Chapters 1 & 2

Please access these chapters here.
 

Chapter 3- Well Well, What' ve We Here?

     He didn't bother to manifest himself physically as he watched the girl. She was standing in a hotel room.  All alone.  He studied her for some time, noting her physical appearance first.  Not exactly a beauty.  Certainly not plain, however.  With that copper colored shoulder length curly hair, she surely caught people's attention.  Gold-rimmed glasses framed her almond-shaped brown eyes.  They were a rich brown with amber flecks in the sunlight.  Very nice but not noticeable unless one looked carefully into them.  Tall, lithe, tan young body.  Muscular looking but not overly athletic.  Sort of an androgynous look about her, as well.  From the back, she could have been a slender boy from the 1800s.   Her hands were rather small for such a tall girl and her finger nails were painted a defiant silver metallic color which looked black or gray by turns.  She was wearing a flamboyant red shirt on which was written "Attitude Is Everything."
     He smiled at that.
     It certainly was.
     Perhaps he would stay just a bit longer to watch this girl who wore that statement emblazoned on her chest.
     And then he caught sight of the necklace.  A hand holding a crystal ball.  Rather a medieval look to it.  Well, of course, this girl was a Labyrinth aficionado.  Why else had she tried the words?  He sighed.  She would be expecting the Goblin King in all his glory, of course.  Just like all the others.  Boring.  Predictable.  He nearly left the room at that thought.
     And then she moved.
                    ***********************
     She walked across the room.  She wasn't exactly sure why she did this but, as he wasn't here, well....it didn't matter much, now did it?  Of course he hadn't come, fool.  What did you expect, Jareth to just pop in and say hello?
     Well, actually....
     No.  This was stupid.  Stupid, stupid, stupid.  How could she have been so dumb to think that the words would work, that Jareth was real?  No one had come because there was no one to come.  It had been a movie, nothing more.  Nothing more.
     She nearly cried at that.
     How could he not be real? It wasn't fair.
     *You say that so often.  I wonder what your basis for comparison is.* The thought popped unbidden into her head.
     That was right.  And then she did laugh at herself.  Silly girl!  Belief is a wonderful thing but don't screw with your own mind.  It's just not a good thing to do.  Jareth is not real.  Deal with it.
     Yet, as she moved, she felt a slight chill that was almost pleasurable in its slowness run down her body.  Whenever such a feeling seized her, someone was watching her.  A presence was near.
     Yeah, right.
     Time to deal with reality, babe.
     Might as well go downstairs and work out in the gym.  She put on some shorts and left the room.
                    ***************
     He had looked at her as she walked.  Her appearance had initally reminded him of some exotic bird.  But she had moved with the grace and self-assurance of a cat. With a definite jauntiness as well.  As though she was ready to face the world whether it smiled on her or not and she didn't quite care which it decided to do.
     Wait.  What was he doing watching this girl like that?  A mere girl.  A mere labyrinth- obssessed girl who thought she could summon him.  And here he was responding. This was not the way it was supposed to work.
       He had been watching her delightfully expressive face for awhile in an attempt to discern what she was thinking about.  He could have delved into her mind with relative ease, of course.  But where was the fun in that?
     He had watched as her expression went from one of disbelief to frustration.  Then to sorrow and, surprisingly, ironic humor.  Then she quite suddenly had laughed out loud. Her face had rearranged itself into a jester's grin and she had apparently been pondering something of a very comical nature.  Now she looked a bit like the Chesire Cat.  He had been about to peer into her mind to see just what she found so humorous when she had paused mid-step.
     Her face had become very blank while she had stared into nothing.  Feeling for something.  He had the sudden idea that she was feeling for him.  Strange.  Then again, there were some mortals that had these abilities after all.  She could very well be one of them.
     A girl with power.  This was something to think about, indeed.
     But a look of skepticism had subsequently crossed her features and she apparently had dismissed whatever she had been feeling as imagination.  With a sigh, she had changed her clothes and strolled out the door.
     He would visit her again.  Whatever else she was, she certainly wasn't boring.
     With that, he left.
                    ***************
     Odd thing.  Try as she might, she couldn't seem to shake her belief of him.  As she worked out on the Stair-Master, she kept trying to get the thought of him out of her head. Pound. Pound.  Jareth isn't real.  Pound! Pound!  Jareth is fantasy.  POUND.  POUND. Forget foolish dreams.  POUND!  POUND!  POUND!
     It wasn't working.
     Why couldn't she purge her subconscious of him?
     Because he was in her subconscious.  Duh.
     Dammit!
     Her imagination would pick now to be stubborn.  Ah well.  If you couldn't get rid of it, you had to live with it, right?  She would just have to live with thoughts of Jareth for awhile.  Admittedly, if you had to have someone stuck in your mind,  Jareth was definitely a good one to have in there.
     She thought bemusedly about her current mental situation.  And an idea struck her.  If she would persist in believing in Jareth and calling on him and his powers and such, perhaps she could use this to her advantage.  She knew there were certain parts of your mind that you couldn't access directly.  They only responded to indirect manipulation.  She personally believed that these parts controlled much more powerful and influential powers of the human brain. If she could name her subconscious Jareth, then when she called on him, she would actually be calling on the hidden parts of her own mind.
     Thinking this, she felt extraordinarily silly.
     What on earth kind of crap was this?  Naming parts of your own mind Jareth...
     Well, what could it hurt?  Hell, why not.
     So, she did.
                    ******************
     Then, the dreams started.  Not often.  But arresting when they did occur.  She would wake up, struggling to remember what she had dreamed and draw a complete blank.  That is, until she put on her crystal ball necklace.  Then it came back.  In full force.  Everything.  And it would always involve Jareth.
     The odd thing was she never saw him physically.  It would always be his presence- unmistakable, yes - but very rarely would she have a face to go with it.  His voice would caress her, seeming to swirl about her and lull her...the timbre was incredible.  It sent a deep shiver down her entire body.  Even in the morning, that lovely feeling of ecstacy coursed through her whenever she recalled his voice.
     The main theme of most of these dreams seemed to be she and Jareth together doing something.  Well, that was easy enough to attribut to mere desire.  If you're going to have dreams about someone you're infatuated with, might as well make it a personal just-the-two -of -you sort of thing, right?
     Yet, it wasn't always easy to tell it was him in her dreams.  A male presence, yes.  An extraordinarily powerful male presence with a lilting voice, yes.  But the David Bowiesque Jareth? Very rarely would the Jareth of her dreams take that form.  And when he did, it always seemed as ruse.  As if it were a disguise he could change at will.  But was it him? Aaahhh...questions like these would plague her continually.
     And then a thought emerged.  Could it be possible that was actually Jareth?  Not some piddling figment of her imagination, but the true Jareth?  He would be visiting her via her dreams.  Dreams were doorways, after all.  Perhaps her dream was a doorway for him.
     But that was insane hope whispering these thoughts.  Why would Jareth choose to visit her dreams?  HER dreams...out of all the many he could choose.
     *Because I'm different then all the rest *
     That would be ego talking now.
     Oh, this was ridiculous.
     She was being ridiculous.
     Absolutely, positively, without a doubt, 100% pure ridiculous.
     Jareth visiting her in her dreams...good Lord.  Next, she would begin calling on him and his powers.  Good grief.
     But, if she called on Jareth- referring to her subconscious- maybe she could get her own power to work for her on a more grand scale...
     In that case, it wouldn't matter if Jareth answered her call or not.
     *Jareth answering my call?  Okay, I think I'm getting to be one sandwich short of a picnic, here...*
     Well, maybe she could think about that later.  She had school to attend and a tennis game afterwards.  It was time to go.  Push these thoughts aside until there is more time to ponder them completely.

               *****************
     He had taken to traversing her dreams.  Nothing on a particularly grand scale.  He simply put in an appearance in all of them her mind would let him into.
     That was another thing.  She was the first whose dreams he couldn't enter at will.  Well, at his will.  He was only allowed access when her subconscious was completely in control.  If any conscious will remained, he was effectively locked out. But, when he was allowed to enter, he was allowed to enter any part of her mind he chose.  So, though he couldn't gain instant access to her mind, he could delve as deep as he pleased when he could enter.
     He passed a considerable amount of time exploring her desires the first few times.  It rarely surprised him what motivated people- love of money, love of self, love of some abstract idea, love of a higher purpose...there were myriad things which goaded humans on to do what they did day after day.  All of them he had seen countless times.
     She, however, did not entertain such mundane desires.
     In fact, though he peered around quite a bit, he was unable to find any desires whatsoever. Plenty of everyday thoughts, thoughts on boys, on tests, on the new movie coming out.  Yet no desires.
     She was empty.  A motivational void.
     But obviously she was driven by something.
     Upon reflection, he realized he hadn't been looking deeply enough.  He had meandered around only the surface thoughts. Reaching the more secret levels would require a bit more finesse than he was used to.
     After bypassing the various lock guards at each level of her mind, he quickly began to recognize the signs that there was still yet another level to reach.  Each level became sparser and less crowded with information until the very last.  There, in the dark miasma of her deep unconscious, he found what he was looking for.  The basis of the girl herself.
     Power.  A faith in her abilities.  Belief in the improbable but with discernment.
     A love of him.
     Not an infatuation with the Goblin King who ruled the lovable creatures of the Labyrinth.  A love of him and the very idea of him...a love of Jareth.  A love of what he represented.  Of what he was.  Of power, seductiveness, control.  Of a wicked sense of humor and a vicious intellect.  Of the power of a voice to utterly destroy or enchant at will.
     And she believed in him.  She did not believe in the Labyrinth at all...as anything more than something he created for a moment in time.  It was too disjointed, pieces didn't make sense, it wasn't real.  Yet, he was real.  He was real to her though she would try to ignore it, though her rational mind berated her for that belief, though she had no concrete proof, as it were.
     She believed without knowing, without caring if she could ever know.
     And the power she had was intoxicating.  She had only used the merest bit of it.  A creative thought here, an exertion of will there.
     The absolute source had been untouched, unused.  Waiting for the opportunity to manifest itself.
     Such a seductive combination of strength and vulnerability in this girl.
 
     To unlock her power would require substantial changes in her, of course.  But the result...ah...that would be something indeed.  An exquisite intellect, a captivating personality, a nearly bottomless fountain of power.
     Someone to be reckoned with.
     But then, was it possible to interfer with the mind of one such as she without instigating insanity?  She had stepped onto the brink of madness more than once already.  It would require impeccable timing, tremendously subtle manipulation, a gentle touch of knowledge at the exact moments...
     Simple enough.
 

Chapter 4 - It's Your Mind, Nothing More

     He began with her dreams. Inserting his presence for an instant here.  Letting his voice echo for a moment there.  Just enough to signal her unconscious that someone was near.
     Just a little more time.  The merest bit of time and then he could manipulate her to a greater extent.  Something more substantial, more...satisfying.

               ***********
     The dreams were becoming more...oh god, what was the word...more...more...
     Oh hell.  There was no word for what they were becoming.  They simply were.
     Every night for the past week.  And she would remember only snatches in the morning.
     Maddening, to say the least.
     And so heart-wrenching to be torn away from them in the morning.  Tears of desperation formed when she awoke as she strained to recall what she had been doing...what she had been saying...where she had been going... And behind it all, sometimes a background voice, sometimes a principal player, him.
     He was always there- his presence was always there.
     Subconscious on overdrive.  Go figure.
     Actually, it seemed lately that her brain was on overdrive.
     She would be sitting in a class, listening, focusing when suddenly her mind would begin to ponder things she'd never considered before.  It would just go racing off without her.  She would be thinking about thermodynamics and entropy in AP Chemistry and then...BOOM...the nature of time, how it could be manipulated.  Where the hell had that thought come from?  She hadn't a clue.  It would just stick itself in her conscious and stay there until she gave it some thought.
     Damn annoying.  But so damn intriguing, too.
     Things were just getting extraordinarily easy school-wise.  Hell, she had AP tests in a few weeks and the idea didn't faze her in the least.  She knew the answers to all the questions.  She knew most of the questions themselves before they were even asked.  She could pretty much link minds with the teacher when it suited her needs.  She anticipated their answers to her queries and didn't end up asking much of anything at all.
     What the hell was going on?  She always knew that she had these...powers...but such sure manifestation.  It just hadn't happened before.
     And then there was that thing with the weather.
     It was doing what she wanted.
     Literally doing exactly as she had wished it.
     It had been a perfectly sunny afternoon and she was scheduled to play a tennis match against some other school's team.  But she really hadn't wanted to.  In fact, she had rather dreaded it.  The only way out was rain.
     Yah, that was likely.  Uh huh...sure.
     The cars approached in their long caravan line, inching their way around the gravel road which led to the courts.  And then the sky had opened up.  And it had rained.  Until the coach had cancelled the game.
     Then, it had stoppped.
     Just like that.  Just WHAM...no more rain.  The courts were wet, sure.  But it had stopped and the sun had come streaming forth again.  A most fortuitous cloudburst.  Right.
     Very odd.
     Very very very odd.
     Pleasant, surprising, absolutely exhilirating, enough to send shivers of excitement down her back at the mere thought.  But most odd.
     Man, talk about powers.  And the weather kept doing what she wanted.  *I want it to rain*  It rained.  * I want sun and 90 degree weather*  Sunny and hot.
     The powers of the mind were most interesting.
     Speaking of interesting, there was something else that had connected her weather incidents.  She had been thinking about Jareth just before each of them.  And, within some dark recess of her mind, she had wished for those things - that it rain,that it be sunny- from Jareth.  Hadn't admitted it until later, of course, but had definitely wished for them from him.
     Or perhaps from the part of herself she had named Jareth.  Which meant it had worked.  That part of her mind had responded.
     Unless he had responded.  Unless the incredible being himself had answered her request.   Such strange things were happening so often.  What if he had come?  What if he had granted her wishes?  But why.  That was the question.  What did he want-
     Rational part of mind checking in here.  Jareth the Goblin King does not exist, darling.  You accessed part of your usually closed-off self and focused your innate power.  That's it.  There's nothing of the "real" Jareth.
     Damn rationality.
     The problem was that the rational explanation made much more sense than the one she really wanted to believe.  Ah well.  At least whatever it was, she had this influence over things.
     Fun, fun, fun...To bed with ye, foolish girl, and think nothing more of the mortal world until the morrow.
     Whoa.  Where the hell had that just come from?  Mortal World?  The morrow?  Got some kind of Shakespeare on the brain, that was for sure.  Hey, at least her creativity was coming back.  That's it...look on the bright side.  No such thing as Jareth but you've got powers that respond to his name AND you're creative.
     *Such luck I have* she mused drowsily.
     And, with that, she was gone to her world of dreams again.

********************
     Her thoughts were so amusing.  Such a contradiction that existed all the time in her mind.  Never a dull moment in there.
     He let a slow smile spread across his features.  Never a dull moment, indeed.
     She had called to him.  In the deep recesses of her mind, she had summoned him and his powers.  He hadn't done a thing, of course.  Just a gentle nudge of her mental power, nothing more.  The nudge was sufficient to allow her own powers to do what she wished of him.
     She had ferventy hoped that it had been him.  Her mind knew it had been only her own powers that had done the trick...but that animalistic part that knew when it had been violated by another's will, that part left over from the ancient time, that part had felt the nudge.
     And so she argued it from way and then another.  It was her.  It was him.  No, it was her...no, it must have been him...no, her...no, he had to have something to do with it.  Back and forth like that for days, the irony being that it was both.
     He could spend hours at a time in her mind, sensing her agitated thoughts.  Feeling her struggle, trying to figure out the reality.  It was priceless.
     And then, when she had said the words he had been subconsciously whispering to her...she had been so shocked intially.  And then, the omnipresent bemusement returned. But she had most definitely sensed it from him.
    That was good.  Her mind was becoming more used to him.  He was no longer tagged as an intruder.  Manipulation would be considerably easier.
     There was only so long he could wait before he unleashed that true personality of hers.  The doubt was entertaining to the extreme, but he desired to see her when she could dominate with a mere glance.  When she could silence a room with her presence.
     And she would, stimulated in the right ways.    Her natural magnetism would exude full force.  But he couldn't push too soon. He would content himself with the gentle caressing of her dreams and of her mind.
     For now.
     But soon, he could play a little more.  She was watching Labyrinth religiously now. She would think him merely her brain thinking of the movie again.  The potential for influence would be quite high.  Perhaps he'd be Bowie, perhaps not.
     She would know him.  Her mind would recognize him.
     And allow him access more readily.
     The opportunity for change would present itself.  And then he would act a little less subtly.  Perhaps become a more principal character in the little dramas which played out while she asleep.  Perhaps become a more principal character in the little drama which was her waking life.
     Anticipation.
     The feeling was truely grand.
*******************
     She awoke in the night thinking about him.  Gee, now there was a surprise.  Had she awoken once this week without thinking about him?  Uh, no.  Oh God, it was like being in love.
     Well, duh.  What did she think she was?
     How incredibly stupid, to be in love with a fictional character.
     *But I'm not fiction, love*
     What the...where had...who...
     She bolted upright and looked around quickly.  She was alone.   She kept looking around anyway.
     Great, she was acting like some sort of badly written movie character in a horror film.  Oh yeah, that was the way to go.  Get a grip.
     But the words...someone had spoken...someone had said...
     And she most certainly felt something.  Someone.
     Had they really been spoken out loud?  She could have sworn it.  And the voice, it was him.  God, it had been him.  It was him, it had to have been him.
     Hel-lo.  Rational mind checking in again.  You're hearing things.  Your overactive imagination has taken it one step further.  You heard nothing.
     Like hell she hadn't.  Screw rationality.
     *That's the spirit now *
     Her heart was pounding like some kind of wild thing locked up in her chest.
     Who are you?
     Nothing but laughter.  And then nothing.
     The feeling was gone, leaving a shiver that spread from her chest to the rest of her body.
     Something had happened.  Someone was playing with her.  Damn that condescending tone of voice, someone was toying with her.
     Well, he was supposed to have a playful streak.  And to be a master of psychological manipulation.
     If the persona fits...
     The shiver ran through her again.
     All right, for sake of argument, assume that it was him.  What would he being doing here?  And what's more, what would he have to gain by doing such things?  Well, besides some entertainment.  But surely he had better things to do.
     Oh damn, her head was pounding again.  And she was sweating profusely.
     Great, just great.  If he was here, he'd probably be driven away by her body odor.  Absolutely peachy.
     All right, there was a time and place for insanity.  First of all, she didn't have the time for it and second of all, sitting on her bed in the middle of the night was not the place.
     Well, actually, sitting on her bed in the middle of the night was really the place for it.
     Okay, fine then, she didn't have the time for it.  Too many tests tomorrow, too much she had to be alert for...
     Excuses, excuses, excuses.
     Shut up, damn it!  Ooooh, she just wished she could switch off that annoying part of her mind which wouldn't allow her to lie to herself anymore.  Damn annoying of it.  It had only recently started up, too.
     She needed to get back to sleep, really she did.
     Resisting the urge to look at the clock, she lay back down and tried not to think about what had just happened.  She would write it in her journal tomorrow.  Now was the time for sleep.  Sleep, sleeeeep, now they will sleee- oooookay, now she was quoting Wizard of Oz.  Perhaps a sanity check was in order after all.
     Relax.  Breathe in.  Focus on breathing.  Close the eyes.  The pounding will cease if you forget about it.  Breathe out.  Make the mind blank.  There is nothing, there is nothing, there is nothing...
     In her mind's eye, three crystal balls floated in the breeze.
     She fell asleep again.
     *******************
 
     The rain was beating down again, a gentle rhythm, soft, soft, pitter patter pitter patter, hear the rain drops falling down, falling down.
     A flash of lightning, a jolt to the senses.
     He's here.
     Certainly not one for a subtle entrance.  But the entrance into her dream had been subtle.  She was even vaguely aware it was a dream before she lost herself in it completely.
     Pitter patter pitter patter...
     Breathing close to her.  Near.  Growing closer all the while.
     It's him, his breathing at her neck.
     Couldn't see except during the flash of lightning.
     Growing fear, a chill in her body, a shiver.
     Heard laughter.  His laughter.  The throaty sound of his amusement.
     Surge of anger.  Wounded pride.
     That was good.  No fear.  In the absence of fear, power could come.
     Power?
     Wanted her...wanted her...wanted her to what?
     She wanted him.  Couldn't tell him.  Pride would not allow it.
     Damn pride.
     Setting just like the movie.  Raging storm, all alone.  But no light.
     Could feel him, feel his eyes looking, looking, looking.  Searching.  Searching in the darkness.  In the shadowy silence.  But there were no shadows except when the lightning-
     Flash.
     Saw him.   Standing, staring.
     Needing.
     Needing?  Needing what?  Wanting what?
     Fingers in her mind, touching, pulling, pushing, his touch.
     Appalling need.
     Flash again.  She looked to him, said his name.
     He drew back.  Cold look upon his face.  Like a hunter.
     Frozen in time, cold look in the eyes.
     Staring back at him.  Elven face contorted, eyes ablaze, heat of anger radiating, staring back.
     Cold smile of amusement from him.  Warming, but still cold.  Approval.
     Moving closer to her, touching her face again, lifting her chin.
     Jerked away from his touch, his gloved touch.
     The grin genuine amusement now.
     Gloved hands on her forehead.
     Looking into his eyes.
     *Why do you toy with m-*
     Rocked by the surge of power in her skull, pain, pain, barely restrained power coursing through her, through her hands, her brain, her eyes, her eyes, her eyes-

     Her eyes snapped open.  She was staring at the ceiling.  What the hell was all that about...My god, what the hell was that?
     She padded out of her bed and opened the drawer which contained her journal.  Sitting on the floor of her room, she madly scribbled the fragments she could remember, the feelings she could remember.  She glanced up.  So vulnerable, she felt so vulnerable.  The white of her room seemed an assault on her senses.  Too bright.  Too cheerful for the terror she had just experienced.

     Liar.  Lying to herself again.
     It had been exhilirating.  Dammit, it had been exciting.  She had dreamed about Jareth.  But it was more like a visitation.  Some sort of malevolent visitation in the dead of night.  Horror story material of the highest calibur.
     Her conception of Jareth had changed just a bit.
     She still wanted him.  In fact, more than before.  That coldness, that menace - it was thrilling.  Absolutely electrifying to be challenged, assaulted, having to fight back.
     Sick, sick, sick.   *You are sooooo sick.  What's the matter with you?  You mean to say you like to be mentally assaulted like that?*
     Well actually, yes.
     Sad, yet true.  It had been the first time in a long time she had actually had to search a little deeper to fight.  It had felt good.
     And then, and then the influx of power at the end.  It had felt like all the little blocks in her mind had been loosened.  She felt like she could fly, she felt so high.  So utterly in control of herself.
     Uh huh, sure...that was why she was trembling.  Yeah, that made perfect sense.
     And didn't she remember the pain, hmmm?  Hadn't it hurt?
     But only for a little while.  After that it had been the rush of power.  Freedom.  And it felt so real.  She could almost believe she still had that power.
     Well, who's to say she didn't?  Just try it out.  Quite simple.
     But what if it didn't work, what if that was only the product of her mind?
     She started laughing to herself.  Well, actually, either way it was a product of her mind so what's to fear?
     She stood up.
     And immediately crumpled to the ground, a nasty wave of vertigo overtaking her.
     She lay on the ground for a good long while.
     Hmmmm, perhaps she would wait until tomorrow.  To try something.
     She tried to sit up.
     Nope.  Make that to move.  The floor was just fine, really.
     Her eyes closed again.

*******************
     It was done.  She had precipitated it herself and she had been so terrified initially.  But it was done.  Her power was released.  Now was the time to shape it, to use it.  Before the side effects grew too severe to repair.  Human minds could be so fragile.  They reacted so intensely to changes.
     The time for subtlety was past.
     He would enter more freely from now on.
 

Chapter 5 - Do You Feel What I Feel?

     She was on the floor, she thought drowsily.  It was still dark outside.
     Wait.  What the hell was she doing on the floor?
     She opened her eyes wide and stared at the ceiling.
     Why the hell was she on the floor?
     She had been in her bed last she checked.  She hadn't fallen off because, well, she would have noticed it if she suddenly thumped to the ground.  And she didn't make it a habit to sleep on the floor.  Gave her a terrible crick in the neck, ususally.  Speaking of which, she had one.  Damn.
 
     Well, best to get back into bed.
     She sat up.
     Pain pain pain pain.....
     Hmmm.  Perhaps that wasn't such a good idea after all.
     Tylenol, anyone?
     No, drat, she hadn't had time to go to the store yet.  And such a headache, too.
     Life could be so cruel.
     *Just as I can be so cruel*
     Stupid mind.  What a time to be quoting Jareth.    Of course, it wasn't always such a hot idea to be quoting him anyway.  People gave her funny looks when she did.   Not the she cared all that much about them.  They were boring, mostly.  What she needed to find were some people who liked Labyrinth.
     Right, there were just dozens of them floating around...
     God, she felt so alone.  Why did Jareth mean so much to her?  Really, what was it that he represented for her?  Power? Beauty? Self-confidence?  Magic? Seduction?
     All of the above.  Duh...
     And, of course, the fact that he was prone to teenage brunette girls who liked magic and fantasy and make-believe.  Which was sort of odd in itself.  Why would someone like that want a teenage girl, hmmm?  What on earth could he possibly need her for?  Well, besides the occasional amusement.  After all, had to get pretty boring to have all these powers and nothing to do with them.
     Could it be he needed her dreams, her wishes?  A psychic vampire of sorts.  Well, the vampire bit would explain his general appearance.  Especially that scene where he gave Hoggle the peach.  Talk about vampiric effects.  Hmmm, a psychic vampire that fed off dreams and wishes.  Perfectly possible.  Would explain why he needed Sarah.  But the longing in his voice hadn't just been for her dreams...they were for her, as well.  He had wanted her.  He had been most attracted to her when she had been strong and mentally powerful - like him.  He needed someone like himself...
     Or, actually, he wanted someone like himself.  And Sarah hadn't been that at all in the beginning.  Or perhaps she had and she had just needed the Labyrinth to allow that personality to surface.
     The Labyrinth had made Sarah the dominating force which attracted Jareth.
     If he had created it for her, or at least based on her subconscious, he had inadvertently caused her to be that powerful individual.  He had made Sarah into what he desired.
     So he did do it all for her...at least, ostensibly.  He did it for himself, too, on another level.
     But he had made her into what he needed.  Which was why he was so disappointed when she refused him at the end.  His creation had deserted him.
     He had made Sarah what she was.  What he wanted.
     Those two thoughts refused to leave her mind.
     She shivered.
     But now was not the time for these thoughts.  She needed to sleep.  Now was the time for sleep to hopefully allow her release from the agony in her head.  It was time for sleep to come and take her away.
     *Right now*
     She laughed to herself.  Stupid Jareth-obsessed subconscious.
     Climbing into her bed, she closed her burning eyes and, attempting to ignore the pain, told herself to go to sleep.  Obeying as it always did, her mind allowed her to sleep.
     *************************
     What an odd defense mechanism the girl's mind had.  Rather than crack under the strain of such power, it had simply buried the memories of his visitation deep.  It allowed the power to run loose, though.  The connections were still there, the doorways to her mind still open.  All that unbridled power was probably giving her a headache, actually.  Which was better than a hemorrhage.  Her mind was not so fragile as he had supposed.
     It had absolutely rejected the thought of his visitation, for one.  Most odd.
     But her mind was making more thought connections on its own without his prodding.  She was beginning to realize the deeper motives of his creation of the Labyrinth for Sarah.  Which might signal her that he was manipulating her to suit his needs as well.  Of course, the change was improvement but some individuals reacted violently to the fact that someone was attempting to alter them.
     Of course, her mind was ignoring him completely at this point so it didn't much matter.
     He didn't particularly care for being ignored.
     Rationality perhaps.  It could explain things away to a certain extent and then it simply ignored them.  So her rationality was a more integral part of her character, was it?  So it refused to acknowledge his presence, did it?
     It could only ignore him to a certain extent.  Only until absolute evidence proved otherwise.  That was the way rationality worked.  Logic had its limits.
     It was time to provide something of a more concrete nature.
     In the waking world.

     *************************
     The sunlight shone into her eyes.  Ah, the joys of having your bed facing the window.  Hell, at least she wasn't on the floor this time.  The fact that she had been on the floor was a wee bit disturbing but, well, as there wasn't anything in particular she could do about it, she might as well ignore it.
     Flash of recogition at the "ignoring" part of that thought.  Interesting.  Why would ignoring seem familiar...
     Ah well.
     Time to get up.
     She lifted herself from the pleasant warmth of the covers and stepped onto that lovely blue fuzzy rug of hers.  And stole a quick glance in the mirror.
     And stared for a minute.
     What the...
     That reflection, that person - that wasn't her.  She felt completely removed from it...it was a picture of someone else.  She was staring at someone else.  She studied the slanting inset eyes of the mirror girl.  Brown, seemingly cold.  Menacing.  Strong, forceful bridge of the nose.  Rosebud of a mouth.  Added a flush of color to the pale skin tone, but not enough to take away the ethereal appearance of the face.  Not enough to take away the cruelty of the face.  The underlying power was beginning to shine through.  Especially in the eyes.  A glimpse into a soul as complex as her own.
     Snap back.
     She was she again.
     She was she again?  What?  What kind of thoughts were these?  She was she again?! Where had that come from anyway?  And, moreover, if she hadn't been she a few seconds ago, who the hell had she been?
     Er...okay.  Weird thoughts for the morning.  Check that off on the list of things to do.
     The gongs of the clock sounded.  Bo-o-o-o-o-o-o-ng.
     She yawned.
     Bo-o-o-o-o-ng.
     Smiling sleepily, she realized how like the clock in the Labyrinth it sounded.
     Bo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-ng.
     The chimes faded away.
     Must be three.  Three?  That couldn't be right.  It was way too bright outside to be 3am.
     A new thought smashed into her.
     She didn't have a clock that chimed.
     The only clocks in the house were digital and alarm.
     Ooooookay.....
     And then she looked at the window.
     And looked.
     There was a feather there.
     White, lustrous, long.  Long enough to be an owl's feather.
     Involuntary shiver.   Like the shiver that warned she was not alone.
     Deep breath.
     Who was playing with her like this?  Who could possibly know enough to play with her mind, pressing just the right buttons, causing these things to happen just so except-
     Except him, of course.
     She needed to get out of here.  Needed to leave, just go, just be somewhere else, just go-
     * And, uh, Where are You Going?*
     That did it.
     Physical manifestation, mental invasion of will.  Pretty convincing stuff.
     She threw on a pair of jeans, a shirt and ran down the stairs.  Almost forgot her glasses. Didn't need to be any blinder than she already was. Raced back to her room, grabbed them, and was gone.
     She stopped at the edge of her yard.  Okay, pause.  What exactly was it that she was running from?  There was a) her own slipping grip on reality or b) Jareth.  Barring a), which probably wasn't all that accurate anyway, she was running away from Jareth.  Jareth!  The man she had wished for, the man she was obsessed with, The Goblin King.
     Hmmmm....running just did not seem the thing to be doing here.
     Reacting, however, that was an entirely different matter.
     So he wanted to play with her mind. Granted, it was probably damn amusing.
     She hated being some amusing little figure that others laughed at.  And that went double for being an object of fun for him.  It was demeaning, in a way, to know that the only thought someone had about you was a general amusment.  A sort of scorn.
     But then, if he was manipulating her as he had "created" Sarah, then it wasn't just for amusement.
     She paced back to the house and went in aside.  In a dark mood. Not a wholly unpleasant mood, however.  She was more than herself.  More than a girl.  Letting the presence rise to the outskirts of her consciousness.  Letting the power which rose with it course through her mind.  Heightened awareness, trusting her feelings.  Waiting.
     It thundered outside.
     It was just streaming sunshine left and right a few seconds ago.  How could it possibly be thundering?
     Made a perfect setting for a confrontation, though.  How Labyrinth-like.
 
     Really, he had such impeccable timing.
     *Nice atmosphere* she mused.  She couldn't bring herself to actually think his name at him, though.  It seemed rather disrespectful.
     *So what happens now?*
     Rationality checking in.  She was crazy, talking to herself, expecting to talk to him, thinking she influenced these things, thinking he was there, imagining, hallucinating-
     Whatever.
     She felt faint suddenly.  What a time to have her body betray her.  Dizziness threatened again.  She saw the world turning dark, fading away...
     With a mental force of will, she remained standing.
     *I will not yield this time*
     This time?
     Intense withering outrage as the memory surfaced.
     Then- pain in her skull, sizzling through, white fire of some unlimited force, exploding-
     *Damn it, why are you doing this to me!*
     And with that wonderfully respectful thought, she blacked out.

     ***********************
     Lovely child.  Insightful.  Strong.
     That had been a rather nice touch, that overcoming of the fear bit.
     Very logical, too.
     She knew what he was doing.
     She hated it on one level, was reveling in it on another.
     Contradictory emotions galore.
     Her mind was gradually getting itself under control.  Less fainting, less memory lapses as it adjusted to its newfound wealth of power.  Although, that last loss of consciousness had been rather virulent and she was blaming him for it.  It would be the last one before the permanent change began.
     He wouldn't present himself yet, though.
     Too soon.
     But some "real" world play was called for.
     Very soon.
 

Chapter 6 - Do You Know What I Know?

     She was on the floor.  Seemed rather familiar.  Odd, that.
     Thunder.
     She stood and groggily made her way to the couch in the den.
     She would lay down for just a moment.
     Liar.
     Fine, more like a bit of a nap.
     Thunder.
     Tired.  Oh God, she was so tired.
     Closed her eyes.
     All this mental upheaval was very tiresome.
     She let that thought roll through her consciousness for awhile before the actual meaning started to bleed through.
     Mental upheaval?
     Didn't recall any of that.  Alarming thought.
     Or actually, would have been alarming if she had been awake enough to care.
     She was on the surface of her consciousness, tip-toeing around the edges.
     Then, all of the sudden, she fell through.
     And down.
     Like Alice down the rabbit hole.  Down, down, down...

     ******************
     It had begun.
     He stared at her as she slept, memorizing her image.  Looking so innocent, so pure.  So utterly sweet and guileless.  Curls dark brown now, with the absence of the sun.  Skin a pale shade of gold.  Eyes hidden in slumber.  Hands positioned underneath the face as a cushion.  So thoroughly innocent-looking.
     So completely unlike what lay below the surface.
     That would be the perfection of the transformation - angel on the outside, devil underneath.  That is, after all, what made the paradox so mesmerizing.  That beauty and innocence could cloak such darkness.
     The only thing which marred the picture of innocence now was the dark nail polish.  It was like a hint of what was beneath - innocence tempered by the darkness.  A subtle reminder that all was not goodness and light. Mischief could still rein.
     Her lips curled into a smile, as if hearing his thoughts.
     Now there was a study in contrasts.  The form and color suggesting purity, the smile and nails suggesting malevolence.
     Light and darkness.
     Enough of the light.
     It was time for the darkness.
     He touched the miasma of her thoughts.  Twisted it, nudged it, molded it with the skill and reverence of an artist.  Long, ungloved fingers shaping what they encountered into a suitable from.  Pushes of power straining against his strength.  Pulsing between his hands.      Rushes of electricity streaming through his fingers.  Growing hotter all the while.
     He was at the wall which separated her from him.  Just a little application of force at the correct places and...
     A burning sensation fled across his hands.  Stinging.  A warning.
     That was enough for now.
     He stared at her sleeping form.  Pale innocence.  And yet not.
     She would be his.  Immortalized.
     The trick was exactly how he would do it.  That required a bit of thought.  It had to be something she was already familiar with - something that her own power could identify with and channel through.
     He considered.
     She was partial to a certain storyteller's depiction of vampires.  He could model the transformation on that.  Imitation was his speciality, after all.
     With a twist, of course.
     A tendril of his own power rested in her now, intermingling with hers, creating complex patterns of interaction physically and psychologically.
     And when she awoke, the first "real" world play would be in effect.

     ******************

     She was walking across a field.  Brown and green intermingled.  Fresh, springy, alive sort of place.  Abysmally sunny place. Wind swishing through the field, playing with the grass.  Seeming to sing all around.  Singing a warning.  A prophesy of storm.
     The wind playing with her hair.  Twisting and blowing and breathing through her hair.  Tossing the coppery mass at its whim.  The wind at play.
     Children at play.  Happy little children.  Such cute little children.
     Such annoyingly cute little children.
     Glanced mournfully at her once or twice as if to say goodbye and then went back to their play.
     Stupid children.
     Needed to get out of this stinking sunlight.  Needed some place dark.
     She was approaching a doorway lowered part way into the ground.  It was black, made of some sort of stone.  Obsidian.  Dark granite.  Didn't matter, it was dark. There was an opening about the size of a window which was above the ground.  She would have to climb down to get through.
     Lowered herself through the opening into the blackness.  Black as night. No stars, no moon.  Dark.
     She peered deeper into the darkness and saw a man standing there.  All alone in the darkness.  Looking at her with ravenous eyes.  Sense of power, of control.  It didn't occur to her to wonder how she could see him in the dark. Such is the way of dreams.
     He was tall, with blonde hair and light eyes.  Beautiful.  Dressed all in dark colors.  She had the absurd thought he was an artist of some kind.  Not a human artist, though.  Beauty was too ethereal for that.  He could have been an angel - except angels didn't have those sorts of expressions.  They had the longing but not the desire.  Wasn't physical desire either.  Something else. Something not so simple as physical desire.  It was stained with something else.  Craving, satisfaction, wonder, something else, something...
     She moved in for a closer look.  His eyes watched her.  Blue jewels moving in his face.  The only things which evinced some semblance of humanity. He looked human then.  Vulnerable.  Watching her walk.  Staring at her with a guarded look.  Absolute silence from him.  From his mind.  Veiled thoughts hidden behind a cloak of nothingness.
     He snapped his gaze onto her.  Full intensity of the thoughts.  He wanted her.
     This should have been an alarming realization.
     He held out his hand, reaching for her.  Trying to induce her closer, closer, close enough.  Close enough.  He would make her what he was.  Ah, but he was so beautiful.   Such a savage, dark beauty. Always entranced by beauty, she was.   And she wanted to be like him....what he was.  Whatever he was. With that brooding, malevolent sensuality.  Wielding some kind of shadowy power.  And so she walked towards him... closer .... closer ... nearly touching his hand...touching....closer... closer...looking into his eyes...his bright flashing eyes...his bare hands on the back of her head.  Fingers entwined with her curls...moving her face closer...she could see into his eyes.  Beyond his eyes.  Into him.
     Saw his turmoil, saw his years of aching boredom.  Reticence to try again overshadowed by his absolute desire of what she would be.
     This, again, should have been a mildly alarming thought.
     But he was so close, God, so close.  Caught his scent.
     She breathed it in.
     Lifting her head, eyes closed.  Lingering in the heavy scent that was him.
     Hands drawing her closer.
     Her face resting on his chest.  Skin moving across the soft velvety material of his shirt.  Her head cradled under his.  His hands touching her curls, massaging her mind.  Pulling and twisting and shaping. Her arms crushed underneath her, pressed against him.  She was crying.  Heavy, warm tears at the corners of her eyes for what she was losing. A quiet, shuddering breath for the part of her what was slipping away.
     Stop.
     A burning sensation fled across her eyes.  Stinging.  A warning.
     She opened her eyes and looked up into his ivory face.
     A flash of concern crossed his features.  Concern for his work.  A curious detached interest.
     She drew back.  And back.  Until she was at the doorway again.
     Two blue jewels followed her retreat.
     And then she turned and left.
     Leaving him within.

     Awake.
     She felt strange.
     To put it mildly.
     So goddamned thirsty.
     Wetness on her hands.  Warm.  She must have been crying in her sleep. Funny smell to it, though.  A tint of iron in it...
     She opened her eyes.
     And beheld blood-stained hands.
     Small trickles of the stuff in the crevasses marking out a spider web path across her fingers.  Little blossoms of ruby liquid.
     Odd.  Nosebleeds usually had more blood than that.
     Must have a cut on her face somewhere.
     She ran to the mirror in the bathroom and looked.
     Her eyes widened as she saw where the origin of the blood trickle was.
     It was from her tears.  She was crying blood tears.
     She lifted a finger to one trickle and gently wiped the blood tear away. She found herself staring at the red liquid on her finger.  A glittering pool of deep red.
     The smell was driving her mad.
     She moved it to her lips, sucking the blood off.  Letting it run over her tongue, down her throat.  Washing over the inside of her.
     Quenching her thirst.
     It was then that her sense of reality started to kick in.
     What the hell!?  What the hell was she doing!    She was drinking her own blood and - Good God - enjoying it.  Like some kind of god forsaken vampire.  That was sick, severely twisted, or - at the very least - something people ended up in long term therapy for.
     But then, she had cried blood tears.  That wasn't exactly the everyday run-of-the-mill occurrence.  Of course, if she had still been in her Anne Rice vampire mode, she might have found it quite amusing.  That was something vampires were supposed to do.  And, God knows, that had been something she had wanted when she had been into that whole vampire thing.  Anything vampirish had appealed to her then.  It was that whole immortality bit that interested her.
     Of course, immortality still interested her.  So then, by definition, did the idea of vampires.
     Well, she had cried blood tears.  How about checking out those canines...
     Hmmmm....a little longer, maybe.  But that could be attributed to imagination.
     Skin was pale.  But that's what happened when her tan faded.
     Eyes looked their usual brown selves.  Auburn curls had taken on a life of their own...but that always happened after she slept.
     Just the blood tears.
     And the curious warmth the taste of blood had provided her with.
     Very odd.
     A bit frightening, as well.
     Rather good thing she wasn't in the mood to be frightened.
     And why exactly was that?
     This really did seem the time to completely lose it if ever there was a time to do so.
     But her mind was not completely hers to control at the moment.  Someone else was in there.  Pushing her.  Changing her.
     Manipulating her.
     Jareth.
 

Epilogue - Just a Trick of the Mind

     My God, what a strange dream.  I swear it spanned such a long time.  My fevered brain had a field day with that one, that's for sure.  Jareth and manipulation and blood tears.  Some seriously strange stuff.
     Had a whole third-person omniscient narrator type thing going on the entire time, too.  I could sense Jareth's thoughts....it was like I was playing his part, speaking and thinking for him.  And, let me tell you, the whole plot of this dream went off the proverbial deep end.  All about him wanting me for my power.....oooh, now's there's something that would happen. But, when you're in a dream, you never question it.  I think that's why they entrance me so much.  Suspension of reality, realization of secret wishes. All is possible in the reality that belongs only to dreams.
     Take the whole vampire metamorphosis bit.  He was going to make me into a vampire (God knows why that made any sense at all) so that I could be immortal with him. The whole innocent - but - evil thing.  That's something that's always captivated me.  I suppose that's why it came out in my dreams.  The subconscious strikes back.
      Ah well.  I'll write this one up in my journal and put it away in the back of my mind.  It'll probably make a good fanfiction at some point.

***************************
     That little dream venture had worked out to his liking.  Ah, it was such fun to play in mortal minds.  This girl's mind was worth coming back to.  He could play the role of that Goblin King of hers quite well.
     *Until the next time, my exquisite dreamer*
 
 

And so, thus endeth the story.  This is how it happened - more or less.  All depends on your definition of reality, in a way.  At any rate, I'm interested to know what you think of the ending.  It tormented me for days...but why is really a rather complicated reason which I won't get into right now. 
 

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