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Chapter Text

The early afternoon sun streamed softly through her window, peaceful and warm, making her feel sleepy and nostalgic as she sat at her desk. The hazy glow made the spreadsheets on her computer seem farther away and less urgent as she stirred her tea, opting for daydreams over accounting. Sarah sighed happily as she leaned back in her chair admiring the view of her courtyard.

It was a little slice of fairy tale - a botanist's dream. Scattered about the courtyard were containers of every shape and size, home to an abundance of herbs: chamomile for sleep and meditation, hibiscus for love and protection, jasmine for prophetic dreams, among others. They were a marketing ploy, for the most part. The real magic stood regally in the center, its roots extending deep into the soil, spreading radially outward underneath the house that surrounded it, its leaves glittering in the sunlight. Prunus persica - a peach tree.

It had started out innocently enough. Well, innocent probably wasn't the most appropriate word. The morning following her trip through the Labyrinth, she had woken to find a crystal sitting conspicuously on her nightstand. She was hesitant to touch it at first. When she finally caved to her curiosity and picked it up – who could resist their dreams, really? – the hard crystalline surface had turned soft and fuzzy in her hand – a peach. Arrogant prat. Being prone to melodrama in her tender years, she wasted no time in hurling the offending piece of fruit into the stretch of woods behind her house.

But by a twist of fate and a little help from Mother Nature, the peach decayed and the seeds germinated and took root. She watched it grow over the years, set back a few feet from her yard, intrigued, but not overly concerned. It wasn't until it flowered and began to bear fruit that she realized the true potential.

She remembered the moment of discovery vividly. She had been home for summer break after her first year of college when she saw the first blooms. Sitting at the kitchen table, she had been staring sleepy-eyed out the window at the tree, willing reality to take hold with a mug of coffee-flavored sugar and cream. The house was quiet; her dad and stepmom having gone to work, and Toby away at camp. Merlin was flopped contentedly at her feet. It wasn't until the caffeine hit her bloodstream in full force that she noticed them – balls of feather and fur strewn about the base of the tree.

"Merlin! How could you?" Fearing the worst, she rushed outside to the scene of the crime. Birds, and squirrels, and even one little bunny, lay haphazardly under the shade of the tree, seemingly still and quiet. No blood, no sign of a struggle anywhere. Baffled, she kneeled down for a closer look. Little feet ran feebly, noses twitched. They weren't dead – they were dreaming!

"Curiouser and curiouser . . ." Sufficiently intrigued, she had settled into the grass to watch. As the morning wore on, each of the little creatures had woken up in their own time, and soon the tree was surrounded by happy, bouncing wildlife – squirrels playing tag up and down the trunk and through the branches, birds singing their tiny hearts out, the lone baby bunny dancing around in an aerial conniption fit of bunny-aerobics. It was like a warped Disney princess movie had come to life in her backyard.

So, being the red-blooded American girl that she was, she capitalized on it. She started small, selling teas to her sleep-deprived, stress-laden peers though college while filling out her business course load with electives in botany. She made a small fortune by graduation, using the money to build a house, uprooting herself and her tree to Georgia (it gave her a satisfying sense of authenticity), and to make her business official:

Smiling at the memories, Sarah finished the last of her tea and turned her attention back to her computer. She had orders to fill and accounts to balance. She had made quite a bit of money over the years – the limited supply and rabid customer base driving the prices up to exorbitant levels. She didn't feel the least bit bad about it. Given that the tree was the only one of its kind this side of the Underground, she paid a hefty sum for a security system that would put a Cuban drug lord to shame.

But it did have its limitations. Sighing, she continued tallying last month's sales figures, choosing to ignore the shift in the atmosphere and the glitter sparkling among the floating dust.

"Sarah . . ." Annoyance radiated throughout the room.

"Shh, shh, shh!" She waved a hand distractedly, not bothering to look at him. "I'm adding."

Her attention was suddenly and forcefully arrested from her work as Jareth spun her chair around, caging her with one hand on each side of the desk. "I will not be ignored, Sarah."

He was close, leaning down to look her in the eye. Too close and too . . . Jareth-y. "Oh, it's you." She batted her eyelashes at him innocently. "Can I help you with something?"

"You know very well why I'm here, Sarah. I have hordes of people running willy-nilly around my Labyrinth uninvited. It took me a while to find the source. Resourceful of you, Sarah, really, but enough is enough."

"Too much on top of your baby-snatching duties?"

"Still refusing to accept responsibility?" He tsked at her and it rankled. "You offered and I took, as was my right."

Her ire ignited, she glared at him. "Be that as it may, you stole three hours of my time, set the cleaners on me, almost dumped me in the Bog of Eternal Stench, drugged me, and waged a goblin war - excuse me for holding a grudge. I could have died. Don't blame me for accepting your gift." She whirled back to face her computer.

"I wouldn't have let any harm come to you, Sarah," he said softly, his hands sliding from her desk.

She huffed and returned to her work, mashing the keys slightly harder than was necessary. After a few minutes had passed and the heaviness in the air hadn't abated, she stole a quick glance over her shoulder. He was lounging in her favorite cushy chair, one leg dangling over the arm, watching her. She turned back to her work. "Still here? What do you want, Jareth?"

His answer was quiet, but direct. "67%."

She whirled to face him. "What? You're out of your glitter-addled mind."

"Seeing as I do most of the work, I think 60% is more than fair."

She stared at him open-mouthed and incredulous. "And the extra 7%?"

"1% for each of my subjects that you have in your employ."

"Psh." She turned back to her computer. "It was my idea and it's my customer base, let alone that I make all of the products and handle all of the business. You're just miffed that you didn't think of it first." She was quiet for a moment, exhaling loudly before facing him and reluctantly adding, "Fine. 33% - 30% for the dreams and an extra 3% because I'm feeling generous."

He cocked an eyebrow. "You do drive a hard bargain, Sarah." He rose from the chair, stalking towards her. "But I accept." A feral smile crept slowly across his lips. "Perhaps we should seal our deal – a handshake . . . or kiss, maybe?"

She whirled back to her computer again. "Stuff it, your majesty." All this whirling was making her dizzy. It was not Jareth, not at all – at least she was determined to keep telling herself that. "Haven't you ever heard of not mixing business with pleasure?"

"Well that does rather take the fun out of things, don't you think?" He was behind her now, his voice belying his arrogant amusement as he placed one hand on each arm of her chair, leaning over her shoulder.

She typed away at her keyboard, determined not to take the bait. "Don't you have dreams to weave, lies to sell . . ."

He chuckled lightly as he straightened, moving to lean against her desk. "So I do. I suppose we can discuss the details of our little . . . arrangement . . . later. Over dinner, perhaps?"

Ugh. He could make anything sound pervy. She slid him a sideways glance before turning her attention back to her spreadsheets. "Whatever. Bye, Jareth."

He chuckled again and she gritted her teeth, refusing to acknowledge the shivers it sent down her spine. "Until later, precious thing." And he was gone.

She sighed in relief as the air lightened and the glitter settled. That had gone better than expected. Then again, she had not expected to make a career out of dealing distilled goblin fruit to the masses, so she was pretty game for anything. She clicked save and lowered the screen of her laptop. Leaning back in her chair, she gazed again at her tree, literally glittering with magic. She knew she wouldn't have gone undetected forever and had been waiting for the day he'd show his face.

Yes, it had gone much better than she had expected. Sarah allowed a small smile to sneak past her defenses. It could turn out very interesting, indeed.

-o0O0o-

Chapter Text

She wondered if he was serious. About the dinner. On the off chance that he was going to be showing up for the second time that day, she had jumped in the shower, thrown on a white camisole and her favorite khaki skirt, and was currently trying to tame her hair into something resembling a ponytail. She glowered at her reflection, annoyed with herself that she was making the effort. Primping for the Goblin King, of all people. She shouldn't care what he thought.

It's business, not personal. It was her new mantra. She had been saying it to herself all afternoon and would keep on saying it until it stuck. She twisted the lid back on her mascara, and moved on to lipstick: Magical Moments Mauve.

And he probably wouldn't even show . . .

"Prettying up for me? Really, Sarah, I'm flattered. And this little white negligee thing is quite fetching." She jumped at the sudden feel of cool leather against her skin as a finger slipped under the strap and down along her shoulder.

She jerked away, turning to glare at the intruder as she slammed her lipstick back down on the counter. "You know, you can't just pop up in my house any time you want. It's this little thing called privacy. And trespassing, for that matter." She took a step forward to escape the bathroom that suddenly felt really very small, but stopped when she realized Jareth was not moving from in front of the doorway. "And I was not 'prettying up' for you, I was simply getting ready like I would for any other day." He was smirking at her and it was infuriating. "Move."

"As you wish." He took a step back so that he was no longer blocking the doorway - entirely.

Sarah glared even harder, if that was possible, before shoving past him and continuing down the hall to her office. She heard him chuckle as he followed. Determined not to let him rattle her, she rolled her shoulders and took a few deep breaths as she gathered up some paperwork, a blank notepad, and a few pencils. She left him waiting as she shoved this all in a messenger bag and shrugged into a raspberry colored cropped jacket, effectively switching from single young woman to business mode. She slipped on some strappy sandals that were lying haphazardly under her desk and turned to face him.

"So, I'm kind of in the mood for Italian. That okay with you?"

He raised his eyebrows slightly at her directness. "Well, I did have something else in mind, but I can let the kitchen know. It may be a little longer of a wait, but they can certainly accommodate your request."

"Whoa. Hold on a sec. If you think I'm letting you poof me into the Underground, you really are out of your mind. If we're doing this dinner thing, we're doing it up here, in a public place, with other normal people around. Capiche?"

Jareth smiled. "Whatever you want, precious." And then he was close. Too close, and his arm was snaking around her waist. "I happen to know just the place."

A small wave of panic crashed over her, her hands instinctively coming up to push against his chest in a feeble attempt at freedom. "Wait - what are you doing?"

He tugged her closer so that her body pressed flush against his, his face inches from her own. "Hold on tight." The whispered words were warm against her lips just before the world fell spiraling down.

-o0O0o-

The spinning slowly came to a stop in what felt like only seconds later. She was clinging to him, her arms wrapped around his neck, his arm around her waist supporting her weight. "Careful now, sweetheart." Sarah looked up at the sound of his voice, a smug smile on his face.

Getting her feet back under her, she shoved him away. Bending forward with her eyes closed, she placed her hands on her knees, willing her breath to slow and her stomach to stop turning cartwheels. After a few moments, she shot him a sideways glance. "Don't ever do that again."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Do you plan to walk home? Crossing the Atlantic may prove difficult."

She straightened slowly at this revelation. "Where the hell are we?"

"Italy."

"Lovely," she sighed, exasperated. "Well, at least ask first next time so I can be a little more prepared, please."

"Of course. Whatever you say." He continued to smile at her, still clearly amused. "Although, green is a lovely color on you."

"Shut it, Jareth." She bent to retrieve her bag before looking back at him. "Is this how you treat all your dates?"

His smile widened. "So, this is a date, is it?"

Sarah gritted her teeth, mortified at the slip. "No," she spat. "I was simply inquiring. This is business, not pleasure." He didn't respond, just inclined his head, studying her.

It's business, not personal. She repeated her mantra three more times in her head as she looked away from him to take in her surroundings, relieved that he didn't push the issue.

They were in a darkened alleyway, the air heavily spiced with garlic. Empty cardboard boxes were stacked beside a nondescript door with a small sign that read "Tony's" centered above it. She could just make out the words to Bella Notte piped out from invisible speakers carried softly on the night breeze.

"My, how very . . . Lady and the Tramp."

"Are you presuming to be a lady in this scenario?" The words came from close behind her.

Sarah spun around to face him. "Well, I guess that depends on how one defines a lady, doesn't it? Either it's the one with the vagina, in which case the answer would be yes, or it could be the one who's wearing the most make-up."

He smiled at her jibe, pointed teeth flashing. "Touché. However, I assure you that I'm not wearing any "make-up". You're welcome to touch, if you'd like."

She realized then that he had surreptitiously backed her up against the wall, and his tone was a smidge more suggestive than she was comfortable with. "No, thanks. I'll take your word for it." She stared at him for a moment, curious despite her words to the contrary. "Um . . . you're not seriously going into the restaurant like that, are you?"

He laughed out loud at that and grinned at her. "Perhaps not."

He really was way too close. She squirmed slightly to press harder against the wall. "Are you at all familiar with the concept of personal space?"

His smile turned predatory and he leaned in a bit closer, draping one arm against the brick behind her. "Time and space are rather relative in my world, precious."

"Well, they're very definite in mine, and you're invading my dance space. I'm drawing a line here, Goblin King. You have your dance space, and I have mine, and there's this big fat line running down the middle, so don't cross it. This is strictly a business relationship. That's it."

"And I suppose, in your reality, walls can't be walked through, things are always what they seem . . . and imaginary lines can't be crossed?"

She glared at him. "You really are insufferable."

"And it's 'Jareth', love. I'd like to think we've moved past the formalities. I do like the sound of my name sliding over your tongue and through your lips. It's just such a delicious mental image."

Sarah stared at him, her mouth dropping open. He reached up to close it with a finger under her chin.

"Particularly when you're angry." He smirked at her. "All that passion."

"Gah!" Sarah ducked under his arm and started down the alleyway. "I hate you."

"Don't say things you don't mean, precious. Or did you not learn that lesson from our first meeting?"

She turned around and stalked back to stand defiantly in front of him, close enough to have to tilt her head back to look him in the eye. "Who says I don't mean it? I have every reason in the world to hate you. And I do. It just so happens that your gift has proved lucrative, so I'm willing to put my personal feelings aside to further my business. I suggest you do the same."

He smiled down at her, seemingly unaffected by her outburst. "Perhaps it's time for dinner, then?"

"Yes. Perhaps it is," she snapped. Her ponytail whipped as she turned to start back down the alleyway, only to stop when she felt movement against her hand. She looked down to find pale, aristocratic fingers laced with her own.

"Wrong way, love." He pulled gently so that she turned to face him. She tried to untangle her fingers from his, but he held fast. "Come. I'll show you."

She looked up at him then and paused. He looked . . . human. Almost. His hair was shorter, but still wild, hanging about his unmarked face in jagged layers. The ruffled shirt and tights had been swapped for a light blue button-down silk shirt tucked into slim-cut dark grey trousers. And he had abandoned the gloves entirely, his skin warm and soft against her hand. He looked . . . nice.

"Do you like it, Sarah?"

She stared for a moment longer, struggling to find something to say, something she wouldn't regret later. "Well, at least you'll blend in," she said somewhat breathlessly.

He smiled slowly before pulling her to his side and leading her around the corner, the words of the song growing louder as they approached restaurant.

Chapter Text

Sarah yanked her hand free as soon as they crossed the threshold. Jareth looked sideways at her with an amused grin, before sliding his now free hand to the small of her back and leading her further inside. Choosing to pick her battles, she looked around as he spoke quietly to the man at the door. It was a small, hole-in-the-wall kind of place, but clearly popular – most of the tables full with people talking and laughing, the smells wafting from the kitchen swirling into a homey cocoon.

A gentle increase in pressure from his hand refocused her attention and Sarah resignedly followed along to an empty table near the rear of the restaurant. Jareth held out her chair for her as she sat before taking the seat directly across.

She picked up the menu in front of her, pursing her lips in a small pout. "I can't read any of this."

"That's probably because it's in Italian."

"Obviously," she replied dryly as she continued to stare at the menu, willing the letters to rearrange themselves into something more familiar.

"Would you like me to order for you?"

Sarah tossed the menu down and looked up at him with a resigned air. "Go for it."

He continued perusing his own menu for a moment before looking up at her. "Do you trust me?"

"No."

He laughed and Sarah couldn't help but notice that it was a pleasant sound. "You really are a treasure, Sarah." He reached over to retrieve her menu, passing it along with his to the waiter that had appeared beside the table at Jareth's right. They engaged in a short exchange, Sarah growing suspicious as the conversation dragged on. Surely it didn't take that long to order food, so what the hell were they talking about? Just as she was about to protest, the waiter turned to her with a wide grin and a short nod.

She watched him walk away, still slightly suspicious, before looking back at her dinner companion. "What was that all about?"

"Dinner."

"Hmm. What did you order?"

Jareth rested his arms on the table, leaning forward with a conspiratorial smile. "It's not spaghetti and meatballs, but I think you'll find it to your liking."

The corners of her mouth quirked slightly. "So you know that movie."

"Yes, well, I do work with children."

Her fledgling smile faded and she gave him a disparaging look. "Right. The children," she said dryly. "How could I forget?"

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair.

She continued to consider him and the situation. She had been aware of who he was and what he did when she somewhat willingly walked into this. It wasn't going to help matters to dwell on it.

She decided to change the subject. "So. You speak Italian?"

He looked up and away from her. "You do have this rather stubborn habit of staying the course." His gaze returned accompanied by a small, self-depreciating smile. "I happen to know all languages. As it turns out, there are children all over the world."

"Right. Of course." She leaned forward, irritated. "You know, I can't believe I ever agreed to any of this. You are absolutely . . ."

"I'm going to stop you there, before you say something you just might feel bad about later," he interrupted her, mirroring her position from the other side of the table. "And, permit me to remind you, we're not here to talk about my business, but rather ours."

They stayed that way, gazes locked in silent battle, neither quite willing to back down. Ultimately, Sarah was the first to relent, slowly settling back in her chair. "You're right." She crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't want to know."

He followed suit. "I'm amazed, Sarah. Actually admitting I'm right about something?"

"Don't get used to it," she snapped.

The waiter returned, interrupting their verbal sparing, bearing a bottle of burgundy wine. He set two glasses on the table, and after offering a sample to Jareth and receiving his nod of approval, dutifully filled both glasses before leaving.

Sarah studied Jareth coolly as he took another sip. "Getting back to the reason for this meeting, I suppose we should discuss my business and the small part you're going to play in it."

He smirked, but nodded, indicating for her to continue.

Sarah reached into the bag at her feet and pulled out a folder along with a notepad and pencil, arranging it all on the table for easy access. She rifled through some loose papers as she spoke, more to herself than her new business associate. "Yes, well . . . 33% of the profits, as agreed to earlier . . . which was really way too generous." She smoothed a hand over her hair distractedly. "I don't know what I was thinking."

"Perhaps you weren't. I tend to have that effect on women."

She looked up at him then, brows raised. "Your ego is astounding."

"It's not the only thing, I assure you."

She stared at him blankly, choosing not to dignify it with a response. "So, as I was saying, for your share, you take care of the dream end of things, but . . . there are some other things I'm going to need."

He nodded. "Go on."

"Okay, then." She rifled through a few more papers, idly tugging on a stray piece of hair that had fallen loose as she reviewed the one she had sought. "Even with the seven I already have helping me, I'm back-ordered by at least a month. And I haven't had any time for product development trying to keep up. I think two more goblins ought to do it."

"Two more?"

"Yes, two, I think. I suppose I could make do with one to help with the packaging, but two would really free up my time to focus on more big picture type of stuff." She tapped her pencil against her lips as she considered. "I mean, they work for baked goods and movie nights, so it's not exactly breaking the bank."

He cocked a brow. "Well, I think that can be managed. We'll make arrangements for you to come Underground and choose who'd you like--"

"Wait – Underground?"

"Why, yes, Sarah." He smiled charmingly at her. "How else do you propose to find what you're looking for?"

"Can't you just poof them up so that I can meet them?"

"I do have a kingdom to run and fording the dimensions can be quite draining on the magic. If you want two more goblins, you're going to have to come and choose them yourself. Given your propensity to blame me for everything, I'm certainly not going to take the blame for any of my subjects in your employ. The choice is yours."

"I'm not going Underground."

"Suit yourself. It is a shame about those back-orders, though . . ."

Sarah folded her arms across her chest, leaning back to study him. "I don't blame you for everything."

He merely cocked a disbelieving brow.

She pursed her lips. "Fine. If I go Underground to meet with my . . . prospective employees, you'll send me back when I ask you to?"

"You have my word." He smiled. "Although, you're certainly welcome to stay as long as you'd like."

She chewed her pencil thoughtfully. "I'll have to think about this . . . but if I decide to go, I think a couple of hours should be sufficient."

"As you wish."

"Right, well . . . moving on." She jotted down a few notes before hesitantly resuming eye contact. "I'd also like another tree."

"That can also be arranged, I imagine."

She blinked, a little taken aback at how easily he was agreeing so far. "Okay."

Further arrangements were put on hold as dinner arrived, Sarah pushing her paperwork aside to make room. The waiter made quick work of arranging the table and then left them alone. She picked up her fork and poked at her pasta, giving him a quick glance from beneath her lashes before braving a small bite.

"How is it?"

"It's okay," she mumbled. It was phenomenal, really, but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, Jareth watching her unabashedly, and Sarah trying to ignore him. It was difficult, the nervous flutterings in her stomach a constant reminder. When he finally did look away, it was to conjure a small crystal, almost out of sight beneath the table. He gazed at it a moment, before vanishing it with a half-smile.

Sarah paused with her fork in mid-air. "What was that?"

He turned his attention back to his meal. "A dreamer."

"One of mine?"

He looked up at her. "I believe so."

That was kind of exciting. She perked up. "What were they dreaming about?"

"Curious?"

"A little, I guess." She leaned forward, eager to have someone to share her thoughts with, no matter who it was. "You know, I get these amazing letters from my customers, about their dreams. My favorite ones talk about how the dream they had inspired them to some great work of art, or business decision, or even something extraordinary in their personal lives." She smiled shyly. "It's kind of nice to know I played a small part in that. In helping them find their dreams."

"And what about your dreams, Sarah?"

She sobered slightly. "I don't need anything else. I'm perfectly content with my life. I'm living my dream."

"Is that so?"

She hesitated only a moment before answering decidedly. "Yes."

He stared at her, his gaze intense, making her feel vulnerable, like he could see straight through her. And she'd rather he didn't. To distract herself, she turned her attention back to her dinner, silently willing him to do the same. They continued eating in silence, the aura around them thick and nearly suffocating.

When she had eaten all that she could, she pushed her plate aside, looking up at him in the same motion. "There is another thing."

He gestured for her to continue as he took a final bite of his own dinner and downed the last of his wine.

"No bad trips."

"Bad . . . trips?"

"No bad dreams, Goblin King. I need return customers."

An amused smirk teased at his lips. "I'll try my best."

"You'd better. I don't want to get any letters about how someone was dumped in the bog, or beheaded by Fireys, or something."

He settled back in his chair, crossing his hands over his stomach. "Anything else?"

"Yes. One more."

"And that would be?"

She chewed her bottom lip, her final request causing her no small amount of concern. "Protection," she finally said, quietly.

"Come again?"

She pulled herself up straighter in her chair, crossing one leg over the other. "I said 'protection'. You can do that, right? With your poofing and magic and stuff?"

Sarah watched as he somehow became more alert, tense, without moving a muscle, belying his casual pose. "Are you in need of protection, Sarah? Has anything happened?" His tone was no longer playful, but authoritative, discerning.

"No . . . just in case the need should arise. I haven't had any problems up until now, but a little extra security never hurts."

He pushed his plate aside, leaning forward on the table, his hands perched in a temple against his lips. "Yes, I can do that . . . under one condition."

"What condition?"

He dropped his hands, fixing her with a level gaze. "In order to protect you, you're going to have to relinquish a bit your hard won power. In other words, when it comes to your safety, you will do as I say, when I say it. Do you understand?"

"Relinquish power - to you?"

"Yes, Sarah. This is non-negotiable. I can't protect you unless you let me. Say it back to me, so that I know you understand."

"I'm not a child. I don't need to parrot things back to you."

He didn't answer, merely continued to stare at her, waiting.

She tapped her foot against the air, both nervous and irritated. "Okay . . . when it comes to my safety, I'll give you the power to protect me, if needed."

"And you'll do as I say." He looked at her pointedly. "Say it, Sarah."

She narrowed her eyes. "If I'm in danger . . ." she paused, before continuing through gritted teeth. ". . . I'll do as you say."

He leaned back in his chair, gracing her with a, slightly condescending, smile. "Now, I know that was hard for you, love, and I applaud your concession to common sense."

"I still don't trust you, you know," she snapped in reply.

"I'm aware of that. However, if we're going to be working together, you're going to have to learn."

Jareth stood then, dropping a few bills on the table and moving around to stand in front of her. He extended a well-manicured hand. "Shall we?"

She shuffled her paperwork back into her bag, before looking up at him. "I suppose you're right . . . to some degree."

"My, twice in one night. The world must be coming to an end."

Ignoring his comment and his hand, she stood by her own strength alone, slipping her bag over her shoulder. She stood close to him, regarding him coolly, ever defiant when he challenged her.

"Have a little faith, Sarah."

She tilted her head, leaning in a bit closer, just to make sure he understood her. "Don't make me regret it, Goblin King."

-o0O0o-

"May I?" They were back in the alleyway alongside the restaurant. Sarah turned back to look at him, his hand extended.

"I don't have a choice, do I?"

Jareth smiled. "Not if you want to get home some time tonight."

Sarah took a few steps closer, taking his hand reluctantly.

"You're going to have to get closer than that." He gave a quick tug, Sarah stumbling into him, her arm bending behind her as his encircled her waist to lock her against him. "That's better," he whispered, his lips close to hers.

She glared. "This is highly inappropriate."

"I think that's entirely a matter of perspective." He released her hand, freeing his to slide further along her waist, slipping beneath her camisole. Sarah jumped slightly at the feel of his skin against hers.

She gritted her teeth, annoyed by his unapologetic advances, but even more by her reaction to them. "Take me home. Now."

He smirked. "Certainly."

In a dizzying swirl of colors and sounds they were standing on her doorstep. She was woozy and breathless from the trip, secretly thankful for his embrace, not trusting her legs to stand on their own. She felt . . . floaty as she stared up at him, her breaths coming shallow through parted lips. The world seemed to blur around them behind the veil of platinum wisps drifting softly in the cool breeze. He was warm, and strong, and she allowed herself a hazy moment to sink into the fathomless pools of sky and earth, his gaze, fervent and unfaltering and . . . something else – beseeching? - momentarily captivating her.

He reached up to brush a strand of hair back from her face, supple leather tracing a smooth path over her skin. "Quanto si gira il mio mondo, è cosa preziosa. Io ti darei tutto se solo tu mi permetta . . ."

She blinked once, and then again, relaxing her grip on his shoulders, her confusion hastening the return to reality. "What did you just say?"

"Better you didn't know. Wouldn't want to cross that line."

She suddenly felt . . . caged. Returning to her senses, she pushed out of his embrace and took a few steps backward, her porch providing a much needed sense of safe familiarity. She stared at him a moment before looking down to fumble in her bag for her keys. Tossing him a dismissive "Well, goodnight," she turned to unlock her door, only to turn back just as quickly. "Oh, wait. How can I contact you?"

He hadn't moved, his expression unreadable. "I believe there's a mirror in your bedroom that you use to contact some of my less obedient subjects?"

"Yes?"

A slow smile crept over his lips and he tilted his head, giving her an unhurried once over. He lingered at her lips, his smile growing wider and more licentious. "A simple 'Jareth, I need you' from that pretty little mouth of yours, and I'll come hurrying right over," he drawled, his eyes flicking up to meet hers.

"Really, Goblin King?" She narrowed her eyes, resisting the urge to stamp her foot. "I'm not saying that."

He shrugged. "You can always wait until I have some reason to call."

"I really don't like you."

"Well, at least we're making progress."

"Whatever." She turned her back to him, slipping her key in the front door, eager to be anywhere he wasn't.

He laughed lightly. "I'll be in touch, precious."

-o0O0o-

Chapter Text

As it turned out, she didn't have to wait long.

It was early afternoon the next day. Sarah had been sitting at her desk answering e-mails and reviewing orders that needed to be shipped. She batted at the drifting specks meandering in their single-minded goal to coat everything within reach in a fine sheen of sparkle. It reminded her vaguely of animals spraying to mark their territory.

She blew at her keyboard with an irritated huff in a vain attempt to clear the glitter that had already settled before glancing over her shoulder at the perpetrator. He was dressed more formally than the day before, resplendent in a shimmering russet coat with a high imposing collar. Ruffles spilled out from the sleeves and neckline, tempered by a jeweled clasp at his throat. She wondered if there was any particular reason for his varying degrees of extravagance, or if it was purely based on whim.

She looked down at her own rather plain clothing, which effectively refocused her attention on her current annoyance rather than his curious wardrobe choices as she frantically brushed copious amounts of glitter from her jeans. "Is the glitter really necessary?"

Jareth made a noncommittal sound, acknowledging that she had spoken, but apparently not troubling himself with the actual words. He was idly perusing her bookshelf, taking out and replacing books, seemingly at random. Finding one to his liking, he flipped through a few pages before finally deigning to speak. "Sleep well?"

"Perfectly fine, thank you." It came out with only a hint of a growl; she had managed to stifle most of it - this was her territory and he was messing with her stuff! She wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea that he was back in her life, and was still a little out of sorts from their "meeting" the previous night. He was an unknown, a wild card, something that she couldn't control. And it annoyed her that he seemed to delight in it. He got under her skin a little too easily.

"Hmm." He flipped another page, scanning it before sliding it back on the shelf. "Any dreams?"

"No. I don't dream."

"Really?" He glanced up at her briefly. "Interesting." Returning to his aimless snooping, he picked up a snow globe, flipping it so that the snow began fall, watching the small flecks slowly yield to gravity with a disinterested intensity. "Perhaps you should try some of your own products."

Eyeing him warily, she turned slowly back to face her computer screen. "No need. And then there would be less to sell. I'm having a hard enough time keeping up with orders as it is." Actually, she had never tried any of her products. Not even the smallest speck had passed her lips. Her customers were glorified guinea pigs.

"I see." He had moved to stand beside her desk. He reached out to pick up a wooden frame perched in front of the lamp. It was a snapshot of her and Toby from a couple of years ago, bundled up against the cold, their afternoon's work smiling his warm charcoal smile in the background. "My, he has grown. How is the lively little chap?"

Sarah snatched the picture out of his hands, her eyes glued to the monitor, returning it face down on the desk with a decided clack. "That's none of your business."

Ignoring her sniping, Jareth merely turned to lean backwards against her desk. "Ready to go?"

"Go where?" He was very difficult to ignore, standing there beside her, smelling like Christmas Eve and flaunting the tightly packaged family jewels in direct line of sight. She typed with renewed determination.

"I believe you requested two more goblins?"

She looked up, swiveling to face him. "What? Now?"

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Yes, now. I did travel across time and space to fetch you."

She settled back in her chair, tilting her head. "Oh, that's right. How silly of me to forget how exceedingly generous you are."

"I have been generous, Sarah." He leaned forward, brushing his fingers along her jaw to cup her chin. "Now, we can stay here and debate that point ad nauseum, or . . . better yet," his tone dropped an octave and his fingers began a slow crawl down the column of her throat, "we can stay here and I can show you just how generous I can be."

He was all devilish charm and temptation, his low, smooth baritone sliding over her suggestively, managing to simultaneously heighten her senses while dulling their willingness to respond to the warning cries from the more rational side of her rapidly fogging brain. She held his gaze, swallowing, suddenly parched and slightly nervous. Those were dangerous thoughts . . .

. . . which was infuriating.

He had some nerve.

Pushing off with her feet, she rolled backwards out of his reach, all the while silently repeating her mantra: It's business, not personal. She narrowed her eyes as the plastic wheels finally relented to the pull of the carpet, coming to a reluctant stop. "I'll get my things." This time she didn't bother to hide the growl.

He straightened, laughing softly. "I thought not." He gave her a once over with a mocking smile. "Such a pity."

She glared for a moment longer before popping out of the chair to begin gathering odd notebooks and folders and shoving them into her bag. "I feel that I need to remind you that we agreed to keep this strictly business."

"I don't believe I agreed to any such thing."

Sarah did a quick inventory of their conversations the night before. He hadn't, had he? Damn him.

She slid him a quick glance before turning back to drop a few pencils in her bag. "Well, just so you're clear, I have no intention of doing anything of that sort with you."

"Your intentions are duly noted." She felt his breath warm against her neck and whipped around to face him.

He was frighteningly close; she felt her eyes widen and her breath catch in her throat at the perceived threat. Leaning backwards slightly, she placed her hands on the table behind her to keep her balance. "I mean it, Jareth."

"Mmmm . . ." He smiled at her disarmingly. "Of course you do." He leaned in, only to reach behind her, grabbing her bag and slipping it over her shoulder. "All set?" He hooked his fingers under the strap, pulling her closer.

Sliding her arms up and between them, she crossed them over her chest to form the only barrier she had available under the circumstances. She really wished she had opted for the thick over-sized wool sweater this morning rather than the thin cotton peasant blouse that left her feeling too exposed. Narrowing her eyes, she cleared her throat, willing her voice not to sound as shaky as she felt. "Let's get this over with, then."

-o0O0o-

Sarah didn't think she'd ever get used to Jareth's preferred mode of travel. She stumbled slightly, Jareth offering an arm to steady her, as the world slowly teetered to a stop. As soon as she had settled without fear of toppling over, he released her and stalked purposefully into the throne room directly ahead of them. At a loss for what else to do, Sarah dutifully followed.

Upon his entry, the current inhabitants let out a cacophony of cheers and whistles, the room erupting into chaos. Sarah covered her ears as Jareth punted a goblin that had fallen drunkenly into his path, sending him sailing with a rather cheerful sounding "Whoo-whoo!"

Stopping abruptly, Jareth looked around in frank distaste. "Shut up!" The room promptly fell quiet, all eyes fixed on their king. He turned to face Sarah, a small strained smile on his lips. "Well, now. Here are the more useless inhabitants of the city, doing what they do best – laying about." A small goblin to his left twittered and Jareth silenced him with a glare. He looked back up at Sarah. "Take them all, if you'd like. They could certainly use something to do," he offered with unconcealed disdain.

Sarah looked around, dumbstruck. Goblins were everywhere – lounging in every nook and cranny from floor to ceiling. Something that she assumed to be some sort of ale, flowed unheeded from an oak barrel near the doorway. She side-stepped the spreading puddle creeping towards her unprotected toes, her flip-flops sticky against the stone, only to jump back as a chicken she hadn't noticed flapped its wings in protest. The angry squawk from the affronted bird sparked a round of snickers that made its way circuitously about room. Sarah tracked the sound with her eyes to end on a largish goblin with a tiny button nose and bulbous eyes who proceeded to poke at the chicken again to keep the circle of merriment unbroken, before taking it upon himself to stopper the flowing ale by lying underneath the barrel and opening his mouth wide.

Now that the chicken was otherwise occupied, Sarah took a few steps backwards toward the exit. What had she gotten herself into?

"I'll leave you to it, then." Jareth began to walk past her, back out the way they had come.

The thought of being left alone in the throne room with a horde of unruly goblins was a cold splash of reality. "Hey! Wait . . ." she called after him. "You're not really leaving, are you?"

He stopped, turning to face her, an eyebrow cocked in amused interest. He sauntered back towards her, his boots clicking ominously on the stone. She just stared at him as he advanced, feeling overwhelmed in the familiar, yet not entirely welcoming, setting.

He reached out a hand, tilting her head up with a finger under her chin. "As much as I enjoy our little spats, I fear I have a few things to attend to. Given your penchant for befriending the more wayward denizens of my Labyrinth, I should imagine that this will be 'a piece of cake', to quote a recklessly brave young girl I met once upon a time."

Right. A piece of cake. Sarah squared her shoulders and stepped back out of his reach. "Go. I'll be fine."

"Of course you will." He smiled as he turned to leave. It was only slightly mocking. "I'll be back shortly, precious."

Like she really wanted him to hang around. She watched him walk away until he was out of sight around a corner before turning back to face the room. Good riddance. She didn't need him looking over her shoulder, making snide comments, and making this harder than it needed to be. She scanned the room slowly, taking in all the grotesquely cute faces peering back at her curiously.

How does one interview a goblin, exactly?

It's not as if she could have them fill out job applications. As it turns out, and not surprisingly, goblins can't read or write. The four that currently popped in to help just kind of showed up one day, so she gave them something to do, easy tasks at first, and then progressively more complicated. She had come up with a system for filling orders that the goblins took to readily. It was a simple process, really. She put pictures on each of her products, with matching pictures on the mailing labels. The goblins then had to simply match the pictures and package them in a box to ship.

Which gave her an idea. Rummaging in her bag, she pulled out a couple folders.

"Hey guys – how about a game?"

-o0O0o-

Chapter Text

It had been a good idea at conception.

But not so much in execution, as it turned out.

Sarah was slumped in the circular throne, watching her brilliant idea devolve into something not quite so. If she had ever doubted the natural world's tendency towards disorder, she didn't now. In fact, it seemed particularly apropos when applying that theory to goblins.

Her carefully printed and organized mailing labels were everywhere – papering the walls, stuck to goblins, and tangled in feathers. And her meticulously packaged tea samples were little more than confetti, the mini plastic bags empty and littering the floor. Goblins ran amuck, hyped up on adrenaline and new toys. It was like a plague of ADHD.

She sighed as she finally managed to free the sticker from her hair without pulling too much of it out in the process. Crumpling the label, she tossed it to the floor, quickly forgotten as it disappeared among the debris. This was a hopeless mess. How did Jareth deal with the craziness on a daily basis?

Most likely it boiled down to the probability that he didn't freely pass out stickers and bribe them with sugar. Keeping them drunk and passed out probably didn't hurt, either.

Pulling her legs up, she hugged them to her chest, sighing again as she rested her chin on her knees. He had seemed different, somehow, as soon as they had stepped foot inside the castle. Up until now, he had been teasing playfulness and arrogant amusement, but here he was more gruff and impatient. Sarah frowned a bit as she considered the change. He seemed strangely unhappy here.

Reminding herself that her tiny pinprick of misplaced pity was akin to sympathy for the devil, she promptly let that train of thought chug on by as she lifted her head, spotting something curious and somewhat amusing in the middle of the chaos. Perhaps her wickedly brilliant idea wasn't a total loss after all.

Completely disregarding the antics of his fellow brethren, one lone goblin, short and dumpy with a big round nose, was methodically peeling up stickers from various surfaces and matching them to empty little bags. He gave a little leap straight up into the air, both legs locked while his feet jiggled happily, pocketing his current match as soon as he touched the ground. Looking around for another unmatched label, he engaged a nearby goblin in a mini tug of war, ultimately winning the prize while losing his hat. It clanked as it rolled away, the goblin scurrying after it, his prize clutched in his hand. He mashed it back on his head with a glare, before squatting down to study the remaining bags strewn about the floor in his vicinity. He carefully picked each one up in turn, comparing it to the label stuck to his fingers.

Sarah unfolded from the rather uncomfortable throne and headed towards him. He looked up at her blankly as she stood above him, her shadow blocking his light.

Sarah smiled down at him. "How many matches do you have?"

Coming up out of his crouch, he dug about in his pockets pulling out six matching pairs, holding them out to her in both hands.

Sarah kneeled down to his level, taking the matches and studying them, careful to maintain an appropriately serious expression. She made a few agreeable sounds as he danced from foot to foot excitedly, waiting eagerly for her reaction. Finally looking up at him, she smiled. "This is very good. What's your name?"

He hopped once more, apparently physically incapable of containing his excitement. "Thrunk. Thrunk is very good at matches?" He looked up at her with wide eyes, seeking confirmation.

She nodded. "Yes, very good. What would you think, Thrunk, of helping me out? You see, I have quite a bit of matching to do, and I need another helper. Would you like that?"

He continued to dance about, and Sarah worried he might internally combust with all the heat he must be generating. "Thrunk can help! Thrunk is very good at matches."

"I think you may be one of the best I've ever seen." She dug in her bag, pulling out a baggie of cookies and offering one to her new employee. "And good matchers get lots of cookies."

He accepted the cookie happily, tucking it into his pocket. "Thrunk will find more matches now." He hesitated a moment before quickly snatching the matches out of her hand, lest she object, and bounding off to examine another pile of discarded bags.

Well, he would be good if she could convince him to actually let go of his matches and box them up to ship. She shrugged. They'd work on it.

Leaving Thrunk to his matching, Sarah stood amidst the ongoing pandemonium at a loss for what to do next. One was good, but two was better – she needed to find another helper. Running a hand through her hair, she watched as a small goblin with large elephant ears slinked along the perimeter of the room, a chicken tucked contentedly under one arm. He seemed wary of the stickerpalooza currently underway, as he made his way to an unoccupied space against the wall near the throne. He set the chicken carefully on the ground before plopping down on top of it and resting his chin in his hands.

He looked as lost here as she felt. And she was kind of a sucker for underdogs.

Winding her way through the throng of cavorting goblins, Sarah made her way over, crouching down as she reached him. He peered up at her hesitantly, looking a little like he might burst into tears at the slightest provocation.

"Hey there. I'm Sarah."

He continued to stare at her, affecting a distinctly deer-in-headlights look at being directly addressed.

Was he frightened of her? "Don't you like to play games?"

No answer.

"Do you have a name?"

He blinked at her, shuffling a bit on his chicken nervously.

"I guess I'll take that as a no."

In his first show of interest, his nose twitched slightly as he sniffed the air.

Ah, so that was the trick. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out her cookie stash. "Would you like a cookie?"

He nodded energetically and held out a wiry hand. Well, at least she knew that he understood her. She handed him her last cookie, which he promptly began to gobble down.

"You know, the goblins that help me out with my matching get cookies all the time. And stories. Do you like stories?"

He looked at her a moment before nodding.

"Do you think that might be something you'd like to do?"

Popping the last bit of cookie into his sharply toothed mouth, he nodded again.

Sarah smiled at him. "It's a deal, then. We'll just have to see about finding you a proper name."

The chicken-turned-stool clucked at her in warning as she slid down the wall to sit on the floor next to her new friend. She looked from the pitiful, ragged creature to the goblin perched on top.

"That's probably not good for the chicken."

The goblin peered down at feathered footstool and then looked back up at her, one large ear cocked, with an expression that seemed to say, "Do you really think so? He seems fine to me," before turning back to gaze at the room with a small sigh.

Feeling sorry for the bedraggled bird, Sarah dumped the remaining cookie crumbs onto the floor, the chicken pecking away eagerly. Cookies were probably not the best things for chickens, but it was all she had.

They sat in a companionable silence that was ultimately interrupted as Thrunk came hurrying over, bouncing as he handed her his newest matches.

Sarah smiled at him. "You're amazing, Thrunk. How 'bout taking a break and sitting with us for a while?"

Thrunk took back his matches, settling down on her other side while he occupied himself with laying them out and scooping them up again repeatedly. He nibbled at his cookie as he reveled in his newfound talent.

Sarah watched him quietly for a few minutes, finally lifting her head as the sound of boots on the stone floor drew her attention to the doorway just as Jareth reappeared. He paused only a moment to take in his rather worse for wear room, before making a beeline for the throne. Sarah tracked his movements from her position on the floor. Miraculously, no goblins were harmed along the way. Peeling a sticker from the seat, he turned to look at her with a cocked brow. "I see that eleven years hasn't curbed your propensity for leaving a path of destruction wherever you go."

Sarah flinched slightly. "Sorry," she offered quietly, quickly offsetting her apology with a subtle lifting of her chin, "but you didn't give me much time to prepare. I had to work with what I had." And it's not like it was actually clean when I got here.

He eyed the two goblins sitting on either side of her dubiously. "And you succeeded, I take it?"

"I did."

He nodded, letting the sticker float down to the floor. Tensing as a squeal erupted from a much put-upon little piglet decorously covered in mailing labels, he turned abruptly to address the room at large. "Quiet! Clean up this mess or I will dump each of you miserable excuses for life into the bog before you can blink." The goblins immediately began clamoring, climbing over and running into each other in their haste to obey.

The two at her side remained still, clearly demonstrating their new allegiance.

Sarah leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, looking up at him in disapproval. "Do you have to be so mean?"

Jareth studied her stoically for a moment before sauntering over to tower above her. "Goblins require a firm hand."

Sarah turned to look at the little goblin to her right, wrinkling her nose and shaking her head. He smiled shyly at her in return. She grinned back at him.

Jareth rolled his eyes, extending a hand. "Come."

Sarah stood, using the wall as leverage. She didn't need his hand, firm or otherwise. "Come where?"

He let his arm drop, a faint amusement creeping across his features. "The Goblin Market is presently underway in the city square. I thought perhaps you might find something useful."

"Oh." She looked at him warily.

"I promise to take you home when you're ready," he clarified dryly.

She dusted the dirt from her hands onto her jeans. "Okay . . . I guess I could take a quick look."

-o0O0o-

Chapter Text

The air outside was cool and the sky was a soft taupey orchid, the sun and moon hanging low and shrouded over the lopsided rooftops at opposite ends of the horizon. The city itself was alive with the rush and bustle of its inhabitants as they fussed with their wares and scurried about between the booths crammed into the open space around the large stone fountain and overflowing out into the city streets.

It felt odd. The last time she had been here she had been going the other way, the goblins trying to stop her, rather ineffectually, at every turn. This time, other than a few casually curious glances, they paid her little mind.

Sarah hugged herself against the chill breeze as she stepped off the last stair into the city square, really wishing she had opted for the sweater.

Before the thought was fully set and kneaded into a poofy ball of festering discontent, she was wrapped in radiant warmth as Jareth draped his coat over her shoulders. "You're cold."

Sarah froze, momentarily stunned, before attempting to rid herself of the offered protection. "I'm fine. I don't need this."

Jareth thwarted her efforts by taking hold of the lapels, pulling it snug and turning her to face him. "Do you have to fight me on everything? Trust me – it's purely out of self-preservation. I don't need you harping at me when you get sick."

Sarah just stared at him a moment before reluctantly slipping her arms through the sleeves, her lips curving downward into a small pout. She couldn't shake the awareness that this was his lingering heat warming her and his cinnamon spice scent getting all mixed up and mingling with her own lavender and chamomile. They weren't supposed to go, but the result was . . . unexpectedly nice, and ridiculously unnerving. She glanced away as she swept her hair out from under the collar.

"That wasn't so hard now, was it?" He offered his arm. "Shall we?"

Sarah looked up at him blankly before rolling her eyes and readjusting her bag over her shoulder, following as he led the way. She ignored his arm in an attempt to assuage her need to protest.

They walked in silence for a bit, wandering aimlessly among the various booths. Compared to the goblins in the throne room, this lot was immeasurably more industrious. A few booths they passed offered food items for sale: bread, fruits and vegetables, eggs, dairy products, and ale. Others peddled handmade clothing and woven baskets. One in particular seemed to be the sole source of the metal hats the goblins seemed to prefer, sold alongside other items of his trade including some roughly hewn, yet intimidating, weapons and various tools. She had a flash of recognition as they passed by a booth overrun by things more familiar; it was manned by the goblin lady in the junkyard whom she had met during her first trip to the Underground. Sarah glanced up at Jareth in question.

"Lost things," he clarified. "Lost toys and other items end up in the outskirts of the Labyrinth by a rather irritating quirk of magic. Agnes and others make their living by sorting through the junk for novelty items that are quite popular among the Labyrinth's populace for reasons only known to themselves."

Sarah nodded. They must have quite a collection of socks. She wondered where the things that the goblins themselves lost disappeared to. If they lost something, did they just go wander about in the piles of junk knowing that it would eventually turn up?

Jareth came to a stop at a small booth and Sarah nearly ran into him, her attention occupied by their curious surroundings. Glancing at the booth in question, she thought perhaps their wandering hadn't been so aimless after all. A slender goblin with a bald head, save for small tufts around his ears, peered at her from behind wire spectacles. Covering his table were myriad glass jars of varying sizes and shapes filled with what appeared to be teas and spices of some sort.

Jareth laid a hand on the goblin's shoulder, leaning in as he spoke. "Rue, my lady here shares an interest of yours. She also has a business dealing in teas and herbs in the mortal realm."

Rue seemed rather more interested at the revelation. He bobbed his head. "Ah, I see, I see."

"I thought perhaps you might be interested in a little trade; something that may prove beneficial to you both." Jareth patted his shoulder once before straightening and turning to face Sarah. "Do you happen to have any samples left, or are they all now carpeting the floor of my throne room?"

It just so happened that she did. She exchanged samples with the goblin tea vendor, ending with an invitation for him to come visit her to share tips of the trade over tea. He happily accepted before bidding them good day as another customer begged his attention.

Tucking the samples into her bag, she looked up at Jareth with a curious tilt of her head. That was rather thoughtful of him. He seemed at ease here among his subjects at the market, cordial and considerate. It was something different and he wore it well. He caught her eye, giving her a small smile as he indicated with a short nod for them to continue down the path. She fell in step beside him, wrapped up in puzzling out this new facet of his character.

They walked for a while longer, Sarah stopping abruptly as they came to a booth featuring hand carved woodwork: walking sticks, bowls, and various trinkets. A small round goblin that appeared to be female bobbed a short curtsy from behind the table. "'is majesty." Jareth nodded slightly in acknowledgement.

Sarah looked between the two before perusing the table in earnest. Smiling, she picked up a small figurine carved into the shape of a chicken. It appeared to be part of a set. The small goblin hobbled over to stand across from her. "There now, lovey. Do you be playing chess, then?"

She raised her brows, looking up from the little figure to the goblin. "These are chess pieces?"

She nodded vigorously. "That they be. Best you'd be finding in the Underground. Fancy a good game meself."

Looking at the other pieces in the set, Sarah could see the slight difference. The roosting hens must be the pawns, the three-high-stack the tower, and two of the larger pieces boasted crown-like feathers, obviously the king and queen. "Well, I can't say that I'm any good, but I've played a few games from time to time."

In addition to the chickens, there were other sets as well: gnomes, fairies, various woodland creatures . . . and odd rough circular pieces that didn't seem to resemble anything at all. She picked one up.

"What are these?"

Before the vendor could speak, Jareth answered for her, leaning over her shoulder and speaking close to her ear. "Rocks."

Sarah glanced over her shoulder at him, perplexed. "Rocks?"

He smirked at her, maintaining their close proximity. "They proved to be quite the formidable foe, as it were. I'm sure you recall?"

Oh, right. The rocks.

She turned to face him fully, clutching the little rock like her life depended on it. "I have to have these."

He smiled wryly at her deadpan declaration, crossing his arms over his chest as he straightened. "Feeling a bit nostalgic?"

She shrugged. "I just think they're funny, I guess. But maybe a little." She looked away from him, opening her palm to let the little treasure roll freely. "I did meet a few good friends along the way."

He cocked an eyebrow. "It was also the first time we met. But I don't imagine I'm counted among those friends."

She shot him a quick glance before looking back at the carved rock in her hand. Was he teasing her? He had this irritating habit of saying things that she knew had some kind of hidden meaning, but she just couldn't figure him out. Was this another game to him and he was toying with her as he had before?

Pushing the comment to the back of her mind for later contemplation, she turned her back to the table completely, lowering her voice. "How do I buy something at a goblin market? I don't guess they take money, do they?"

He seemed amused at her question. "The goblins are a simple race. Most commerce is done by barter and trade. Perhaps you have something that might interest her?"

Recalling similar "trades" during her trip through the Labyrinth, Sarah dug through her bag to take inventory. After an entertaining bartering session with the shrewd little goblin, she ultimately ended up with both the chickens and rocks in exchange for a Maglight keychain, a bag of chocolate chips she had picked up at the grocery store yesterday and had forgotten about, and a mood ring her mother had bought her when she had gone to visit during the summer after her freshman year of high school. She didn't know why she still wore it, really. She had given up hope on any kind of meaningful relationship with Linda Williams, acclaimed stage actress who couldn't be bothered to even pretend to give a damn about her only daughter.

Slipping her purchase into her bag, they began to walk again, the scenery a little more familiar as the gates to the Goblin City became visible. She noted that Humungous was back in his post in the huge double doors.

Sarah glanced over at Jareth. "Well, I don't see that the rocks caused any real lasting damage."

He met her eyes briefly. "You wouldn't, would you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Only that your perspective may be lacking as to the damage you caused. But, to answer your question – no, nothing that wasn't able to be fixed with time. The city was rebuilt and fortified, not that it's necessary to defense."

"Necessary to defense?"

"The goblin army that met you at the gate is perfunctory at best. The city itself doesn't require protection, as the Labyrinth provides the only necessary ward. Being that it exists in its own dimension, our guests must be invited. One doesn't just stumble upon the entrance to the Labyrinth."

'Guests' was an interesting way to put it. "I see," she said quietly, although she felt she had more questions than ever.

Feeling a tug at her sleeve, she looked down to find two goblin eyes looking up at her curiously. "Is you the Queen?"

Sarah visibly recoiled, taking a step back. "No! Um . . . no. I just . . . I'm just . . ." Planting her feet, she took a breath, closing her eyes, before looking at the goblin with a smile. "No. I'm just visiting."

The goblin looked from his king to her, obviously confused, before wandering away. Sarah snuck a glance at Jareth before shrugging off his coat and folding it over her arm.

She looked up again at the sound of his voice, his tone cool and his expression unreadable. "Speaking of security, I took the liberty of inspecting your property and the immediate vicinity."

He resumed their walk and Sarah followed suit, carefully avoiding his gaze as she took in the intricacies of life in the Goblin City. "Oh?"

"I have plans to set up surveillance, although it may take some time. In addition, I must ask you not to go out at night alone."

Sarah waved him off, her other hand reaching out to pet a chicken sitting on a nearby windowsill. "I hardly think that's necessary."

He grabbed her wrist and her attention, turning her to face him. "Remember our bargain, Sarah."

She pulled to free her arm but he held fast. "Let go."

"You asked for my protection and you will get it. Don't defy me."

She pulled again just as he released her, and she stumbled backwards a few steps.

Overgrown bully. "Fine," she spat. Although she didn't want to concede the point, it wasn't an entirely unreasonable request. "I won't go out alone at night."

"See that you don't."

Regaining her ground, she caught his eye and held it. He was in a snit for some reason or another, and she'd had about all that she could handle. She held out his coat in the space between them. "I'm ready to go home now."

He reached out to take it, his gloved fingers gliding over the skin of her hand to curl around hers. "As you wish." His eyes were hard as they bored into hers, his hair whipping in the sudden wind, streaking against the murky sky like a shower of falling stars. "As always."

A thought flashed alien and unbidden in her mind as she held his gaze, the world slowly dissolving into incoherent swirls of sound and color…

Make a wish, Sarah.

-o0O0o-

Chapter Text

Sarah slid the miniature key into the lock and twisted. The small metal door to Post Office Box 106 opened, a few days of mail crammed and cramped inside. She sighed as she began to tug at the contents, trying to free it without tearing anything. She should come more often; and probably get a bigger box. It would be easier to have the mail delivered to her house, but it was a security issue. She had a strict policy of not mixing her business and personal lives as much as possible.

Well, that does rather take the fun out of things, don't you think? The words flashed behind her eyes in obnoxiously curly script.

Damn him and his stupid words. Sarah growled back at the lingering impression that had taken up residence in her head. Shut it, you poofy-headed git. She didn't need fun, she just needed . . . something.

A simple 'Jareth, I need you' . . .

Gah! Sarah sagged forward, resting her forehead on the cool metal of the wall. Even when he wasn't physically here, Jareth somehow managed to get under her skin. He didn't even have to make the effort; everything he had ever said seemed etched into her brain like a tattoo, the kind you wished you had never gotten but were stuck with as a constant reminder of your ineffable stupidity. It had been a week since her trip Underground and she hadn't heard so much as a peep from him. Sarah frowned as she straightened, flipping the keys in her hand absently. He had been in her thoughts much too often for comfort. She shouldn't care. She really shouldn't care. He could do what he wanted; he always did anyway.

Resuming her tug of war with the contents of her mailbox, Sarah unconsciously sorted as she went – business on top and junk mail on the bottom.

She wondered what he was doing.

Damnit, Sarah - stop thinking about him! Right now.

And when, exactly, had she started talking to herself?

Clutching the stack of mail to her chest, Sarah slammed the little door closed slightly harder than was necessary, her lips drawn into a thin determined line. This had to be unhealthy, and was most certainly not good.

Pushing all thoughts of Jareth forcibly from her mind, Sarah headed for the counter, a small rectangular slip of paper gripped tightly in her hand. It was Wednesday morning and quiet; she didn't have to wait long.

Sarah plastered a smile on her face for the lady behind the counter, passing her the slip. "I have a package, please."

The older lady returned after a few minutes, handing her a flat rectangular package wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. Sarah signed for it before she turned away, trying to juggle the mail in her hands. Unsuccessfully, as it turned out. While she had been trying to tuck the package under her arm, she hadn't been paying attention and had bumped into the person who had been unlucky enough to be standing behind her, spilling her stack of mail all over the floor.

"Oh! I'm sorry!" Sarah gave the man a hurried glance, touching his arm briefly in apology before bending to retrieve her mail.

"It's no problem. Let me help you." He bent down beside her, scooping up the letters that were out of her reach. He glanced down at the mail in his hands, handing it to her as they both stood. "Sweet Dreams?" He smiled. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be nosy."

Sarah smiled back at him as she took her mail. "No, that's okay. Thanks." He looked about her age, maybe a little older, with a Mets cap and a beat up corduroy jacket. He seemed a little thin, or maybe his clothes were just a little too big. He was actually kind of cute, in a scruffy kind of way. "Ah . . . yes. Sweet Dreams is my business; I sell herbal supplements." She tilted her head, considering him again. He looked tired; he had sounded tired, too. She dug in her bag, pulling out and handing him a sample. "Chamomile and Peach Tea – to help you sleep. You look like you could use some."

"Yeah, maybe. Thanks." He took it, clutching it in his hand. "Do you have a store?"

"No." She gave a small exasperated laugh. "I can't keep product on the shelf long enough to justify a store." She nodded to the package in his hand. "But I do have a website; it's on the label. Everything's done by mail order."

He glanced at the bag in his hand. "So, how does it help you sleep?"

Sarah slipped the stack of mail in her bag before looking up at him with a smile. She winked at him as she started toward the exit. "Just a little bit of magic."

-o0O0o-

Sarah smiled as she pulled up to her house, feeling the tension in her shoulders ease as she turned into the driveway. She loved her house – pseudo-Spanish style with stucco walls and a terra cotta tiled roof cozily nestled and well hidden among an acre of trees and flowers, surrounded by a 12-foot-high privacy hedge. Her El Camino bumped along the gravel drive as she pulled through the opening in the security fence and around to the back of the house, a tree bobbing in the open bed of the car. The gate rumbled closed behind her. Sarah cut the engine, retrieving the grocery bag and brown wrapped package from the passenger seat, and climbed out of the car. She spotted Ludo loitering in the large archway that lead to the backdoor as she bumped the door closed with her hip.

"Hey, Ludo!"

At the sound of his name, the large orange beast lumbered toward her. "Sawah home."

"Can you help me carry this tree into the courtyard?"

Ludo looked from Sarah to the tree and back to Sarah again. "Ah . . . yeah."

"Thanks, Ludo." She snuggled her face into his fuzzy shoulder as she passed him, heading toward the house. "Hoggle will know what to do with it. And there're a couple of bags of fertilizer back there, too."

Sarah walked into the kitchen, setting the grocery bag down on the counter. She glanced at the answering machine - no messages. Not that she'd expected any. This was her personal line; having messages sort of implied having some sort of personal life, which was difficult when you had fantasy creatures working in your house. She sighed, quirking her lips thoughtfully. She wasn't unhappy, quite the opposite, actually. But sometimes she wondered what life was like for other people, normal people; those that didn't tinker with magic. She shrugged, humming softly to herself as she began to unload the groceries. It probably wasn't nearly as fun.

Just as she had finished, Ambrosius came barreling into the kitchen, skidding into her as he slid on the linoleum. Sarah bent down to give him a thorough doggie rub-down, spewing baby talk as he danced excitedly, his tongue lolling. "Where's Didymus, huh? Is he neglecting you?" Sarah handed him a treat from a jar on the counter, which he took happily before scampering back down the hallway. Sarah watched him go, laughing. She had lost Merlin years ago, but Ambrosius didn't seem to change a bit. She supposed it had something to do with living in the Underground.

Grabbing her bag and package from the counter, Sarah headed down the hallway toward her office. As she passed the work room, she poked her head inside to find Sir Didymus helping the goblins pack the most recent shipment. "You guys doing okay?"

The little fox knight looked up at the sound of her voice. "My Lady!" He hopped down from his stool, be-bopping over to stand beside her. "Two new recruits accompanied Sir Hoggle just this morning." He leaned closer to whisper. "But, alas, the little one seems to have lost his tongue."

"Yes, I know. We'll just have to let him find his own way. He'll speak up when he's ready." Sir Didymus nodded sagely before heading back to the table.

Sarah continued on her way, glancing back when she heard the shuffle of feet behind her. Thrunk had followed her out. "Hey, Thrunk. Want to help me sort some mail?" He bobbed his head and followed her into her office.

Sarah sank into the chair at her desk, plopping the stack of mail on a small table for Thrunk. She showed him how to open and unfold the letters before retrieving the package. She unwrapped it to find a small oil painting of a fairy . . . with very sharp teeth. Sarah laughed as she read the enclosed letter. Hoggle would love this. She'd have to show him later.

Setting it aside, she pulled up her accounts and worked silently as she tallied up the month's expenses. She paused as she noticed the blank space under the new column she had added: 'GK'. Tapping her pen against her checkbook, she pondered this new dilemma; she didn't suppose Jareth took checks.

She had tried to convince herself that it didn't bother her, that she preferred it this way, but she couldn't help but wonder. A whole week and not one word. He had been in a mood when she had last seen him, dropping her off on her porch and disappearing with a tight 'As promised.'

It couldn't be helped – she had to know how this was going to work. Sarah glanced over at the goblin sitting at her right opening envelopes. And she'd be damned if the words 'Jareth, I need you' were going to slip from her lips. "Thrunk."

The dumpy little goblin looked up at her only after opening the envelope in his hands. He bounced once in obvious excitement to punctuate the satisfying sound of metal ripping through paper.

He was really cute. She smiled at him. "Can you tell the king that I need to see him, please?"

Thrunk bobbed his head, setting the envelope carefully on top of the stack. "Thrunk will tell the king." He promptly poofed out of sight.

Sarah sighed, slightly nervous about their inevitable meeting. Catching movement out of the corner of her eye, she looked over to see the gnarled dwarfish features of her dearest friend fidgeting in her office doorway. Swiveling to face him, she sagged deeper into her chair. "Hey, Hoggle. Everything going okay?"

After a brief hesitation, he hobbled toward her. "Ah, yep. Got that tree planted like you wanted." He stopped in front of her, looking down at his feet. "Ah . . . Sarah . . ."

"What is it, Hoggle?" Something was bothering him. She had a pretty good idea what it was.

"About Jareth . . ."

Yep – that was it. "I know. He's kind of . . . helping out, just more officially now." She supposed he was always helping out in some capacity, whether he was aware of it or not. "And he's providing a little extra protection."

He looked up at her, his lips drawn into a thin grimace. "Who's gonna to protect you from him?"

Good question. She had been wondering the same thing herself.

Sarah stared down into the concerned eyes of her friend. He did have a valid point; however, backing out of her arrangement with Jareth wasn't really an option. She was almost certain that Jareth would make sure of that, for whatever reasons he might have. She leaned forward in her chair so that she was eye level with the dwarf. "Hoggle - what is it that you have against Jareth, exactly?"

Hoggle looked taken aback at the question and he took a few faltering steps backward. "I . . . I jus' don't like him, is all." He waved a dismissive hand, grumbling as he turned to walk out of the office.

He didn't answer when she called after him and Sarah felt her gut twist as she watched him go. She hated to see him so upset.

-o0O0o-

Jareth was working though a stack of paperwork in his study, a feathered quill grasped loosely in his gloved fingers, as he listened to the soft patter of feet come to a stop in the doorway. He glanced up briefly, recognizing the goblin as one that Sarah had befriended during her visit. He dipped his quill in the inkpot and resumed his correspondence. "Yes?"

"The lady says she needs you."

He laughed lightly, signing his name to the document with a flourish. "Yes, she does. In more ways than she's willing to admit." Laying the quill down, he leaned back in the carved, cushioned chair, crossing his hands over his stomach to look at his small stubby subject. "What is it she thinks she needs me for?"

The goblin shrugged before wandering back out the way he had come.

Right. Well, I suppose I should hurry right over then, he thought dryly with a sardonic twist of his lips.

-o0O0o-

Soon after Hoggle had left, Sarah felt that familiar shift in the atmosphere letting her know she was no longer alone. She didn't turn around right away and he didn't say anything to more formally announce his presence. She knew that he knew that he didn't have to. After a few strained minutes of silence, Sarah swiveled around to face him. He was draped sideways across her cushy chair, fingers curled against his lips, elbow propped up on the arm rest, his eyes slightly narrowed as he studied her. He was dressed casually today, a simple ruffled black shirt and dove grey leggings tucked into boots.

"You came." She stated it matter-of-factly as she met his gaze.

He smiled slightly behind his hand. "Are you testing me?"

"No. I just wasn't sure if . . ." She chewed her bottom lip, a frown creasing her forehead. Never mind. "I needed to talk to you about some things."

He quirked a brow. "Is that so?"

"Business things," she clarified as she narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. "Why do you do that?

"Do what?"

"That question thing. Like you don't know what I'm talking about when I know that you do."

He laughed, clearly amused as he dropped his hand and moved so that he was sitting forward in the chair, facing her. "What was it you wanted to talk to me about, precious?"

He hadn't answered her question. "Fine." Be that way. He really was irritating. Especially when his voice was all teasing and seductive and . . . don't finish that thought. Pulling her arms in tighter, she sagged back into her chair. "There are some things I need to know, like . . . how do I pay you?"

"Easily. I have an account." He rose from the chair, sauntering over to stand in front of her. When he reached around to grab a pen from the desk behind her, she pressed back into her chair, her eyes growing wide as she looked up at him. Catching her retreat, he looked down at her, searching her eyes as a predatory smile spread across his lips. Placing his hands on the arms of her chair, he leaned down, moving so that his hair brushed the side of her face and his mouth was close to her ear as he whispered, "I don't bite, little mouse." He pulled back slightly to meet her gaze, an amused smirk playing on his lips. "Well, not unless provoked." He laughed lightly when she glared at him and spun back to face her computer, breaking his hold on her chair. Stepping to her side, he reached across in front of her for the notepad on the opposite side of the desk, laughing again when she jumped. "My, my, aren't we jumpy today. Nervous about something?"

Damnit, Sarah! What the hell is wrong with you? Sarah stared straight ahead for a moment, composing herself, before turning her head to look coolly up at him. "No."

Jareth raised an eyebrow as he tapped the pen idly against the notepad. "No. Of course not. Not the unshakable Miss Williams . . ." He looked down to scribble something on the paper and handed it to her with a charming smile. ". . . and her imaginary lines."

Sarah glared at him as she snatched it out of his hand. "What's this?"

"My account number. You can have the money wired to that account."

"I suppose that's easy enough." She turned back to her computer, typing the number into her spreadsheet. She paused before clicking save, a question coming to mind, and she turned her head to look at him. He was leaning backward against her desk, his arms crossed smugly over his chest. "What do you need the money for, anyway?"

He smiled down at her. "Taking beautiful women out to dinner."

She looked away, saving the file and closing her laptop. She wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer to her next question, but she couldn't stop herself from asking. "Is that something you do often?"

"Not as often as I'd like."

So . . . not really an answer at all. How unexpected. All too aware that this was not a safe topic of conversation, Sarah decided to shift to one she hoped would end this visit sooner rather than later. She swiveled to face him. "There was another thing I wanted to talk to you about - the second tree."

"Ah, yes. The tree." Rather than answer her indirect question, he pushed off the desk and headed for the door without sparing her a glance.

"Hey! Where are you going?"

He paused in the doorway to look back at her. "Which way?"

Sarah sighed, rubbing at her forehead to stave off the headache she could feel forming just under the skin. This was not going at all like she planned. "To the right. There's a door to the courtyard in the dining room near the kitchen." He took off in the direction she had indicated, and after a brief moment of hesitation, Sarah stood to follow him.

-o0O0o-

When she walked though the door to the courtyard it was to find Jareth standing near the peach tree with a look of concentration on his face. He seemed to be inspecting it, running his hand slowly down along the trunk. Curious, but wary, Sarah stepped out of the doorway and leaned back against the wall to watch.

Still focused intently on the tree, Jareth slid his hand back upwards, pulling it back slightly from the trunk at chest level. The air between his body and the tree rippled, viscous and fluid as it trailed from his fingertips before breaking away to swirl listlessly in the empty space. The tree seemed to shudder in response, the leaves glittering as they fluttered and rustled in the still air. Sarah held her breath, captivated by the scene. She had known about the magic, but she had never seen anything quite like this.

Jareth was still for a few minutes longer, his hand held outward toward the tree and his eyes closed. When the air around him had finally settled, he reached out, curling his hand around the trunk and looking up into the branches. And then he began to climb.

Sarah raised a brow as she watched. He climbed with ease, reminding her of one of those large jungle cats the way his muscles flexed powerfully beneath his skin, graceful and athletic and . . . bendy as he moved higher up into the tree. Sure, he was an insufferably arrogant jerk, but she wasn't blind. She could definitely appreciate his . . . finer attributes - from a distance. She wasn't stupid either. She'd just as soon invite a panther into her house as she'd trust the Goblin King. One minute it could be playful and content, and you'd start to care for it and become attached, and the next . . .

No – that wouldn't be a good idea at all. There was a reason they were wild. They were unpredictable. Beautiful, but dangerous. Just like him.

Sarah schooled her features into casual disinterest as Jareth suddenly leapt down with that feline grace, a peach in his hand. He leaned back against the trunk, looking up at her as he took a bite. "They're best at the top." He smiled lazily at her as he chewed. "Soft and warm."

"You're eating my product."

"Our product." Pushing off the tree, he prowled slowly toward her, much like one of those cats she imagined, stalking its prey. She pulled up straighter against the wall when he came to a stop in front of her. Laying his free hand on the brick behind her head, he leaned in close as he brought the peach to his lips. Her gaze flicked down as his pointed teeth sank into the soft flesh, the juices welling up and clinging to his lips. He smiled when she looked back up at him. "I'd be happy to share."

Sarah closed her eyes against the temptation, the feeling of wanting things she shouldn't be wanting. There were at least nine other people – creatures, beings, whatever – in this house! Where were they when she needed them?

As if answering her unspoken plea, Ludo's bulky form filled the doorway beside her. Sarah's eyes flew open and she reached out, grabbing his big furry hand like a lifeline. "Ludo!"

Jareth's gaze flicked up to the beast and back to her, a knowing smirk spreading across his lips. He hovered for a moment longer, holding her gaze, and then chuckled lightly as he stepped back.

Sarah, still clutching to Ludo's paw, turned her head to give her furry friend a shaky smile. "Ludo, can you help me out and pick some of the peaches from the top? Jareth says they're the best."

"Ah . . ." Ludo looked from one to the other indecisively, his soulful gaze ultimately settling on Sarah. "Yeah." Shuffling over to the tree and he began methodically picking peaches from the highest branches and dropping them into a nearby basket.

Jareth had been watching during the exchange, obviously amused. "Don't trust yourself alone with me, precious?"

Sarah slid out from the wall, walking past him to get another empty basket for Ludo. "No. I just don't trust you."

She glanced over her shoulder to see that Jareth had followed. He had discarded the peach and was inspecting the flowering herbs she had arranged in pots on a wooden bench along the wall. Plucking a stalk of lavender, he brought it up to his nose. "Strong . . . sweetly seductive yet fiercely independent. Hazy, like twilight . . . teasing yet unattainable. Unapologetic in its femininity." He reached out to pick a chamomile flower, giving it the same treatment. "Light, slightly hesitant . . . and feminine with a dreamlike wonder. Peaceful. Innocent, with a serene sense of security." He twirled them both between his fingers, inhaling their intertwining fragrance. "Smells like you."

Sarah stared at him dumbly for a moment before recovering her ability to speak. "I have a limited supply of those. They don't bloom year round like that tree."

He turned to her with a disarming smile, tucking the flowers behind his ear.

When he didn't say anything in response, she sighed in exasperation, her hand settling on her hip as she gestured vaguely with the other. "Can't you keep your hands off my stuff for longer than a minute?"

Jareth gave her an unhurried once over, tilting his head as he met her eyes. "And here I thought I was showing admirable restraint."

Sarah pursed her lips, turning back to the empty pots she had been stacking. Yeah . . . I walked right into that one. She sighed again, glancing over to find him leaning against the wall watching her. "Don't you have something to do? You know, besides helping yourself to my inventory."

"Now that you mention it; however, before I leave . . . your other tree. When would you like to visit the orchard?"

She looked back down at her pots. "Um . . . how's Saturday?"

"What day is today?"

Standing, she brushed the dirt from her hands on her jeans and gave him a curious look. "Wednesday."

He smiled. "72 hours then."

Sarah thought he looked much too pleased with himself but he was gone before she could form a reply.

-o0O0o-

Chapter Text

Saturday afternoon, Sarah once again found herself standing on top of a hill overlooking a vast labyrinth. However, rather than an expanse of twisting stonework, a maze of fruit trees stretched out over rolling foothills until they were tiny multi-colored dots beneath the purple-grey mountains rising in the distance. The irony wasn't lost on her.

Whether the point was to remind or intimidate, she wasn't sure. Contemplating the scene and comparing it to the snapshot in her memory, Sarah took slow, deep breaths to stave off the nausea, riding out the wave as the ground beneath her feet teetered to a stop. Jareth had been uncharacteristically quiet as she acclimated to her new surroundings. No snide remarks, no lingering hands . . .

Sarah shifted her gaze ever so slightly to her companion. The strong, warm breeze teased at his hair, whipping it about his face, the sunlight glancing off the strands like crystal; his gauzy white shirt floated about his grey leggings, the untucked ends splitting in teasing glimpses of the firm planes of his stomach. His own gaze was fixed on the horizon, his knee-high boots planted in a wide, confident stance. He seemed like some kind of sea god in that moment, a celestial pirate of sorts, the weather at his beck and call, and the lives of the sailors to brave it at his mercy.

As if sensing her scrutiny, he tilted his head toward her and offered his arm. "Shall we?"

Sarah looked away, berating herself at being caught staring at him before setting off down the hill on her own. "I don't need an escort to pick out a tree."

Jareth grinned at her back as she took determined strides away from him. "If you keep spurning my offers, precious, I'm going to think you don't care."

"Oh?" Letting gravity and the warmth of the sun relax her step, Sarah increased her pace, slipping over the rocky terrain in an ambling, childlike skip. A small smile touched her lips. "And here I thought you weren't getting the point at all."

Jareth chuckled as he began to follow her, his unhurried strides fluid and graceful. "So cruel, Sarah."

At the bottom of the hill, she came to a faltering stop, her toes just crossing over into the shadow of a peach tree in front of her, its branches reaching out over her head to pull her in. While she didn't need an escort, maybe it wasn't the worst idea ever. The last time she was in a forest of any kind in the Labyrinth, she almost lost her head.

Sarah plucked idly at the leaves overhead, catching one between her fingers and twirling it against her lips. Unlike the goliath agricultural operations she was familiar with, this orchard had the air of something wild; there was no order to it she could discern. The trees, heavy with fruit, stretched up from the earth in a pattern of their own making, other flora filling in the spaces between and around. Patches of sunny daffodils sprung up from the purple and green clover covering the ground, and blackberry bushes hugged the trunks of trees. Flowers that she didn't recognize peeked out playfully from the shadows as the breeze pulled at their brightly colored petals, diffusing their exotic perfume to mix with the sugary scent of peaches. Sarah felt a little like she was on the precipice of some supernatural secret garden. Inhaling the sweetly intoxicating bouquet, made no less so by the lingering dizziness from the trip Underground minutes before, she swayed slightly, but determinedly kept her feet planted as she waited for Jareth.

When he finally caught up to her, Sarah fell into step beside him. They walked aimlessly in silence, side-by-side, the cadence of birdsong and rustling leaves setting their leisurely pace. Never at ease in his company, the silence ultimately stretched to an uncomfortable breaking point and Sarah had to fill it with something to shut out the disconcerting thoughts running crazy circles in her head. She cleared her throat softly and glanced at him. "I didn't realize it was such a booming business, fruit."

"It seems to thrive here, so we grow it." He shrugged. "Goblin fruit is always in high demand."

Sarah rolled her eyes, feeling much more secure when there was a battle to be fought. "'We must not look at goblin men, we must not buy their fruits.'"

A smirk played at the corner of his mouth. "Ah . . . I remember. Christina, I believe it was."

Sarah whipped her head around. "What?"

"Yes. I knew her." He plucked a peach from a nearby branch, tossing it in his hand. "A disagreeable child."

"You knew Christina Rossetti? The Christina Rossetti who wrote the Goblin Market?"

"Pretty little fantasy, that poem of hers. I quite enjoyed it." He chuckled lightly, taking a bite of the peach. "Though, it wasn't this fruit she was referring to."

Realization dawned. "She ran the Labyrinth."

"Have you ever heard mention of a younger sister?"

"No. She was the youngest of . . ." Sarah gasped, coming to an abrupt stop as she turned to face him. "No!"

"Unfortunately, for her, she lingered in a dream until she ran out of time. The child was forfeit."

"You're not seriously telling me that she lost her little sister to you because she didn't make it to the castle in time?"

Taking a final bite of the peach, he tossed it away into the trees. "Runners are the only ones to remember the child ever existed. I suppose she needed to believe in her happy ending."

Sarah crossed her arms, glaring up at him. "What happened to the child?"

He smiled coolly as he took a step toward her. "Misplaced indignation looks so charming on you."

"That's it? You're not going to tell me?"

He leaned forward so that their eyes were level, his arms crossed behind his back and his voice low. "I thought you didn't want to know."

Sarah opened her mouth to retort, but promptly snapped it shut when she realized that she had no words ready for attack.

Did she want to know? Could she keep doing what she was doing if she did? And if she kept ignoring the obvious, what did that say about her?

Deciding to drop it for now and think about it later, Sarah shoved her hands into the pockets of her shorts and started walking again. After a minute or two of strained silence, she paused to examine the nearest tree. "I've been trying to grow another tree for years, but the seeds never take. Why is that? How do you have so many?"

Jareth came up to stand beside her. "I'm not quite sure, myself. Though, I imagine it's something along the lines of not being able to wish for more wishes."

"I don't understand."

"These trees . . .," he waved a hand to indicate the expansive orchard, ". . . are just trees. Your tree, on the other hand, was the result of a wish, or dream, if you'd like. Although, not quite as I had intended."

She turned to look at him, puzzled. "Just trees, but—"

"They're not enchanted. They're perfectly safe if you'd like to partake. Though, I'd stay clear of the berries, if I were you."

Sarah narrowed her eyes. "If they're just trees . . . then what the hell am I doing here?"

"Why are you here?" He smiled in that smugly amused way of his, with just a hint of condescension. "To have a pleasant stroll on a beautiful day with your handsome, wickedly charming—"

"Gah!" Sarah clenched her fists, turning to walk away from him. Handsome, wickedly charming . . .

She shook her head in mild disbelief. You forgot arrogant, annoying, pretentious, pushy . . .

"How can I . . ." Sarah pressed a hand over her eyes as she tried to find the right words to express her irritation in a way that he might actually comprehend. "How, exactly, am I supposed to trust you if every time you open your mouth you unload all these tremendous lies all over me?" She turned an accusing glare on him. "You tricked me."

He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the tree. "Hardly. I merely asked when you wanted to come to the orchard, and was inclined to acquiesce to your request. If my lovely, though somewhat ill-tempered, business associate desires to share a leisurely afternoon with me, how can I refuse?"

"I don't desire to do anything with you. That's not what I was agreeing to, and you know it."

In one fluid movement, he dropped to the ground, stretching out lazily in a sunny patch beneath the tree. Folding his hands beneath his head, he closed his eyes. "Perhaps. But what's said is said. Your wish is my command."

Sarah arched a brow at his dry tone. "Is that so? And if I wish for you to stop meddling in my life?"

"So quick to take advantage of my generosity? But not the right words . . ." He shifted to lie on his side, his head propped up on his hand as he considered her, a small smirk on his lips. "Given that I am of a generous nature, perhaps you'd like to try that again? Surely there is something you wish for, some secret desire that I can . . .," his eyes raked slowly over her figure, ". . . satisfy?"

When she merely continued to regard him coolly, he shrugged. "No, then. Pity."

"You haven't answered my question."

"My lady is cruel, her cold words razor-tipped and aimed at my heart. But not wholly without compassion. A small hope in a simple word – 'if'." He sighed as he turned over onto his back to resume his cat-like sprawl. "Tell you what, precious - I'll make you a deal. You stop meddling in my life, and I'll stop meddling in yours."

Okay. Touché. Sarah pursed her lips, irritated at his move and check, and her inability to do anything about it. Admittedly, she did kind of bring this on herself. She had known, tucked into an oubliette somewhere in the back of her mind, that he'd pop up one day if she took this path. And she couldn't very well stop meddling in the Labyrinth – it was her business, her life.

"Have a seat, Sarah. Relax. You seem a little tense."

Sarah stared at him for a few minutes, fuming. When he didn't say anything else, she walked over to him, crossing her arms over her chest. "What are you doing?"

He cracked an eye at her. "I was almost asleep. It was a long night."

"What? Too many babies to snatch?"

He sighed. "Do you really want to know?" He closed his eyes again, as if he already knew the conversation was over.

And it was, since she still didn't have an answer.

Sarah walked away, silently cursing him, herself, and his stupid Labyrinth. A chilly breeze brushed over her bare arms, raising goosebumps and she paused in her pacing to look up. As if her stormy thoughts had willed the weather, the sky had grown darker, clouds rolling in fast, tumbling over each other, sweating out the first drops of rain in their haste to reach the orchard. Just as she opened her mouth to point out this new development, the clouds gave a final, victorious surge of energy and burst. Sarah let out a strangled gasp as she was doused in an icy torrent.

Keeping her movements to a minimum in a futile effort to keep the cold rain soaking through her clothing from touching her skin, she turned around slowly to find Jareth still lying on the ground under the tree.

Under a sunny sky and completely dry.

She crossed her arms over her chest, both to contain her fury and cover her now nearly transparent white t-shirt. "You did that on purpose."

He smiled slowly as he turned his head to give her a once over. "I thought you might need a little cooling off." He gestured vaguely as he resumed his pose. "And I can't be bothered with irrigation."

"You're an ass."

"So eloquent. Yet another of your many charms."

"I hate you."

"You say that so often. I'd be hurt, if you really meant it."

"Wow." Sarah laughed humorlessly, incredulous despite the fact that she knew she really shouldn't be surprised. She pushed her sopping hair back from her face angrily. "Your ego really knows no bounds. What could possibly make you think I don't mean it?"

He tsked softly. "I've seen your dreams, Sarah."

She stiffened. The implications of that deceptively simple statement stopped her breath and squeezed at her heart. Her hand drifted to her throat in a vain, self-conscious attempt to loosen it.

"You must be uncomfortable – soaking wet, cold, your clothing clinging to your skin . . ."

The words were soft and seductive, the underlying amusement effectively shifting her focus and pissing her off. If only she had something to throw . . .

"You're welcome to share my bit of sunshine."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you want to make that offer?"

Jareth glanced over at her and chuckled as he took in her bedraggled state and murderous expression. "Retract those claws, minx, and come over here."

God, he was annoying. Sarah continued to glare at him, blinking the rain out of her eyes. But he had a point. The rain was freezing.

Sarah took a deep breath, and let it out slowly as she weighed her options. While not completely ruling out finding something to knock that smug expression off his jerky face, she took a closer look at his "bit of sunshine". She could see the rain falling on either side, but the bubble of space he occupied was dry - branches swaying slightly in the breeze, sunlight dancing through the leaves. Above, the rain just seemed to disappear somewhere near the treetop. Stepping toward the bubble, she could just make out a silvery transparent membrane through the veil of rain. Sarah hesitated a moment before reaching toward it. Her hand slipped through easily, the air warm on the other side.

She pulled her hand back. "What is it?"

"Just a stolen bit of time."

"Is it safe?"

He smiled. "Don't you trust me?"

"Really?"

He laughed and she fought the urge to growl.

Taking a breath to steel herself for what seemed to be a very weird thing to do, Sarah closed her eyes as she stepped through into the bubble. Around and above her, the storm continued on, a blue sun-streaked sky overlying the grey to create something completely surreal. She ran a hand through her hair as she stared bewildered at the anomaly, pausing when something else occurred to her. Her hair was dry. And so was the rest of her.

She threw her arms wide in exasperation, rolling her eyes. "If you think I'm going to thank you for that, you're mistaken."

"I wouldn't hear of it."

Sarah pressed her lips together. Deciding to ignore him for the moment, she leaned back against the tree, sliding down until she was sitting on the ground a few feet from Jareth.

She felt frayed; more on edge than usual, even considering the company. She had been particularly nervous about this trip – being alone with him on his turf. He made her feel . . . off balance, out of control. And, apparently, he brought out the worst in her; they had been sniping at each other since they got here. Well, really, she had been sniping at him, though not without reason. Still, she didn't like being this way, feeling this way.

Sarah rubbed the back of her neck and worked her jaw, tight from clenching her teeth. She really wasn't normally this bitchy. She just needed to breathe, calm down. This wasn't so bad, right? She didn't get out of the house that often; her business dominated most of her time. And it was a beautiful, kind of strange, day. She should take advantage of the down time.

Sarah snuck a peek at Jareth, his eyes closed as he reclined under the tree. Surely they could be civil to each other for an afternoon? There had to be something they could talk about without it devolving into an argument.

But what?

Ask him what his favorite color was, if he had any hobbies? Everything that came to mind seemed absolutely ridiculous. She settled on something she had been wondering about since her last trip to the Labyrinth.

"Jareth?"

"Hmm?"

"What's the difference between the goblins in the throne room and those in the market?"

"So you are observant." The small sardonic smile that had touched his lips faded. "They're the ones that take the children."

Sarah felt a small twist in her stomach. "You mean . . . the goblins I have working for me moonlight as baby snatchers?"

"A bit ironic, isn't it?"

Despite all her best efforts, that was exactly the kind of information she had been trying to avoid.

Perhaps conversation was overrated.

Sarah looked out on the bizarre landscape as she shelved that troubling bit of information. It was eerily beautiful, calming in a way - the soft patter of the rain and warm breeze spinning up a dreamy lullaby. She let it soak in, let it turn all those hard, sharp thoughts to mush.

When the world had become hazy and quiet, and sufficiently more bearable again, Sarah lifted her head from where it had sunk back onto the tree trunk to peer over at Jareth. His breathing had become slow and deep, his face relaxed. He really seemed to have gone to sleep.

It was an odd thought - he trusted her.

Sarah stretched out on the ground, her head propped in her hand as she studied him. His chest rose and fell slowly, the ruffles framing the creamy expanse of skin left bare to the sunlight moving softly in the breeze. It occurred to her just then that she could stab him right now and he wouldn't be able to do a thing about it. A vision flashed – his porcelain skin bathed in flowing crimson. She flinched.

Not that she would ever do anything like that. She didn't actually want anything bad to happen to him. As much as he riled her, he was also something of a dream – a knight, a villain, a fantasy. She could deny it all she wanted, but he fascinated her, drew her in despite her efforts to the contrary. But…dreams were fleeting. They were too intangible to hold on to, slipping through your fingers like smoke if you tried. And if you had your dreams and lost them…what did you have then?

No, she wouldn't act on that either. Dreams were not to be trusted.

Her eyes skimmed over his features. Sharp angles caught the light, creating seductive shadows; wisps of hair touched at his eyes and lips. He was awfully pretty to look at; when he wasn't being a total prat. She kind of wished she had touched his face when he had offered.

Maybe . . . if he really was asleep . . .

Giving into temptation, Sarah held her breath as she edged a little closer. Warily, she searched his face for any signs of wakefulness before she reached out, her fingers brushing lightly over the dark curve of his eye. She squeaked in surprise as a hand grabbed her wrist, flipping her. Her back was pressed into the clover, her wrists caged by gloved hands on either side of her head. Jareth leaned over her, his body pressing down along the length of hers, tense. Sarah stared up at him wide eyed, her heart racing, and her breath ragged.

It was a long moment before she felt a subtle shift, his body relaxing ever so slightly, sinking a little lower onto hers. With every tortured inhale, her chest brushed against his, his pendant hanging down between her breasts. His eyes trailed down over her face, pausing on her mouth when she licked her lips. He dipped his head, his cheek brushing hers and the tips of his hair tickling over her skin. "Be careful, little mouse," he whispered. "It's a dangerous game you play . . . sleeping crocodiles and all."

Sarah swallowed thickly. "I thought you were asleep, and I . . ."

He nuzzled her neck. "What's a little sleep lost when my lady wants attention . . ."

She tried to free her hands but he held fast. "I don't want your attention. And I'm not your lady."

He lifted his head slightly to meet her gaze, an amused quirk to his lips. "No? By my count, we're on our third date—"

Date? "Business meeting!"

"During all of which you've been flirting shamelessly, breathless and blushing—"

"What? You're completely deluded—"

"But . . . tell me, Sarah. I'm not well versed in the social conventions - at what point is it appropriate—"

"It's not appropriate at all!"

"The second date, the third? Or perhaps . . .," he dipped his head again, his lips skimming over her ear, ". . . after the first kiss?"

Sarah stilled. "You wouldn't."

"Wouldn't I?" His lips trailed lightly over her jawline to hover tantalizing close to the corner of her mouth. "You know, precious, if you cross that imaginary line of yours, I just might be tempted to take what is offered."

She wondered briefly if he could feel all the butterflies fluttering about madly in her stomach. "It wasn't an offer."

"I'm curious. You're so eager to paint me a villain. Is that what you want me to be?"

"I don't want you to be anything." His breath teased at her lips and she fought the overwhelming urge to lick them. "I just call it as I see it."

"Really. And what would a villain do in this situation, hmm? When his opponent is . . . vulnerable? Would he take advantage, take what he wants?"

As much as the ground beneath her would allow, Sarah shifted her head slightly to look up at him. "What do you want?"

"You claim to know me so well. What do you think I want?"

She searched his eyes before answering. "What else does a villain want? Revenge. It must sting - being beaten by a girl. Though, given the size of it, I imagine your ego was largely unharmed."

"Ah, ah, ah, little mouse. You have an amazing lack of self-preservation for a girl in your position." He smiled as he shifted against her, his thumbs tracing lazy designs on the insides of her wrists. "But, revenge? No, nothing so crass. Try again."

She sucked in a breath as his leg slid between hers. "Entertainment?"

He laughed. "You're most certainly not boring."

She tugged at her arms again and glared at him. "Get off."

His smile faded to a half-smirk. "As you wish."

She let out a sigh of relief as he rolled off her. Points to note: conversation and voluntary touching were bad. She snuck a glance at him to see that he had resumed his solitary repose, his eyes closed. Perhaps it was best to let him be for a while.

Taking a shaky breath, she turned her head to look up at the sky. The rain had stopped and small puffy clouds drifted by. She watched them, making pictures and letting her thoughts follow along to faraway places. It wasn't long before her eyelids grew heavy and she let them fall.

-o0O0o-

When she woke, she found herself staring up into a pair of mismatched eyes. She was curled up against the Goblin King, her hand splayed against his bare chest, his lazily toying with her hair. He smiled down at her. "You snore."

Sarah scrambled back. "I do not!"

"How would you know? Share your bed often?"

She blinked at the curious note of warning in his voice before raising her chin fractionally higher. "It's none of your business if I have a string of men in my bed. And I don't snore."

He raised a brow. "And do you cuddle with all of these men or just me?"

Damnit. "Apparently I lose all good judgment when I'm unconscious." She looked away, pulling her knees up to her chest. "I was probably just cold."

"If it's heat you're seeking . . ."

"Stay away from me."

He raised his hands in surrender. "I'm not the one who crossed that line, precious. Far be it for me to deny what is offered. Though, if it eases your mind, I did keep my hands to myself." He grinned. "Mostly."

He had a boyish look about him as he gazed at her, his elbow propped on his knee and his chin in his hand. Kind of sleep-tousled, innocent . . . what was she thinking? She glared at him. "What about my tree?"

Jareth stood, offering her a hand, which she ignored as she rose clumsily to her feet, her muscles stiff from sleeping on the ground. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed her a crystal, the hard surface morphing into a peach as she caught it. "Perhaps this one will grow a little faster."

-o0O0o-

Lightening flashed. She saw him through the veil of rain - moving closer, stalking her. She stood, frozen, her clothing rain-soaked and clinging like a second skin. The icy chill of it pricked at her sensitive flesh, and her blood ran hot, burning her up from the inside.

Another flash and he was there. His hair was wild and his eyes hungry. She gasped, the sound torn from her mouth as cloth ripped, her shirt hanging opening in tatters, freezing droplets and warm fingers sliding down over her stomach. In one swift movement, he pulled her against him, her body pressed flush against his, slick skin against leather. His hand threaded up through her hair, crushing her lips to his as the thunder crashed - BANG!

Sarah woke with a start. Taking a ragged breath, she kicked at the sheets tangled around her legs and tossed her comforter to the floor. She flopped backwards, spread eagle on her bed, letting the chilly air cool her overheated skin. Her heart raced, and she breathed slowly and deeply to make it stop. Only a dream . . .

BANG! BANG! BANG!

She bolted upright. Okay. Perhaps not just a dream after all . . .

Sarah looked at the clock on her nightstand and groaned: 2:38 am. Who could possibly be at the door at this hour? Maybe that nap earlier hadn't been an entirely bad thing . . .

Slipping on her robe, she shuffled quickly down the hall, stretching on her tip-toes to see out the peep hole. Two large distorted heads bobbed on top of tiny uniformed bodies. Wrinkling her nose, she pulled her robe tighter and opened the door.

"Sorry to wake you, Miss, but there's been an attempted break-in."

-o0O0o-