen. Not yet. Maybe in ten years I’ll reconsider, but not yet." She smiled. "Until then, I’ll just have to put up with the dirty names the gossip columns all give me. It’s kind of funny, actually. Did you see the new one the Star Magazine came up with? They called me the Queen of Heart-breakers. Not bad, huh? The Ice Queen is my favorite, though. It reminds me of a story I once read about a land called Narnia…"

"You and your fairy tales!" Clifford snorted, smiling fondly. "It’s amazing that you haven’t lost your sense of reality to all that fantasy junk you read!"

She grinned. "That ‘fantasy junk’ is what helps keep reality from overwhelming me," she replied. "If not for that, all that ‘reality’ would bury me, especially the parts that involve cameras and reporters."

Clifford shook his head. "You almost lost your mind once to a fantasy, as I recall," he pointed out. "A certain dream you had…?"

"Oh, that!" Sarah waved a hand dismissively. "I told you, that was ages ago! I was just a kid, who was obsessed with a fantastic play to the point where I actually dreamed it happened to me! But what a dream!" She smiled and sighed in mock bliss, fluttering her eyelashes. "Oh, what a villain he was! Just like I always had pictured him…"

"I may be sick," Clifford muttered, and Sarah grinned playfully at him in return.

"Why, Cliff! Could it be that you’re actually jealous of a figment of my childhood imagination?" she teased. "If it makes you feel any better, I can’t really even recall what the Goblin King looked like. All I remember are his eyes. They were two different colors, you know."

"Yeah, yeah, so you’ve told me numerous times before," Clifford replied impatiently. "Look, just drop that, okay? That dream is all you talk about! And that Goblin King person. If I didn’t know better, with the way you’re always talking about him, I’d almost believe that you were in love with him!"

Sarah stared at Clifford in disbelief. "I cannot believe you just said that," she snapped. "I’m not even going to grace that comment with a retort! ‘In love with him’, indeed! He isn’t real, and this jealousy you have for a not-real guy is beginning to scare me!" she sniffed.

Clifford sighed. "Look, never mind, okay? Let’s not argue. I need to go to a meeting, but I’ll be back later. Your neighbors are taking care of Toby, by the way, so he’s okay. They said they’ll bring him by later on. It’s a good thing you were close to home when you collapsed. Makes it easier for the kid to be around you."

Sarah frowned. "Has he gotten into any more trouble lately?" she asked. "I mean…he hasn’t been caught shoplifting again or anything, has he?"

"Not that I know of," Clifford replied with a shrug. "I didn’t ask, really. You know, if the kid is that much trouble, why don’t you put him in a home? With you gone so much, and those neighbors of yours so old, he’s kind of becoming too much to handle. He’s…what? Thirteen now?"

"In a month," she replied, looking angry. "And if you even think of suggesting that I put my brother in a ward I will personally skin every last strip of flesh from your body and feed it to the fish in the river! How could you think I’d abandon him that way? He’s my brother!"

"Okay! Okay, calm down! It was only a suggestion," Clifford hurriedly said, holding up his hands. "Look, I have to go now. I’ll be back later, okay?" He flashed her that movie-star smile of his and left the room.

Sarah glared after him, then turned to the window and stared blindly out of it. Maybe Cliff was right, she thought to herself. Maybe Toby would have been better off in a home where he would have gotten discipline. He certainly needed it. Ever since their parents had died almost five years ago, he had become moody and withdrawn, losing interest in everything. Then he began to shoplift, and had already been arrested twice after being caught with a Walkman in his hands and then two cassette tapes a week later. She had managed to keep him out of the detention center, but she’d had to fly back to New York both times to get him, and she couldn’t help but wonder if Toby was getting into so much trouble as an excuse to keep his sister around.

That thought made Sarah feel guilty. She knew that she wasn’t there for her brother when she should have been. In fact, when the accident had occurred, she had been over in Los Angeles with the company she worked for. She’d received a phone call stating that her parents had been broadsided by an eighteen-wheeler, and there were no survivors, and could she please come home? In shock, she’d flown home that night and spent the next day with Toby, crying and comforting each other in between planning the funeral and trying to sell the house and the things in it.

She’d packed up everything she couldn’t bear to part with, and had it shipped to a distant relative in the country who owned a large house. Then she’d arranged for Toby to live with the neighbors whenever she was on tour, and after all that was done, she threw herself into her work to ease the depression and pain she felt building like a volcano inside her. Acting was the only way she had to release it, and she poured herself into it, even though it ended up leaving poor Toby farther and farther behind…

It was no wonder he’d become the way he was, sullen and moody and depressed, completely unlike the gentle little boy she’d left behind. And it was all her fault. She knew it, and even before she’d fallen sick she knew that he was in real trouble, that she stood on the verge of losing him as well, if she didn’t change her ways. All that, plus the pressure of having to be the best at what she did…it had finally taken its toll. "If only I had paid more attention to Toby," Sarah whispered as she felt a tear trickle down her face. "Maybe he and I would be okay." What sickened her the most, however, was that what she had done to Toby was the same thing that Linda Williams, her real mother, had done to her. Linda had basically chosen career over family, leaving her poor daughter behind in the dust. One would think I’d have learned a lesson, Sarah thought darkly. But I guess I always was the last to figure anything out…

Well, she intended to do something about that right now! Dr. Thompson walked into her room just then, and smiled at her. "How are you feeling?" he asked kindly.

"Ready to get out of the hospital," she replied with a wry smile. "Any chance of that happening soon? I’ve been in here a week!"

He scratched his chin. "Well, now, I suppose that’s okay," he replied. "But you just remember what I said about working yourself so hard! You are not to return to the stage until your strength has fully returned."

"Yes, I know," she replied meekly. "Actually, I was thinking of maybe taking a little trip. A vacation," she added hurriedly, seeing his suspicious glance. "I’ve been having some trouble with my little brother, Toby. He and I don’t get to see each other often, because I’m gone so much. I have a distant relative who lives out in the country, not very far from here. I haven’t seen her in years, not since before my parents died. The last time I was there was for her husband’s funeral. After that, well…everything happened all at once, you know? She’s a great-aunt-twice-removed or something like that. She used to be an actress, too, back in the early days. She got me to love acting as much as my mother did." Sarah smiled fondly at the memories. "I want to take Toby out there. He probably doesn’t remember her, but she’s got animals and stuff. I know Toby used to love animals."

"I think that’s a fine idea," Dr. Thompson replied warmly. "Just so long as you be sure to take it easy. Would you like to call her?"

"Well, that’s the thing." Sarah chewed on her lip. "I don’t think she has a telephone. My dad and step-mom had always corresponded with her through letters, and I don’t even know if she’s alive yet. She’s kind of a recluse now. I have her address at home, but she lives in a single house with nothing but wilderness around, so it’s not going to be easy getting hold of her…"

"But you’d like to try," Dr. Thompson finished with an understanding smile.

Relieved, Sarah smiled back at him. "Yes," she conceded. "I’d like to try."

The transportation to Earth was harder than Jareth had expected, due to his weakened magic. Perhaps he ought not have "lent" so much of it to Hoggle. But without magic, the Labyrinth would grow completely out of control, possibly overrun the entire Underground, and the rulers of the other kingdoms would not be pleased…

He arrived on Earth in the middle of a forest and nearly passed out as an unfamiliar wave of exhaustion suddenly swamped him. That had never happened before! He fell to his hands and knees, gasping and shivering, trying to overcome the vertigo that gripped him. Eventually his senses came back to him and the disorientation left. But he was still shivering…and maybe that was because he was crouched in a foot of snow, with more of it whipping in a thick white sheet around him.

Snow! Curse it! he thought darkly. He’d been in such a hurry to leave, he hadn’t considered what he might find once he came Above. Considering the weather was always pleasant in the Underground, unless he willed it otherwise, he hadn’t even thought about things like snow, or blizzards, or any other type of foul weather there might be. Now he was seriously regretting it. He may have been fae, but he was not immune to freezing temperatures, and right now he doubted that he had enough magic to conjure a decent cloak, at least not until he’d regained some strength, which wasn’t going to happen with him sitting there like a nitwit in the middle of a blizzard!

Turning himself into the white owl and searching for cover in the trees was completely out of the question, so he stumbled to his feet, his tight pants soaked through and already beginning to freeze stiff. The leather, long-tailed jacket he wore over his shirt and waistcoat helped somewhat, as did his gloves, but his ears were slowly going numb, and his leather boots—since it never rained in the Labyrinth unless he said otherwise—were not exactly waterproof…

Pulling the high collar of his jacket close around his face, Jareth began to stumble through the forest, and for the first time he began to question if his sanity had completely deserted him. What had possessed him to come to the mortal world, especially as unprepared as he obviously was? He’d not even bothered to pack food, or the kind of clothes mortals wore… He guessed it was a good thing he’d arrived in a forest, after all, considering he’d probably get some pretty strange reactions should he be seen. He had also counted on being able to find some berries or something in the forest to keep from starving until he came into a "civilized" part of the world, but that obviously wasn’t going to happen. Even a Goblin King had to eat, though.

"I did not come up here to meet my doom in a bloody snowstorm!" he snarled. "I am not a frail mortal! I am stronger than that! I will survive!"

The wind howled around him, as though shrieking its laughter at his brave words, and blew all the harder to prove him wrong. Gritting his teeth against the biting, painful cold, Jareth determinedly struggled on.

The fallen tree came up out of nowhere. It was only a sapling, bent nearly parallel to the ground under the weight of the slick coating of ice that covered it, its roots torn out of the frozen earth and buried beneath the snow. It was one of these roots that unceremoniously caught Jareth by the ankle as he passed over it, nearly blind from the stinging sleet whipping in his unprotected face. He stumbled with a gasp, and perhaps would have been all right…except for the fact that there was a small ravine on the other side of the tree.

He tumbled down the rock-strewn hill for about five feet, rolling over frozen brush and sharp stones, and it was finally a large rock that halted his flight at the bottom of it. He hit it with a thud that sent a wave of pain through his side, and he lay there gasping with lights exploding behind his eyes. Something hot and wet dripped down his cheek. He raised a hand and touched it, and it came away red with blood. So that was why his head ached so. He’d hit it at some point or other. He groaned softly and tried to rise, but fell back with a moan of pain, his head swimming.

He, who had never had so much as a paper cut, now lay against the frozen ground, exhausted, in agony, and, for the first time in his long life, absolutely terrified, because he knew now that he was going to die…and die very badly, indeed.

The farmhouse stood isolated in the center of a large field, surrounded on three sides by forest, and on the fourth side the land suddenly dropped away in a breathtaking spectacle to reveal a small city nestled at the bottom of a gently-sloping mountain. The house had stood upon that mountain for fifty generations, and would stand for fifty more if the owner of the house had anything to say about it.

Right now, the owner of the house was curled up in a large chair before a roaring fire in the antique fireplace, listening to the wind howling like a Bane-Sidhe and rattling the glass in the windows, contentedly sipping a cup of Earl Gray tea. At first glance, one would think it was a frail old woman who sat there, her once-dark hair now gone mostly silver, her slight form seemingly as delicate as the china teacup she held.

A second glance clearly stated that looks could be deceiving. This was no china doll that sat there. The woman was a tough old bird, and in her eyes there shone a stubborn spirit and the same mischievous sparkle that one might expect to see in a fae trickster’s eyes. Perhaps that was why her mother had named her Pixie, having looked into those eyes and seen that certain gleam. Indeed, Pixie had done her best to live up to her name, having been quite the little prankster in her youth.

Though she had been warned of the dangers of living all by herself, Pixie knew what she was doing, living alone in this wilderness, and the fact that she was well into her sixties didn’t phase her a bit. She could still hoist a sack of grain over her shoulder with the best of them. Besides, she wasn’t alone. She had her animals for company, and in her opinion, her animals were much better company than people ever could be.

Yes, she had sold most of her livestock to a neighboring farm some years ago, for though she was stubborn, she wasn’t stupid, and she knew that even she couldn’t afford to feed five cows and six horses all on her own. She now kept only a single milk cow named Triss and two fine horses named Bonnie and Clyde, and numerous, nameless chickens with a sassy rooster named Napoleon to rule over them all. Not to mention a large, inky-black Newfoundland named Isaac who helped her keep the animals in line.

She also had a barn owl living in her loft that she called Mercedes. It had moved in three years ago, feeding off the numerous mice and rats that made themselves at home in the dark corners of her barn. It was apparently such good feeding that Mercedes had decided to stay there. Pixie didn’t mind, so long as the owl was willing to share her meals with the three cats that also ruled the barn. The cats had been strays before Isaac had found them, hidden under the porch, no more than half-starved kittens. Two were calicos, with such similar markings on them that they could have been twins, and the third one was black from the tip of his nose to the tip of his tail.

Isaac must have felt some sort of pity for them, because once Pixie coaxed them out from under the house, the dog had immediately adopted all three of them as his own. Sometimes Pixie couldn’t help but wonder if those cats didn’t think they were part dog. She had stayed up all night thinking of names for the three of them, and had finally chosen three of her favorite names from the T.S. Elliot’s Book of Practical Cats. The calicos were dubbed Mungojerry and Rumpleteaser, and the black one was called, of course, Mr. Mistofolese.

Of course, Mistofolese had ended up growing into such a sleek, sassy tomcat that Pixie thought maybe she ought to have named him Rum Tum Tugger instead. The calicos fit their names perfectly, however, having turned into playful, trouble-making little imps. She’d tried to let them into the house one time during a snow storm, but after having shattered an antique vase and shredded Pixie’s grandmother’s Irish Lace curtains, they were quickly banished to the barn again.

Pixie stretched and yawned, reaching down to scratch Isaac’s head, who looked up at her adoringly. "Sound’s like the storm’s letting up a bit," she said, and he woofed in agreement. "What’s say you and I go check on our friends, aye?" she suggested. A slow thump of a tail on the floor let her know that Isaac was in complete agreement with that. But that was nothing new. Isaac was in complete agreement with everything she said. If she said she was going to fly to the moon, he’d have no doubt that she could do it. She chuckled to herself. "Too bad I can’t find a man who’s half as loyal as you," she teased, getting up and drawing on her heavy coat over her overalls and sweater. She pulled on her boots, wrapped a scarf around her neck, and grabbed a lantern, as it was getting to be quite dark.

"Come on, Isaac. Let’s go see what sort of mischief our friends have gotten into, aye? You know how restless they all get during times like this." She waded through the deep snow toward the barn a good ten feet away. The snow had stopped falling, and the air was so cold and clear that it almost crackled. Above her, the stars shone like brilliant diamonds in a deep, blue-black sky, and the full moon cast bright rays upon the thick coating of snow, making everything glow with unearthly light.

"Tonight would be a good night for the faeries to have a dance," Pixie murmured to herself as she gazed around in awe. Nights like this were rare, and so incredibly beautiful it took her breath away. Having come from the "Auld Country" of Ireland as a child, she had been told many and many a story of the Faire Folk. Sometimes she still thought she might believe in them, especially on nights like this. She could almost feel the eyes of the Sidhe upon her as she made her way into the barn.

The snow had piled up against the doors, and Pixie was forced to grab a shovel and dig them out so she could open them enough to get inside. Bonnie and Clyde, two big Clydesdales, nickered when Pixie and Isaac finally entered the warm barn. Mistofolese poked his nose out from a pile of hay, meowed in annoyance at the gust of cold wind that met it, and vanished again. No doubt the other two cats were in there with him. Triss blinked large brown eyes and went right on chewing her cud, and the chickens roosting in their small pen at the other end of the barn clucked in alarm and settled again. Napoleon, ever jealous in regards to his harem, watched the intruders suspiciously. A rustling came from above in the loft; probably Mercedes preparing to hunt. Usually, she usually ignored the chickens, but Pixie had added the pen to the barn, just in case.

"Well, looks like everything’s in order here," Pixie exclaimed, scratching Clyde under his chin. The horse butted his huge head gently against Pixie’s shoulder, hoping for some sugar. She laughed. "Sorry, not this time. Just came in to make sure nobody froze to death."

Suddenly, Isaac whined softly and moved to the door, his back and head held stiffly as he scented the air and pricked his ears. He whined again, looked back at Pixie, and scratched at the door with a heavy paw. "What’s the matter, boy?" Pixie asked. "Do you smell something?"

Isaac barked, a deep, shuddering bark that made the chickens squawk in alarm. Napoleon crowed to calm them and seemed to glare at the offending dog. Isaac whined again and scratched the door, pushing at it with his nose. Something was definitely disturbing him. "All right. Hang on, Isaac. We’ll go check it out."

Pixie lit the lantern, exchanged her snow boots for a pair of high waders—she assumed she’d be trekking though deep snow, and it never hurt to be prepared—and lit the lantern. After pulling on a pair of fleece-lined gloves, she opened the door, grabbing a sled and a length of rope along the way. She didn’t know why she did that. It was a gut instinct, and what with living alone out here in the country, she had learned to trust her gut instincts long ago. "Okay, Isaac. Lead the way," she said, and the huge black dog bounded out into the snow.

She held the lantern high, its golden light sparkling off ice crystals hanging from trees and bushes. She wished she’d thought to put on snow shoes; she thought there was an old pair stored somewhere in the barn, but it was too late now. She did the best she could in the rubber waders. Besides, she thought wryly, if it gets too bad, I can always hitch the sled to Isaac’s collar and let him pull me!

The dog moved slowly, mindful of his mistress following behind him. He paused every so often to sniff the air, then would plow through the snow at full speed ahead. Pixie followed along behind him, as it was easier to follow his trail than to make her own. She began to grow concerned when she saw that the dog was heading toward the forest. She knew better than to go into the woods on a night like this. She could trip over a buried root or branch and very well break something…possibly her neck. "Isaac, come along. Let’s go back," she coaxed. "It’s too dangerous to be out here."

Isaac looked back at her, his eyes soulful and pleading, and whined. There was something out there, and that something needed help, and he wasn’t about to abandon it, even for Pixie’s sake. She sighed. "Very well, but you’d better find whatever it is you’re looking for soon, or I’ll leave you here!" she warned, knowing all the while that she wouldn’t. Isaac barked, then trudged on, his fur hanging in wet, frozen clumps from the chest down. Pixie frowned. She hoped that this little excursion wouldn’t make her beloved dog sick. It was very hard to get a vet out here, especially during weather like this.

Suddenly, Isaac froze, head up and ears pricked. He gave a sharp bark, then lunged ahead. Pixie followed him as best she could, and found him pawing at a dark shape laying sprawled out on the ground, half-buried in snow. Her eyes widened in alarm as she drew closer. "Oh, merciful saints!" she breathed, and knelt down beside the silent, half-frozen form of a man.

Jareth moaned as he slowly came back to himself, his head swimming with stars. The last thing he remembered was taking an involuntary roll down a steep hill, and landing on a rock at the bottom of it. But now it felt like he was laying in something soft, and warm, and comfortable. What had happened? he wondered dazedly. Where in the world was he?

And why was someone rubbing wet sandpaper across his face?

He slowly opened his eyes in time to see a tongue coming at him, attached to a mouth with large fangs, which was in turn attached to a large, shaggy head. He was barely able to make out a whimper of protest as the tongue raked across his chin again. What a way to go! To be eaten alive by this…this…whatever this creature was! He’d rather have frozen!

"Here now! Get away, Isaac, before you scare the poor man to death!" a sharp voice proclaimed suddenly, and the head vanished. A light fell upon him, momentarily blinding him, and he flinched. "Well, now," the voice proclaimed again, somewhat dryly. "You’re awake, so I guess that means you’ll live."

Jareth raised his head slightly. Or rather…tried to raise his head slightly. It didn’t make it up very far before it fell back onto the pillow like a lump of lead, leaving his mind reeling like a pinwheel. "Ouch," he proclaimed sulkily.

The voice chuckled, and a new face appeared in his line of view. An old face that bore faint wrinkles and a pair of dark, sparkling eyes that could put a sprite to shame. For a moment he thought he was back in the Underground, and the woman before him was an elf. But no, she was too common to be of the fae. A mortal, then. One who had saved his life. "Serves you right," the mortal was telling him primly. "Maybe you’ll learn to lie still now."

"Where am I?" he asked sharply, looking around as best he could. He appeared to be in a bedroom, although it was nothing like his own grand bedchamber in the castle. "Who are you? Are you a peasant, from Earth?"

The woman gave a sharp laugh. "‘Peasant from Earth’?! And where do you think you’re from? Mars?" she snorted. "I’m not a ‘peasant’ from anywhere! My name’s Pixie, and you’re in my house, and I just saved your life, so you might be a little kinder in your words," she said firmly.

"Of course," he stammered, momentarily taken aback. He wasn’t used to having people talk back to him. Not if they valued their lives. He was offended, but pushed it down. She had no idea, of course, who he was. It wasn’t her fault. Besides, she did save his life, so he supposed he could put up with her insolence. "How did you find me?" he asked after a moment.

"Isaac," she stated simply, reaching over to pat the head of a huge, shaggy beast, the same one who had been trying to lick the skin from his face earlier. He regarded the creature with a mix of curiosity and loathing. Pixie noticed the look and laughed. "What’s the matter?" she asked teasingly. "Ain’t you never seen a dog before?"

A dog… Jareth searched his memory. There were no "dogs" in the Underground, they being strictly mortal pets, but he remembered that Sir Didymus’ steed was a dog. A very cowardly one, at that. Ambrosias was its name? It looked nothing like this huge, black creature though! His confusion must have shown, for Pixie shook her head. "Must’ve hit your head harder than I thought," she said. "Isaac is a Newfoundland. I’ve had him for years. He must’ve caught your scent on the wind or something, ‘cause he’s the one who led me to you. Good thing, too, elsewise you would’ve frozen solid. You may have a bit of frostbite on your toes; those boots of yours ain’t good for snow, you know. But it ain’t nothing serious."

"I…see," he replied slowly. "Thank you, then, for coming after me. If there’s anything I can do to reward you…"

Pixie gave a sharp laugh. "Reward me? Oh, piff! I done you a favor, is all. You’d do the same, were the positions reversed."

"Um…right," he replied, a bit guiltily, knowing that most likely he would have let her freeze rather than waste his time helping a mere mortal. The thought…shamed him somewhat, which made him uncomfortable. Shame wasn’t an emotion he was used to dealing with. At least, not often. He attempted to sit up again, and Pixie, sensing that he wasn’t about to quit, sighed and helped him up, shoving a few extra pillows behind his back.

"Are you hungry?" she asked. "I’ve made some chicken soup, to ward off the cold you’re liable to catch. Also some tea, to help with the pain. Eat up! Mind if I eat with you? It’s not often I have such intriguing company." Without waiting for his consent, she pulled up a chair and handed him a tray of food before settling herself into it, her own tray balanced on her lap. Isaac sat at Pixie’s side, watching her intently, and she laughed and gave him a bit of a sandwich, which he gulped eagerly. "Now," she said, turning those impish-yet-wise eyes back to Jareth, "if you’re up to it, why not tell me a bit about yourself, such as who you are, and why in blazes you were wondering about in a bloody snowstorm. Were you lost?"

"I…no, I’m not lost," Jareth stammered, thinking quickly. Well, as quickly as his muddled mind would allow him to. He suspected there was more in that tea she’d given him than painkillers. "My name’s Jareth. I’m…a wanderer," he continued. "I came from a far-off land, and I’ve been… wandering." Oh, now that sounded intelligent! He grimaced with disgust.

"A far off land? You mean England, don’t you? You sound like a Brit," Pixie replied.

"Er…yes. England," he agreed, making a mental note to find a map as soon as possible and study up on this "England" place. He really ought to have paid more attention when the Elders of the Grand Court had tried to teach him about Earth so long ago. Of course, back then he had never imagined he’d be coming here to live…

"So when you say you’re a wanderer, does this mean you have no place to live?" Pixie was asking, eyeing him carefully.

He hesitated. What was that word mortals liked to use…? "I’m a vagabond," he replied triumphantly. At her raised eyebrow, his triumph deflated. Perhaps that term was a little old-fashioned…

"That’s an English term for a bum?" she asked wryly.

He hesitated, then wrinkled his nose. "Well…vagabond sounds so much more…"

"More what? Romantic?" Pixie laughed. "A new coat of paint don’t make an old car any less a piece of junk," she stated wisely.

Jareth had no idea what that meant, but he suspected it wasn’t a compliment. He drew himself up haughtily and gave her his best baleful glare.

To his consternation, she merely laughed. "Down, boy!" she teased. "Don’t go getting your knickers in a bunch. What were you over in England? An unknown king or something? You certainly have that air about you, don’t you? Never seen a prettier face on a man in all my days. The rest of you ain’t so bad to look at, either." She gave him a playful wink.

He gaped at her, and she laughed again, eyeing him slyly. "I can tell you’re the type who ain’t used to taking your own medicine," she added wisely. "Well, let me tell you, long as you stay here, don’t expect me to go bowing to your every wish and whim. You want something, you can get it yourself, once you’re feeling better, and I also expect some help around the house in exchange for my hospitality."

"‘Help around the house’?" he huffed. "Do I look like a servant?"

She grinned. "Don’t make a heap of difference to me what you look like. A pretty face can feed horses just as well as a plain one. I expect you’re not half as frail as you look, once you’re at your full strength, am I right?"

"Yes," he admitted, somewhat sulkily, and turned back to his soup.

Pixie cocked her head at him, then shook it. "I suspect there’s a lot more to you than meets the eye," she murmured. "Well, eat your soup, Jareth, and then get your rest. We’ll talk later. It’s near dawn, and I’ve been up all night tending you. There’re clothes on that chair there, left from my husband, Ian, before he died, ten years ago now. He was about your size, a little larger in the waist, maybe, but they ought to fit all right. Your other clothes were a bit torn up. I’ll mend them later. I’ve been wondering where in the world you would’ve gotten clothes like those, but if you’re what you say you are, then I suppose I need not wonder. Anyway, sleep well. I put enough sleeping powder in that tea to knock out a moose, so it ought to do its job on you. Ta-ta." With those words and a wave, Pixie left the room with Isaac trailing after her, leaving Jareth alone to ponder what in the Underground he had gotten himself into.

He felt much better by the next morning, his magic apparently having come back to him enough to heal whatever wounds he may have had. They must not have been too serious, except for the head wound; it still ached a little. He wondered how he was going to explain his miraculous recovery to Pixie. He smiled slightly. Pixie. What an odd name, and yet it seemed to fit her. She was certainly unique, for a mortal. She was fair brave, to take a complete stranger into her home like this, one who might possibly attempt to harm her despite her kindness.

Of course, what with him being so weak and all, and with that monster of a dog she had to guard her, he’d probably have more than a little trouble getting close enough to her to do much damage, and she herself would probably fight like a wildcat. Besides, this woman was his ticket to survival, at least until he could come up with a plan as to what he was going to do. He’d learned a hard lesson last night. If he was going to survive for any length of time, he was going to have to find some way to provide for himself. Until then, he supposed a little help around the house, as she’d put it, wouldn’t kill him, so long as it provided him with food and a place to sleep. If he didn’t like it, he could leave.

Feeling much better with that thought in his mind, Jareth rose from the bed and looked around the room. There was another small room just off to the side, which turned out to be a bath chamber. What was it called again? Ah, yes. Indoor plumbing. A kind of magic all on its own. He grinned and turned the faucet on the tub, letting hot water pour into it. Yes, the Above world definitely had its quirks.

He took a long shower, marveling at the impression of the hot water pounding against his weary body. Before, he merely had to snap his fingers, and he’d be cleaned and dressed, and he’d never had to actually bathe. But now, especially with his magic so unpredictable, he resolved to bathe every day at least once. It was actually quite…pleasant.

An hour later he emerged from the bathroom cleaned and dressed in a pair of jeans—which he didn’t care for all that much, as they were rather rough against skin that was used to the touch of linen and velvet—and a soft cotton shirt, which was actually more like his poet blouses with the somewhat loose sleeves. He wandered down the stairs until he came into what must have been a kitchen, judging by the delicious smells that emanated from it. Pixie was there, and when she saw him she grinned. "Well, don’t you look a sight!" she exclaimed. "Better than last night, although you’re still a bit pale." She eyed him critically. "Funny, I could’ve sworn I bandaged up your head last night from a nasty cut, but there ain’t nothing there now."

"I…heal quickly," he replied evasively, ignoring the suspicious look she shot at him. "My, that does smell wonderful! What is it?"

Pixie shot him an incredulous glance. "Don’t tell me you’ve never smelled coffee before!" she exclaimed.

"I…er…of course," he stammered. "I just…forgot for a moment. The…head wound, and all…" Another mental note; find out what coffee was, and any other strange, foreign foods he might need to know about!

Pixie was shaking her head. "You don’t make much sense, you know," she said. "But, I suppose that’s okay. Makes you more interesting. Anyway, how about a cup of that coffee?"

"I…suppose," he replied, and she poured out a cup of a dark, steaming liquid and handed it to him. He eyed it uncertainly. It certainly didn’t look half as good as it smelled. Well…looks could be deceiving, after all. Should not he, of all people, know that? He ruled a place where things were never what they seemed! So, aware that Pixie was watching him, he took a cautious sip…and almost choked on the strong, bitter taste that filled his mouth. It was only with great effort that he was able to swallow the foul-tasting brew, wondering for a moment if he’d just been poisoned. "Delicious," he gasped, trying to keep his eyes from watering.

Pixie chuckled knowingly. "Perhaps some creme and sugar will sweeten the taste for you," she suggested, sliding over a small pitcher of creme and a bowl of sugar. He spooned some into his cup and stirred, then took another cautious sip. Ahhh! Now that was more like it! "Better," he agreed, taking another large swallow. Pixie chuckled again and returned to the task of cooking breakfast. Actually, considering it was nearing noon, it was more like brunch, but she doubted her guest would know the difference. A strange fellow, indeed.

At that moment there came a knock on the door, and Pixie looked up from her cooking with surprise. "Now who in blazes could that be?" she muttered, wiping her hands on her apron and going to the front door. When she opened it, there stood a postal worker, holding a "special delivery" envelope in his gloved hand. "Well, for heaven’s sake, come on in, boy, before you freeze," she exclaimed, pulling the shivering lad inside. "How on Earth did you get out here through all that snow? Here, let me get you some coffee."

"Thanks, ma’am," he replied. "No coffee, though. Uh, here. Special delivery, and I have orders not to leave until you have a reply ready."

"Oh, well, in that case I guess I’d better read it now," Pixie exclaimed, leading the boy into the kitchen. "Oh, don’t mind him," she added, seeing his nervous look to Jareth, who was eyeing him suspiciously. "He’s just the hired help." At that, Jareth gave her a truly outraged glare, to which she replied with an impish smile as she tore open the envelope. She scanned it quickly, her face registering first surprised delight, then shock and concern, and finally to a satisfied smile. She nodded once. "Well, now, what a treat," she murmured, taking out a sheet of paper from a drawer and a pen. "It’s been a long time since I’ve seen those two." She quickly scribbled out an answer, sealed it in an envelope, and handed it to the waiting postal boy, along with ten dollars. "There. That ought to cover the cost of the letter, and the trouble to deliver it," she said.

"Thank you, ma’am," he replied with a grin. He covered his face with his scarf, tucked the letter and money securely in the zippered pocket of his parka, and headed out the door with a wave. He had come on a snowmobile, and now took off across the field toward the country road on the other side that lead to the small town below the mountain. Pixie watched him go, then closed the door, a pleased smile lighting her face.

"Well, isn’t this a treat," she exclaimed happily to a curious Jareth. "We’re soon going to have some company!"

Jareth frowned, not at all certain that he liked the idea of company. "Who’s coming?" he asked suspiciously.

Pixie chuckled. "My great-niece and nephew. My niece has been ill and is all worn out, the pour soul, so she needs a good rest. She’s an actress, you know." Her voice swelled with pride. "I haven’t seen her or little Toby since Ian died, and then what with their parents dying in that horrible accident…poor souls…and then her career suddenly taking off, well, they haven’t been back here in a long time. Not that I blame them. It’ll be good to see them again.

Jareth was barely listening. He had frozen at the mention of the name Toby. Toby had been Sarah’s brother’s name. And what an odd coincidence, that this Toby should also have a sister who was an actress…just like Sarah had wanted to be…

"Tell me, how old is Toby now?" he asked cautiously.

"Toby? Why, he’d be…Oh, let’s see…He’d be about thirteen or so by now. Yes, that’s right. He was almost three when he came here last. Doubt he’d remember me, but oh, he loved those animals of mine! Used to ride Isaac around like a pony, he did! Of course, I’ve since sold most of the livestock, since Ian died, but I’ve a few old friends left. When I take you out to the barn I’ll introduce you…"

Jareth wasn’t interested in being introduced to a bunch of smelly animals. He was at the moment far more preoccupied with this revelation. Pixie’s great-nephew was thirteen years old. As Sarah’s brother would be by now. No! his mind shouted. A mere coincidence, is all. It cannot possibly be the same Toby…

"Why, Jareth, you look like you’re about to pass out!" Pixie suddenly exclaimed in alarm. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Yes. Yes, of course," he murmured, shooting her a weak smile. "So your niece is an actress, is she? Why did she choose to become that?"

Pixie grinned. "Well, I admit, I used to be somewhat of an actress myself, back in those olden days," she replied with a smirk. "Never got to be as popular as I wanted, and when I married Ian I put it aside for him. It was better that way, and I’ve never regretted it. I used to tell stories about my short-but-sweet theater career, and my niece would sit and listen for hours. We’d even put on little shows together. It was great fun!" She sighed happily, caught up in her memories.

Jareth felt relief flood him. There had been no great aunt in Sarah’s dreams, he recalled. It had been Sarah’s mother that turned her to acting. But then Pixie’s next words left him feeling cold.

"Her mother was also an influence, probably more than I was." Her tone held a definite hint of disapproval.

Jareth nearly fell off the chair. Luckily, Pixie had turned her back and didn’t notice. "Her mother?" he asked faintly.

"Aye, that’s right," she replied, then snorted. "Her mother’s one of the flightiest creatures I ever seen in my life. Lovely as a queen and twice as selfish. Anyone who can up and leave their family behind like she did is nothing but a tramp, in my book! And all over some actor! Never mind her husband and her poor daughter! It hit the girl really hard, ‘though she done her best to hide it. Done gone and turned all the bitterness she had to be feeling into a misguided case of hero-worship, instead."

Jareth was nearly shaking by then, as the implications of what Pixie was telling him began to sort themselves out. It was a definite coincidence. Perhaps too much of one. But…to have come all the way to Earth to escape his past …only to end up running headlong into it…could such a thing happen? There was an entire world up here, filled with millions of people and hundreds of countries! Out of them all, what were the chances that he should stumble back into the life of the one who had so nearly destroyed him? The only one he ever remotely cared about? Was this the hand of fate guiding him? Perhaps helping him to face his past and make peace with it once and for all.

Perhaps giving him a second chance…

There was only one way for him to find out, and he dreaded asking the question, for if it wasn’t who he hoped it was, he felt the disappointment might be enough to kill him. On the other hand, he had to know, or he’d be driven mad. So, taking a deep breath, he asked carefully, "Pixie, what is your niece’s name?"

Pixie looked at him, surprised, but then she laughed. "Oh, silly me, not even mentioning it!" She grinned, then left the room, returning a moment later holding a picture frame. "Here," she said, handing it to him. "This is my niece and nephew. It’s kind of old, taken about the time Ian died. Never got around to asking for a new one."

Jareth didn’t hear her. He was staring at the picture, and what little color he had slowly drained from his face. It was her. That flowing hair, the lovely smile, those dark, flashing eyes, although they seemed to be looking out at him with a sadness he didn’t remember seeing before. Her face was eternally etched into his mind. He knew he’d never forget it. She held a little boy on her lap, with blond hair and bright blue eyes and an eternally curious expression. His fingers traced the picture, his lips forming her name at the same moment Pixie told him, "That’s her. That’s my Sarah."

"Sarah," he whispered. "This is Sarah." A part of him rebelled at that. It couldn’t be her. After twelve years, since he’d accepted the fact that he would probably never see her again, now she was suddenly coming back into his life… The thought was exhilarating and terrifying all at once, and he was not one to be afraid of anything. But what about the words? Those six little words that had shattered his life and had forced him away from her…would they still hold true? When she came here, would he be forced to leave this place? He’d been here barely a day, and already he rather enjoyed Pixie’s company. It was so rare to be able to hold an intelligent conversation, and even he needed companionship, even if it was with a sprightly old woman like Pixie.

I have no power over her life, but I have not forced my way into her life. I have been invited into Pixie’s, and it is through no fault of mine that Sarah is coming here as well. She should not be able to make me leave, although I fear that I may do so anyway, should my presence here cause her distress. He sighed, grimacing. It was a sad day, indeed, when he’d put aside his own comfort for that of a mortal girl. Although Sarah was no ordinary girl…

"Jareth? Are you awake in there?" Pixie’s voice suddenly cut through his musings, and he blinked and focused on her concerned face. "Ah, there you are," she teased. "Where did you go?"

He attempted a smile. "I was…remembering," he replied. "Sarah is very beautiful."

Pixie grinned. "Aye, just like her mother, only she’s got brains to go along with those looks. Graduated at the top of her class, she did. Was always a bit of a dreamer though. Oh, that reminds me, she sent me a bunch of old books and toys and stuff from when she had to sell her house, when her parents died. Said she couldn’t bear to part with them. I have them packed away. I think I’ll go and prepare a room for her and Toby awhile. Got two extra rooms, so there’ll be space for all. Care to help?"

"Certainly," Jareth replied, mostly because he was eager to find out as much about Sarah as he could before she arrived. Her childhood memories were apparently precious to her, and therefore precious to him. He’d been there, in owl form, as she had put away those memories, one by one, after his defeat. He’d felt heartsick at the time, thinking it was her way of banishing him from her mind once and for all, and perhaps it had been, by forcing herself to grow up. But it pleased him to know now that she had not truly tossed those memories aside. Had merely misplaced them a little. Perhaps it meant that there was still hope…

"Well," Pixie was saying. "Come on out and help me with the animals, and then we can get started on the rooms. The letter said she’d be coming a week from the time she got my reply, if I agreed, and it’ll probably reach her in a day or so. Come along then."

Jareth reluctantly followed her to the barn, where he "met" her friends, the horses and the cow and all. The cats, especially the one she called "Mistofolese", gave him the once over and chose to ignore him. He was surprised, actually. Most cats tended to have a bit of faerie in them themselves, and could easily sense that he wasn’t normal. Perhaps they also sensed that he wasn’t a threat, and therefore was someone not worth their attention. That thought made him smirk. As arrogant as the fae kind could be, even the haughtiest of them could take a few lessons from a cat.

Mercedes was especially interesting to him. He saw her watching him from her perch high in the rafters. "Is that a tame owl?" he asked incredulously.

"Who, Mercedes? Oh, no! She’s just a house guest," Pixie replied with a laugh. "She’s been here awhile now, but I don’t dare get close to her, lest she attack me. We have an understanding, her and I. She can stay and eat as many mice as she can hold, just so long as she leaves my chickens alone, and the cats. It’s worked out fine so far. My Mercedes isn’t a fussy tenant."

"She’s quite the beauty," Jareth murmured. "I’m fond of owls, you see."

"Really?" Pixie eyed him, then nodded. "Yes. Don’t know why, but you seem to me to be an owl type. I can almost picture you with one sittin’ on your shoulder." She chuckled. He smirked in response. She didn’t know the half of it.

Days passed by, and he spent them helping Pixie to clean the house. He even found himself one day out in the forest with Pixie, chopping wood for the fireplace. Him! A king of the goblins! Chopping wood! It was nearly laughable, and yet, at the same time, it helped him to keep his mind off the inevitable arrival of Sarah. More specifically, off of what her reaction might be when she saw him…

He knew she had been ill, from what Pixie had told him. He worried, though he wouldn’t admit it to himself. How ill was she, that she had to leave the life she loved and escape to here? He wondered how much she had changed in twelve years. Was she still as beautiful as he remembered, or had the bitter events of her life changed her?

He was sitting in the room that was to be Sarah’s, several cardboard boxes stacked in front of him that contained, according to Pixie, some of Sarah’s old belongings. He was supposed to be storing them in her closet, but he couldn’t help but wonder what might be in some of them. Surely a small peek wouldn’t hurt anything, he thought, and so he somewhat guiltily opened the top box and looked inside to see what it held. He smiled as he lifted out a book. "Snow White and the Seven Dwarves." Of course. Being the dreamer that she was, this was exactly what he would expect her to read. He lifted out others. A collection of the Brothers Grimm. Hans Christian Anderson. Aesop’s Fables. Various fairy tales by other, not-so-well-known authors…and there, in the very bottom of the box, wrapped in a piece of black cotton—almost like a burial shroud—lay a little red book with a single word stamped on the cover.

"Labyrinth"

He sucked in his breath sharply, almost feeling the book’s own, unique magic humming in his hands. He slowly opened the cover, noting how worn the pages were, dog-eared and slightly ripped and crinkled. Inside the cover, in beautifully written—if not somewhat-faded—cursive, was Sarah’s name. This book had obviously been well-loved, once upon a time. He traced a finger along the faded ink, his eyes holding a faraway look.

Abruptly, the look vanished, to be replaced with a steely mask. But now look! It was worthless to her! Shoved away with her other childhood toys, and dressed for a funeral, no less! The cursed book. This had been the start of the end of his life as he knew it. It had enthralled Sarah to the point of obsession. When she had called upon him, he had taken her brother as she wanted, thinking to provide himself with some entertainment. It had been a wonderful gamble, until the price became more than he was willing to pay. Until he had lost his very soul to her innocence and beauty, and when she’d left she had taken it with her, as heartless as a butterfly. Once again, Jareth tried to call upon every ounce of hate he possessed, and closed his eyes, picturing her face in his mind, telling himself what he’d do to her when he saw her again, the horrors he could unleash on her. The games he could play with her mind…

After a long moment, his shoulder’s slumped, and he shook his head in defeat, that mocking smile fixed on his lips. Curse her innocent eyes, but he loved her anyway. Nothing he insisted otherwise was going to change that. The room was suddenly stifling to him. He had been inside for far too long. He needed the solitude of the forest. He shoved the books carelessly into the box, tossing Labyrinth on the top, half-unwrapped, and then, standing in a graceful, fluid movement, he went to the door and grabbed a coat from the stand. "I’m going for a walk," he told Pixie, and nearly ran outside lest she protest.

The snow had melted somewhat, but now it was packed firmly down due to a heavy rain a few days before, making the surface treacherous to walk on. It was no problem for him, however. He glided with ease across the field to the forest beyond, listening to the dead silence that came from within. He allowed a smile…a genuine smile…to cross his face as he touched the rough bark of an ancient tree. This was where he came to gather his strength, and now he could feel the energy of this world’s forests flowing into him, renewing him, making him feel alive again.

He stayed there for a long while, listening to the call of a single raven somewhere deep in that sheltered silence, drinking in the beauty and peace. Perhaps he should create his own home there, in the forest. He could live there the rest of his days, thriving on nature. But even as the thought came to him, he abandoned it. Even he knew that he would not survive forever in this world. Besides, he was still a king, and had responsibilities to attend to. He knew he could not abandon his kingdom forever, much as he wanted to. But perhaps…perhaps if he had someone to rule beside him…a queen, perhaps?

With a violent shake of his head to rid himself of errant and impossible thoughts, he turned abruptly and began retracing his steps back to the farmhouse. As he approached, he noticed something that had not been there before. It was a car. A truck of some type, although he was no expert on human modes of transportation. Brilliant red in color, it was impossible to miss against the pristine white landscape. He frowned as he studied it. Now where had that come from?

Then, like a splash of freezing water, the answer suddenly hit him.

She was here. Sarah had arrived…

His heart immediately kicked into overtime as he slowed his pace, his breath coming quicker. A week had passed already? What was he to do? He had hoped to be there when she arrived, a subtle way of letting her know that she was invading his turf, and not the other way around. Well, that idea was shot. He’d been gone for an hour, at least, judging by the sun. She could have arrived as soon as he’d left, for all he knew. Had Pixie mentioned him? Had mentioned his name, perhaps? Perhaps Sarah would think it was merely a coincidence. But, no, how many other Jareth’s could there possibly be in this world? It was not a mortal name…

He took a deep breath and climbed the steps to the porch, choosing, at the last moment, to go around to the kitchen entrance. Maybe she’d only just arrived, and Pixie had them seated in the living room…

But even as he opened the door and stepped inside, he remembered that the kitchen was Pixie’s version of a sitting room. It was almost traditional to seat the few guests she had (like himself and the postman) in the kitchen for a cup of coffee or hot chocolate, so why not do the same with Sarah and Toby? They were, after all, family. He winced when he saw three figures seated around the table, with Pixie facing him, and the other two with their backs to him. He tried to sneak out again, but Pixie’s sharp eyes caught sight of him, and her face lit up. "Jareth! There you are! I was just telling Sarah and Toby about you! Come on in and meet them," she said cheerfully.

Jareth winced inwardly wanting more than anything to escape to the barn, his room, anyplace but there! But, there was no hope for it, so he gritted his teeth and stepped fully inside the door, as a woman with a wealth of long, dark hair seemed to turn in slow motion to face him…

Sarah pulled up in front of the old farmhouse and shut off the engine of the truck, staring at the building as though her life depended on it. When was the last time I saw this place? she wondered silently. She had been a child, and Toby hardly more than an infant, it seemed. She glanced at her sleeping half-brother, slumped down in his seat, the silver skull that pierced his ear glinting in the light. She frowned at it, knowing that she’d told her brother to get rid of it. Of course he didn’t listen. He didn’t listen to anyone anymore, since he was almost thirteen. His fine, blond hair was cut short and spiked on top, like a perverted version of an army drill sergeant, completely at odds with the angelic-looking face with the baby-blue eyes. His black jeans were shredded, his shirt was positively demonic… He looked like one of the Wizard of Oz’s munchkins gone bad.

She sighed and nudged him. "Hey. Wake up. We’re here," she said softly.

Toby stirred, then sat up and looked around, his face clearly showing his expression of distaste. "Still wish we could’ve stayed in the city," he grumbled.

"Why? So you could go back to your pals in jail?" Sarah retorted sharply. "Look, Toby, I know you’d rather be out holding up banks or something, but I’m going to get what’s left of my family back together, even if it kills me! Aunt Pixie was gracious enough to allow us come to her house, even though we haven’t so much as sent her a postcard in years, and we’re going to stay!" She took a deep breath, feeling that familiar rattling in her lungs as she fought to get it back. She was obviously not fully recovered.

Toby heard her wheezing, and his expression turned worried. "I’m sorry, Sarah," he said. "I don’t want you to get sick again."

Her expression softened. "I know. This will be good for me, and it’ll be good for you, too. You’ll love it here. I promise. Can we go inside now? Aunt Pixie’s probably waiting."

Toby smiled halfheartedly and nodded, and they got out of the truck as the front door suddenly flew open and a sprightly-looking old woman came out, grinning broadly. "Oh, I can’t believe this!" she cried. "Sarah! And is this little Toby? Oh, you’ve grown up so much! Oh, come here and let me look at you!" She threw her arms around them both, laughing, and Sarah found herself grinning.

"It’s good to see you again, Aunt Pixie," she said. "I didn’t realize ‘till now how much I missed you!"

"Oh, I know," Pixie replied. "Well, don’t just stand there in the cold! C’mon in and warm yourselves! I have hot chocolate waiting." She frowned, seemingly puzzled. "I had hoped Jareth would be here, but he seems to have vanished…" She shrugged. "Oh well. I’m sure he’ll be back soon."

Sarah froze, her eyes going wide. Had her aunt just said…? No. She had to have been hearing things. "Um…who is this you’re talking about?" she asked.

"Jareth. He’s a stray I picked up a few days ago," Pixie replied with an impish smile.

Sarah relaxed and returned the smile. A stray. Of course. Pixie had always been picking up stray animals when Sarah was a kid. No reason for that to have changed now. "What is it this time? A dog? Another cat? A goat, maybe?" she asked teasingly.

Pixie’s smile turned absolutely devilish. "Oh, you’ll see, when he comes back. He’s on a walk right now," she replied slyly. "Well, come on in and get some chocolate." She turned and went into the house, leaving Sarah and Toby to glance at each other curiously. Toby shrugged, then followed his aunt into the house, more concerned with getting some of that chocolate than with Pixie’s latest pet. Frowning uncertainly, Sarah followed them both in, seating herself at the table as Pixie set a huge mug of cocoa in front of her.

"So, Toby, how have you been doing in school?" Pixie asked.

Toby looked up from his cup, shifting uncomfortably. "S’okay," he muttered, and gave Sarah a glance. Sarah merely raised an eyebrow as she sipped her chocolate. Toby was not doing very well in school, at all. He was too busy playing hooky to study or do homework, but she wasn’t about to bring up an old argument now.

Pixie, however, appeared to be psychic. "Just okay?" she asked, fixing the boy with "a look", under which Toby began to squirm again. Luckily for him, at that moment, the back door opened, and a blast of cold air blew in, making them shiver. Then Pixie’s face lit up. "Jareth! There you are! I was just telling Sarah and Toby about you! Come on in and meet them," she said.

Again Sarah froze at the mention of that all-too-familiar name. She heard a heavy step behind her, and saw Toby look up with interest. Slowly, she set down her mug and turned in her seat, letting her gaze travel upward over a slender body that, while clothed in jeans and cotton shirt, was no less graceful for all that. Her breath quickened, then froze, as her eyes fell upon his face.

She knew that face! The soft wisps of fine, moonlight-colored hair were pulled back into a ponytail, a few stray wisps escaping from its bonds. That arrogant tilt of a slender chin, the perfectly formed, aristocratic features, the elegantly arched brows…those eyes! There was only one person that she knew of in all the world that had eyes like those…

Apparently, he didn’t know that, because there he stood, real as life, staring down into her eyes, that familiar, coldly beautiful mask firmly in place. She slowly rose to her feet, realizing that she was trembling, and turned to face him fully. "What are you doing here?" she rasped. "What are you doing here?! You aren’t real! Go away! Please go away! I’ve grown up! I’m not a child anymore, and you…you have…no…" Here words failed her, as the world suddenly began to spin around in quick circles. She closed her eyes and grasped the chair, but her legs suddenly refused to hold her. She faintly heard Toby’s cry of alarm, and Pixie’s astonished exclamation, and then her senses faded into blackness.

She woke up feeling disoriented. What happened? she wondered groggily. The last thing she remembered was sitting at her great aunt’s kitchen table drinking cocoa, and then…and then…he had shown up! Her eyes flew open then, and at that moment she realized that she was still laying on the floor, and that she was being held, propped against someone’s chest. "Pixie?" she asked weakly, looking around behind her. Then she shrieked and scrambled away as though the house was on fire, because it wasn’t Pixie that held her but… "Jareth!" she gasped, looking at him through fearful eyes.

Jareth? Here? It wasn’t possible! But it was he who had held her up, and he certainly felt real enough! In his hand…which was, for once, gloveless (and was really quite the most elegant hand she’d ever seen)…there was a wet cloth, which she faintly remembered had been pressed to her head. She looked frantically around for Toby and Pixie, whom, she suddenly realized, were missing. She was alone with the Goblin King…

"They’re in the living room," Jareth suddenly told her, quite calmly, as though reading her mind; a thought that made her exceedingly nervous. "They’ll be wondering how in the world we know each other, so best we think up a suitable excuse. You made quite a scene, by the way, fainting like that. Nearly gave your brother and poor Pixie heart failure."

Sarah’s hackles rose at his words. "Well, what did you expect me to do, you moron?!" she snapped. "You kidnap my brother, terrorize me, and then vanish in a funk when you lose the game. Now, twelve years later, you suddenly reappear at my great-aunt’s house out in the middle of nowhere, right at the time I’m down on my feet! What, did you expect me to warmly greet you and offer you my chair?!"

He laughed at that. "Hardly," he replied humorously, and his expression turned impish. "But did Pixie not warn you that she had a ‘guest’?"

"I thought she was talking about a dog!" she exploded. "I didn’t think that the Goblin King was here for a visit! I mean, it isn’t a normal occurrence, you know!" She glared at him when he shushed her, reminding her that there were two other people in the next room. "Just what are you doing here, anyway?" she hissed. "Taking to manipulating old ladies now? What, like teenage girls aren’t good enough for you?"

"It’s a long story," he muttered darkly.

She smirked and crossed her arms. "So? You’re the one who can manipulate time, remember? Use that great power of yours!" she replied snidely. "Well? Go on. I’m listening. Enlighten me!"

He huffed a sigh and scrubbed at his face with his hands. "Very well. I owe you that much, at least," he admitted grudgingly. "First of all, I suppose you should know that I am no longer the Goblin King." Judging from her expression, she clearly didn’t believe him. "I swear to it," he insisted.

"So what happened?" she asked snidely. "Did your subjects finally develop enough brains to throw you out?"

"No, I left!" he snapped. "I’m on a leave of absence until further notice. These past twelve years have been absolute hell, no thanks to you, so I needed a long vacation."

"Oh, and what is this? A guilt trip? I’m crying buckets of tears, can’t you tell?" she retorted bitterly. "Whatever happened to you was no more than you deserved for the hell you put me through, and you know it!"

"All too well," he replied darkly, and Sarah was astonished at the flash of pain in his changeling eyes. "When you banished me from your life, my kingdom was shattered. The inhabitants of the Labyrinth ran wild, and my kin decided that I and my subjects were not worthy of their attention. I have spent these years rebuilding that which you so heartlessly destroyed, and now my kingdom is complete and greater than ever…and I find that I no longer have a taste for ruling it." He paused, smiling bitterly. "So, I’ve appointed another to rule in my place, and I took myself to the Above world to…find myself, as it were."

Sarah listened with open astonishment as Jareth completed his tale. "But…who is ruling now?" she asked hesitantly. "Another fae?"

"No. You’re little dwarf friend, Hogbrain," he replied with a smirk.

"Hoggle," she corrected automatically, and frowned. "And why would you go and make him king after his betrayal?"

"Because, surprisingly enough, it was he who was the greatest help to me in rebuilding my kingdom. But don’t go thinking that my appointing him as king is a reward! Oh, no! Far from it!" He chuckled wickedly. "Ruling that kingdom is a punishment within itself. No doubt he’ll soon come begging me to take over again!"

"That’s all well and good," Sarah said darkly, "but it hardly explains why you’re here." She gestured to their surroundings, and he shrugged.

"A mere coincidence, perhaps," he replied. "I came Above, straight into the embrace of a blizzard. Snow is a bit…rare in my world, so I wasn’t quite prepared to deal with it." He ignored Sarah’s smirk. "It’s said that I’m half human, on my mother’s side. Thus, the reason for my kins’ contempt for me. But I, who have spent my millennia of existence ignoring that part of my heritage, have decided that now would be a most opportune time to explore it. A move to Earth was in order to accomplish that."

"But how did you find Pixie?" Sarah asked impatiently.

"It is more like, she found me," Jareth explained. "I was injured, and half frozen, and Pixie and her dog found me and brought me into their home to recover. I’ve been here a little while now. In exchange for bedding and food, I’ve been helping her with some of the more difficult chores. I assure you, I’ve done her no harm. She saved my life, after all."

Sarah eyed him suspiciously. He seemed sincere enough, but…the idea of the powerful, seductive Goblin King pitching hay in a barn was…a little hard to swallow… "Did you, at any time, know that Pixie was related to me in any way?" she asked in a low voice. "Is that why you stayed after you were well, so that you might learn of my whereabouts?"

He cocked his head at her with a small grin. "My, aren’t we full of ourselves," he mocked lightly. "Do you honestly think that I spend all my time wondering about you?" His face hardened, and so did his voice. "I offered my heart to you once, and lost my kingdom as a result. Your answer was made very clear to me, and the Goblin King does not offer his love a second time."

At her wide-eyed glance, he shook his head. "Never mind," he muttered. "It matters little. I swear to you on my life’s blood that when Pixie took me in, I had no idea who she was," he added firmly. "Only after she received your letter did I discover that you and she were related, and it came as a shock, I’ll admit. But…" He held up a finger. "As I have never forced my way back into your life—as those words you spoke held me bound not to seek you out—and as I was invited into Pixie’s life, I saw no reason to leave. We are both here as guests, and I have as much right to be here as you do. I have no qualms about sharing a home with you, and I duly hope that you have none with me."

Sarah frowned thoughtfully as she thought this over, but she could find no fault with Jareth’s logic (curse him!). But now that I’m here, who’s to say he won’t try something with me? What if he tries to snatch Toby again? True, Toby was a little old to be turned into a goblin, but still…

She sighed. She could not force Jareth to leave, but she was not about to turn tail and run, either. She needed this long overdue vacation, and Pixie was her aunt, curse it! she thought jealously. What right did Jareth have to barge in on them? Well, technically, he had been there first, but still…

"All right," she conceded finally. "For now, we’ll call a truce on this little rivalry. Right now we’re just two…acquaintances, here for a rest. But if I see any funny stuff from you, or if you even think of trying to do anything to Toby with that magic of yours, I’ll make you regret the day you were spawned!" she hissed, glaring into his unnerving eyes.

He gazed calmly back at her, his eyes boring deep into her own until she had to drop her gaze, before he nodded once. "Agreed."

Jareth solved the little problem of explaining how he and Sarah knew each other by simply erasing the little scene Sarah had performed in the kitchen from both Pixie and Toby’s memories. Sarah, of course, was righteously indignant at the thought of having her family’s minds tampered with, but he managed to assure her that it was the best thing; namely, he threatened to leave her to think up an excuse, which they both knew she was not up to at the moment.

So after that, an uneasy truce was forged between the two of them, both silently agreeing to keep their grievances with each other private until a suitable time presented itself to air them out. What with Toby and Pixie being around all the time, that wasn’t likely to happen anytime soon, and Sarah was, truthfully, rather relieved. She settled herself into her room and concentrated on getting well, and so long as she didn’t manage to run into Jareth, she could almost forget he was there.

Almost.

Unfortunately, to Sarah’s consternation and Jareth’s bemusement, Toby seemed to take a shine to the former Goblin King, and at first Jareth didn’t know what to make of it. He allowed Toby to follow him around the barn as he did his chores, mostly because it was somewhat new to him to have a child willingly follow him anywhere.

Sarah watched them with jealous eyes. Here she had been hoping that by bringing Toby out here she could mend the fragile sibling-relationship between the two of them, maybe bring out the sweet little boy Toby had used to be. And yet it seemed now that whenever she wished to do anything with Toby, he was always off somewhere with Jareth, walking in the forest or hanging around the barn or such.

Jealousy was not the only emotion Sarah felt in dealing with Jareth and her little brother. She could not shake the concern that Jareth might do something to Toby, if only to spite her. True, according to him he had no more power; at least, not like he used to have, but there were many other ways to hurt children, and one did not need to be a powerful faerie lord to use most of them. So she spent most of her time recovering, helping in the kitchen washing dishes, and keeping an eye on the sneaky trickster. She was determined that, should Jareth really try something, she would stop him before he succeeded one way or another.

A few days later, Toby was watching as Jareth dumped a load of hay into the bin in the horses’ pen, kicking his feet against the wall from his perch at the end of the loft. "So what did you do before you came here?" he asked after awhile. As he’d expected, Jareth merely gave him a side-ways glance and didn’t answer. That was nothing new. As much as Toby was curious about the stranger in his aunt’s house, the stranger could care less about Toby. He tolerated the boy’s presence mostly for Pixie’s sake, Toby guessed. That was okay. At least he was another guy.

He seemed an interesting sort, too, not like his old aunt and his sister, who had a habit of gushing all over him in her displays of sisterly devotion. Toby knew that Sarah only wanted to make him feel like he was wanted, to make up for all those months she’d had to be gone with her acting company and all. He knew she blamed herself for his trouble in school and with the cops, and he felt guilty for making her blame herself, when he knew it was his own fault he was always in trouble. But sometimes her efforts to make everything better were stifling.

He wanted to do what he wanted, to have some fun after all the pain he’d been put through. Here he had thought that being dragged out into the country was going to be boring, but now that Jareth was here…well, maybe it would be fun after all. For some reason, Jareth reminded him of someone he knew. He didn’t know why, but Jareth seemed awfully familiar. Toby wanted to know why. The best way to find out was to hang around and ask questions until Jareth started talking. That was harder than one would think. He had fast discovered that Jareth didn’t really like to talk.

Toby chewed on his lower lip for awhile as he thought of a way to get Jareth to pay attention to him. Then a wicked grin split his face; one that would have made Jareth proud, had he seen it. "So," he began coyly. "I bet I know why you came here. I bet you and Aunt Pixie are lovers. Isn’t that right?"

Bingo. Jareth spun around so quickly he was almost a blur, and fixed Toby with an icy glare with those weird eyes that would have made anyone else cringe. Not Toby. He matched the older man, stare for stare, and tried not to look too pleased at having so obviously ruffled his feathers. "Thought that’d get your attention," he smirked, and Jareth grimaced with distaste.

"Do all boys your age have such dirty minds?" he muttered.

"Nope. Just the normal ones," Toby cheerfully replied. "So anyhow, how come you have two different eyes? Were you in an accident or something?"

Jareth sighed. "No, it wasn’t any accident," he replied with carefully controlled patience. "I was born with them, like a birthmark of sorts."

"Cool," Toby replied simply, reaching over to feed Clyde a handful of hay. "Want to go riding later? I bet both of us could fit on one horse. We can race Sarah. She always brags about what a good rider she is, but I bet she couldn’t beat us if we took her on. Say, you never said what you used to do before you came here."

Jareth cocked his head at the child, amused at the sudden change of topic. "Why do you talk so much?" he asked curiously.

Toby looked surprised, then blushed and hung his head, embarrassed. "I was just curious," he mumbled.

Jareth felt a momentary pang of something unfamiliar, and he realized that it was guilt. Fancy that, he thought with wry amusement. This world must be wearing off on me, if I feel guilty for being rude to a child who would have probably been a goblin by now, were I still king. Out loud, he replied, "I used to be an…overseer of sorts, over in England. London, to be precise." He had looked on a map and read up on this England place in an encyclopedia, so he knew what he was talking about now.

"Did you make a lot of money?" Toby was asking curiously. "My dad is…" He stopped suddenly, a touch of sadness passing through his eyes. "I mean…my dad was a manager at this really big company, almost a vice-president. He made a lot of money, too," he mumbled, looking at the ground.

Was. Jareth frowned. Pixie had told him what had happened to Sarah and Toby’s parents, and how Sarah had worked to keep Toby with her, although they had ended up drifting further and further apart despite her efforts to keep them together. Her career was taking over, and it was hurting Toby. Just like Sarah’s mother’s career had taken over. The difference being, Sarah has enough compassion and heart to realize it, and to try to mend the damage.

Just another reason why Jareth loved her. She was not the heartless creature he’d thought. She had plenty of heart. Too much, in fact, and it very nearly killed her when she tried to stretch herself too thin, trying to please everybody in the world and her family all at once. Jareth pitied her. She was living her dreams, but did living her dreams mean she had to kill herself doing it?

"Was your father a good man?" he asked, cautiously.

Toby looked up with obvious surprise, then nodded. "He was great," he replied. "So was Mom, but her and Sarah didn’t get along too well, ‘cause Sarah didn’t like to be bossed around by someone who wasn’t her real mom. Her real mom was an actress, you know, just like Sarah is. Sarah’s a whole lot better than her mom, though. People are always swarming around her, and she’s always in the news and everything. Well, she was ‘till she got sick and had to stop acting, but I guess she’s gonna start again once she’s better."

"Does Sarah like her life?" Jareth asked cautiously. He had already asked Sarah the same thing, and she had haughtily informed him that her life was perfect…but he couldn’t help but feel that maybe there was more to it than she was going to admit. She had told him her life was perfect…she had not said that she liked it. There was a world of meaning in the choosing of words. One phrase spoken in just a way could have any number of meanings, and Jareth was the master of manipulation, after all. After eons of time, he should know by now most of those meanings.

"Sarah loves her life," Toby was saying. "She loves acting more than anything." He paused, then added, as though the thought had just occurred to him, "She doesn’t much like the reporters, though. She gets all panicky when they’re around, ‘cause they hold such sway over the people. That’s what she said. One story can make or break her career, and leave her in the dust, like her mom. She said that, too. She puts up with the reporters ‘cause that’s all part of it, but she doesn’t like it. She told me once she always has to lay down after an interview, ‘cause she gets so tired from trying not to say anything dumb and to look like the Sarah Williams the world expects to see. Whatever that means."

Jareth listened silently, fascinated in spite of himself. His Sarah, who had so bravely faced him down in the Labyrinth when so many others merely cowered before him, afraid of a few mortal storytellers? Surely the boy was mistaken! Sarah, he felt, was not one to cower before anything. Well, he was determined to find out more about Sarah from Toby, since she was unlikely to tell him anything on her own. He suddenly smiled at the boy. "How about we go for a walk in the woods?" he suggested suddenly, much to Toby’s surprise, and delight.

"Sure!" the boy replied eagerly. "Hey, we can look for deer tracks! And Pixie said she saw a fox in the field the other day. We can look for its den. Maybe it’s got babies in it."

Jareth highly doubted it, but he decided to humor the boy. Besides, he needed some fresh air. Being away from his home was a bit harder on him than he’d anticipated, and he constantly needed to restore his strength and what was left of his magic in the natural woodlands surrounding him. So, with Toby tagging along behind him, he left the barn and headed into the forest, Toby talking non-stop all the way.

Sarah paced the living room, absentmindedly cracking the knuckles on one hand in a nervous manner. She had seen Jareth and Toby head into the forest, and that had been over two hours ago. They had not yet returned, and Sarah just knew that something had happened. Jareth had stolen Toby away, she was certain of it. Why didn’t I watch him closer? she chided herself. If something’s happened to Toby, I’ll never forgive myself. I’ll never forgive Jareth!

She paused and looked out the window again, straining to catch any signs of movement. There…was that a person walking across the snow-covered field? She strained her eyes, until she could make it out better. It was Toby, she realized, and he was alone. Jareth was nowhere to be seen. For some odd reason, that realization sent a spiral of alarm racing through her.

Shaking off the feeling, she grabbed her coat and sprinted out the door, running to Toby as fast as she could. She was panting heavily by the time she reached him, her lungs having not yet regained their full strength to handle the abuse she’d just put them through. "Thank heavens!" she gasped when she finally reached the boy, throwing her arms around him in a bear hug. "Don’t you ever go off like that by yourself again! I was scared to death something had happened to you!" she scolded.

"Aw, Sarah, knock it off! Quit gushing all over me," Toby complained, shoving his sister away in embarrassment. "I was fine. I was with Jareth, but he decided to stay in the forest by himself. He sent me back here though ‘cause he knew you’d be worried. You’re just being paranoid!"

Sarah stepped back, stunned. "I am not!" she cried. "You hardly even know this guy, and you just go off alone with him in the woods? Who knows what he could do to you!"

"There’s nothing wrong with him, Sarah," Toby replied. "He’s okay, and Pixie likes him. You’re the only one who thinks he’s gonna go and murder all of us in our sleep or something."

Sarah opened her mouth to protest, then shut it. She could not very well tell Toby who Jareth really was; she had promised not to, sort of. Besides, Toby would never believe her, anyway. He’d just think she was crazy. Not only that, but they had been there several days already, and Jareth had not so much as looked at Toby the wrong way. That didn’t mean she could trust him, but still… "Just go on inside and warm up," she finally muttered. "Pixie has some cocoa warming on the stove. I’ll be in later on."

Toby complied, and as soon as he was out of sight, Sarah headed into the forest in search of Jareth. She could not let this continue. She was going to confront Jareth and tell him just what she thought of him, whether or not he did anything to her for it. She was going to keep him away from her brother if it was the last thing she did.

"Jareth!" she called. "I know you’re here! Where are you?"

She waited, and after a few moments she thought she heard a faint reply. She followed the sound, and soon enough found Jareth sitting in a clearing on a snow-covered tree stump, hands on knees with his eyes closed, looking for all the world like he was meditating. A small, crystal-clear spring ran beside his foot, its music sounding almost like magic in the silence of the forest. Sarah stopped, a bit awed in spite of herself. With the snow and ice covering everything and the sunlight reflecting from the whiteness and making it sparkle like crystal, it looked like something out of a picture book, and Jareth now looked extremely like a fae to her, with his head tilted back and his fine, moonlight-colored hair blowing soft and loose about his pale face.

He slowly opened his mismatched eyes and brought them to rest on Sarah’s face, and her heart skipped a beat. She felt her nerve slipping away in the heat of his gaze, filled with a familiar power and cunning, and she almost bolted. At the last moment, however, she drew herself up and stated, much more calmly than she felt, "I want you to stay away from my brother."

His elegant brows arched at the quiet demand, and a smirk appeared on his lips. "Indeed. And why might that be?" he asked calmly.

"You know why!" she snapped. "I don’t want you anywhere near Toby! Not after what you tried to do to him before!"

"My dear, I did nothing to him that you did not wish me to do," Jareth stated quietly, and in a voice gone deadly cold. He saw her wince, and decided to change the subject. "What’s the matter, dearest? Don’t you trust me?" he added, lightly mocking.

She glared at him. "I don’t trust you any further than I can throw you!" she snarled. "Whatever happens between us, I can handle. It doesn’t matter what you do to me, but when you start messing with my family, you’d better watch out, or I’ll make you sorry you had ever been born!"

Jareth listened to her passionate speech, and then shot her a knowing look. "Are you saying that, had we left Toby out of our last confrontation, things may have been…different?" he suggested slyly, his voice a soft purr that made a shiver pass through Sarah’s body…although not from fear.

"Th-that’s not what I said," she stammered, her face paling visibly at his not-so-subtle hint.

Jareth shook his head, his expression gentling. "It doesn’t matter what you said, only what you mean," he replied.

"That is not what I meant!" Sarah protested hotly, a blush reddening her cheeks. "You must be crazy to think that you and I…that we… Oh! Never mind! It doesn’t matter anyhow! Just keep your hands off my brother! I’ll be watching you, so you’d better watch yourself!" she snapped, and turned on her heel to march away.

Jareth watched her go, his expression turning thoughtful. "Methinks the lady doth protest too much…" he quoted softly, and slowly rose to follow her back to the house.

The next day, as Jareth was eating breakfast of cold cereal, a bleary-eyed Sarah stumbled into the kitchen, pushing back her mussed hair with one hand. She barely acknowledged Jareth’s presence as she began opening and shutting the cabinet doors with loud bangs, looking more and more irritated. Apparently Sarah wasn’t much of a morning person, he thought with a smirk as he watched her, although he couldn’t help but think that her worn, forest green flannel pajamas were kind of adorable, as was the grumpy pout on her full lips.

"What in the Underground are you looking for?" he finally asked after Sarah had slammed shut her sixth cabinet door and was now rooting through the refrigerator. He thought he saw her wince at that certain word before her head vanished into the cold box, but her reply was clear enough.

"Breakfast," she muttered. "Anything with caffeine will do. Coffee, soda, chocolate, iced tea…"

Jareth stifled a chuckle and hid his grin behind his mug of tea. "There’s a variety of herbal tea in the cabinet above the stove. I’m sure one of them has what you’re looking for," he suggested helpfully, and laughed again at the look Sarah leveled at him, as though he’d just suggested that she take a drink from the toilet.

"I’m so very glad I amuse you," she sniffed, her head vanishing back into the fridge. "It just makes my entire day to hear you laugh."

Jareth raised an eyebrow, and a wicked gleam lit his eyes. He concentrated; it was hard to work magic on this world, though he could still do small parlor tricks that fae children could easily master (a fact that he was rather ashamed to admit). A glow settled into his hand, then faded, and he smiled smugly. "Sarah, why not have some real food for breakfast?" he suggested slyly. "Here, have some fresh fruit."

Her head popped up, and then her jaw dropped when she saw what he held in his hand. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Very cute, Jareth," she snapped through clenched teeth. "I suppose you think that’s a wonderful joke, offering me a peach."

He looked at her innocently. "You don’t want it?" he asked, affecting a wounded tone, though his lips were twitching.

"The last peach I ever ate, as I recall, gave me nightmares. I haven’t touched one since," she snapped.

Jareth smirked. "What a pity," he replied teasingly. "They really are delicious." He winked at her as he took a large bite out of the peach, and she huffed and turned to flounce out of the room, his chuckle following her all the way.

She silently followed Jareth and Toby out the door, breathing in air that held the scent of melting snow and wet plants. They set a brisk pace, Jareth’s long legs and Toby’s energy almost more than a match for Sarah’s weakened state, but she clenched her teeth and determinedly did her best to keep up with them…without letting on that she was wearing out. She refused to call out to them to slow down; her pride would not allow it. She was breathing heavily after a half hour of stumbling over half-buried tree roots and slipping through muddy areas along the path, and she fell further and further behind.

That was okay. She welcomed the chance to slow down and rest. According to Pixie, the path led out to a large clearing in which there was a frozen pond. That was where the other two were no doubt heading; she was sure she could catch up with them. As for the moment, she sat down on a fallen tree and caught her breath, turning her face up to the faint rays of sunlight that filtered through the trees and letting the peace of the forest wash over her.

It was then she heard Toby yell. And at that same moment the sound of a gunshot ripped through air.

Her heart stopped, and she leaped to her feet in alarm, staring wide-eyed down the path. Toby! she thought fearfully before breaking into a sprint in the direction her brother and Jareth had gone. I knew it! she thought furiously. I just knew I couldn’t trust that thieving baby-snatcher! If he’s done anything to Toby, I’ll kill him! I swear I’ll kill him! She forced herself to run even faster, ignoring her burning lungs. She had to reach him in time. She just had to.

"Hey! Cool! This pond’s huge!" Toby exclaimed as he bounded from the path into the wide glen. "Too bad we don’t have ice skates, huh, Jareth? We could play hockey or something."

"Yes," Jareth agreed, somewhat relieved that they didn’t have "skates", since he had little idea of what they were (or hockey, for that matter). He eyed the pond nervously as Toby made his way to the edge of it. The ice seemed a little thin to him…not that he was any great judge of such things, what with ice being rare in his world. But his sixth sense was telling him—or more like screaming at him—that the pond was a bit dangerous to play around.

"Toby, I don’t think you should go onto the ice," he called out nervously. "It looks too thin to hold your weight."

"Don’t be such a spoil sport," Toby replied. He hefted a large rock, which landed somewhere close to the middle of the pond with a dull thunk. "There, you see? It didn’t even crack! It’ll be fine!" He started to step onto the pond. Never mind that he probably weighed five times as much as that rock…

"Toby, don’t you dare set foot on that pond!" Jareth commanded, putting all the force he could muster behind the words. That tone usually sent the goblins scurrying for cover, and he had no doubt that it would quell the boy enough to keep him away from the danger.

Too bad Toby wasn’t a goblin. Apparently he didn’t realize that he was now supposed to scurry away in terror. He just rolled his eyes at Jareth and stepped out onto the ice, walking carefully with arms outstretched to where the rock had landed as Jareth looked on in helpless disbelief.

"You see?" Toby called out triumphantly. "Perfectly safe! You worry too much, just like Sarah!"

Jareth had somehow ended up beside the pond, though he didn’t remember walking there, but it was a good thing he had, because at the first loud crack of splintering ice—which sounded, Jareth noted with a detached part of his mind, much like shattering crystal—he was on the pond immediately, throwing himself across the hard ice almost without thinking of it. And when the ice, with a crack that sounded like a gunshot, suddenly gave out under a screaming, wide-eyed Toby, he was close enough to grab onto one flailing hand before the boy went into the frigid water completely.

"I got you," he groaned through gritted teeth as Toby’s weight threatened to drag him under, as well, nearly ripping his arms out of their sockets as he pulled back with all his strength. He used his magic to strengthen the ice under him—It would do no good if they both fell in—and slowly, carefully worked his way back to shore, pulling a shivering Toby with him.

It seemed to take hours before he felt solid ground beneath him, though it probably had taken no more than five minutes. The whole front of him was nearly as wet as Toby, the wet ice having soaked through his shirt and his coat having been open. Ignoring his own freezing body, he yanked off his coat and wrapped it around Toby’s body, trying his best to warm the boy. "Come on," he muttered, guiding him toward the forest. "We’ve got to get you back before you freeze to death." Not for the first time, he cursed his weakened magic. Had he been strong, he could have teleported them both to the house, or better yet, dried them both off and built a fire. As it was, he could only hope that Toby was strong enough to walk the whole way back on his own. Well, he could help himself, at any rate. No need for both of them to go into shock.

It was at that moment that Sarah came barreling out of the forest like her coat was on fire, her face white with fear and her shadowed eyes blazing with fury. No doubt she’d heard Toby yelling, and that ice snapping had been loud enough to wake a dead man… He had no doubt that she thought he was the culprit of it all.

"Get away from him!" she screamed, baring down on Jareth like a she-bear defending her cub. "What did you do to him, you monster?!"

"He fell into the pond…" Jareth began to explain, but Sarah shoved him aside and threw her arms around her brother, weeping almost hysterically.

"Toby! Toby, are you okay? What did this creep do to you?"

"Gees, Sarah! Get a grip!" Toby muttered, embarrassed. "I fell into the pond, okay? I’m fine!"

Sarah turned on Jareth. "You let him go onto the pond?" she yelled. "What’s the matter with you?! Didn’t you even think?" Jareth tried to answer, but she plowed mercilessly ahead. "No, of course you didn’t, because thinking requires a brain and, as you just proved, you don’t have one!"

Now Jareth’s temper was rising, as well. "That will be quite enough!" he roared, staring her down with his face only inches from her own. She refused to back down, a fact that he secretly admired, although he was too furious to admit it right then. It looked for all the world that they were going to come to blows, and Toby, who was watching in frightened fascination, finally spoke up.

"It wasn’t his fault!"

"What?!" Anger made her voice sharp as Sarah turned to him, and he winced, but kept on talking.

"He told me not to go onto the pond, and I didn’t listen. I fell in and…he pulled me out. Don’t go yelling at him about it." He turned sheepish eyes to Jareth. "I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you," he added, "and thanks for saving my life."

Jareth had calmed himself down during this exchange, and now he nodded at the boy, running a hand over his damp hair. "It’s all right. And you’re quite welcome. I think we all learned a lesson here today. Now hurry back to the house and get warmed up. I want to talk to your sister."

Toby glanced at Sarah uncertainly. She was staring between him and Jareth, and slowly her color was returning as the fire died from her eyes. Suddenly she looked incredibly weary. She licked dry lips, and then slowly nodded. "Go on back," she said quietly. "I’ll be along soon."

Toby didn’t argue, although he was still reluctant to leave his sister. Jareth seemed awful mad at her, not that he could blame him, but Sarah had only been defending her brother. How was she to have known what happened? Still, he was freezing, and some of Aunt Pixie’s cocoa sounded awful good about then… Sarah was a grown up. She could take care of herself, and Toby didn’t think he should get involved in grownup affairs. So, shrugging apologetically, he turned and trudged into the forest.

Sarah watched the forest long after Toby had vanished into it, not willing to face Jareth after her incredibly immature outburst. What on Earth had possessed her? She was one who prided herself on never losing her cool. At least…never losing it to the point of throwing tantrums. She had outgrown that stage long ago. She owed Jareth an apology, a fact that made her squirm. She didn’t want to have to apologize to him for anything, but after practically accusing him of attempting to murder Toby, she knew she’d better say something.

"I-I’m sorry," she finally said in a low voice, still refusing to look at him. "I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions like that. But…I was scared. I thought…well, it doesn’t matter what I thought, and it doesn’t excuse it."

Jareth was momentarily stunned. An apology was the last thing he’d expected to hear, but he was gratified to hear it, and his anger faded. "It’s all right," he told her softly. "I suppose you had every reason to believe that I was responsible for what happened, given my history." He allowed a wry smile to slip through, then sobered again. "But that was the past, and the past is dead. What happens now has nothing to do with games and magic and labyrinths. We are in your world, and it is this world’s laws I now obey. Besides…" He made a wry face. "Up here, even if I tried to turn Toby into anything, I doubt I’d have the power to do it."

"Well, that’s a load off my mind," she retorted, somewhat humorously.

"It would be," he sniffed. "But don’t worry." He gave her a devilish grin. "I still have enough power to make your life fair interesting, should you choose to cross me."

She rolled her eyes. "Promises, promises."

Jareth’s eyebrows shot up at this insolence. "Perhaps a demonstration?" he suggested evilly, reaching for her. Her eyes widened and she ducked away, staring at him as though she’d never seen him before. He chuckled and came after her, and she yelped and broke into a run, back into the forest, as he gave chase, laughing wickedly.

She ran until her lungs felt ready to burst, and grabbed the trunk of a tree to stop her headlong flight. She was surprised to see the field right ahead of her; she had run much further than she’d thought. One part of her was thrilled at this; it meant that she was well on her way to recovery. The other part wrinkled her nose at the thought that she’d probably be paying for this exercise later on. "Stop, Jareth," she gasped, looking behind her. "I can’t run…"

She broke off when she realized that Jareth wasn’t behind her. "Jareth?" she called breathlessly. There was no reply, and she frowned. "I must have run faster than I thought." As unlikely as that seemed. She waited for a moment, then shrugged and started across the field to the house. The snow was almost melted; parts of the ground were even nearly dry. The air was almost spring-like, what with the sun shining so warmly, and she opened her coat to let it cool her overheated body.

The tell-tale snap of a twig let her know Jareth was behind her only a moment before she heard his wicked laugh and felt something heavy barrel into her. She squeaked as she fell to the ground, still locked in his arms. "Thought you would escape so easily?" his voice said in her ear, warm with laughter.

"You’ve been hanging around Toby too much," she retorted with a smirk. "Now who needs to grow up?" She squirmed and managed to get herself turned around until she was laying on her back, although he was still pinning her hands to the ground, sitting on her legs with a taunting grin on his face. His eyes sparkled wickedly, and Sarah felt something like a sudden blow hit her in the chest as she gazed at him. He was just too beautiful to be real.

Her eyes widened slightly at that thought, and to distract herself, she stated firmly, "This coat cost me two hundred dollars, buddy. You’d better hope you have the number of a good dry cleaning business around here."

An eyebrow raised, and a smirk curled those sensual lips. "Any business is rather dead way out here," he replied calmly. "Besides, the condition of your coat is the last thing on my mind right now…" His gaze dropped lower, and she shivered, realizing that if he tried anything she was pretty much helpless to stop it.

Not that she wanted to…

"Jareth! Sarah! Are you alive out there?"

Pixie’s yell, sounding from close by, was the inspiration Sarah needed to break from her trance and shove Jareth aside with all her might. He landed beside her, still grinning at her, and she scrambled to her feet, trying to ignore the fact that her face was probably glowing like a beacon. "Um…yeah!" she called, wincing as her voice cracked slightly, well aware that Jareth stood right behind her. "We’re right here."

Pixie walked over to her, eyebrows raising at the sight of her niece. "What happened to you?" she asked wryly. "Looks like you two have been mud-wrestling or something." Suddenly, she grinned, and a teasing light came into her eyes. "Or something, huh?" she added coyly with a chuckle.

"That is so not funny," Sarah grumbled, shoving past her aunt. "I’m going to go take a shower. I’ll be down later for supper."

"Want some company?" Jareth called after her, his voice filled with mirth, and Pixie let loose a stifled laugh. Sarah turned to fix him with an icy glare, opening her mouth to give some catty reply. The look in his eyes stopped her, however. Despite his flippant remark…she suddenly had the distinct feeling that he was being quite serious.

Closing her mouth with a snap, she turned and hurried into the house.

Sarah yawned and stretched as she opened her eyes. The clock on her night stand read eleven o’clock. She normally didn’t sleep in so late, but with all that running she’d been doing, she must have worn herself out. Stretching until her back cracked, she climbed out of bed and padded down to the kitchen. It was empty, and she looked around with a frown, rubbing sleep from her eyes. The whole house was empty, she suddenly realized. Where was everybody?

A slip of paper taped to the refrigerator caught her eye, and she looked closer. It was a note from Pixie, saying that since the road was clear she had taken Toby into town with her to pick up more supplies, since they were running low due to the late winter, and that she’d also taken Sarah’s leather coat to be dry-cleaned. That last statement sent a flush of heat to her cheeks, reminding her why it had to be cleaned, and she sincerely hoped that Jareth had gone with them. It didn’t say he had, but that didn’t mean anything, and there was no sign of him, anyway.

Sarah was greatly relieved. She didn’t fancy the thought of being alone with Jareth for the whole day. Not after that little stunt he’d pulled last night. What had come over him, anyway? It had to have been some sort of trick. He’d done stuff like that to her before, when she’d traveled the Labyrinth, to slow her down and make her lose her focus, but there was no need for anything like that now. Still, Jareth was cruel like that by nature, so she wouldn’t put it past him to do something like that again, just to torment her. She’d just as soon not get caught alone with him anymore.

With a sigh, she crumpled the note, wishing that she could have gone along with Pixie into the city. She was beginning to feel restless, and an excursion into town would have been good for her. She couldn’t drive herself down there; the note had said that Pixie’s ancient truck was acting up, so she had taken Sarah’s truck, instead. Sarah didn’t mind, but she wished she had a way to follow them. Oh well, maybe another day. For now, she supposed that since she was stuck here she may as well make herself useful and do some cleaning, starting with her room.

Wooden floors were very hard to clean, Sarah was fast discovering. She had "borrowed" a pair of Jareth’s jeans for this job, since they were all old and somewhat worn. Jareth wouldn’t care, she told herself smugly. Especially since he’d never know. She had belted them tightly around the waist so they wouldn’t fall off, and rolled them up to her knees, which she could not do with the tight, form-fitting designer jeans she usually favored. Besides, she wasn’t willing to put those expensive brands through the kind of abuse these were receiving.

Blowing an errant strand of hair from her eyes, she dipped the brush into the bucket of water, poured a little more oil soap onto the floor, and began scrubbing yet another section of the wood. Her work was paying off, she could tell. The area’s she’d cleaned and polished were shining in the sunlight, a very pleasing sight. She smiled proudly and set back to work. Only a little way to go yet, and then she would take a break for lunch.

Then she realized something disturbing. She had ended up backing herself into a corner. "Whoops," she muttered. "Guess I didn’t do that right." She frowned, surveying the room. The door was on the other side. She guessed maybe she should have started on this side and worked her way over to the door, not the other way around. What an embarrassing mistake! Well, at least nobody was around to laugh at her about it. She would just wait for the floor to dry, and then turn around and finish the little space she sat in. Sighing, she settled back against the wall beside her closet to wait, and it was then that she noticed several boxes sitting in the back of it. She had seen them before, but had never paid much attention, but now she could clearly see a marking on the side of the closest box. It read, "Sarah’s stuff".

Her curiosity piqued, she tossed her scrub brush back into the pail and reached into the closet to pull out the first box. "Wonder what it is," she said to herself, and pulled open the lid. Then she grinned. These were the things she’d had shipped to Pixie after her parents had died. She had forgotten all about them until now, but she was gratified that Pixie had kept them for her all these years. She reached in and felt around, until her hand fell on a piece of cloth. Curious, she lifted it out, and realized that she held a book in her hand, halfway covered by a length of black cotton. The corner of the book was visible; a red leather bound novel, and even before she removed the cloth she knew what it was.

Mixed emotions passed through her as Sarah stared at the Labyrinth novel in her hand, remembering the hours she’d spent practicing those lines over and over in her mirror or at the park, with the long-dead Merlin as her only audience. Remembering the stormy night twelve years ago when she’d lost her temper and called upon the Goblin King to steal her brother, and everything that had happened afterwards.

She slowly opened the worn cover, noticing the condition of the pages, dog-eared and wrinkled. Saints, but she had loved that book! She had put it away though, after her journey through the Labyrinth, convinced that it had nearly caused her to lose her mind, but now she knew it had all been real. She flipped through the pages, silently reading certain lines she had loved, feeling as though she were visiting an old friend. Then she came to a page whose corners had been folded over many times for lack of a better marker. She paused and scanned the paper, and her eyes fell upon a familiar phrase. Without thinking, she quoted softly, "Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City, to take back the child that you have stolen. For my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom as great…"

"Stop!"

The hissed word, spoken so suddenly in the silent room, caused Sarah to yell in surprise and drop the book. She looked up with wide eyes to the door, where a very shaken Jareth stood, staring at her through dark, haunted eyes, his face white as snow. "Oh, Saints," Sarah breathed, leaping to her feet, unmindful of her rather dirty appearance. It looked for all the world like Jareth was going to drop dead at her feet. "Jareth, don’t look at me like that," she pleaded. "I was just reading…I didn’t mean…I…"

Jareth abruptly turned on his heel and strode away, his face as cold and unmoving as an ice sculpture. "Oh, great! Way to go, moron! You really put your foot in it that time!" Sarah snarled to herself, and moved to follow him, not caring about footprints left on the half-dry floor. She made it halfway across the room before she hit a particularly wet spot and slipped, landing on her backside, hard. "Owww!" she moaned, getting painfully to her feet. She winced and rubbed her sore rump, but kept on going, reaching the bottom of the stairs in time to hear the back door slam. She raced to the door and flung it open, just in time to see Jareth striding across the field, toward the forest.

"Jareth, stop!" she hollered. "I’m sorry! I didn’t mean for you to hear that! I thought everyone was gone! I was just reading, I didn’t mean anything! Come back!"

She gave up finally and turned to go back into the house. Guilt and anger warred within her. Guilt, that she had unknowingly caused him such pain. She could only imagine what he must have felt, hearing her speak those words that had destroyed his kingdom. But she was angry at the fact that he was blaming her for what happened! How was she supposed to have known he was there? He was the one who was spying on her, after all! He deserved whatever he got!

Slamming her fist against the door, she let loose a string of curses for her carelessness. She should have checked the barn to see if Jareth was there. He probably had been, the whole time. What happened was nobody’s fault, she told herself. He should not have gone sneaking around, and she should have been more sensitive. Even though she had thought she was alone, she added sulkily. Well, no help for it now. All she could do was wait ‘till Jareth cooled off enough to come back, and then she could apologize to him properly.

If he came back…

Sarah frowned. Of course he’ll come back, she thought. It would be stupid of him to leave over something so dumb. Still, she knew how much pride Jareth had. He just might take off on them, especially if he felt he had been mortally insulted. Never mind that he had no place else to go, unless he went back to the Underground, but she doubted he’d be willing to return there quite yet. She bit her lip, surprised at how upset the thought of him leaving made her feel. Probably because she’d feel guilty knowing she was the one that made him leave, and Pixie and Toby would be upset about it. Shaking her head, Sarah turned to trudge back up the stairs and finish her job.

Three hours and another wooden floor later, Jareth still hadn’t come back, and Sarah could not quite suppress the nagging worry that maybe she was right, and he might not return after all. She sat at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of cocoa, trying to warm her chilled hands. The stricken look Jareth had given her before storming out was lodged in her mind, and refused to leave. It had been almost an exact replica of the look he’d given her after she had banished him from her life and shattered his magic and his kingdom, and the guilt still nagged at her. She had really hurt him, and it was disturbing to know that the Goblin King could be hurt; that he had actual feelings. It made him seem more like…a normal man.

The back door creaked, and Isaac, who was resting beside it, raised his head and thumped his tail softly against the rug. Sarah looked up hopefully, and nearly sagged in relief when Jareth appeared, hanging his jacket on the hook and refusing to look at her. She bit her lip for a moment, then dared to venture a comment. "The way you stormed out of here…I was afraid you weren’t coming back," she said hesitantly. Jareth barely acknowledged her as he went to the stove to pour some chocolate of his own.

Sarah frowned, feeling a spark of annoyance. It wasn’t like she wasn’t trying to make things right! "You know, I did apologize," she pointed out testily. When he still didn’t reply, merely turned his back on her, she continued, "I would have hoped you’d be gracious enough to accept it, but I guess that’s asking too much of you, isn’t it? You can’t be more of a man than you really are, after all."

That got his attention, as she had known it would. He turned on her, and she waited with a raised eyebrow for his outburst. He narrowed his eyes at her, then shook his head and sighed, bringing his mug to the table and settling himself into a chair, taking a cautious sip as he studied her. "Sarah, you have to look at it from my point of view," he finally told her. "The last time those words were spoken to me, my entire life changed, and not for the better. I had never expected to hear them again…"

"…and if you hadn’t decided to spy on me you wouldn’t have had to," Sarah finished smugly.

He grimaced. "I wasn’t spying on you, Sarah. I heard you scrubbing floors and came to offer my help. I wasn’t expecting a reading session, however, or I might have thought twice about it."

She sniffed. "Well, I wasn’t expecting an audience, or I would have thought twice, too," she replied. "Come on, Jareth. Do you honestly think I would have done that on purpose? I mean, it’s true I don’t like you all that much, but I’m not that cruel!"

"You’re too kind," he sniffed, taking another gulp of chocolate.

"You know what I mean," Sarah muttered, a faint blush staining her cheeks.

He set down his chocolate with a thump. "No, Sarah, I don’t know what you mean," he replied sweetly. "Why don’t you specify for me." His eyes held a certain gleam to them, and she blinked at the sudden challenge, trying to think of a suitable answer. Luckily for her, at that moment the doorbell rang loudly.

"I’ll get it!" she said quickly, nearly tipping her chair in her haste to get up, and hurried to the door.

"Saved by the bell," she heard Jareth reply laughingly behind her, and she shot him a dirty look as she flung open the door.

The brilliant flashes of half a dozen cameras greeted her, and she stood there for a full minute, half blinded and completely stunned, before regaining enough sense to slam the door shut again, her heart pounding. Reporters! Here? How in the world had they found her? She had kept her location a secret to prevent just such an occurrence. The only people who knew were her doctor, who was under strict orders not to tell a soul, and…

Sarah’s eyes narrowed angrily. "Cliff," she hissed. Oh, she was going to absolutely kill that little creep! It would be just like him to go and blab her location to every reporter in the country. Privacy apparently was not a moral issue with him, especially when it dealt with his favorite little star, but then, she had already known that…

"What’s the matter?" Jareth had seen Sarah open and then slam the door, and her face had taken on the bewildered, trapped appearance of a deer caught in the headlights of a speeding car. Immediately concerned, he rose from his chair and went to her as the bell rang again.

"Don’t open that door!" Sarah commanded, grabbing his hand as it reached for the knob. He looked down at their joined hands, somewhat surprised.

"What’s the matter?" he asked again, looking into her face with concern.

"Everything," she muttered. She looked down at herself, and let loose with a word Jareth had never thought to hear her say. "Great. And me looking like Susie Homemaker after a battle with a mutant toilet! I can see the headlines now."

"What in the world are you talking about?" Jareth exclaimed.

Sarah sighed, then pulled him to the window and drew the drapes back far enough to let him see out. "Them," she replied, gesturing to the small crowd milling in the yard. "They’re reporters, and they’ve apparently decided that I’ve had enough peace and quiet and its time for them to bring some hell back into my life. See that guy? His name is Vance…somebody-or-other. He’s the top reporter for Star Magazine, which is one of the cheesiest tabloids on the market. Don’t let him see you! If he catches a guy in the house I’m supposed to be staying in, he’ll blow it into a major scandal.

"You mean, like an affair?" Jareth asked, his eyes sparkling wickedly.

She glared at him. "Don’t go getting any funny ideas into your head," she sniffed.

"So how did they find you?" Jareth asked.

"My agent, most likely. He’s the only one besides Doc who knows I’m here, and unlike Doc, he will not hesitate to squeal if he’s offered a large enough sum of money."

"Sounds like you might need a new agent," Jareth said thoughtfully.

"I know." Sarah sighed. "But Cliff is my friend. I can’t believe he’d do this to me. He proposed to me last year. He says he loves me."

Jareth gave Sarah a sharp glance at that information. "He proposed to you," he repeated, his voice gone flat. Sarah was too distracted to notice.

"Yeah," she muttered. "I turned him down though. Maybe this is his revenge."

Jareth nearly sagged with relief, his plummeted spirits raising again. So she didn’t love this Cliff person. She wasn’t going to marry him, or anyone else that he was aware of. Maybe there was still some hope…

"Uh-oh." Sarah’s quiet statement brought him back to reality, and he realized suddenly that he had moved quite close to her, her back pressing against him as they gazed out the window. "I think we’ve been spotted."

Sure enough, one of the reporters was looking their way. It was Vance Something-or-other, and judging by the victorious smile lighting his face, he had obviously seen the both of them standing there…in a somewhat intimate position, no less.

Sarah drew the curtain closed, but not before the flash of Vance’s camera went off. She winced, hoping that the bright light would reflect from the window enough to obscure whatever was on the other side, and turned away. She realized how close Jareth was, suddenly, their bodies pressing together in a somewhat interesting manner, and she looked up at him somewhat uncomfortably. "Um…excuse me," she muttered, pushing past him, trying to ignore her racing heart. "Look, we’re never going to get rid of them," she added.

"So what do you propose to do?" he asked calmly.

She ran her hands through her hair. "I don’t know. This is so frustrating! There’s no phone, so we can’t even call the police for on them for trespassing. I’m tempted to go out there packing a gun, but I can imagine how much Vance would love that, and it probably wouldn’t work anyhow."

"So it seems the best way to get rid of them is to face them down and give them what they want," Jareth said logically.

Sarah’s face paled at the thought. "Right now? No way! I’m a mess! I’m skinny as a rake, my hair’s a disaster, I’m pale as a ghost, and I look like I pulled these clothes I’m wearing out of the garbage!"

Jareth smiled slightly, eyeing Sarah’s jeans. "Don’t you mean out of my dresser?" he asked casually, and was amused when she blushed.

"Well…I was cleaning and I needed old clothes. I didn’t think you’d miss one pair. Besides, these were my uncle’s long before you came!" she muttered. "But that isn’t the point! The point is…if I go out there looking anything less than my best, those people will tear me apart! It’ll be all over the news!"

Jareth cocked his head at her, looking somewhat puzzled. "Why do you worry so much about your appearance?" he asked. "What difference does it make?"

"In this business, image is everything. Besides…" She grinned wickedly. "…are you sure you’re the one to be asking that? I mean, wasn’t it you that changed your clothes—what?—six or more times when I was in the Labyrinth?"

Jareth looked somewhat embarrassed, much to her delight. "That was different," he replied sulkily. "I was a king, and you were my guest. I had to put on a good appearance. How else could I frighten and intimidate you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say, oh-vain-one," she sniffed.

The doorbell rang a third time, followed by a loud, "Open up! This is the fashion police! We know you’re in there!" which was, in turn, followed by a round of laughter.

"Piss off!" Sarah yelled through the door, and was greeted with more laughter and a long, drawn-out "Ooooh!"

"I don’t think that helped," Jareth said, his voice filled with amusement.

"I’m so glad you think this is funny," she snapped. "Why don’t you make yourself useful and conjure a few monsters or something?"

"My magic doesn’t work like that," he replied haughtily.

"Oh, I see. It’s good for turning babies into goblins, but when it comes to actually doing something useful its pretty much use-LESS, right?"

He glared at her, but she ignored him in favor of calling Isaac over to her. Gripping the dog’s collar, she hissed at Jareth to get back into the kitchen, flung open the door, and planted herself firmly in the middle of it. "Hi, fellows," she said with false enthusiasm. "I’d like to introduce you to my friend, Isaac. Isaac, these are reporters. They’re bad people who don’t know what the meaning of get lost is."

Isaac looked at the men standing before him disdainfully, bared his teeth briefly, and snorted. He didn’t know what reporters were, but he knew that Sarah didn’t like them very much.

"Guys," Sarah was saying with forced politeness. "You are trespassing on private property. This is my temporary home until I recover, which I am doing quite nicely, thank you, so now that we’ve visited, I think you ought to leave. I don’t know how you found me, but you have three seconds to get your carcasses off this land before I turn my friend here loose to greet you properly. He hasn’t had a new chew toy in awhile. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to play with you."

The reporters were eyeing the big dog warily, who was licking his chops in perfect timing with Sarah’s words. One by one, they turned and began to head to their various cars, muttering and shooting Sarah dirty looks. "By the way," she called after them, "if I see so much as a word or a picture of this in any of your papers, I will have every lawyer in the United States breathing down your necks, and I don’t think your bosses would be very happy with you for getting them sued. So if you want to risk your jobs, be my guest. But don’t expect any sympathy from me."

They hurried their paces and, one by one, squealed their tires and tore out of the driveway. All except one. Vance still stood there, arms crossed and regarding Sarah smugly. He apparently didn’t care about getting sued. Sarah rolled her eyes. This guy was more arrogant than Jareth, were that possible. Unlike Jareth, however, he had none of the charisma and style needed to pull it off.

"Get lost, Vance," she snapped. "You’re not getting anything from me."

"Not even the name of lover boy in there?" he sneered.

She gave him a sweet smile. "Why, Vance, I haven’t the foggiest notion as to what you’re talking about. The only guy in there is my little brother, Toby."

"Sure he is," he smirked. "Come on, Sarah, you can’t fool me."

She fixed him with an icy glare that would have made Jareth proud. "That’s ‘Miss Williams’ to you, you vulture," she snarled. "Get the hell off my property before things get ugly."

He crossed his arms, the stupid moron he was, and refused to budge. "What are you going to do about it if I don’t leave?" he sneered.

Sarah smiled grimly. "Isaac, look," she suddenly exclaimed. "You have a new play toy! Go get him! Go chew him up!" So saying, she released the Newfoundland’s collar, and the huge dog lunged happily at a now-terrified Vance, who immediately took off across the yard toward his jeep, yelling all the way.

Sarah watched him go with grim satisfaction, waiting until the jeep was out of sight before whistling for Isaac to come back into the house. The dog happily complied, chewing on a scrap of cloth that he had torn from the reporter’s blazer. She took it from him and laughed evilly. That suit had probably cost Vance a half a month’s salary. Maybe next time he’d learn to dress for the mountains. One never knew what sort of wild animals one might meet out there.

"Is it safe to come out now?" Jareth asked teasingly as Sarah sagged against the door, sighing with relief.

"Yeah. They’re gone," she muttered. "For now."

Jareth came toward her, noticing her exhausted state, and took one of her hands in his own. "Your hand is like ice," he exclaimed, and began to rub it briskly. Sarah didn’t even seem to notice, even when he raised it to his lips to breathe warmth back into it. She merely sighed and closed her eyes, leaning her head against the door. He frowned. She didn’t seem well all of a sudden.

"Here, come lay down," he told her, pulling her to the couch. "You certainly knew how to handle those reporters!" He allowed a touch of admiration to enter his voice. She shook her head in denial.

"No, I didn’t," she argued. "I handled it terribly. They’re still going to report those stories, you know, and it’s going to come out making me look like some crazy lady. That is anything but good for the image I’ve been trying to build up. It might even ruin my career."

"Because they invaded your home?!" Jareth looked outraged. "What kind of a life are you living where you’re prosecuted for defending yourself? This is the dream you so wanted to live?"

Sarah winced at his tone, but refused to reply, instead choosing to collapse onto the sofa and curl up. She heard him sigh. "I’ll never understand mortals," he muttered, and then the sound of his receding footsteps told her that he had left.

A few hours later, as Jareth was heading upstairs, he saw that Sarah was still sprawled out on the couch, fast asleep. He hesitated, then padded softly to her, pausing to look down on her thoughtfully. "Sarah," he whispered, kneeling beside her and stroking her cheek softly with a knuckle. She stirred slightly, but didn’t awaken, and after a moment, he bent and carefully picked her up in his arms. She was incredibly light, so it was not difficult to carry her up the stairs into her room, where he laid her on the bed and pulled a light coverlet over her, smoothing back her hair and gazing down at her lovely face; older now after twelve years, but no less beautiful for all that.

After a moment of indecision, Jareth could no longer resist the temptation. Here was a single chance; he doubted he’d get another. So he stooped and kissed her gently, savoring the warmth and sweetness of her lips against his own. Was it his imagination, or was there the faintest stirring of response from her, a half-conscious reaction to his kiss? He longed to find out, to deepen the kiss until her desires rose for him, even in sleep, but he didn’t dare wake her. He had a perfectly logical explanation for being in her room, but he doubted she’d believe that his motives were pure. She would, naturally, assume the worst of him. Not, he told himself, that she had any reason not to…

With a soft sigh he stood and walked to the door, closing it firmly behind him.

When Sarah finally woke up, it was close to supper time. She heard Toby laughing hysterically from downstairs, and wondered what the fuss was. Yawning, she got out of bed and went down to the kitchen, the smell of beef stew letting her know that it was time to eat. Good. She was starving. After her day, she felt like she could eat the whole kitchen. She smiled wryly at the thought as she entered the kitchen.

"Hey, Sarah! Jareth told me what you did to those reporters. Wish I could have seen it!" Toby exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear.

Sarah wrinkled her nose. "It was nothing spectacular, and it probably didn’t help much. They’ll be back, especially that creepy Vance. He saw Jareth. He’s probably typing the story right now about my secret lover." She rolled her eyes, attempting to make a joke out of it. Toby made gagging noises, and she swatted his head. "It isn’t true, dummy," she added playfully. "Just another rumor to feed to the idiots who read those magazines. If he told them I was married to Bigfoot and having an affair with Elvis’ ghost, they’d probably believe him."

"So why not tell them the truth?" Pixie suggested.

Sarah shrugged. "Won’t make a difference. They’ll just think I’m denying it. People believe what they choose to believe, and the thought that the Ice Queen might actually have a man tucked away somewhere will probably drive them all crazy with curiosity."

"The Ice Queen?" Jareth, who had remained silent until now, gave her a curious look, and she felt heat rise to her cheeks.

"Um…it’s a dumb nickname someone gave me, because I don’t date," she mumbled. "They all think I hate men because of that." She forced a laugh, for some reason embarrassed to be telling him this. "Pretty dumb, huh?"

"Do you hate men?" he asked curiously, and there was a hint of something hiding in his eyes that she could not quite see…

She stared at him incredulously. "Of course not! But they were never worth the effort of getting involved with, either. My career is too important. I don’t want to choose between a family and a career. The family I have is enough for me." She smiled at Toby, who rolled his eyes and kept eating.

Jareth seemed to sense that the subject was closed, so he turned back to his meal and ate in silence. He couldn’t help but wonder though…if Sarah’s career was so important to her, did this mean that she never intended to marry? Career-driven people had a habit of pushing those away who cared about them. He had done that several times himself, back in the days when he’d fought to secure his position as a king. He’d had several opportunities to settle down, as it were, but he had not taken any of them, not caring how many broken hearts he left behind.

It pained him to think that maybe it was his turn to be the spurned, would-be lover. He had seen something in Sarah’s eyes in the past several days, something that gave him a thrill of hope that maybe she did not find him to be as repulsive as she would like everyone to believe. But if it came down to choosing between him and her career—her very dream—he had a feeling as to who might be left in the dust. So what I must do is convince her that acting isn’t her dream. I must make her long for a new dream.

He would not use subterfuge and trickery to do it, however. He was certain it wouldn’t work this time around, anyway. He would do as the mortals did, court her as any fae or mortal gentleman would court his chosen lady. Of course, he wouldn’t tell her what he was doing. That was a sure way to make her turn tail and run. But he would sweep her off her feet, cause her to fall in love with him without her even realizing it. Maybe then…

A laugh from Pixie brought his attention back to the present, and he blinked and looked around. Sarah was relating to Pixie some humorous story about her job, and the older woman was nearly bent double with laughter. He smiled gently as he watched Sarah talk. She radiated such life and beauty. It reached out to him and drew him to her as no one had ever done before. They were bonded; he was almost certain of it. Now all he had to do was to make her realize it, as well.

Sarah stroked Mistofolese’s soft fur and stared out across the field. She was sitting on the low, broken-down stone wall that divided the field from the forest. It wasn’t much of a wall anymore, actually. Most of it had long since disintegrated from lack of care, and now only a few isolated sections were left jutting from the damp soil. One of the horses whinnied from where they and the cow grazed around the barn, where the spring grass was finally starting to grow. March was coming to an end, and so was winter, at last. It grew warmer every day, and flowers were beginning to bloom. Sarah hoped that another late snowstorm would not come to kill them all again.

Mistofolese purred as Sarah scratched his chin, and she smiled humorously. She didn’t know what had made the cat—who normally avoided everyone but Pixie—decide to join her, but she was glad for the company. A movement from the barn caught her attention, and she saw Jareth coming out of it. Quickly she slid from the wall and crouched on the other side of it, crossing her fingers and hoping that he hadn’t seen her. The cat gazed down at her quizzically and meowed loudly, as though asking what in the world Sarah was doing, hiding like a little kid who had done something bad.

She frowned and shooed the cat away, afraid he would attract attention. With a disdainful sneeze, Mistofolese stalked away, nose and tail in the air. Sarah leaned back against the wall, wondering if Jareth had gone inside yet, and then suddenly realized the absurdity of her situation and allowed a small chuckle to escape. What am I doing, anyway? Hiding from Jareth? How childish can I get?

It was just that lately Jareth had been acting rather…odd…around her, and she didn’t know how to deal with it. It was just little things, really. Offering to help her clean dishes, or commenting on how nice she looked…even when she had been out the barn and was covered with dust. It was also the way he watched her. She could feel his eyes on her all the time, and yet when she looked at him, he was always absorbed in some task and seemed oblivious to her presence…except at certain times when he almost seemed to want her to catch him staring.

Then he would look her straight in the eye, as though he was silently daring her to protest. He always held such secrets in his eyes, and she knew that they had to do with her, but she never tried to discover them. Some inner sense—possibly fear—told her to best leave well enough alone. But sometimes she just wanted to stare into those beautiful eyes until all the secrets of the universe were revealed…

Sarah blinked and shook her head, feeling the muscles in her legs cramping from squatting for so long. He was sure to have gone by now, she decided, and so grabbed the top of the wall and pulled herself up…

A pair of amused, blue-and-green eyes met her own, and she froze at the sight of Jareth leaning on the wall, chin resting on his fist and a slight smile on his lips. "Hullo," he greeted her cheerfully. "Might one inquire as to what you were doing hiding behind the wall? You weren’t hiding from me, were you?"

Sarah fought back the heat that flooded her cheeks. "My, aren’t we full of ourselves," she retorted. "Why would I want to hide from you? And I wasn’t hiding. I was…" She paused and searched frantically for an answer. "I was tying my shoes," she finished triumphantly, crossing her arms.

"Really?" Jareth’s grin widened, and he peered over the edge of the wall at her feet. "Well, that must have been some job, considering you’re wearing your loafers," he added smugly.

Sarah closed her eyes and stifled a groan. "Go away," she half pleaded.

Jareth frowned. "Why, Sarah, that isn’t a very nice thing to say," he replied in a condescending tone, though his eyes were glowing with wicked humor. He had caught her, and they both knew it. The best Sarah could hope for now was an escape…hopefully one with the remainder of her dignity fully intact.

"I have chores to do," she informed him stiffly, and moved to go around him. He blocked her path, and she glared up at him. "Do you want anything in particular, or are you just harassing me for lack of anything better to do?" she snapped.

He cocked his head at her. "You know, your hair is beautiful in the sunlight," he told her, quite softly and seriously. "It glows like shining satin. Is it as soft as it looks?" He reached out and ran his hand over her hair, twining elegant fingers through the dark, silken strands, as she gaped at him in amazement. Who was this guy? One moment he was making a mockery of her, just as the old Jareth was prone to do, and in the next he was treating her the way one would treat a lover! She didn’t know whether to be thrilled or alarmed at this sudden change in attitude toward her and the confusion she felt was beginning to wear on her nerves.

His hand was still buried in her long hair, and his fingers had found the back of her neck and were massaging it gently in a way that made her heart pound. With great force of will, she made herself jerk away from him, taking her hair with her. After giving him a long, searching glance, she shook her head, then turned and jogged toward the barn.

"Sarah, play Hide and Seek with me!" Toby begged. "It’s almost dark out, and it’s a great night for it! Please? We haven’t played in a long time."

Sarah looked up from her book, chewing on her lip. "I don’t know, Toby," she replied. "I mean, Hide and Seek is sort of a kids game, isn’t it?"

"Not the way I play," he said enthusiastically. "We dress up all in black, and the seeker carries a flashlight around to find everyone, but we have the whole barn and the field and some of the woods to hide in! It’ll be great!" He bounced on the balls of his feet for effect, and she grinned.

"Well…" she hedged.

Toby, naturally, took that as a sign of consent. "Great!" he hollered, racing to the kitchen. "Hey, Jareth! She said she’d play! C’mon! It’s almost dark out!" she heard him yell.

Sarah’s spirits plummeted. She had not known he was going to join in…

Jareth was smiling as he came into the living room. "So, you got sucked into this, too, eh?" he asked humorously.

"Well…I didn’t really say I was going to…" she stammered, trying to think of an excuse not to go.

He seemed to know exactly what she was trying to pull, and he grinned evilly. "Well, if you don’t think you can handle playing with me in the dark…" he began innocently.

Sarah’s eyes widened at his challenge. "I can handle anything you can dish out!" she protested. "I’m not scared of you!"

"Good. You’ll be joining us then?"

She pursed her lips. "Well, I wouldn’t want to disappoint Toby," she replied with a smirk. "But if I play, you’re the first one who’s going to be ‘it’."

He smiled at her, a real smile. "Deal," he agreed. "Go change into darker clothes. The night is not getting any younger, you know."

Sarah rolled her eyes and sighed. "The things I get talked into…" she muttered as she trudged up the stairs. Being alone out in the dark with Jareth was less than thrilling, but she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing that she was hiding again. Besides, Toby was there. He wouldn’t try anything with a kid skulking around. She squirmed into a pair of black jeans, pulled a navy sweatshirt over her head, and pulled her hair into a ponytail. Slipping into her sneakers, she pounded down the stairs and out the door, waving to Pixie on the way.

Jareth was lounging against the porch railing; Toby had already vanished. He smiled when he saw her. "You’ve got to the count of one hundred before I come after you," he told her, then grinned wickedly. "I hope you have a good hiding place in mind. I am quite the hunter, you know."

She rolled her eyes. "And I suppose you think that’s going to impress me," she retorted. "No cheating, and no turning yourself into that owl or anything to get a higher view."

"Dearest, I couldn’t turn myself into a mouse if I tried. My magic is not what it used to be," he replied dryly, surprised at himself for admitting it to her so readily. Yes, he had certainly changed since coming Above.

"Yeah, well, start counting," Sarah muttered, a bit uncomfortable at the term "dearest". He had recently started calling her that, and she wasn’t sure whether or not it bothered her. Deciding to ignore it for now, she turned and vanished into the night.

Just then, the barn door creaked open, and Sarah froze, her eyes going slightly wider and her heart rate picking up as tension gripped her. Relax! It’s a stupid game, for pity’s sake, she told herself dryly, but she couldn’t help but feel that there was something rather…exciting about being hunted, even if it was only a game. Now she remembered why she had loved it so much. The thrill of the chase, the survival of the fittest, friend against foe… Too bad we don’t have any paintball guns. That would make it even better, she thought regretfully.

Well, she wasn’t a millionaire for nothing. Maybe she’d go and buy some. Toby would love her for that. All that fame had some advantages, and she had a nice hefty sum saved up in various banks. Unlike most other stars, she didn’t spend everything she earned on frivolous things, and she handled her own accounts, knowing that there were too many dishonest people out there to trust anyone else to take care of them. Her parents had instilled in her a strong sense of preservation. Most of the people she knew would probably call her stingy, but she preferred to think of herself as being thrifty, not to mention smart. Should her career suddenly die (As it might very well do after that little stunt I pulled, she thought sourly), she’d still be well enough off to support herself and her family.

The sweep of a flashlight’s beam suddenly passed over her head and she ducked, stifling a gasp. The ladder leading up to the loft creaked, and she carefully inched her way back into the shadows, trying not to think about what creepy-crawly things might be hiding in them with her. Mice she didn’t mind so much. Even rats. They most likely would seek shelter elsewhere. But things like spiders could care less about sharing their space with people; they’d crawl over anything to get where they wanted to go, and Sarah had seen some doozies hanging around here…

She suppressed a shudder as the beam swept past her again and concentrated on breathing as quietly as possible. He was walking about, his footfalls little more than brushes against the wood and scattered hay as he checked each corner that might conceal prey. It really wasn’t fair that he should be so graceful, she thought with a pout. Why couldn’t she be half so light on her feet? Fifteen years of dancing lessons, and she still moved with all the grace of a pregnant cow next to him…

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" Jareth softly called in a singsong tone, his voice filled with amusement. "I know you’re in here, Sarah. I can feel it."

She bit her lip and willed herself to blend in with the shadows. It was then she felt something brush her hand. She froze, her eyes going wide as the brush turned into the sensation of hairy legs crawling onto the back of her hand. She bit her lip harder and looked down at her hand, barely able to make out a dark form crawling over it…

Please, oh please let that be a mouse…

The longer she stared, the clearer the creature became. It was black, and it was huge…and it most definitely was not a mouse.

A spider. It just had to be a spider…

Well, there was no help for it now. Leaping to her feet, Sarah opened her mouth and let loose with a scream that would have made a banshee proud, flinging the huge, hairy wood spider—which looked like it could have been the distant cousin to a tarantula—into the air. The creature landed on its back, right at Jareth’s feet, its legs wiggling frantically in the air before it managed to turn itself over and scuttle away into the shadows, probably screaming its own little heart out.

Sarah, in the meantime, continued to hop all over the loft, her skin crawling, yelling and cursing and wringing her hand to rid it of the feel of those eight excessively hairy legs. She kept that up for some time before another commotion managed to penetrate her ranting, and she abruptly stopped when she realized what it was.

It was the sound of laughter.

Jareth’s laughter.

Jareth—her Jareth, the guy who rarely ever let go of that dignified façade he always wore—was sitting in the middle of the floor, holding his sides, and laughing fit to bust a gut. His eyes were closed, tears leaking from the corners, and his entire body was shaking as his mirth filled the loft. His velvet voice almost roared with his amusement, and Sarah could only stand there and stare at him like a complete ninny, her own mouth wide open in shock. Eventually, she finally remembered that she was the object of his merriment, and her face heated in a dark flush.

"I’m so glad I could amuse you, Your Highness," she bit out angrily. "Now if you’re done making a fool of me, can we please get on with the game?"

Jareth seemed to realize that he was upsetting her, and he slowly calmed himself down. "I’m sorry," he told her seriously. "It’s just that…I have never, ever seen you react like that to anything, and I…" He broke off as his lips twitched, and his eyes filled with laughter again. "What in the world were you doing?"

"I was dancing the polka!" she shot back. "What did it look like I was doing, you moron?! And you’d react the same way if you’d had that crawling over your hand!"

"I highly doubt it," he replied with a smile.

Sarah glared at him, then abruptly turned on her heel to march away, but he gripped her shoulder. "Don’t be angry," he pleaded softly. "I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings."

She pouted for a moment. "Let’s just go find Toby," she finally replied. "And if you breathe a word of this to anyone, you’re dog food. Got it?"

He grinned. "You actually looked rather cute dancing about like that. And here I didn’t think anything could phase the unshakable Sarah." At her warning glare he held up his hand. "No more jokes," he added quickly. "Now, let’s go find Toby." He started for the ladder, then suddenly turned back to her, his face a mask of concern as he laid his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. "Are you all right?" he asked her softly, taking her completely by surprise. "You weren’t hurt or anything, were you? Honestly, from the way you were screaming, I thought you’d gotten something cut off at first."

"N-no," she stammered, staring at him with wide eyes. "J-just spooked."

He nodded. "Good," he replied. "I feel better knowing that. Well, we’d best go find Toby before he dies of old age." He smiled at her gently. "This has been a rather interesting evening, hasn’t it?" His smile widened at her hesitant nod. "If it makes you feel better, you startled me half out of my wits when you leaped up screaming like that, and I am not one who startles easily. You might regain a little pride in knowing that you one-upped the Goblin King with that little display."

She wrinkled her nose. "Oh, I feel so much better now," she sniffed.

He chuckled, and then his look became sly. "Well, perhaps this may help soothe your injured pride," he murmured, and before she knew it, he had leaned in and was fitting his mouth to her own in a most tender gesture. It was just the briefest touch of warmth and softness against her lips, the barest mingling of his breath with hers as his hand came up to stroke her cheek softly, and then he had drawn back, gazing into her eyes with more intensity than he had ever used before, before finally turning and climbing down the ladder, leaving Sarah to stare after him in astonished wonder.

Another week passed by, and things were becoming increasingly strained between Jareth and Sarah. She avoided him as much as possible, still confused about her feelings—and she was forced to admit now that she did have feelings for him—and whenever she could not avoid Jareth, he always made her uncomfortable with his words and gentle touches and the sly, knowing glances he cast her way…

What was worse was that Pixie was catching on to what was happening. In fact, she even seemed to be encouraging it, much to Sarah’s dismay. She always had some excuse to leave them both alone, and if Toby was there, she’d take him along with her. Jareth, naturally, was very much amused, and gratified, that the woman was on his side. Sarah, on the other hand, was beginning to feel like she was trapped in the middle of World War Three, surrounded by the enemy on all sides with no ammunition left in her weapons.

She tried to tell Pixie, several times, that she had no romantic interest in Jareth whatsoever, and that if Pixie knew him half as well as she thought she did, she would not be so eager to pawn him off onto her niece. Pixie simply replied that Sarah didn’t need to be so cold-hearted; it was obvious the man loved her. Why couldn’t she return his affections? Or at least admit to herself that she had them!

"Because he isn’t who he claims to be," Sarah would snap, exasperated. "He cannot be trusted."

To which Pixie would reply, "How is it that you seem to know so much more about him than I do if you’ve never met him before?"

Sarah, of course, had no logical answer…at least, not one that her aunt would believe. The best she could do was to hope that Pixie would discover some other little hobby to keep her interest besides the single status of her only niece.

It was on a lovely spring afternoon that Sarah found herself once again sitting on the stone wall in the field, joined not only by Mistofolese, but by Rumpleteaser, as well. She sat cross-legged on the wide wall, stroking the cats’ backs, deep in thought. About Jareth. As usual. "He’s of the fae," she told the cats, for maybe the tenth time. "The fae are not to be trusted. Especially this one! Yes, I admit that I feel a certain…attraction to him, but what I feel is only…infatuation. He’s incredibly handsome…okay, he’s downright gorgeous! But that doesn’t mean anything. I’ve known plenty of gorgeous men who were all as shallow as an empty swimming pool, and this guy’s the worst of them all! I mean, would he even know what love means?"

Mistofolese meowed loudly, a clear statement that he could care less whether or not the man knew what anything meant; all he wanted was another good scratch under the chin. Sarah snorted as she complied to the cat’s demands. "And here I am, taking orders from a stupid cat," she muttered.

A sudden whinny drew her attention to the far side of the field, where the Clydesdales were grazing. Two figures stood near them; Jareth and Toby, she realized, and wondered briefly whether or not to vanish before she was seen. No, she decided. She’d tried that once before and look how well that had turned out. Besides, Toby was there. She wouldn’t want him thinking his sister was weirder than she already was…

Just then, Toby spotted Sarah on the wall and waved excitedly, shouting something at her. She frowned and shook her head, indicating that she couldn’t hear him. He rolled his eyes, then gestured at her to come over. With an indulgent sigh, she obeyed. "Jareth’s taking me riding on the horses," he exclaimed proudly once she’d reached him. "Come with us. I bet you and he can fit on one horse."

Sarah gave her brother a sharp glance, then turned a glare to Jareth, who was attempting to smother a laugh. "This is your idea?" she asked suspiciously.

He looked properly innocent. "I have no idea what you mean," he replied calmly. "Well, do you wish to come riding with us or not? There’s plenty of room on Clyde here. I’m sure Toby would much rather ride on his own, but I wouldn’t mind some company."

"I’ll just bet," she muttered, trying to rid herself of the somewhat disturbingly vivid image of her seated atop the horse with Jareth’s arms wrapped securely about her waist, his breath warm on her jaw as his face brushed hers ever so gently…

"I’m going for a walk," she abruptly announced, trying to ignore her burning cheeks. "I’m sure you can ride a horse by yourself without falling off. You don’t need me to hold you on. You can always tie yourself to the saddle." She tried to make her voice sound mocking, but by the knowing look Jareth gave her, she knew that he was quite aware of the reason for her sudden haste to leave.

Gritting her teeth, she turned and strode into the woods, breathing deeply to cool her temper and her emotions. "What is the matter with me?" she wondered irritably. She was losing it. She had always been able to face Jareth down before, but now she turned tail and ran if he looked at her cross-eyed. She was a coward. "Coward! Ha! I can run through a giant rat maze without flinching, but as soon as some guy starts pouring on the charm I turn into Little Miss Muffet," she muttered. "I’m a disgrace to my gender."

She stopped to rest against a fallen tree, looking up at the sky. It was getting rather dark. Perhaps she had not been wise to walk in the woods. She sighed and hugged herself to fight off a chill that had nothing to do with the cool air, then turned and started back to the house.

She had not taken more than a few steps, however, when her foot caught in a hidden root and sent her tumbling to the ground. She landed with a thud at the foot of the tree. "Oh, now that was graceful," she muttered, glad that nobody had been around to witness it. Especially Jareth. What would he think of her then, stumbling about like a drunk goat? Not a good impression to make on a king.

And why the hell do I care what that creep thinks? she thought savagely. His opinion was not supposed to matter to her. She picked herself up and examined her hands, which had scraped against the stones lying in the path. They were scratched, and bled slightly, but did not look too serious. The stinging was already becoming annoying, but it was nothing to worry about.

Her ankle, on the other hand, was. She hissed as she carefully removed her foot from the clutches of the tree root, cursing herself for her clumsiness. She was no doctor, but even she could tell that her ankle was severely twisted just by the pain of it, and by the fact that it had already swollen to twice its normal size. "Perfect," she muttered. "Oh, that’s just great! It figures! As soon as I get over being sick I have to go and injure something. I’m surprised I haven’t killed myself by now! Why don’t I just walk through the Bronx with a sign saying "Please shoot me" taped to my head?"

Using a low-hanging branch for leverage, she managed to gain her feet, but as soon as she set her injured foot to ground she nearly yelled from the pain of it. "Well, I guess walking is out of the question," she commented wryly. "Hmmm…that leaves me either sitting here waiting for someone to realize I’m gone, thus chancing a run-in with a not-so-friendly animal, or me crawling on my hands and knees back to the house with Jareth smirking at me all the way." She snorted. "Tough call."

Chances were, as soon as the sun set and she wasn’t back, Pixie would send out Isaac to find her. Probably Jareth would be sent to sniff her out as well, and she didn’t want to imagine the look he’d be wearing. That infuriating, superior smirk he always wore when he knew he was right about anything. At least if she tried to make it back on her own she had a slight chance of keeping her dignity intact.

Grimacing, she hopped forward a little, her hands gripping the trunk of a sapling to keep her balance. She tried again, and then again, and soon had a fairly regular pattern going. Hop and grip, hop and grip…stumble occasionally when her handhold broke under her weight…hop and grip. This was all well and good, but what happened when she reached the field and ran out of trees? She grimaced. Well, she’d think about that little problem when she got to it.

"Well, aren’t we in a bit of a pickle," a voice suddenly exclaimed, startling Sarah so badly that she yelped and released her death grip on a branch. Before she fell, however, a pair of hands caught her under the arms and steadied her, and a warm voice chuckled in her ear. "Run into a bit of trouble, have we?"

Sarah glared at the ground in front of her. "Yeah," she replied testily. "It’s standing right behind me."

Jareth laughed again, not at all put out. "That isn’t a kind thing to say to your savior," he scolded teasingly as he lowered her to the ground.

"My savior? Oh, please excuse me while I die laughing," she retorted. "Do you mind? I’m busy here!"

"Which is why it’s a good thing I’m here to help," he replied, and fixed her with a stern look. "We’ve been worried about you, you know. Are you aware that it is now six o'clock? Dinner was an hour ago. What have you been doing out here? Besides injuring yourself, that is."

"Cute," she sniffed. "I’ve been thinking, if you must know. I lose track of time when I think sometimes."

"Thinking about what?" he asked.

"That is none of your business," she replied haughtily.

"I see. Thinking about us then, is that it?" His voice was carefully neutral, and he did not look up from his task of examining Sarah’s swollen ankle. "Well, you certainly did a number on this," he continued. "It looks like it may possibly be fractured. I’m going to have to carry you back, to keep it from getting worse."

"Over my dead body you are!" she huffed. "And I was not thinking about ‘us’!" she added peevishly. "There is no ‘us’ to think about!"

"Isn’t there?" His gaze fixed on her, piercing her right to her soul, and she found herself unable to look away from his eyes. "There is more to what you feel than mere attraction," he continued in a soothing murmur, "although you no doubt have plenty of that. All you need do is let us happen. Is it such a terrible thing to love me?"

"I do not love you!" she protested quickly. Too quickly. He gave her another one of those knowing looks, but wisely did not press the issue. Much to her annoyance. She was raring for a fight, and he wasn’t going to make it easy for her to pick one. She frowned. Yet another example of how much the Goblin King had changed since she’d last seen him. Before, he no doubt would not have hesitated to toss her into an oubliette, or perhaps the Bog, for her smart remarks, but now he took everything she dished out, and although he could give back as good as he got, he rarely ever reacted to her temper.

Right now she wished he would though. She longed to see some sign of the old Jareth she knew, that she disliked so much, because then she would have an excuse, any excuse, not to like him. With this Jareth, who treated her so tenderly, she had no such excuse, and she felt increasingly guilty at her harsh treatment of him, despite effort not to care.

"I believe I can heal this," Jareth said abruptly, causing her to blink in surprise. She looked at him uncertainly. "With magic, I mean," he elaborated with a smile. "I have enough power to do that much for you."

"No way am I letting you witch me!" she protested hotly. "I still remember what happened the last time I had a run-in with your magic!"

He smiled slightly and cocked his head to one side. "Yes," he murmured. "One of the more pleasant memories of your visit. At least it was in the beginning. You dance very well, you know. Perhaps we should do that again sometime. Only this time, I’ll make sure there are no crystal walls for you to break through." His eyes twinkled teasingly, and yet she could not help but see that under the humor lay a lingering sadness. The same sadness she had seen before, right as she had torn away from him and escaped.

It’s funny, she thought. I had never been able to see any of his emotions before. He was always so cold. But now…I wonder if he lets me see what’s in his heart because he…trusts me.

The thought made her feel…well, not uncomfortable. A bit flattered, if anything. Also a bit flustered. Why would he trust her so much? And why would he want to love her? She had practically ruined his life, after all. She wasn’t sure she’d be half so forgiving were their positions reversed. She watched him as he took her ankle, his hands warm and gentle, hardly causing her any pain. "Just relax," he murmured to her soothingly. "Trust me. I’ll do nothing but heal you."

She finally nodded her consent, and he smiled slightly and closed his eyes, inclining his head over his hand, which hovered a mere inch from her ankle. There was a moment of complete silence, as though the very forest was holding its breath, and then suddenly she felt a faint tingle race along her leg, as though she were touching a live wire. She jumped slightly, biting back a gasp as his hand began to glow, the light streaming from it into her. Her mouth dropped open as she felt a soft warmth envelope her, and the pain in her ankle began to fade until it was reduced to nothing more than a twinge. The swelling went down, and very shortly Jareth held a perfectly sound ankle. Her mouth dropped open in astonishment. That had not been at all like she’d expected.

He was smiling triumphantly, although he looked a bit tired. Very tired, in fact, she noticed with alarm as she took in his white face. "Are you okay?" she asked, unable to keep the concern from showing in her voice. He smiled at her slightly.

"Of course. Why shouldn’t I be?" he asked, rising to his feet. He paused and winced, swaying slightly as he put out a hand to steady himself. Sarah immediately leaped to her feet to help steady him.

"Okay nothing, Mister! You’re exhausted!" she accused.

He chuckled. "Just a little tired," he replied with an unconcerned shrug, but she clearly wasn’t convinced. He watched as she searched his eyes, touched and hopeful at her obvious worry. "I’m not going to fade into the dust, if that’s what you’re worried about," he said teasingly. "Don’t worry. I’ll be fine after some rest."

"Jareth! If you knew healing me was going to take so much out of you why did you do it?" she asked in astonishment. "I would’ve healed on my own. It would have been longer, but I’d heal."

He met her gaze squarely. "There is nothing I would not do for you," he replied quietly. "You were hurt; it was my honor to heal you. Thank you for your concern. It’s quite touching."

She ducked her head, feeling unaccountably pleased by his words. "Well, it’s only polite. I mean, you’re in this state because of me," she mumbled. "Come on. We’d better get back. Here, lean on me if you’re tired. I’ll help you walk back."

He smiled slyly. "I certainly won’t object to that," he murmured, slipping an arm about her and pulling her closer to him. She ignored the odd elation she felt at his nearness, but she did allow him to keep his arm around her the whole way back to the house.

She couldn’t bring herself to admit how much she enjoyed that walk.

Sarah tossed restlessly in her bed, trying to find a more comfortable position, before she finally gave any hope of sleep up as a lost cause and sat up with a heavy sigh. This was getting a bit annoying, this insomnia she’d been cursed with lately. She didn’t know how to cure it, either. Padding down to the kitchen to fix herself some chocolate, she was surprised to see that Pixie was still up, even though it was well after midnight. The woman smiled at her great-niece, not at all surprised to see her there, and offered her a chair at the table, which she accepted with a wary thank-you. A cup of hot cocoa was already resting before her, proving that Pixie had, indeed, known Sarah would be there.

Thankfully, though, she didn’t say anything as Sarah cradled the mug in her hands and stared into the dark liquid as though all the secrets of the universe would be revealed. As usual, her thoughts turned to Jareth, or, more importantly, to how Jareth made her feel. Strange was the best term she could come up with. Very strange, in fact, as though her emotions were on an out-of-control Ferris wheel and flying off every which way.

At one moment she was furious at Jareth for causing her some grievance, real or imagined, and wanted nothing more than to kill him for invading her life again when she’d made it very clear that he wasn’t welcome. But then, in the next moment, whenever he looked at her or smiled at her, or whenever he spoke to her in that gentle, almost loving manner, it was all she could do to keep herself from grabbing him and kissing him in ways that she’d only read about in books.

She didn’t know what was the matter with her. Nobody had ever made her feel and act so…so crazy before, and she wasn’t at all thrilled with the idea of feeling this way for the rest of her life…or at least until she left to go back to the "real world".

She grimaced. That was another problem. She was recovered fully, and she knew that she couldn’t hide up here in Daniel Boon land with Toby forever. At one point she was going have to end her little vacation and get back to work, and Toby had to go to school; he’d already missed too much as it was. But the thought of leaving her aunt was depressing; she had never realized how much she’d missed Pixie until she was back in her life again, and now that she was…

And this place was good for Toby, too. Sarah couldn’t remember seeing him so happy since before their parents died. He had grown these past months. His skinny frame had filled out due to the hard work Pixie put him through and to his own excursions in the forest, and his normally sour countenance had taken on a new life. He was a completely different boy from the little punk who’d played hooky and shoplifted convenience stores. His hair was growing out, and he refused to let Pixie or Sarah trim it, saying he wanted it to grow as long as Jareth’s.

Again, Sarah grimaced. That’s another problem, she thought. This misguided case of hero worship that the boy had apparently developed for the former king bothered her to no end, and she was honest enough to admit that she didn’t know whether or not it was fear for Toby’s safety or jealousy at their closeness that caused her to feel that way. Maybe it was both. After all, Toby was her brother, and the last time Jareth had seen him, he had attempted to turn the boy into a goblin. They should by all rights be enemies, even though Toby was hardly old enough to actually remember anything that had happened, but it seemed that Jareth, for some odd reason known only to him, had decided to take the boy under his own wing, so to speak.

Sarah scowled. Toby was her brother.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Sarah jumped; she had forgotten that Pixie was still there. She smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "They aren’t worth that much," she replied. "But, if you must know, I was just thinking about Jareth and Toby."

"Ah, yes. It’s wonderful how they’re getting along, isn’t it? Truthfully, I wasn’t sure how well Jareth would deal with a teenager, especially one as curious as Toby. He’s a loner, you know."

Sarah smiled grimly. "Yeah, I’d kind of figured that out," she replied wryly. "He’s not the family man type."

"Oh, now that isn’t true. I think Jareth would make a wonderful father someday," Pixie replied impishly.

Sarah nearly choked on her mouthful of cocoa and stared at Pixie as though she’d suddenly grown another head. Jareth? A father? A good father? The woman was going senile!

Pixie, for her part, chuckled at her niece’s reaction. "Well, don’t you agree?" she asked with a teasing smile. "You’ve seen how he acts with Toby. He pays attention to him, and he treats him with respect, though he’s firm when he needs to be. Every boy needs a father, and Toby has found one with Jareth, and Jareth has taken on the responsibility like a true friend."

"But you don’t even know who Jareth is!" Sarah blurted without thinking. "He’s just some man you found in the forest! He could be a…a murderer for all you know! Or maybe he kidnaps little boys. He could be a pervert! I mean, come on! Do you even know anything about him?"

Pixie’s expression was grim as she regarded her niece. "I know that Jareth is an honest, honorable, caring man, and that whatever may have happened between you and him in the past is just that…in the past. It had no bearing here. You and he were brought back together for a reason. Perhaps for a second chance. Why don’t you give it to him? It’s obvious you love each other a great deal, only you’re too stubborn to admit it."

"I do not love Jareth!" Sarah nearly yelled, leaping to her feet, the chair falling over backwards with a loud clatter. Her hands gripped her mug until her knuckles turned white, and she didn’t realize she was shaking until she glanced down to see the liquid in the cup quivering. Slowly, she took a deep breath, and her calm returned to her…enough so that the full impact of Pixie’s words suddenly sank in.

"Wait a sec! What do you mean ‘what happened in the past’?" she demanded, her face going white. "How do you know anything happened between us?"

Pixie nodded, as though confirming something. "I didn’t. Not until now, when you just admitted it. I had suspicions, of course, but nothing solid." At Sarah’s incredulous stare, she gave a snort of laughter. "Oh, come now, Sarah! I may be old, but I’m not senile! The way you two act, anyone with half a brain can see that you’ve met somewhere before, and the meeting wasn’t a pretty event. Something happened that you’d rather not speak about, and I respect that, although I wish you’d trust me enough to tell me, because I admit the curiosity is driving me batty!" She shot her niece a mischievous grin, and Sarah smiled weakly in response.

"Trust me, Pixie. You’d never believe me if I told you," she replied wryly. "It’s a rather fantastic account, and not quite your normal boy-meets-girl story."

Pixie fixed her with a thoughtful gaze. "Try me," she replied dryly.

Sarah frowned. "I think Jareth should agree to it first. It involves him as much as me," she said, looking for any excuse to put off the inevitable.

"I agree. Which is why it’s a good thing I’m here."

Sarah closed her eyes and stifled a groan as Jareth entered the kitchen, pulling out a chair across from her and fixing her with a look. She sighed, meeting his gaze. "Are you sure about this?" she asked.

"Well, the worst that will happen is that she’ll think her niece is insane," he replied teasingly, his eyes lighting in a wicked sparkle.

Sarah snorted. "At least you’ll go down with me," she muttered. "Well, okay then. I’ll tell the story, you listen, and don’t interrupt unless I say you can."

He raised an eyebrow. "Don’t I even get a chance to defend myself?" he asked with a small, mysterious smile.

"No," she replied bluntly, and turned to face Pixie, who was watching them with obvious interest. "Okay, just remember…you asked for it," she warned.

Pixie grinned ruefully. "I’ll try to keep from fainting from shock," she replied with a chuckle. "Now tell me what’s going on before I burst!"

Sarah shrugged. "Okay, well, I guess the first thing I should tell is that Jareth is not from England. He’s from someplace else entirely. Namely…the Underground."

Now it was Pixie’s turn to raise an eyebrow. "The Underground?" she repeated. "You mean…as in the land of the fae and the Sidhe and all that?"

Jareth was surprised. "You’ve heard of it?" he asked.

Pixie fixed him with a grin. "Dearie, I’m Irish, and my mother was Irish, and her mother was Irish. No self-respecting Irishman—or woman—would not know at least one tale of the fae folk, or anything about their home." Her grin was positively devilish. "Already this is interesting. I always did fancy a good fairy tale. Go on, then. I’m listening."

"This isn't any fairy tale," Sarah muttered. "Jareth, as I said, lives in the Underground. He’s…well…he’s the Goblin King. Or he was. But twelve years ago, when I was baby-sitting Toby one night, and sort of in a really bad mood, I went and…and wished Toby away to the goblins." She paused and searched Pixie’s face for any signs of disbelief, but her aunt’s expression was carefully neutral.

"Well, anyhow," she continued, "the goblins came and took Toby, and then Jareth came and offered me my dreams in exchange for him, but of course I wasn’t going to take them! I’m not a complete monster!" She fixed a brief glare on Jareth, who merely smirked. Disgusted, she chose to ignore him. Turning back to her aunt, she proceeded to tell her the whole story, from beginning to end. When she was done, she sat back in her chair and crossed her arms and waited for Pixie to either start laughing her head off, or to tear into Jareth for putting her favorite niece through such hell.

She did neither. Rather, she faced Sarah and, with sparkling, mirth-filled eyes, calmly stated, "My, you really were a brat back then, weren’t you?"

Sarah’s mouth dropped open in complete befuddlement, and Jareth let loose a loud laugh, throwing back his head, thoroughly amused at this most unexpected ally to his case. "Thank you, Pixie! It’s nice to know someone is on my side," he chuckled, shaking his blond mane.

"You’re not helping," Sarah growled, then glared at Pixie. "And what do you mean, I was a brat?! I’m not the one who tried to turn a baby into a goblin!"

"No, but you did wish for it, didn’t you? That’s just as bad, isn’t it? He only did what you asked of him."

Sarah opened and closed her mouth several times, speechless, not believing what she was hearing. Her own aunt was turning on her? It…it wasn’t fair! A glance at Jareth told her that she wasn’t about to get any help from him…not that she wanted any! "I didn’t know what I was doing!" she finally blurted. "How was I supposed to know the Goblin King was real? It was just a story!" She turned an accusing glance on Jareth, who gave her an innocent smile in response.

Pixie shrugged. "Real or not, you made the wish, the Goblin King obliged, and you learned a hard lesson. I think you should thank him, don’t you? He made you grow up a little, didn’t he?"

More than she knows… Sarah thought grievously as she relived the bittersweet pain of her journey. She had gained some insight and wisdom on that quest, but what had been the cost? Shattered illusions? A broken heart? A piece of her soul heartlessly torn away from her…but who was it that had done the tearing? Jareth? Or herself?

It was all too much to think about, so she refused to do so, instead focusing on another concept of this night’s revelation. "Are you saying that you actually believe all this?" she asked, fixing Pixie with a doubtful look.

"Well, I admit it would be easier if I could see some proof, but what reason do you have to lie to me?" she asked.

"Proof? That’s easily remedied," Jareth spoke up. He held out a graceful hand, concentrated, and in another moment a shining, delicate crystal hovered on his fingertips. A single flick of his wrist sent it spinning and dancing into the air, right toward Sarah, who instinctively flinched away. The crystal landed in front of her, an inch from her hand, and in a flash of light it had vanished. In its place lay a pendant. It was shaped in the form of a silver-white owl, suspended on a silver chain, with tiny sapphires for eyes and a small, glowing crystal cradled in outstretched wings.

Sarah’s mouth formed a silent oh as she slowly reached out toward it. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. Before she actually touched it, though, she remembered where it had come from, and that it was most likely enchanted, and jerked her hand back as though burned.

"What’s the matter, Sarah? Don’t you like my present?" Jareth’s voice was lightly mocking, and she glared at him, but still did not touch the pendant.

"Sarah! It’s a gift!" Pixie scolded. "You should at least try it on!"

"You haven’t heard a word I said, have you?" Sarah snapped. "The peach was a ‘gift’, too, and look what happened with that? If you know anything about the fae, then you know they can’t be trusted!"

"But Jareth is only half fae," Pixie pointed out.

"How do you know that?" Jareth was obviously surprised.

"Well, any true fae could never survive as long as you have outside their own world, what with all the magic being gone from here. And the way you can handle iron. Any true fae couldn’t get anywhere near it, am I right?"

"Yes," he replied with a nod. "And I am only half fae. My mother, I’m told, was human. Which is why most of my kind refuse to have anything to do with me, as though ruling the goblins, the most despised of the races Underground, wasn’t disgraceful enough." His voice was bitter as he spoke, and he seemed to be gazing into some far-distant place that no mortal eye could see.

Pixie looked at him pityingly. "Why don’t you tell me your side of the story," she suggested kindly, to both Jareth and Sarah’s surprise. Sarah opened her mouth to protest, then slowly shut it again. After all, she’d had her say. Why not let Jareth say his piece? She sat back as Jareth began to recount the aftermath of their confrontation, his voice low and subdued.

Pixie was completely enthralled, Sarah could tell, and she could only imagine what her aunt was thinking. How her beloved niece wasn’t so great after all, that she was nothing but a selfish brat who nearly destroyed a man’s life. Sarah couldn’t blame her. The thought had crossed her own mind a time or two. In fact, it was crossing her mind right now as she sat there, and she began to feel more and more guilty as Jareth recounted how he had been forced to rebuild his entire kingdom with nothing but goblins and a dwarf to help, how his magic and his pride had been all but shattered, how he’d had to escape to the Above world to try to make sense of what was left of his life.

In fact, she felt about as low as a cockroach by the time he was done, and she didn’t dare meet his gaze, for fear that she’d burst into tears if she saw the pain and hate that was sure to be hiding in his eyes. Maybe that was why they were so shadowed all the time. Maybe that’s why he never let her see what he was feeling, because he was kind enough, at least, to spare her the guilt. For the first time, she wished she could go back in time and redo the entire event. Only this time she’d do it differently. She’d make a deal with Jareth, offer herself in Toby’s place. After all, she was the monster, and she was the one who deserved to be turned into a goblin or worse. Too bad Jareth’s magic had been shattered; he probably could have made it happen.

Slowly, aware that Jareth had finished speaking, she made herself look up until she met his eyes, steeling herself for the worst. What she saw, however, was enough to make her breath still in her throat and her heart to pound furiously in her chest.

What she saw was not hate…but love. Pure, unadulterated love.

There was pity there, as well, but not the kind of pity one might cast on a dead cat on the side of the road. It was the kind of compassion one felt when they knew a loved one was feeling pain, and shared their feelings. She stared at him for a long, unbelieving moment. He had never let her see so much of himself before, choosing to hide behind his masks of indifference, and the fact that he was allowing her to see his feelings now confused and scared and overwhelmed her. She abruptly stood up, her face nearly white, and stammered some excuse as she turned and fled from the kitchen.

Behind her, Pixie and Jareth exchanged knowing looks, and Pixie smiled reassuringly as she patted Jareth’s arm before standing to retire to her bed. She bid him goodnight and shuffled out of the room, deep in thought, apparently still trying to adjust to the fact that there was a mystical faerie sitting in her kitchen. He smiled as he watched her go, then sighed as his face took on a more melancholy cast. He stood and pushed in his chair, and then he, too, retired to his room for some much-needed sleep.

Neither of them noticed the shadowy form lying on the couch in the living room…

At breakfast, Sarah stared down at her plate as she mindlessly pushed her sunny-side-up eggs around with her fork, deep in thought. Pixie, who was sitting across from her, finally gave a rueful chuckle and waved to gain her niece’s attention. "You know, if you would’ve rather had scrambled, I could have made them for you instead," she teased gently. Surprised, Sarah blinked at her, then looked down at her plate and grinned sheepishly.

"I’m sorry. I’m just not very hungry," she replied. "I’ll wash the dishes now, if you’re finished."

"That would be fine. My joints are a bit stiff this morning. I think I’ll go take a hot bath," Pixie replied, rising to her feet.

"Pixie…" Sarah bit her lip. "Are…are you okay? I mean…after what happened last night…are you really…you know…okay?"

Pixie eyed her niece, then smiled. "My mind’s still intact, if that's what you mean," she replied with a chuckle. "Don’t worry. I’m dealing with this little revelation of yours well enough. Actually, it makes more sense now when I think as to how I found Jareth. In the middle of the forest in a snowstorm, and dressed like some renaissance faire escapee, no less." She shook her head and laughed softly. "Something about his story never did quite fall into place, but now…I suppose a king running away from his kingdom makes as much sense as anything. I always thought he did have that air of royalty about him. He was the most arrogant man I’d ever met, until he realized he couldn’t push me around."

Sarah snorted. "He’s still arrogant," she muttered. "He always was, and he always will be. That kind of personality is genetic in his world."

Pixie laughed outright at that. "That’s true," she replied. "But you got to admit he pulls it off well. It’s amusing to see him get all huffy when someone insults him. Kind of charming, as well. He’s rather cute when he pouts, did you notice that?"

Sarah couldn’t help it; she burst out laughing. "Pixie…when I think about Jareth and his little tempers ‘cute’ is not a word that comes to mind," she giggled. "But…well…I guess you could say he’s…cute." She grinned and shrugged.

"Ah…so you do like Jareth," Pixie said slyly.

She grimaced. "I never said that," she hastened to reply.

"No, but it’s implied," Pixie insisted, nodding firmly. "Child, there isn’t any shame in thinking the man’s sexy. I’ve thought so a time or two myself, in fact."

Sarah snorted. "So why don’t you marry him?" she retorted.

Pixie laughed. "If I were fifteen years younger, I might just consider it," she teased. "Younger men aren’t my style, you know."

Sarah shot her a wry look. "Pixie, you realize that Jareth has probably been alive for several centuries already, don’t you?" she asked dryly. "I don’t think younger is much of a problem."

"I never thought of that." Pixie winked at her. "He looks good for being a few hundred years old. I’d love to know what his secret is." She listened, pleased, when Sarah started to laugh again, more than she had in the past week. Quite satisfied with herself, she left her niece to the dishes and headed upstairs for her bath.

Toby didn’t answer for a moment, just kept staring at him with an unsettlingly discerning gaze. Jareth returned his gaze uneasily. Something about the boy’s manner set him on edge. "Is something wrong?" he asked, trying to hide his tension.

"Are you in love with my sister?"

That was the last thing Jareth had expected him to ask, and he opened his mouth to reply, found none, and closed it again, thrown completely off-guard. "What kind of question is that?" he said with a nervous laugh.

"A perfectly logical one. Well, are you?" Toby obviously refused to be put off so easily, and Jareth grimaced. Yes, the boy was definitely Sarah’s brother.

"I don’t see how it is any of your business…" he began, but stopped at the disgusted look Toby shot him, as though he was something one might find out in a cow pasture. He cleared his throat and nodded once. "Yes. If you must know, I am," he finally replied. "Does that bother you?"

Toby frowned. "I don’t know," he replied. He shot Jareth a knowing glance. "I heard what you were talking about last night. The thing is, I kind of already knew it."

"Did you? And how is that?" Jareth asked warily.

"I had a dream," Toby replied. He grimaced. "Well, I thought it was a dream, but maybe it was memories, instead. I’ve had it ever since I was a little kid. I’m sitting in this big room, and there are all these weird creatures, and then I remember being in another room full of stairs that went all over the place, and Sarah was trying to get me, but she could never reach me. Then, she jumped down from a ledge, and that’s when I’d wake up." He paused and licked his lips. "I sort of remember you, too," he said. "Only you were a lot bigger in the dream…and scarier. Not ‘cause of what you did to me, but ‘cause you made Sarah so scared. I thought maybe it was from all the fairy tales she used to read me, but that wasn’t like any fairy tale I’d ever heard."

"You were only a baby. How could you possibly remember all that?" Jareth asked in astonishment.

"I don’t know. But it’s true then? It was memories I dreamed?"

Jareth nodded slowly. "Yes. It’s true," he replied slowly. "Perhaps it was the magic that made you remember. I don’t know, and it really doesn’t matter."

"Were you really gonna turn me into a goblin? If Sarah had lost, I mean."

He grimaced. "Probably, Toby, I would have. That is my job, after all." He sighed heavily. "If things could have been different…but there is no use regretting the past. It happened, and it’s over."

"Did you love my sister back then, too?" Toby asked curiously. "I mean, if you loved her, why didn’t you just let her go? Why’d you go and put her through all that trouble?"

Jareth ran his fingers through his hair, sitting down beside him on the hay bale. "Because that’s the way the game is played," he replied. "Love is not an emotion that is…familiar in the Underground. When she first wished you away to me, I took you out of obligation, and because I was bored and your sister offered an interesting challenge. More than I’d anticipated, in fact. As she continued on, despite everything I threw at her, I began to see her as more than a pawn in my game. She drew me to her as no other mortal had before. She is a great dreamer, your sister is, and dreams are as important to my kind as magic, for to us, dreams are magic. Hers were the strongest I’d ever touched."

His face took on a sad, searching look. "I tried to seduce her," he admitted. "I could hardly help myself; she had cast a spell of her own over me, all unknowing. She was just a child… I should have known better. My many charms were no match for her purity and innocence. To her, this was just a play, a story in a book, and she already knew how it would end, despite my best efforts to change it. I was the villain, and she was the heroine, and the heroine always wins."

He gave a grimace of self-disgust. "I thought if I could only make her see that I was more than the villain she had cast me as; that I could be as good as I was evil, and that sometimes even a villain could love, then perhaps the game would end differently." He shook his head bitterly. "I had no idea how to prove something like that to her. I used trickery and seduction instead of honesty. It never even occurred to me to simply tell her how I felt, although that might have frightened her as much as anything. She was simply too young, too much of a child yet, to be able to understand what it means to truly love someone."

Toby listened to him speak, frowning thoughtfully. "What about now?" he asked when Jareth had finished. "I mean, she’s a lot older. Why don’t you tell her how you feel now?"

"It isn’t that simple, Toby," he replied. "I have never done anything to gain her trust, and I am of the fae, which automatically makes me untrustworthy, anyway." He gave a somewhat bitter smile. "I don’t know that she’d even believe me."

"I trust you," Toby stated simply.

He raised an eyebrow. "Even though I tried to turn you into a goblin?" he asked with a touch of humor.

"Well, like you said, the past is the past. Besides, you didn’t try to turn me into anything this time. You’re pretty nice for a grownup, and Aunt Pixie likes you."

"Thank you. That’s kind of you to say," Jareth replied wryly. "Now, how do you feel about me being in love with your sister?"

Toby made a face. "As long as you don’t get all mushy around me, I guess that’s okay," he replied. "Sarah should have someone who loves her. Cliff says he loves her, but I don’t like him. He’s kind of a creep, and he doesn’t like me, I can tell. He’ll probably send me to jail or some place if he and Sarah ever got married, which is why I’m glad Sarah doesn’t love him. But if she loved you, I guess that’d be pretty cool. I always wanted a brother."

Jareth gave a surprised laugh. "I suppose we would be brothers in a way, wouldn’t we?" he replied with a smile. "Never mind I’m old enough to be your great-grandfather and then some!"

"You’re that old?" Toby looked impressed. "Boy, you sure don’t look like an old geezer, although sometimes you act like one!" With a cheeky grin, he hopped down from the hay bale and bolted from the barn before Jareth could retaliate for that insult.

"Of course not," Pixie replied innocently, taking a sip of her tea. "Whatever gives you that idea?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Only the fact that you look like a bunch of cats getting caught with your paws in the bird cage and feathers in your mouths, is all," she retorted. "What’s up?"

"We was just talking," Toby said. "Don’t have a cow!"

"Yeah, whatever." Sarah rolled her eyes, grabbed some leftover chicken from the refrigerator, and headed back up the stairs. Part of her was dying to know what the Three Stooges were planning, but the other part was far more interested in the book she had left upstairs, waiting for her to resume her reading. Whatever was going on, no doubt she’d be finding out about it soon enough.

She was right about the soon enough part. A knock on her door interrupted her reading. "What is it?" she mumbled distractedly.

"Sarah, I’m heading into town again today. I forgot to pick up a few things before. Toby’s coming with me, just to let you know," Pixie’s voice called through the door.

The story immediately forgotten, Sarah jumped up eagerly. "Well, hang on a sec, let me put on some shoes, and I’ll come with you," she called back.

"No!" Pixie’s voice sounded suspiciously alarmed at that suggestion, and Sarah immediately became suspicious. "I mean, I really need the bathrooms cleaned today, hon. Could you clean them for me? I don’t know how late we’ll be getting back. I’m going to stop at the post office to send a letter to Toby’s school, requesting that they send the lessons for the past few months to us, so he can catch up."

Sarah heard Toby give a groan of protest, and grinned in spite of herself. "That’s a good idea," she replied, loudly, so Toby was sure to hear. "That way we can be sure to keep him out of trouble. Threaten him with three pages of math lessons a night."

"Ha ha!" Toby retorted faintly.

Pixie chuckled. "Anyway, could you be a dear and clean those bathrooms for me?" she asked beseechingly.

Sarah sighed. "Oh, all right," she muttered. "If you insist."

"I insist." Pixie’s voice was teasing, and Sarah smiled.

Then a thought came to her, and she frowned. "Pixie, is Jareth going with you?" she asked suspiciously.

"Why, of course…unless you’d much rather have him stay here with you…" Her voice was sly as she answered, and Sarah felt her cheeks burning.

"By all means, take him," she replied hurriedly. "No need for us both to be locked up here."

Pixie gave another knowing chuckle as her footsteps receded down the hall.

Sarah finished scrubbing the floor of the last bathroom and sat back with a contented sigh. Done, finally! She turned off her Walkman and pulled off the headphones, wrinkling her nose at the smell of cleaning solutions on her gloved hands. As she put away the supplies, she suddenly froze, her eyes going wide. She could have sworn she’d just heard a noise from downstairs. It had sounded like something falling…

She slowly stood, heart pounding. Okay, no need to panic. Probably just Isaac, knocking over a chair or something, she thought. It had only been a few hours; the others wouldn’t have returned yet. She silently crept into Jareth’s room, whose window faced the front, and looked outside. Her truck sat there, but the old truck Pixie owned was missing. Biting her lip, she walked to her room and stared out the window toward the barn. Her heart sank upon seeing Isaac lounging in the sunshine, apparently asleep.

Isaac is a great watchdog. If someone was in the house, he’d be having a fit out there.

Unless he’d been drugged…or killed…

"Okay, enough of those thoughts," she scolded herself. "You’re being paranoid, as usual." Still…Isaac was awfully still out there…

"Enough!" she hissed to herself. "Only one way to find out what that was, and that’s to go down there and look!" Gathering her failing courage, Sarah nevertheless picked up a baseball bat from Toby’s room on the way, just in case. Hopefully the element of surprise was on her side. Of course, she’d probably made enough racket while cleaning to wake a dead man, and she knew she’d been singing along pretty loudly to her tapes…

Maybe one of the cats managed to sneak inside, she thought. That Rumpleteaser is a little terror…

Another clatter nearly sent her heart into cardiac arrest, and she paused on the stairs, gasping for breath while clutching her chest. She gripped the bat so tightly the tendons creaked in her wrists, and she crept slowly…slowly down into the living room…

Do I smell…roast beef?

She paused and sniffed the air deeply. Steak. And was that mashed potatoes? She scowled. What on earth is going on? Don’t tell me someone broke into the house to cook me dinner! She gripped the bat and strode boldly forward to the entrance of the kitchen, peering around the corner.

A face was peering back at her, and she shrieked at the top of her lungs in terror and instinctively swung the bat…right into the intruder’s gut. At the same moment, she recognized the face, and her terror fled as consternation took its place. In slow motion, she watched as Jareth fell to the floor, gasping in pain, clutching his middle and curling up into a fetal position.

"Oh, geez, Jareth! I’m so sorry!" she gasped, tossing the bat aside and kneeling down beside him. "Are you okay?"

"Of course I’m not okay!" he gasped. "You just slugged me with a bat!"

Sarah sat back, gesturing helplessly. "I’m sorry!" she wailed. "I didn’t know anyone was here! Pixie told me you were going with them…I heard a noise…" She shook her head. "What was I supposed to do? Wait for the thief to find me instead? Geez, Jareth, you scared the hell out of me!"

Jareth slowly sat up, wincing painfully and clutching his side. "I suppose I can see your point," he muttered.

"Let me look at that," Sarah said, lifting his shirt. "I hope I didn’t break anything." She examined Jareth’s smooth, pale side critically, where a dark, ugly bruise was already beginning to swell. She touched it gingerly, and he grunted.

"I’m sorry!" she immediately apologized. "I…I can’t tell if any ribs are broken." She bit her lip, looking at him with a worried gaze. "Maybe I should take you to a doctor or something."

"No need," he grunted. "I can heal myself. Nothing feels like it’s broken. I can breathe okay. Just a nasty bump." Indeed, already the bruise seemed to be fading. He shot her a rueful look. "I suppose I should be glad you didn’t bring it down on my head, instead. That might be a little harder to heal myself from if I’m unconscious."

Sarah sat back on her heels, looking absolutely miserable. "I feel like such a moron," she muttered. "I should have looked first…"

He placed gentle fingers against her lips to silence her. "You were only trying to defend yourself," he replied gently. "Of course, if I had known you would come down packing a bat, I would have made my presence known much sooner." He shot her a smile designed to calm her fears, and it seemed to work. She relaxed, slightly.

But then a glint of anger came into her eyes. "Just what the hell were you trying to do, pulling a stunt like that?" she asked accusingly. "Do you enjoy attempting to give me premature heart attacks?"

"No more than you enjoy attempting to rearrange my insides with a bat," he replied, deadpan. He stood up, then, having finished healing himself, and with a gallant smile offered Sarah his arm. "My lady," he said with a mischievous gleam in his eye, "might I have the honor of escorting you to your dinner?"

Sarah eyed him, wondering for a moment if he hadn’t gotten brained with that bat, after all. Then she shrugged. "Why not?" she acceded, slipping her hand around his arm. He laid his other hand atop hers, giving it a gentle squeeze, and led her out, much to her surprise, to the back porch.

Her mouth abruptly dropped open in complete wonder. It was not the back porch they stood on, but someplace else entirely. Candles were everywhere; tall, pure white candles that glowed with brilliant, golden light, casting dancing shadows across the ground. White satin tapestries draped the walls, and gauzy streamers hung from the ceiling, floating softly in an unknown breeze. Crystals hung suspended in the air, twirling lazily, throwing thousands of rainbow lights across the room. Sarah froze. She knew this place, had seen it in her mind’s eye a thousand times.

It was the crystal ballroom.

"The ballroom," she whispered, feeling her face drain of blood. Panic abruptly gripped her, and she started to pull away from Jareth’s grasp, feeling the walls closing in on her. "Why did you bring me here? What are you doing?" she gasped, turning frightened, accusing eyes to the Goblin King’s face.

He regarded her steadily. "Don’t be afraid," he murmured. "I’m not going to harm you. Look." He gestured to a dark corner, where a table stood draped in satin and set with fine china and gold. "Let us eat," he said. "I’m hungry, aren’t you?"

She pulled away fully and glared at him. "No! I’m not hungry!" she snapped. "I’m pissed off! What the hell are you trying to do to me? Do you think you’re going to seduce me with this…this… adolescent fantasy again?" She shook her head. "Just when I was finally beginning to think I could trust you…"

"You can trust me!" Jareth replied in a pained voice. "I just…I just wanted to surprise you. I thought…this was such a wonderful fantasy. Don’t you remember? I didn’t think you’d mind dining with me here. I thought…" He trailed off, shaking his head in confusion.

"You thought what, Jareth?" Sarah asked coldly. "Some enchanted food, a song and dance, and I’d fall into your arms? Think again." She cast a loathing glance at their surroundings. "What do you see here?" she asked, her voice shaking. "Do you know what I see? I see a dream. An illusion. It isn’t real. It was never real. Nothing is real with you! All it was, was a distraction, a decoy to keep me from reaching my goal. And it had worked, for awhile. For a moment, I truly loved you." She paused, then laughed bitterly. "But that illusion was too fragile to last, like everything about you is." She plucked one of the crystals from the air and hurled it to the ground, where it exploded into dust. "Just like this crystal, the dream was shattered, and so was my heart."

Jareth gripped her hands, gazing into her eyes intently. His expression was a myriad of emotions. Pain, anger, loss…love. "What this illusion was to me was my way to tell you that I loved you," he murmured, "in the only way I knew how. It was the best memory we had, of us dancing together, for the moment more than enemies, more than friends. I thought perhaps it might bring back those feelings you had for me, but I see now that I was wrong. I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused you. Perhaps I merely fooled myself into believing in a dream that can never come to pass."

He paused, then slowly reached out to cradle her face in his hands. "Loving you is like touching a star," he murmured. "So beautiful and distant and cold. I know that I will never reach it, but I cannot keep myself from hoping, from trying, even if it dooms me to remain alone forever."

Sarah’s eyes were brilliant with tears as she gazed at him, speechless. This was the first time he had ever openly declared his love for her; that he had ever made himself so completely vulnerable. She blinked, and her tears slid down over her cheeks. Slowly, Jareth leaned in and kissed them away with utmost tenderness, his lips soft and warm against her skin. She closed her eyes, fighting the guilt that rose in her at the memory of her harsh words. It’s only another trick, another illusion, she told herself, but her thoughts lacked conviction, for she knew, deep within, that he was being as honest as he had ever been. He truly loved her, and was going against his very nature to tell her so, and she was doing nothing but accusing him of deceit.

She felt like a complete heel.

The warmth of Jareth’s hands left her face, and she opened her eyes as he stepped back. The illusion was fading, the satin draperies and streamers falling into dust, just as it had before. The silverware and china and satin covering the golden table faded to reveal Pixie’s kitchen table, set with nothing but a white sheet, chipped plates, and metal tableware. The walls vanished to reveal the porch and the night surrounding them. The tall candles in their golden stands turned into a few skinny candles in pewter holders.

Sarah stared in astonishment, then turned a guilty glance to Jareth. Had she been the one to cause the illusion to shatter this time, as well?

He met her gaze, gave a weary shrug. "Even the most elaborate of illusions need props," he said wearily, "and it only lasts so long as the dreamers want it to. Don’t worry. This time, it is my dream that has shattered." With that, he turned and walked into the house, shoulders slumped and head bowed as though he had aged a hundred years in a single night.

It was late morning when Sarah emerged from her bedroom. Her head was pounding, and her eyes burned fiercely from the hours she had spent crying herself to sleep. She had gone inside immediately after Jareth, locking herself in her room, and had done her best to sleep. But every time she managed to drift off, she would dream of Jareth standing before her in a shrinking pool of light, reaching out to her, his eyes pleading to save him from the blackness that engulfed him. She would run and run to reach him, but he was never close enough. Then, just when she was able to grasp his fingers, he was gone, leaving her standing alone, feeling the deepest sense of loss…

She stumbled downstairs, blinking against the light. Toby and Pixie were sitting around the table, their faces gloomy. She frowned. "What’s the matter?" she asked.

They glanced at each other, then at Sarah. "I take it things didn’t go well last night," Pixie said bluntly.

Sarah frowned. "You were in on that little fiasco?" she asked accusingly.

"I helped him plan it!" she retorted. "What happened?"

Sarah heaved an exasperated sigh. "He totally threw me for a loop, that’s what happened," she said. "He created the ballroom again, Pixie. Complete with candles and crystals and streamers and all." She shook her head. "Here all this time I thought he had hardly any power left, and yet…"

"He’s been slowly gaining it back," Pixie replied, "and he used a great deal of it, I’d imagine, trying to impress you last night."

"And that’s my fault?" Sarah scowled, pouring herself some coffee. "I didn’t ask him to do that! I didn’t want him to do that!"

"He was trying to prove to you how much he loves you." Pixie’s voice was filled with disapproval. "He chose that scene because, for him, it was the best moment of your time together in the Labyrinth. Perhaps he made an error, but he is, after all, partly human, and humans are known for their mistakes."

Sarah turned on her, gesturing helplessly. "What do you want me to do about it?" she snapped. "To me that scene brought back nothing but bad memories! He’d made a mockery of me, and he toyed with my heart and my emotions. He’d made me lose time I needed to win. I only just managed to save Toby, you know. Ten more seconds, and neither of us would be here. We’d be nothing more than memories."

"Ten more seconds…and your dreams may have actually come true." Pixie’s voice was soft. "Oh, Sarah. Why do you have so much trouble believing that anyone could love you? You, of all people, deserve a fairy tale ending."

"There are no such things as fairy tales," Sarah replied in a low voice.

Pixie snorted. "I believe that’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told," she huffed.

Sarah blinked at her, surprised. It was then Toby spoke up. "It doesn’t matter now anyhow. He’s gone," he said gloomily.

Sarah looked at her brother in surprise, a touch of alarm making her eyes narrow. "What do you mean, gone?" she demanded sharply.

"I mean he went away." Toby looked like he was trying hard not to cry. "He packed up his stuff, and he went into the forest. He was wearing his Underground clothes. He said…he said he’s going back to the Labyrinth." He blinked, swiping at his eyes. "He said he needed to make sure everything was all right with the goblins and stuff."

"You mean…he’s leaving for good?" Sarah’s face paled just a bit. "H-he can’t just up and leave! He didn’t even say goodbye!"

"Somehow, my dear, he’s gotten the impression that you wouldn’t want to see him. He felt it was better this way," Pixie replied wryly.

"But he can’t leave!" Sarah exploded.

"He seems to feel that he has no reason to stay." Pixie’s expression was carefully blank as she eyed her niece.

"But…but what about you and Toby? I mean, you’re his friends. He’s just gonna abandon you?"

"I always knew he wasn’t going to stay forever. He’s like…well…like the owl he turns into. He has to be free. Eventually he’d fly away. I was just hoping it wouldn’t be so soon."

"I…I can bring him back," Sarah said hurriedly. "Tell me where he went, and I’ll go bring him back. I’m sure he’ll listen…"

"Don’t you get it?" Toby exploded. "He left ‘cause of you! He can’t stand being around you anymore, ‘cause he loves you so much and you don’t love him back! Gees, Sis! I’m just a kid, and even I know that!" He glared at his sister, then sat back down and glared sullenly at the table, instead.

Sarah staggered back a step, shocked at her brother’s outburst. "I…I didn’t mean to drive him away," she whispered. "H-he’s part of this family now. I don’t want him to leave! I want…" She paused.

"What do you want, Sarah?" Pixie asked quietly. "You’d better figure it out quick, because the more you hesitate the less of a chance you have of catching him before he leaves, and you’ll lose him for good, then."

Sarah looked at her aunt, her eyes haunted. "I don’t want to lose him," she admitted slowly, hesitantly. "I…I need him in my life."

"As what? A friend? That isn’t good enough for him anymore, Sarah." Pixie’s voice was gentle. "What do you want of him?"

Sarah closed her eyes, fighting back more tears. "I want to love him, and I want him to still love me. I want my happy ending," she finally admitted.

"In that case, you’d better head down to the pond. You’ll find your happy ending there, if you hurry."

Sarah hesitated a moment longer, then turned and bolted to the back door, grabbing her jacket from the hook and sprinting at full speed ahead toward the forest. She was going to stop Jareth from leaving no matter what it took.

If it wasn’t already too late…

Sarah was gasping for breath when she reached the pond, and she came to a stumbling halt, doubled over, gasping for breath. This seems familiar, she thought wryly as she slowly straightened, remembering the last time she’d taken a flight like this through the woods. Scanning the clearing before her, she saw movement down beside the water, and realized that it was Jareth.

"Jareth!" she called, or tried to, anyway. She was still out of breath, though, and her voice was barely more than a huff. Gulping, she stumbled from the trees into the clearing, heading toward him. He was sitting cross-legged beside the water, hands on knees, eyes closed as though he was asleep. He was dressed in all his kingly glory, and a faint glow seemed to emanate from him, making him look ethereal and mysterious even in the middle of the day. She realized with dismay that he was in a magical trance, probably one meant to send him back to his world. "Jareth!" she called again, putting as much force as she could behind the words. This time he heard her, and his eyes snapped open, a startled expression crossing his face.

"Sarah." He sounded uncertain as he gracefully rose to his feet. "What are you doing here?"

"What do you think? I’m here to keep you from leaving! Y-you weren’t even going to say goodbye." She could not quite keep the accusation out of her voice.

He sighed wearily. "What do you want me to say?" he asked, his voice sad. "I believe I said everything there was to say. Now, I’m finished talking. I told myself I would not offer you my heart a second time, but I didn’t listen to my common sense and now I am regretting it." He held up a black-gloved hand, and a shining, delicate crystal formed on his fingers. She winced at the sight of it. It was part of the old Jareth; her enemy, the Goblin King. Not the kind, gentle man she had fallen in love with.

"I am a king, and I have responsibilities," he told her, his voice gone cold as ice, making the crystal dance across his fingers.

"Is your kingdom in trouble?" she asked, refusing to be intimidated, for she knew the coldness for what it was now. A mask designed to conceal his pain. She felt shame that he was forced to wear it again in her presence. Had she hurt him so badly then?

Jareth gazed at her silently, then gave a shrug. "Hoggle and Sir Didymus have it well in hand," he replied indifferently. "I’ve been checking up on them. They are fair rulers. Nevertheless, it is my kingdom, and it is time for me to return."

"But…but what about Pixie and Toby? Are you going to just leave? Pixie will miss you, and you've been just like a father to Toby," Sarah argued. "Look, if anyone should leave, it’s me. I’m the one who caused all this. I’ll go back to New York, leave Toby here with Pixie. At least that way he’ll be out of trouble. You can stay with them then, if I bother you so much.

Jareth seemed somewhat surprised at this offer, but he shook his head. "They’re your family," he replied. "Not mine."

"That’s not true!" Sarah protested hotly. "You’re as much a part of this family as anyone! You made yourself part of it when you came into Pixie’s life, and now that you are, you can’t just leave!"

He closed his eyes, a though fighting some inner battle. "Why have you come here, Sarah?" he asked, and his voice was as mocking as she’d ever heard it. "Are you here to ease your guilty conscience? Pixie and Toby will get along quite well without me. They did before, they can do so again." He abruptly turned away, as though to leave…

"But I can’t!"

The words were out before she could stop them. He paused, his cloak swinging about him, as dark as a bit of the universe. He didn’t turn around, but she could tell he was listening intently. Well, she had his attention, at least. Even if she couldn’t make him change his mind, at least she could tell him how she felt, even if it broke her heart in the end. Maybe he didn’t love her anymore; she could hardly blame him. She wasn’t very fond of herself, at the moment.

"If you go, my life will be empty," she continued in a low voice, staring at the ground, afraid to see his reaction. "You came back into it so suddenly, and I had never expected to see you again, and I hadn’t even believed that you were anything other than a fantastic dream. So when you came, it turned everything around so completely I didn’t know which way was up anymore. I was confused, and angry, and…and scared. I felt sure that you were up to no good, and the more you proved me wrong the more determined I was to be right." She gave grimace of self-disgust. "I know you think that sounds crazy and stupid and ridiculous, and you’re probably right, but it’s still true."

She paused; he remained silent. Taking another deep breath, she plunged ahead. "What happened last night…I wish I could do it over. I wish I could do everything over, but I can’t. If I had known my heartless words were going to drive you away, I would have bitten off my own tongue rather then say them. If I had known those words were going to destroy your kingdom twelve years ago, I would not have said them, either. I don’t want you to leave."

Slowly, Jareth turned back to her and paced toward her, his gaze burning into her, not saying a single word until he stood face to face with her. "Give me one good reason why I should stay," he said emotionlessly, his eyes searching her face.

She licked her lips. Here it was, the moment of truth. Either he would accept her words, or he would turn and walk away and be gone forever. It was only fair, she supposed. After all, she had caused him enough pain. She deserved to get a little of it back.

"Because if you leave," she said quietly, her voice quavering slightly, "I feel like I would die. Because…I love you, more than I ever loved anyone before. It just took me awhile to realize it. I’m sorry I’ve been so stubborn. If you walk away now, I won’t blame you. But at least you’ll go knowing that I don’t hate you, even if you hate me."

She dropped her gaze from his, but immediately felt his hand under her chin, lifting it so she was forced to meet his eyes again. He studied her, his eyes gentle and compassionate, a small smile touching his lips. "What took you so long?" he whispered, and his eyes took on a teasing glow as his hands—once again bare of gloves—slowly trailed up her bare arms, leaving little trails of fire where his fingers just brushed her skin. She shivered in spite of herself as his hands reached her shoulders, then briefly circled her slender neck with his fingers buried in her hair and his thumbs pressed lightly against the hollow of her throat, circling lightly.

She knew he felt her pulse racing. The mischief dancing in his eyes became a wicked sparkle as his hands traced from her throat up along her jaw before joining the rest of his fingers in her hair. His eyes had not left hers the entire time, but now another brief smile tugged at his lips as his gaze dropped lower. Sarah’s breath quickened, and her heart skipped even as he tugged her head forward and his mouth closed firmly over her own. Everything faded, and all she knew was the feel of his soft, velvet kiss, his arms around her, and his hands stroking her back and hair. She had never felt so alive before! Nothing had ever felt so…right.

The kiss lasted forever. It ended too soon. When he at last pulled away, she had enough willpower left, at least, to keep herself from pulling him toward her again. Somewhere along the line her arms had ended up around his neck, his incredibly soft hair entwined with her fingers. Funny, she didn’t remember putting them there…

His eyes were pure devilment as he gazed at her. "I’ve been waiting a long time to do that," he murmured.

She blushed and looked away, embarrassed and pleased all at once. "You’ve kissed me before," she reminded him.

"Not like that I haven’t, and I hope to continue to do so for a long time," he replied softly, stroking her face.

She dropped her gaze, suddenly shy, and smiled. "So do I," she admitted finally, and was rewarded with another warm embrace.

"Are you still planning to leave?" Sarah asked worriedly when Jareth released her again.

"Not unless I can take you with me," he replied seriously. "Now that I finally have you, I’m not giving you up so easily. My kingdom, as I’ve said, is in good hands, but I know one day I must return to rule again. It will not be so bad, I think, with a companion." His smile was gentle as he regarded her.

"I’d love to go back to the Labyrinth," she told him. "I’ve missed it. But…what about Toby? And Pixie? I couldn’t bear to leave either of them behind, and I don’t think they would choose to live in the Labyrinth with us. Well, at least not Pixie. Toby would probably be overjoyed to get out of school for good."

"That’s what he thinks," Jareth replied with a devilish smile. "There is such a thing as school in the Underground, and it would probably make the sixth grade class in your world look like preschool. I myself would oversee his education, and see that he gets a proper one, at that." He hesitated. "But then…there is the matter of your career," he added thoughtfully. "Surely you would not care to give that up, not when you’re so famous and all."

Sarah frowned faintly and turned away to face the pond, gazing thoughtfully into the water. "These past years have been wonderful," she said, and her voice was soft with remembrance. "Despite my parents’ deaths, and despite the trouble I’ve had keeping my family together." She sighed and leaned back against Jareth, and he wrapped his arms around her and rested his cheek on her hair. "My mother—my real mother—was faced with this same choice," she continued, with a trace of bitterness. "It was either her career, or her family. Well, we both know how that turned out." Jareth’s arms tightened slightly, comfortingly, and she felt his lips brush her hair. She smiled and closed her eyes, relishing this new closeness. Why had she ever been so afraid of him, of what he could offer her? It seemed so foolish now.

"Mom tried to balance both her career and her family in the beginning," she murmured. "But it just didn’t work. When it came to her career, Dad and I always came in second. She missed my fifth grade play, you know. She was on an airplane on her way to California because someone was trying to worm their way into a part that she wanted to play in some off-Broadway show. I was the star of my play. It was Sleeping Beauty. It was one of my first performances, and I worked so hard on it because I wanted to make her proud of me. I remember searching the crowd for most of the night trying to find her in the audience, and I acted my heart out, just in case she was there and I didn’t see her. There was a standing ovation at the end, but all I remember is crying because she wasn’t there."

"What are you saying?" Jareth asked her gently.

She sighed. "I don’t know. I guess…I guess I’m saying that I promised that I would never put myself in the situation where I’m forced to make that kind of choice. But, you know, now that I am, I find that the choice is surprisingly easy to make." She turned in his arms and smiled at him. "As soon as I can get to a phone, I’m going to call Cliff, and I’m going to inform him, politely but firmly, that I am taking an early retirement from acting as soon as my contract is up…which it is in another six months. He won’t be happy, but he can’t really stop me, either."

Jareth was astounded. "But, Sarah, this was your dream!" he protested, gripping her shoulders. "I cannot ask you to give that up for me. I won’t ask such a thing! Soon, you would begin to hate me for taking you away from what you love!"

"But what I love is you," she replied softly, touching his face with her hand. Her shadowed eyes were glowing as she gazed into his own, and he felt as though he could float away from the light and love that filled his soul. "Don’t you see, Jareth?" Sarah was saying earnestly. "Acting was fun, but it isn’t important to me, not anymore. Now that I have you, I don't need anything else. My mother may have chosen to pursue her career, but I don’t. You are my true dream, and you always have been, even when I was too young to realize it. Without you…what else is there?"

Jareth was speechless. Never had anyone given him such a gift. He was overwhelmed, and it took a great deal to overwhelm the Goblin King. Silently, he took Sarah back into his arms and held her like he would never let her go. His kingdom…it would still be there when he returned, if he returned. As for now, he would remain on this world, and he would marry this woman…the other half of his soul. It was what he wanted, with all his heart. "I think perhaps we should go back and let the rest of your…our…family know that everything has turned out all right," he told her. Smiling brightly, she nodded in agreement, and together, they walked hand in hand back to the house.