Title : Back from the Dead.

Author: Leelee

Summary: Visitation written the fall of 2000.

~~~

With an annoying *poof* and a spray of glitter, I knew without turning around that I had been 'graced' by *his* presence yet again.

"Ahem!"

I refused to acknowledge him. I thought I heard his foot stomp in anger, but I wasn't sure.

He cleared his throat again, this time right behind my ear. Then he began to cough on phlegm rather gracelessly.

"You haven't called in months, Jareth. No letters, no emails, not even a note left on my vanity letting me know that you've once again 'borrowed' my makeup." I sighed, and hung my head in mock sadness. "Such a pity." This time his foot did hit the floor very loudly.

"I hate you!"

"Just me?" I asked, my voice layered in innocence.

"All of you - you - you freaks! You and everyone else on that list!"

"Just because we love Labyrinth, that doesn't make us freaky, Garth."

"What did you call me?" he asked incredulously.

"Garth. It's what my spell checker keeps telling me to change your name to."

He peered over my shoulder. He had horrible garlic breath, and I fought the urge to gag.

"My, my, my, what do we have here? Could it be? A story about me?" It was his turn to crank up the innocence level.

"Yes."

"Could it be, that after winning an award, you feel a renewed urge to write?"

"Yes."

"Are you surprised you won?"

"Yes. 'Surprised' is putting it mildly, kingy."

"Are you going to allow me to see this story before you post it?"

"Maybe."

"Are you just humoring me right now? Because, frankly, monosyllabism is *so* last year."

"Humoring. Right."

He craned his neck around to look me in the eye.

"Want some inspiration for that adult ending?"

"No." I reached behind him and pinched his ass. "And get off my comic books. You'll wrinkle them."

He picked one up and gazed at the cover. "Un-ca-ca-canny X-Men?" he stuttered.

"'Hooked on Phonics worked for me!'" I muttered to myself.

"What is this garbage? These men are incorrectly drawn! No one has muscles that perfect!"

"The women aren't exactly to scale either, love."

He wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth. "Oh, no, women such as these *do* exist somewhere, I'm sure of it." He continued to ogle my comics until I snatched them away.

"Scat, or you'll leave a puddle on my floor, and then I'll be forced to castrate you." He reflexively grabbed himself and I rolled my eyes.

I continued to type, again ignoring him. I had hopes that he'd left, but they were dashed when he spoke again.

"On my mother's grave, girl, *what* are you writing? I thought it was about me! Who are these people? 'Professor X?' 'Wolverine?' 'Storm?' 'Gambit?' 'Renegade?' Where do you come up with these names, and why do I not see mine?"

"I didn't come up with *all* of these names, love. Stan Lee and Co. did." I pointed to the comic books neatly filed in boxes. "They are mutants. And trust me, you're in here, just wait."

"What?!" Jareth made an impressive imitation of a cat stuck in a dryer. "What have you done to me? I'm a - a - a -"

"Mutant."

"I am not!"

I turned to look at him. He stood stiffly, with his arms crossed stubbornly. He reminded me of a five-year-old refusing to take a bath. He smelled like one, too.

I sighed. "Honestly, I don't know why no one ever realized it before. You can turn into an owl, you have some way of transporting yourself small distances, you can create crystal balls of thin air, you grant wishes . . . with all those powers and more, you are *obviously* Homo Superior. A mutant."

His mouth opened and closed for several minutes, but no sound emerged. He was turning an impressive shade of purple.

I smirked. "I'm using listians, Jareth, and a few of them are going to end up with X-Men. So, *go*, *now*, and leave me alone to write, or you'll end up with Professor X in your bed."

I managed ducked the first flying crystal, but not the second.

"OW!"

He left then, but his ears were surely ringing with my low chuckles.

END