Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sarah showed her party invitation to the bouncer at the door of the club. She was more than two hours late, but that didn't seem to matter.

"Welcome to Belle Epoque," he smiled at her and opened the door, gesturing invitingly inside. "Take the stairs on the right to the second floor for the party."

"Thank you," she said and went through the door.

When she took in the elegant space of the club she was glad she had gone with her red cocktail dress. If there was one useful thing her stepmother had instilled in her was that it was better to be overdressed than undressed. She had thought she might be overdressed for this party, but she was heartened to see that there was at least one club in the New York City whose dress code hadn't fallen into modern casualness. There was not a pair of jeans, even designer ones, in sight. Beautiful Age indeed. The décor was definitely inspired by Art Nouveau, but was very modern at the same time. She stood and listened to the band playing on a stage at the far end of the room. They were very good and she wished she could have stayed and listened to them rather than go to the birthday party for a friend of her boyfriend, Mark.

She sighed and made her way up the stairs and followed the signs pointing to the private party. She walked into the party room, scanning the crowd for Mark's sandy colored hair. She didn't know most of these people. They were Mark's crowd, but she greeted a couple of people she was acquainted with. One of them was Mark's best friend, Ben.

Although, Ben looked like he had seen a ghost when he spotted her. "Sarah, what are you doing here? I thought you were in Seattle."

"I caught an earlier flight. I wanted to surprise Mark."

"Oh, he'll certainly be surprised. Wait right here and let me see if I can find him for you."

There was something in Ben's tone that set her instincts tingling. So she followed him to the corner where Mark was sitting with a woman on his lap and attached to his face. Ben was frantically trying to pull them apart. Finally, he got them detached and Mark's gaze fell directly on Sarah.

"This isn't what it looks like," he protested immediately.

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "Isn't it? Then please entertain me and tell me what it is like."

He just gaped at her drunkenly and the woman smirked at Sarah with smeared lipstick.

She smiled bitterly. "That's what I thought. Goodbye, Mark." With that she turned on her heel and strode to the door, people automatically moving out of her way when they saw the thunderous expression on her face.

Mark caught up with her in the hallway and grabbed her arm just as she was about to descend the stairs. "Wait! You can't just leave like this!"

"Yes, I can. Take you hands off of me."

Heads peeked out into the hallway to see what the raised voices were about. Mark tugged her through a door across the hall and into what looked like another smaller event space that was empty and mostly dark.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Okay, Mark, let's hear it then. Tell me why I shouldn't be upset my boyfriend was making out with another woman."

"You're a self righteous bitch, aren't you, Sarah?" he asked angrily. "You've been waiting for something like this so you'll be justified in breaking up with me. So it will be my fault. You in your ivory tower too good to walk among us mere mortals. They warned me you were frigid, but I didn't believe them. Guess I was wrong."

"I wish you'd just go to Hell!" She clenched her fists, fighting the urge to smack his smug face. "Go anywhere where I never have to see you again!"

"Hell would be a nice change of pace after being frozen out by the Ice Queen," Mark sneered. "Maybe I'll be able to thaw out there!" He stomped out the door and slammed it behind him.

"Bastard," Sarah growled, staring at the closed door. She took a deep breath, forcing back tears. She wasn't really sorry to see him go, but it wasn't the first time she had been accused of being frigid or self righteous. Maybe they were right. Maybe she wasn't cut out to be in a relationship. Maybe it was finally time to get a couple more cats and become an official spinster cat lady.

"One would think you would have stopped wishing people away after your previous experience, Sarah. But I suppose some people never learn."

A shiver ran down her spine at the sound of that rich, melodic voice. A voice she never expected to hear again. A voice she often wondered if she had imagined. She slowly, almost reluctantly turned around to see a man sitting at the piano in the far corner. She had thought the room had been empty when they came in, but that corner was so dark that she might not have seen him. All she could really make out of him was his white shirt and silvery blonde hair.

"What did you say?"

"Oh, I think you heard me well enough." She saw a pale hand reach out for the cigarette in a cut glass ashtray on the piano. The end flared to life as he took a drag.

Sarah's blood froze in her veins. She took a step forward when she knew she should be running out the door. "Goblin King?"

"Formerly."

She didn't know what that meant and ignored it for now. "I didn't summon you."

"No, you didn't. I'm not the Lord of Hell, so I couldn't oblige you anyway."

She took another step toward him. "Then what are you doing here?"

She almost jumped when he trailed his hand down the keys of the piano in a loud glissando. "Playing the piano. Or I was until I was so rudely interrupted by a lover's quarrel." With the cigarette hanging out of his mouth, he began playing a pretty sounding waltz.

She took another step forward reaching a lamp set on a table and flicked it on. The soft glow lit up his face. There was the Goblin King, somewhat different, but undeniably the same. His hair was cut short, but artfully disarrayed as it fell across his forehead almost covering one eye. The elaborate markings were gone from around his eyes. However, he still had the same unnerving ice blue eyes with one pupil blown out wide. He looked distinctly human, but still inhumanly beautiful. His white shirt was very crisp and modern, the sleeves were rolled up exposing his forearms. His shirt was opened almost to the top button of his midnight blue velvet vest.

He didn't comment as she looked her fill, but his lips were twisted into a mocking smirk as he continued to play.

"It is you." She sighed and sat on the edge of the end table, her legs not able to support her anymore, "All that therapy for nothing."

He looked up then, his smirk turning into a grin, but no less mocking. "Did you think it all a dream?"

"Sometimes. Other times I was so sure it was real despite how absurd it sounded. Why are you here if I didn't summon you?"

"Selfish Sarah, do you really still think the world revolves around you?"

Her cheeks flush hotly, even more embarrassed because he had heard what Mark accused her of. "No. But you have to admit this isn't your natural habitat."

"Quite true."

"On vacation from the Underground?"

"A somewhat extended one you could say."

She scowled as his evasiveness, though she didn't really know why she had expected a straight answer from him. He had never given her one before."I don't understand. You're a king. Don't you have responsibilities? Somehow I doubt that the Goblin Kingdom is a constitutional monarchy."

He looked genuinely amused at that. "Perish the thought. The parliament would all be full of chickens, though I daresay they would likely more rational than the goblins that voted them into office." He stopped playing and took one last drag from his cigarette before mashing it out. "Alas, my dear Sarah, I was exiled Above."

"What did you do?"

He sighed dramatically "I suppose if we must go through that whole tedious business, we should have a drink." He got up and walked toward the small bar along one wall. "What would you like?"

"You seem awfully at home here," she observed as she stood and went over to the bar.

"I am. I own this establishment." He held up a bottle. "Peach schnapps?" She made a disgusted face and he laughed. "Perhaps not."

"Bourbon. Neat," she told him sitting down on a stool. She watched him closely as he retrieved two crystal tumblers and poured some very expensive bourbon.

He came around the bar and sat on the stool next to her's. She held up her glass. "Cheers," she said taking a long sip. It burned deliciously down her throat.

He leaned against the bar and studied her while she drained her glass and then poured her more. "You surprise me," he told her. "I wouldn't have thought you would consume anything I gave you."

Sarah shrugged. She almost didn't care if he did drug her. She didn't want to think about the current reality of her life."I'm not sure I have anything to lose. A creepy Cinderella dream would be an improvement on this night so far. I'd really like to get ridiculously drunk."

He gestured to the bottle between them. "By all means, be my guest."

She took another sip and watched as he reached into his vest and pulled out a gold cigarette case. He pulled one out and lit it with a zippo before tucking the case back into his vest pocket. Sarah was entranced by the graceful movements of his long fingered hands. He had always worn gloves in the Labyrinth, but they were now bare he wore a heavy gold ring set with what looked like a large opal on his right hand. She wondered idly if it was magical.

"So," he said breaking her out of her revery and giving her a knowing look. "Are you going to tell me what instigated that entertaining argument I witnessed?"

"I will if you tell me why you were exiled," she challenged him.

"Very well." He took a long sip of his own drink and then met her gaze directly. "It's because I let you go."

"But I won, why shouldn't you have let me go?"

"A maiden that had been able to defeat the Labyrinth would have made a suitable Goblin Queen," he stated matter of factly.

"You wanted to marry me?" she asked shocked.

He gave a derisive laugh. "I didn't, no. A petulant 15 year old human girl is not my ideal bride."

"Gee, thanks."

"You were certainly lovely to look at then, but still terribly immature. Besides, virgins are so boring, especially the human kind, far too prudish. I suppose debauching them could be fun, but it would be a lot of work. And you, my shining innocent heroine, struck me as far too stubborn to fall easily into debauchery."

"I'm not sure if I should feel insulted or not."

His smile was condescending. "Tell me, were you ready to bed a man then? Let alone marry before you had a chance to grow up and experience life on your own? Or take on the burden of ruling?"

"No." She didn't even have to think about. She would not have been ready for any of that then. She had still been very much a child when she ran the Labyrinth.

"I thought not. Thus my half-hearted proposal. I didn't want to marry a little girl, but I was obligated to make the offer."

"Just fear me. Love me. Do as I ask and I will be your slave," she murmured, repeating his words. She hadn't even realized what they had meant at that time other than that she had instinctively wanted no part of what he was offering.

"Not a very enticing proposal, was it?"

"No, not at all. Is that why you didn't have a queen, because no one had defeated the Labyrinth before?" She was far too curious about him and what had really been going on back then than was probably safe. He seemed to be speaking honestly, but she still didn't trust him.

"Defeating the Labyrinth isn't required. I could have married at any time, but I never found anyone I liked well enough with which to spend eternity. If I would have been already wed, your winning would not have required me to set my wife aside."

"So you broke the rules for me?"

He shrugged eloquently. "For both of us."

"Right. Virgins are boring."

He ignored her snark. "There really is not hard rule that said the Goblin King must marry the Champion, merely that should he be unwed that he must offer his hand to her. My exile was rather a bit of High Court maneuvering and a grab for power by some of my enemies. I have no doubt that the High King will call me back at some point to clean up the mess. The Labyrinth and the goblins are fickle, not just anyone can rule them."

She imagined that was true. Being in charge of that lot seemed more trouble than it was worth. "How long have you been exiled?"

"About twenty five years now."

His enemies must have acted very quickly after her run."And you still expect to be called back?"

"Oh, yes. When you're immortal time doesn't mean quite the same. And the meanwhile, I will enjoy myself Above."

"By running a nightclub?" she asked skeptically. He didn't seem terribly upset at being stuck in the mundane human wondered what he did to 'enjoy himself' here, but she was probably better off not knowing.

"Drunks are actually easier to deal with than goblins. Besides I like coming Above a couple times a century to see how things have changed."

"And how do you find us poor mortals now?"

"It's a fascinating time. Technology is progressing so quickly. Though the world itself seems to be in a sorry state."

"That's true." She picked up the bottle and poured herself more bourbon. The information he had imparted including the very fact that the Goblin King was real and owned a nightclub in New York was a lot to take in.

"Your turn," he smiled charmingly at her and nudged her foot with his to prompt her.

Sarah sighed in resignation. She really didn't want to talk about Mark at all, especially with him- her childhood villain and teenage fantasy lover. But it was probably not a good idea to go back on a deal with the Goblin King, former or not. She slid her glass to him. "Fill me up and give me a smoke."

He pulled out his gold cigarette case again and held it out to her. She selected one and he lit for her. She inhaled deeply. Man, did that feel good.

He lit his own and left the case and lighter on the bar between them. As he poured her another drink, he asked, "Am I corrupting you, Sarah?" He gave her a roguish smile and sounded rather hopeful at that prospect.

She laughed. "No. I officially stopped smoking five years ago. These things will kill you, don't you know?"

"You perhaps." The superior sneer that she remembered so well was on his face as he said, "They are only enjoyable to one such as I."

That smirk really irritated her, but she took another gulp of her bourbon and decided to ignore it. He was probably just trying to goad her anyway. "I don't think about smoking most of the time, but he nicotine craving always returns in times of stress. And between you turning up again and me breaking up with Mark, it has definitely been a stressful night."

"So tell me about your gentleman friend," he said pouring more bourbon in her glass. She knew she should probably stop drinking, but it was such good stuff.

"I don't really think either of those words apply to Mark," Sarah scoffed at the thought. "We've been dating for about six months. Tonight was one of his friends' birthday party." She gestured vaguely over her shoulder toward the party room across the hall. "I told him I couldn't go, because I would be in Seattle on a business trip. We got into an argument and he accused me of constantly putting my career before him-"

"Is it true?" he interjected.

"Of course, it's true. I've only known him six months and my career is...well, my career and it's very important to me." This was an argument she'd had with so many of her past boyfriends. They never seemed to take her work seriously. "Surely, you understand responsibilities, you were a king. You must not have always been able to go to parties when you wanted to."

"Quite true, but I was also forced to go to some utterly tedious parties because of my responsibilities." He paused and gave her a penetrating look. "But tell me, did you really want to go to the party?"

"Not really," she admitted. "I always feel very awkward around his friends. We don't really have anything in common. But I felt guilty and was able to wrap things up quicker than I thought, so I flew back early to surprise him. And what do I find when I get here? Mark with some tramp attached to his face."

"He was kissing her?" he asked, looking slightly puzzled.

"What else would it be?"

He shrugged. "I know of several unfortunate spells that could result in such a thing." Suddenly, he grinned malevolently. "Perhaps you would like me to use one on your former lover? I haven't gotten to do such a thing in a long time."

"No," she waved his offer away. "He's not worth the effort."

He seemed disappointed. "A pity."

Sarah took one final drag from her cigarette before stubbing it out in the cut glass ashtray. He gestured to the case offering her another, but she shook her head to refuse. That was not a habit she needed to pick up again.

He lit another cigarette for himself. He seemed to be something of a chain smoker. "Are you not terribly angry with then he asked?"

"To tell you the truth, I'm glad this happened. I've been losing interest in him. I'm just not very good at breaking up with people," she confessed.

"Cruel Sarah, allowing them to have hope where there is none."

"I'm not cruel," she retorted angrily. "I- I just don't like confrontation."

"That I find very surprising," he poured more bourbon into her empty glass.

"Fairy tale villains are one thing. Personal, emotional confrontations are another. Honestly, I'm not even really sure why I started dating him in the first place. He doesn't even read. I don't trust people that don't read."

"He's illiterate?"

"No, he can read, he just doesn't. Apparently books are too much effort for him. He doesn't even read articles in magazines. He just looks at the pictures."

"Did he excel at lovemaking then?"

"No, he was very boring. Like one of your virgins. No skill or even any imagination."

"Well, I have to admit I'm mystified as to what you saw in this man."

"Me too." She slumped down against the bar, leaning heavily on her arm. She felt suddenly bereft of energy as she realized that she wouldn't miss Mark and probably shouldn't be too angry at his betrayal."I guess it was because he asked me out. Not many guys approach me. Resting bitch face or something."

"Pardon?"

"It's because I'm not constantly smiling and simpering like an empty headed moron. I'm told that's intimidating."

"But delightfully so."

"Not to mortal men apparently. Why am even telling you all of this?" she sighed laying her head down on her arm. "I'm really drunk."

"That does tend to happen when you drink like this, Sarah." He pointed to the bottle that a quite a bit less bourbon in it than when he set it down.

"You kept pouring," she grumbled.

"You didn't have to drink it."

"It would have been a shame to waste it."

"And you did say you wanted to get drunk."

"It was a bad idea." With great effort, she pushed herself up into a more upright position. "I should go home before I do something stupid."

"Like what?"

She ignored that mischievous twinkle in his eye. He looked like he wouldn't mind helping her do something incredibly stupid. "Just- things I would regret in the morning more than I will this hangover."

He chuckled and pulled out his watch from his vest pocket to check the time. "Yes, it is approaching that time of night when regrettable things occur. Allow me to show you out and call you a cab."

She watched him as he began rolled down his sleeves and went back to the piano and to retrieve his black suit jacket. His silk pocket square matched the blue velvet of his vest. If he strangely didn't seem out of place Aboveground, he did seem slightly out of time. No one seemed to dress with such precision and care anymore. She tried not to think about how unearthly handsome he still was.

"You look very snazzy. In a non-Goblin King sort of way."

"If that is a complement, then thank you."

She watched somewhat sadly as he took out a pair of black leather gloves from his pocket and pulled them on his pale beautiful hands.

Sarah stuck her feet back into the heels she'd kicked of earlier and she stood slightly wobbly.

He laughed and reached out to steady her. "You are drunk."

He drew her arm through his and guided her down the stairs to the entrance. She tried very hard to ignore the feeling of his warm body when he pressed lose to her as they walked down the narrow staircase. This close to him she could smell the exotic sent of his cologne and it brought to mind of a dream dance.

He stopped at the door of the club and told the bouncer. "This is Miss Williams. She is to be admitted at anytime."

"Yes, sir."

"Could you hail her a cab?"

"I'm not coming back here, Goblin King," she told him when the bouncer walked to the curb.

"Yes, you will, Sarah," he said with annoying certainty. "No matter how stubborn you are, you're far more curious."

She scowled at him and wished she had a retort to wipe that knowing superior look off of his face, but he was probably right.

"And it's Jareth, my dear. Exiles have no titles."

Jareth. She had known that was his name at some point, but had forgotten or blocked it out.

He handed her a card. "Call me should you need anything."

"I won't."

He grinned. "Still so defiant." He handed her into the waiting taxi. "Good night, Sarah. I'm certain I will see you soon."

He shut the door before she could reply, but she scowled at him through the window and he just laughed again. She gave the driver her address and once she was on her way she looked down at the card in her hand. It had a lovely Art Nouveau owl at the top and said Belle Epoque in beautiful script. Below that Jareth King- Owner.

She snorted. "Once a king, always a king." She flipped the card over and scrawled there was a phone number. She let out a laugh at what should have been an absurd thought. The Goblin King had a phone number.

Arrogant Fae bastard, like she would ever call him anyway. She's learned that lesson when she was fifteen.

It was early afternoon and Sarah knew Belle Epoque wouldn't be open yet, but she hoped Jareth would still be there. She thought if she confronted him in person she would be less likely to sound like a complete idiot this time.

She knocked on the door a couple of times and eventually a tall thin man with a rather absurd handlebar mustache opened the door and gave her an appraising look. "Can I help you?" he asked.

"My name is Sarah Williams and I'd like to see Jareth King if he's here."

"Mr. King is very busy, so unless you have an appointment..."

"Of course, I understand," she smiled pleasantly. "Only Mr. King gave me his card and told me to come by anytime." She handed the card Jareth gave her to him. "I think he'll see me."

The man looked down at it and his eyebrows shot up upon seeing the number written on the back. Jareth must not give out his number will-nilly. He gave the card back to her and opened the door wider. "Come in, please."

They walked through the entrance hall and as they reached the doorway to the main club area he told her, "Wait here please. I'll see if Mr. King is available."

She peaked through the doorway and saw Jareth sitting at a table in the middle of the room with his arm draped across the back of the chair of the woman sitting next to him. They looked very comfortable together and she felt something very unexpected and disturbingly akin to jealousy. She shoved that thought out of her mind and studied him. His short silvery blond hair was artfully tousled as it was before and he was dressed more casually in a dark blue dress shirt and charcoal trousers. On his hands he wore what looked like black leather gloves.

The man that answered the door approached him and pointed toward Sarah. That irritating smirk grew on his face when he caught sight of her. He leaned over and whispered something in his companion's ear. She pressed a kiss to his cheek before getting up and walking toward the stage where a band appeared to be setting up.

"Mr. King will see you now."

"Thanks," she told him and he walked back behind the bar.

Sarah stalked over to Jareth's table and he stood as she approached. "Sarah, what a lovely surprise. Please join me. Can I get you a drink?"

For some reason his fine manners grated. It was always seemed as if he were mocking her. "No," she said sharply, then softened it with, "Thank you though."

He only sat once she did. She took out the invitation she had received out of her purse and slid it across the table toward him. "I want to know why you sent me this."

A black gloved finger traced the gilt edge. "Isn't it rather obvious? I wanted you to come to my party."

"It's a masquerade."

"It is. It's a Halloween party."

"I've had enough of your masquerades," she told him, her irritation bleeding through in her voice

"Ah, that's right. Your peach dream. I'd almost forgotten. Did that put you off of them?"

"You think?"

He smiled at her far too innocently to be believed. "You have my word that no peaches will be involved, magic or otherwise."

"So this was just about taunting me then?"

"No," Jareth studied her thoughtfully. "I thought you might enjoy it. You used to be very fond of fancy dress."

"I grew up."

"Did you?" he raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "And yet you make your living writing fairy tale romance novels."

"You know about my books?" Shock, quickly followed by intense embarrassment shot through her.

"Of course. Don't you think I would be curious when I heard about best selling author named Sarah Williams, who happened to write love stories involving fae, goblins, and various other residents of a magical labyrinth?" She covered her face with her hands, unable to look at him. She couldn't bear to see what was sure to be mockery on his face. She had never ever considered that that Goblin King himself might have read her books. "And that Goblin King fellow, he seems quite nefarious."

"Oh, god." She wondered if it was possible to faint from embarrassment.

"They were very entertaining I must say," he continued conversationally. "Very well written and the love scenes were titillating without being too tawdry or sappy. I rather enjoyed them. But if you like I can give you some notes on actual life in the Underground."

She pushed back from the table and stood to go, knocking her chair over in the rush to flee.

Jareth grasped her wrist before she could make her escape. His leather clad fingers were like steel, but not ungentle. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you. I did truly enjoy your books. You are a talented storyteller. And it was nice to read about a place so resembling my realm. I shouldn't have teased you. I apologize." The sound of his voice was soothing and she stopped pulling against his grip even as she wondered if he was using and enchantment on her. She risked a glance at him and was surprised by the earnest look on his face. "Won't you stay for the band's practice? They're quite good. I think you'll like them."

"I-"

"Please?"

She took a deep breath. "Oh, alright. Maybe for a song or two."

"Splendid." He released her wrist and righted her chair. "Sasha," he called to the mustachioed bartender who looked to be taking stock of the bar and carefully ignoring them. "Bring us two Old Fashioneds."

"Yes, boss."

Sarah looked anywhere but at Jareth and watched various members of the staff setting up for the evening and the band tuning their instruments. The woman that had been sitting with Jareth must be their lead singer since she was futzing with the microphone.

Sasha sat down the two drinks and she took a quick glup of hers, to settle her nerves. She only looked at Jareth when he held his gold cigarette case out to her.

"No, thanks," she told him and watched as he lit a cigarette for himself.

"Could you explain something to me?" he asked turning his mismatched blue eyes on her.

"Possibly," she replied cautiously.

"Why are you so embarrassed about your books?"

"Oh," she stared down at her glass. "Well, romance writers generally aren't taken very seriously and are quite often mocked. I've gotten to the point where I don't really tell people what I do anymore. I figured you would have a field day of making fun of me, especially since I stole a lot of ideas from what I had seen in your Labyrinth."

"I would never mock you for that," he said quietly. He reached out and took her hand in his. He gently uncurled her fingers from the fist she had clenched them in. She looked up at him and the look in his eyes was open and honest. "Storytellers are highly revered among the fae. We are long lived and we have great respect for those that provide such entertainment. We are also not the most emotional of creatures and if a story can actually evoke a true emotion in us they are even more precious. I confess there were a few times your books made me feel a little homesick."

"I'm sorry."

He stroked her hand and smiled. "Don't be. It's quite rare that I can be so moved."

Somehow that didn't surprise her. Jareth never seemed anything other than controlled."In that case I'm glad you enjoyed them."

The band started their sound check and practice then and she focused on them, trying to process what Jareth had just told her. When she realized her hand was still between his she tried to surreptitiously pull it away. But she caught the glimpse of his amused smile out of the corner of her eye.

She ended up staying for the bands entire practice. Jareth had been right, she had enjoyed them a lot. He introduced her to the band and she stayed for a drink with them. After that she made her excuses and Jareth walked her out.

"So will you come to my party?" Jareth asked.

"I can't come. I'll be on a mini-book tour."

"Does that mean you have a new novel coming out?"

She shook her head. "No, it's just a collection of short stories featuring some of the side characters of the series."

"Any stories about the Goblin King?"

"He shows up in one or two stories causing mischief, but that's about it."

He grinned and said, "Sounds about right. I'll look forward to it then."

Sarah sighed as she stared out the window of the cafe, watching a few snowflakes drifting down from the sky. It was the first snow of the season and seemed to be a little early this year.

People on the sidewalk picked up their pace when they noticed the snow and hurried on their way. Except for one figure in black. He strolled languidly down the sidewalks, oblivious to the rush and seemingly with not a care in the world. In the midst of all the people in bright parkas and knitted caps, he almost looked like a ghost from a another age with his long black overcoat and his fedora set at a rakish angle.

She flipped to the back of her notebook where she wrote down ideas for future use in her stories and jotted down a description of the scene.

She almost fell out of the chair when the ghost stopped at her window and smirked at her.

The Goblin King.

Damn it.

She looked away quickly, hoping against hope that he didn't recognize her.

Of course she had no such luck. He came into the cafe and walked directly to her table.

"Enjoying the view?" he asked still smirking at her as he removed his sunglasses and tucked them into his breast pocket.

"What are you doing here?" Sarah asked more sharply than she had intended as she quickly shut her notebook.

He laughed. "You're very antagonistic, Sarah. No wonder mortal men are afraid to approach you."

"I suppose I should be lucky you're not mortal, is that right?"

"Makes things more interesting, don't you think?"

She made a non-committal sound. "And I'm not antagonistic. I just don't trust you."

He grinned, apparently delighted by her distrust. "That's not unwise." Sarah thought that was a very odd way to phrase it. He didn't say she was wise to not trust him.

She shrugged trying to look unaffected by his baiting. She picked her messenger bag up off the floor. "As nice as it to see you, Jareth. I should really head home before the weather gets worse."

"Won't you just stay for a bit longer and have tea with me?" he said giving her most charming smile.

"Tea? I should really-"

"Please? We haven't met since you declined my Halloween party invitation."

She could not believe he was trying to guilt trip her. "Since when do kings say 'please'?" she grumbled.

"Since we're no longer kings."

"I suppose I could stay for one cup." She dropped her bag back onto the floor and settled back into her seat.

"You're too kind, I'm sure," he said, his normal mocking tone back in his voice.

He removed his coat and pale blue cashmere scarf and laid them across the back of the empty chair where her coat hung. He sat down across from her and took off his hat and added it to the pile of outer garments. He ran a still gloved hand through his mussed hair and it seemed to magically fall back into the perfect style. She wished she had that ability. her own hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail. She actually felt a bit like a slob compared him sitting there in his tweedy dark gray sports coat and black dress shirt. She was just wearing her old comfortable jeans and a vintage sweater that was on it's last leg, but she couldn't bear to give up because she loved the butterflies embroidered around the neck.

A waiter came over and Jareth ordered a pot of Genmaicha and a tea tray.

She had said a cup, not afternoon tea. She glowered at him.

"Something on your mind, Sarah?"

"Are you stalking me?"

He laughed derisively. "If I were, don't you think I would have put in an appearance in the twenty five years since we first met? Besides you were the one who came into my club and, I might add, initiated every encounter since except this one. So maybe you're stalking me."

"Don't be ridiculous," she scoffed. "Maybe I just haven't seen you before now, that doesn't mean you haven't been observing me."

"My, we are very egotistical today, aren't we?" There was that superior Goblin King sneer she was so familiar with back on his face.

"How did you get my address to send me that invitation?" she persisted

"Well, there's this marvelous new invention called the internet and can provide you with almost any sort of information that you desire."

"Fair point, I suppose," she huffed. "What are you doing in this neck of the woods then today?"

"Columbia's Film Department is doing a series on restored silent films and I went to a screening of the Phantom of the Opera with Lon Chaney."

"I bet that's one of your favorite movies," she commented thinking of the masquerade scene.

"It has provided some inspiration," he agreed.

The waiter returned with the tea tray and set it down between them, before pouring them both a cup of tea.

When he left, Jareth asked, "Is it possible for you to put away your suspicion of me for an hour so that we might enjoy all the lovely little sandwiches and cakes and converse politely?"

"I'm sorry," she replied. She hadn't intended to be so combative, but his sudden appearance had put her on edge. "I suppose I'm just out of sorts today. Still jet lagged I guess."

"Speaking of which, how was your book tour?"

Sarah had never seen anyone who could lounge in quite such a dignified manner as Jareth. He had a knack of making himself supremely comfortable where ever he was. He was leaning back in his chair one leg propped up on the seat of the chair holding their coats eyeing the last macaron speculatively.

She glared at him and then watched as the small confection split itself precisely in half.

"Should you really be doing that sort of thing in public?" she asked reaching for her half.

"No one is paying any attention to us," Jareth said before popping his piece in his mouth."Is this your new book?" he asked pointing to the notebook she had kept half hidden under her arm.

"It's a start- maybe," she sighed. "This has been a tough one. I think I'm running out of ideas for my fairy tale series."

"Are you going to give the nefarious Goblin King a lover? I can't wait to read that one," he grinned lasciviously.

"Somehow I doubt he lacks for female companionship."

"Doubtful. I agree, but what about true love?" he poured them another cup of tea and took a sip of his. "Everyone else in his kingdom seems to find it."

"But what kind of idiot would fall in love with the Goblin King?" she blurted out without thinking. Her editor had been after her to write a Goblin King book for years, but Sarah couldn't imagine a romance novel happy ending for the Goblin King. She saw his quirked eyebrow. "Oh, god, I didn't mean-"

He set his tea cup carefully back down in its saucer, his expression shuttered as he stared into the cup as if he was reading the tea leaves. "It is true. The Goblin King has had many lovers. They seek many things from him- excitement, pleasure, favors, power, wealth, but never his love."

"Jareth, I'm sorry," she said feeling absolutely retched. "I just- I was never quite sure the Goblin King had been real and he's been a pretty villainous character in my head for so long that I forget that there's a real person behind that title. And he's not too nefarious in real life."

"Think nothing of it."

She knew she had carelessly hit a soft spot she didn't intend to or even knew existed. Despite their recent previous encounters she still had difficulty seeing Jareth as anything other than her former adversary the Goblin King. But he was a real person and he'd actually been rather kind to her since they'd been reacquainted.

"Jareth, were you lonely as Goblin King?"

He looked up at her, surprise evident in his eyes for a moment.

"I think all kings must be lonely at times. It's no easy thing to be a monarch and do well by your people. My people were more difficult than most, they can be quite time consuming." She watched him twist a delicate teaspoon between his black gloved fingers. His lax posture hadn't changed, but she could still see the tension in his form.

"As the philosopher once said, 'With great power comes great responsibility.'."

A slight smile quirked the corner of his slips. "True. And when a king does find himself craving true companionship, he realizes for the most part he is surrounded by nothing but grasping sycophants."

Sarah understood loneliness far better than she might have liked. She was almost forty- never married, no children, and no close family. She had always been something of an outsider, always with her head in the clouds and with little interest in the goals and concerns of her peers. She had grown used to being alone and even preferred it most of the time. It was easier than having to fit someone into her comfortable life. But there had been more than a few moments of aching loneliness.

She felt the weight of his gaze on her and she looked up to meet his mismatched eyes.

"Are you lonely Aboveground?" she asked.

"Not at this moment." He smiled genuinely, if a touch sadly. "I find I enjoy talking to someone who really knows me and wants absolutely nothing from me, not even my presence."

"I'm not sure I do know you, Jareth. You keep surprising me."

"Oh, good," he exclaimed a roguish smile lighting up is face again, pushing aside the pensive mood. "I like to keep people guessing. Now tell me about your new book."

Over the next couple of weeks Sarah found herself spending more time with Jareth. She still didn't entirely trust him, but she found that didn't matter. She enjoyed his company. He was certainly never boring.

Moreover, she enjoyed talking to him. He seemed to have a wide range of knowledge, more than she would expect a fairy tale king to have honestly. She liked debating with him. If she disagreed with his opinion, he didn't get angry or just roll over and agree with her. He did delight in bating her, but she relished the verbal sparing.

During their tea, he had invited her to the next in the silent film series, Metropolis. She was surprised to find that Jareth genuinely enjoyed the cinema, but she probably shouldn't have been after learning how much the fae enjoyed storytelling. She ended up going to the rest of the series with him. He was just as knowledgeable as some of the lecturers, but he wasn't one of those assholes who tried to showoff and embarrass the speaker during the Q & A period.

They usually ended up having dinner once a week as well. Jareth had a way, possibly magically, of getting the most sought after reservations and the best tables. He took her to places that not even a bestselling author was important enough to normally get into. She had never eaten so well in the city.

It was fascinating to watch people with Jareth. At times, usually when it was useful to him, he drew people to him like moths to a flame and they fell over themselves trying to please him. Other times he could seem to walk through a crowd completely unnoticed. It was that ability that she found most interesting. How could anyone fail to notice the Goblin King, even masquerading as human?

Sarah walked directly to the door of Belle Epoque and before she could even speak the doorman from the first night smiled at her, "Good evening, Miss Williams. Please come in."

She returned his smile and thanked him as he held the door for her. After she checked her coat she walked toward the entrance of the main room, but was stopped by a stout older man with glasses, "Good evening, Miss Williams," he said with something of a German accent and smiling engagingly. "I'm Karl, the manger. Mr. King asked that I escort you to his table when you arrived."

"Thank you."

He led her through the already crowded room. The band playing tonight was apparently very popular. "You must let me or any of the staff know if there is anything we can do to make your evening more enjoyable."

"Thank you, Karl. Everyone has already been very kind." It gave her more than a little thrill that Jareth had ensured that she received the red carpet treatment

"Good." He pointed to a set of stairs that led to a balcony area. "Mr. King is waiting for you."

Sarah looked up and caught sight of Jareth. He was sitting on the end of the balcony that over looked the stage and his arm was draped languidly along the railing. His pale hair was slicked back from his face tonight and it made the angles of his face even sharper, making him look both more severe and more ethereal than normal.

She knew when he caught sight of her, because the bored look on his face turned into a warm smile. She climbed the stairs and made her way to his table to find someone else already sitting there with him, an extraordinarily beautiful woman in shockingly bright orange dress. It would have been an ugly color on anyone else but it suited her caramel colored skin and long dark hair perfectly and the cut of the dress magnificently displayed her assets. When Sarah had gotten dressed this evening, she had thought that she looked fantastic in her midnight blue lace sheath, but compared to this woman she felt completely dowdy.

Sarah stopped in her tracks, unsure of what exactly was going on. She did not want to be a third wheel or party to any silly mind games.

Jareth rose to his feet, the smile still on his face. "Sarah, I'm so glad you could join me tonight," he said grasping her arm and drawing her reluctantly closer to the table.

"I hope I'm not interrupting?" she asked cautiously.

"Not at all." His gloved hand slid down her arm and came to rest at the small of her back. She stiffened slightly, not expecting him to touch her so possessively. She turned her head toward him raising an inquisitive eyebrow. His smile turned frosty as he turned to the woman still sitting at the table and who was eying Sarah speculatively. She got the impression that the woman found her lacking. "I hope you enjoy the show tonight, Yvonne," he told her, his tone cold and commanding.

She seemed to understand that she was being dismissed and rose fluidly to her feet. "Will I see you later?"

"No."

She gave him a disappointed pout and then walked away her hips swaying a bit more than would be natural.

"Jesus, and you accuse me of being cruel to my boyfriends, Jareth." Sarah took a step away from him, but he kept his hand on her waist.

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm always very clear in my intentions in the beginning of any arrangement. They are well aware that the situation is only ever temporary." He sighed as if he felt very put upon. "Unfortunately, Yvonne has apparently decided that I did not mean what I said."

She chuckled and asked dryly, "Just how does that conversation normally go? 'I'll fuck you until I'm tired of you, don't expect more'."

He smiled ruefully. "Well, I put it much less crudely."

"I'm sure."

"Come with me to my office for a bit before the band starts." He started guiding her toward the staircase.

"Why?" Sarah stopped walking forcing him to pause as well. "So she'll think you're screwing me and finally get the idea that you're through with her?"

She felt warm leather trail up the bare skin of her back as his hand came up to cup the side of her neck his thumb lightly stroking her jaw. "There's my cruel Sarah," he crooned into her ear. She glared at him, but otherwise refused to react to him. She knew that's what he wanted. He gave her a taunting grin and released her as he took a step back. "But that actually wasn't my intention. I never bring anyone to my office for that sort of activity. Mixing business and pleasure is far too messy. I wanted to have a smoke and I don't smoke in the public areas when we're open."

"You shouldn't smoke in here at all. It's against the law."

He gave an elegant wave of his hand as if dismissing silly mortal laws.

Jareth led her down to the basement that seemed mostly taken up by a storeroom other than the office. He unlocked the door to his office and she followed him in. She paused for a moment taking in the small neat space. One wall was made up of bookshelves that held a combination of ledgers, bar supply catalogs, and a selection of various kinds of books. There was a serviceable, slightly beaten up desk in the center with two equally boring chairs in front of it. On the desk was a laptop and another monitor that seemed to be showing the security camera feed. The only bit of personality was an ostentatious Tiffany style lamp that looked like hanging wisteria and what looked like a print of a Renoir painting one wall. She thought that was rather odd. She wouldn't have pegged Jareth as a big fan of the Impressionists.

"Drink?"

She looked up at Jareth who was suddenly beside her holding two crystal tumblers.

"Thanks." She took one from him.

"You look confused, Sarah."

She gestured to the print. "That doesn't seem to be your style."

"Hmm." He looked it over himself. "Not normally, but it's a nice memory."

"Memory?" She searched the faces of the figures in the painting. And in the middle of the people on the dance floor there was Jareth dancing with a redhead in a striped bustle dress. "Huh. Did you know Renoir?"

"In passing. We frequented many of the same establishments. It was a wonderfully decadent period in Paris."

"Of course it was. Why else would you have been there?"

He just grinned.

Sarah moved to one of the chairs and sat down. Jareth sat in the big leather chair behind the desk and kicked his feet up on the corner.

He pulled his black leather gloves off and tossed them on his desk. His bare hands transfixed her. His fingers were so long they almost looked alien. The gold and opal ring sparkled in the light as he lit his cigarette.

She flushed guiltily when she caught his amused smirk. "Sorry. I just rarely see you barehanded."

"Yes, well, I don't suppose you'd mind if I remove my glamour as well while we're alone, do you?"

"Remove your what?" she asked suspiciously.

"My glamour. You don't think I really look this human do you?"

She didn't really think he looked terribly human as it was, even in his black double breasted suit and tame hair. He was far too beautiful. She shrugged attempting to look nonchalant. "Make yourself comfortable."

"Thank you. Glamour isn't terribly bothersome, but it's a bit like wearing a pair of shoes that are just the tiniest bit too tight."

She stared at him, unable to even pinpoint the exact moment he changed. He was still Jareth, just- more so. More other worldly. His skin was even paler and seemed slightly iridescent in the light of the lamp. His eyebrows took on an even more dramatic arch and his hair was more silvery than golden blonde. When he turned his head slightly, no doubt showing off, she could see his ears were slightly pointed at the tip.

"Sarah, it's rude to stare you know," he teased grinning broadly. His smile was so much more feral as he exposed sharp looking canines.

"I'm sorry. I just- " She felt slightly spellbound looking at him in his true form.

He chuckled darkly. "You see why I can't go around like this. Mortals would constantly be falling at my feet." He took a drag off his cigarette. "More than they do ordinarily."

She rolled her eyes. "It must be such a trial stepping over the bodies."

"It is, trust me. You're not going to swoon are you, Sarah?"

"Don't be stupid. I was just surprised. You have no power over me, remember."

"How could I possibly forget?"

There was a knock at the door and the human glamor was instantly back into place. "Come in," he called.

Karl poked his head in. "The band is about to go on, Mr. King."

"Thank you. We'll be out in a moment." He stubbed out his cigarette in a cut glass ashtray. "Oh, Karl. Please tell Emil that Yvonne is no longer to be admitted."

"Of course, sir," he replied before shutting the door.

"Oh, to be cast out of paradise," Sarah said to sardonically.

"I sincerely doubt that is your fate, my Champion." He pulled his gloves and stood. "Shall we?" he held out his gloved hand to her.

Sarah opened the door and was shocked to see a delivery person holding a huge arrangement of yellow roses and a basket on his arm.

"Sarah Williams?"

"That's me."

"If you'll sign here."

After she signed her name, she traded the clipboard for the flowers and basket. "Thank you."

She sat the vase and basket down on her coffee table and Frank immediately jumped up there to investigate. "Did you send these?" she asked the cat jokingly.

"Meow?"

"Yeah, I didn't think so."

She had already gotten flowers from her editor and publisher, so she couldn't imagine who sent these. She very seriously doubted any of her family members had remembered her birthday. In fact, the last time her dad had even called her was over a year ago and based on the conversation she rather thought he had dialed her number by accident.

She plucked the card from the flowers and opened the envelope.

"Happy Birthday, my Champion. I hope you enjoy your day. I'm sure you have plans with your friends and family tonight, but please allow me to take you out to dinner to celebrate next week.

Best wishes,

Jareth"

Sarah sat down heavily on the couch and stared at the two dozen yellow roses. How was it that her editor and her childhood bogeyman were the only people that cared enough to send her flowers on her 40th birthday? How had Jareth even known that it was her birthday or that yellow roses were her favorite? And "best wishes" indeed. Apparently, Jareth couldn't do anything nice without getting a little dig in as well.

Her attention was drawn to Frank, who was digging through the tissue paper in the basket and attempting to sit in it. She pulled the cat out and investigated the contents herself. It contained a bottle of very nice champagne, a box containing a dozen macarons from her favorite cafe, and a box of chocolates from the amazing chocolatier they discovered last week on one of their wanderings around the city.

As soon as the basket was empty of it's contents, Frank immediately commandeered it as his new bed.

Sarah rolled her eyes before turning her attention back to the box of chocolates. She couldn't stop herself from eating one of the chocolates immediately and she sighed in delight at the decadent morsel. The slight kick of the pepper in the Mexican Chocolate truffle was divine.

Then she got up and grabbed her phone.

"Umm, hello?" A very groggy sounding voice answered the phone. Of course, Jareth would still be asleep at this time of the morning. He ran a nightclub after all.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. I'll call you back later."

"No, it's alright, Sarah. What can I do for you?" She heard him groan as if he was stretching and she tried very hard to not imagine him delightful disheveled in bed. Thinking such things would not help the dreams she occasionally still had about him.

"Nothing. I just wanted to thank you for the flowers and the gift basket."

"Oh, that's right. Happy Birthday, my dear." She heard the click of his lighter and his deep inhalation as he had his first cigarette of the day.

"The roses are really beautiful. Thank you so much for thinking of me."

"Of course. How could I not?"

"And I'd love to have dinner with you. How's Tuesday?"

"Splendid."

"Thank you again, Jareth."

"Have a wonderful birthday."

"I will. Goodbye."

She sat and stared at her phone a moment trying to block out the image in her mind's eye. That of a bare-chested, tousled haired, drowsy eyed Goblin King laying in twisted sheets having an after sex cigarette. She would really be much better off if she wasn't so attracted to him. And it was so much harder to ignore her attraction when he was so nice to her.

After she got off the phone with Jareth, she made her way to her publisher's office. She had lunch with her editor and then spent the afternoon going through the cards and birthday wishes that had been sent by her fans. It never failed to touch her heart that so many strangers thought enough of her and her books that they went to such effort to wish her a happy birthday.

It also left her feeling a little resentful that her own relatives made no effort whatsoever. If she was honest with herself she knew it was partly her own fault as well. She and her stepmother never gotten along even after the extra effort Sarah tried to put into their relationship after she ran the Labyrinth. After college, she had deliberately distanced herself from them, knowing she would get no encouragement from her father and stepmother in pursuing her dreams of writing. It was so much easier just to avoid the inevitable awkwardness and potential conflict all together.

But there was a part of her that despite everything still craved her family's attention and affection.

Sarah glared at her phone.

She would not call Jareth and ask him to dinner tonight instead of Tuesday.

She would not let him know that she was so pathetic that she didn't have big plans for her 40th birthday.

In previous years (and after her friends had gotten married, started breeding, and moved to the suburbs), she had sometimes gone out by herself and gotten drunk enough not to feel self conscious about dancing and let loose.

Sometimes she had even been drunk enough to bring someone home and have depressingly bad sex with them.

That did not sound appealing anymore. There were other things she found more pleasurable now.

She picked up her phone and dialed her favorite Thai restaurant and ordered some spring rolls and drunken noodles for dinner.

Then she took the bottle of champagne out the refrigerator and carefully popped the cork. She didn't bother with a glass, instead taking a swig out of the bottle.

"Don't judge me," she told Frank, who was sitting in his new basket and giving her a look of feline condescension. "For my will is strong and I don't need anyone to make me happy."

"Hello, Emil," Sarah greeted the doorman of Belle Epoque.

"Good evening, Miss Williams. It's nice to see you again," he told her with a smile as he held the door open for her.

Once she had checked her coat, as inevitable as clockwork Karl appeared. "Good evening, Miss Williams. I must apologize. Mr. King has been unfortunately detained and has not arrived yet. Although we do expect him at any moment. I'll take you to his table." He gestured for her to follow.

"Oh, that's alright, Karl. I'll just sit at the bar and slum with the rabble until he gets here."

Karl looked slightly horrified at the thought. "Of course, if that is your wish. I'll let Mr. King know when he arrives."

"Thank you." She wondered exactly what kind of instructions Jareth gave his staff about her. They all treated her as if she were some important dignitary. None of them would even call her 'Sarah' no matter how many times she asked.

Sarah sat at one corner of the bar and Sasha immediately came over. "Miss Williams, what a treat. I'm usually sending drinks up to you on high. What can I get for you?"

"Surprise me," she told him.

He grinned. "Oh, you're just asking for trouble, aren't you?"

"I trust your judgment and skill." Sasha was something of an alchemist when it came to alcohol. She knew she wouldn't be disappointed with whatever he prepared for her.

A short while later, he presented a drink to her with a flourish. She took a sip and closed her eyes as she savored the first sip. It was all smoky whiskey and cinnamon with a hint of cherry.

"That is absolutely fantastic." she told him when he brought it to her.

He gave a dramatic bow. "Thank you, ma'am."

"Excuse me." Sarah looked over to the man sitting next to her. "I just wanted to tell you that is a fabulous dress. Is it vintage?"

"Yes, it is. Thank you very much." She had gone shopping with Jareth earlier in the week and he had convinced her to buy the dress. He was the only man she had ever met that liked to go digging through vintage and antique stores as much as she did. Once she had given up her fairy tale princess costumes she had discovered mid-century vintage clothes and had been a collector ever since. She usually didn't splurge on fancy evening clothes, because she used to have no where to wear them. But since Jareth and his club had come into her life she didn't feel so bad about indulging herself, especially with the appreciative look Jareth had given her when she tried it on. So she had come home with a fabulous 60's white shantung cocktail dress with beading around the neck that looked like a wide Egyptian collar.

Sasha came over and retrieved the man's empty glass. "Another, sir?"

"Yes. And put the lady's drink and anything else she wants on my tab."

"Miss Williams's drinks are on the house." Sasha told him with a touch of frosty hostility.

Sarah raised a questioning brow. "The owner is a friend of mine," she said apologetically.

She chatted with the man beside her for a few minutes about the shop she bought the dress at and some other vintage shops around the city. He was obviously trying to flirt with her, but he wasn't obnoxious about it.

She felt warm leather slide up her bare arm and then curve possessively around the back of her neck bared by her up-swept hairstyle. She could imagine the look Jareth was giving the man she was chatting with, because he instantly turned his focus away from her to his drink and phone.

She glanced over her shoulder at him. "Don't be an ass, Jareth."

She felt his low chuckle as he pressed up behind her to grasp the glass of wine Sasha had poured for him. "But you're my guest, Sarah."

He withdrew his hand from her and leaned against the bar next to her effectively blocking the man she'd been chatting with. She got a good look at Jareth for the first time tonight. He was wearing a wine velvet dinner jacket with black trousers and black shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest. His hair was in rakish disarray and he had a secretive looking smile tugging at his lips. He was the very picture of louche elegance.

"But my host wasn't here, Jareth. I was lonely." She feigned a pout.

"My sincerest apologies," he replied with mock formality. "I was unfortunately delayed."

"What was her name?"

"What makes you think it was a her?" His smile turned wicked as he slipped her arm through his and tugged her away from the bar and toward the balcony where his table was."You forget I'm fae and we enjoy variety in our... amusements," he whispered in her ear. She wasn't quite sure if she imagine that his lips had grazed the shell of her ear when he spoke.

"Okay. Him, then?"

"It was more of a 'they'."

Her eyebrows rose involuntarily.

He gave a dark little laugh. "Are you shocked, my dear?"

She pulled away and scowled at him. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm a romance novelist. Sex doesn't shock me."

"But I don't recall you ever writing a menage a trois," he said as they both took their seats at the table.

"I write romance, not erotica. Threesomes aren't very romantic."

"Hmm, I suppose you're right for the most part. But remind me to tell you the tale of the Queen and her pair of Prince Consorts one day."

A server came up and Jareth ordered them another round of drinks.

"You know, I wouldn't have minded if you canceled since you had other plans tonight."

"There was no need. Mortals lack stamina," he told her matter of factly before that devilish grin slid back across his face. "The poor things were quite worn out."

Sarah rolled her eyes. He so enjoyed trying to shock her and she enjoyed not giving him the satisfaction of shocking her. Though at this moment she was feeling a little nervous at the speculative look he was giving her. Was he not sated by his pair of mortals?

"We need to find you a lover, Sarah."

She barked out a laugh. That was the last thing she expected him to say. "I might have had one if you hadn't done your possessive routine." Not that she had really been interested in the man at the bar.

Jareth snorted derisively. "You wouldn't have wanted him. I don't think being the other woman is a thrill you seek."

"No." Sarah frowned. "Married was he?"

"And with four small children at home."

"Bastard."

He looked contemplative again. "What about Sasha? I think he has a crush on you."

"That wouldn't be awkward at all," she said sarcastically.

"Perhaps you're right. He's far too good of a bartender to lose if he didn't please you."

"I don't need you to play fairy matchmaker for me. Besides I don't really want a boyfriend right now."

"I didn't say anything about a 'boyfriend'," he said the word with distaste. "But you could use a good romp in the sheets. You're entirely too tightly wound. A night of pleasure would help you relax."

"A one night stand is the last thing that would help me relax. I'm not into casual sex. It's never been very satisfying to me. Most guys into casual flings are only focused on their own pleasure." Besides she also had a hard time turning her brain off and allowing herself to just feel and not think even when she was really turned on and attracted to her partner.

"Where do you find your lovers? How can they all be so abysmal?" She was amused by his slightly aghast expression.

"Forgive me if I don't have your fae powers of seduction that have people falling at my feet to please me. And apparently I scare mortal men, remember?"

"I shall find you a proper lover," he said with resolve.

What an embarrassing conversation. She buried her face in her hands. "Please don't. I mean it, Jareth." She looked up and gave him her sternest look. God only knew how he would audition 'proper lovers' for her. "I'd much rather stick to pleasing myself."

"Do tell." He looked intrigued and she immediately regretted that last sentence. "You do have quite the imagination. I can see where ordinary mortal men might lack the creativity to please you."

She drained her glass, wishing the server would come back and interrupt this conversation and bring her a fresh drink. "Can we please talk about something else?"

"That dress looks lovely on you."

Fashion. Okay, fashion was a safe topic.

"Thank you for convincing me to buy it."

"But, of course, I do so enjoy facilitating self indulgence."

"Oh, brother." She sighed. This was going to be a long night. "Are you always like this after..." she waved her hand vaguely, not quite sure how to label his 'amusements'.

"Wearing out two mortals?"

She rolled her eyes again. He makes her do that far too often. "So when is the band supposed to go on?"

He chuckled. "Oh, there's that puritanical streak finally exposing itself."

Sarah lounged in the chair with her legs draped over the armrest and her boots kicked off somewhere on the floor. Jareth sat at the piano playing a selection of melancholy songs. It actually suited her mood so she didn't comment on his choice of music. She hadn't even meant to stay this long anyway. She had only dropped by to give Jareth a copy of the holiday anthology she had contributed a story to. When she had arrived not long after the club had opened, Karl had sent her up to the event room where she had first re-encountered Jareth a couple of months ago. She had found him at the piano once again. This time he playing various rock covers and she couldn't stop herself from sitting down and listening to him play and sing for a while.

"Why don't you ever perform at the club? You really are very good."

Jareth paused his playing and took a drag on his cigarette. "I'm not fond of being on display."

Sarah gave a shocked laugh. "That is the most untrue thing I have ever heard come out of your mouth."

His lips twisted into a rueful smile. "Perhaps I should rephrase that. It is unseemly for a king to exhibit such talents publicly."

"But you're not a king anymore," she reminded him. Perhaps it was tactless to do so, but he needled her often enough.

"For now. Imagine the gossip if it was discovered that the Goblin King had been performing Nick Cave covers in a nightclub."

She grinned, imagining the idea. "I think you'd make an excellent Nick Cave. You'd have to dye your hair though."

"And I also have no desire to be a source of amusement for those who are not my intimate friends."

"You're such a snob, Jareth."

"Of course I am. As are you, my dear."

That was true.

She sighed and looked at the time on her phone. No wonder she was getting hungry. "I'm about to head out and get some dinner. You want to join me?"

"I suppose. I'm not really in the mood for the gaiety of a nightclub. Or crowds."

"I can bring you back something if you'd rather just hide out here and continue your sad song retrospective," she offered.

"No. I should get out. I've allowed myself to brood quite enough." He stood up and stretched with a groan. She wondered how long he'd been sitting there playing before she had showed up.

The restaurant they had picked was quiet and not crowded, but even so Jareth had made sure they sat in a secluded booth. He obviously wasn't joking about not being in the mood for people. He'd been subdued all night and their usual teasing banter was mostly absent. Despite his glamour she could see a certain amount of tension in his features.

"Are you okay, Jareth?" she asked.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm asking."

"Everything is as it should be. Thank you for your concern, Sarah." There was an edge of warning in his voice to drop the subject.

She supposed he would talk about it when and if he wanted to. She searched her mind for another subject. "I've been meaning to ask you, what happened to my friends after I left?"

He seemed to relax slightly at the shift in conversation. "They're still there, but not as you remember them."

"Why? What happened to them?"

"They reverted back to their original forms. When there is a runner, the Labyrinth and it's denizens are altered by the dreams and imagination of the runner."

That was something she had never considered before. "Even you?"

He snorted derisively. "Do you really think I normally looked like a member of a hair metal band?"

She broke at into a wide grin, amused that Jareth would know what 'hair metal' was, but then again he was well versed in Aboveground music. "Well, it was the 80s..."

"Please I have a much better sense of style than that. No matter what the era."

That was true, at least if his current wardrobe was anything to go by.

He got that wicked look in his eye that she had learned to be wary of. No doubt he was about to say something outrageous. "But I must say I was rather intrigued that such a seemingly innocent girl imagined her adversary in such indecently tight trousers. I'm not even sure they could be termed 'trousers'."

She couldn't stop the sudden embarrassed flush that no doubt turned her face red and she took a large gulp of wine before answering. "Like I said, it was the 80s. There was a lot of spandex."

"But still, such a focus on my..." he paused significantly,"Assets was quite contrary to your otherwise childish dreams. And that riding crop. You didn't even imagine any horses to go with it. What was it for, hmm?"

Her face grew even hotter and she scowled at him, her anger flaring as well as her embarrassment. "Yes, and I'm quite sure my imagination was much more generous to you in that area as well as your hair."

His low laugh rumbled seductively across her nerves. "Perhaps you'll find out one day. If you're lucky."

"Oh, please," she said in exasperated annoyance. "I'm sure fae men are just as tiresomely boastful, yet disappointing as human men."

"I would be careful setting down such challenges as that, my dear."

"Or what? You'll make it your mission to show me how wrong I am about your prowess?" She laughed bitterly, though something in her was thrilled at the idea. "Been there. Done that. Always disappointed come morning. They don't call me the Ice Queen for nothing."

"Oh, Sarah, how cruel you are. Even to yourself. All these sad mortals never had a chance did they? No wonder they couldn't perform. You set them up to fail. You scared them to death"

She shrugged. It was probably true. Her expectations had always been unrealistic.

"But you'll find I don't frighten quite so easily," he continued in his smooth, confident tone. "Not to mention I have centuries of experience to call upon."

"Whatever," she said nonchalantly as she could with her pulse pounding, whether from anger or desire to explore his centuries of experience she couldn't tell. "I'm not interested in a supernatural lover either. Especially you."

"Yes," he sneered. "I suppose you're quite content with your imaginary lovers and some miracle of modern science between your legs. It's much simpler when you don't have to deal with actually people. They're such messy demanding things and you're so very selfish, aren't you, Sarah?"

"You're such a bastard, Jareth."

He shrugged eloquently. "The truth hurts they say."

She slid out of the booth, grabbing her purse as she stood. "I'm leaving."

He looked up at her, his eyes burning with something she couldn't decipher. "Yes, go hide away with your feline familiar and your dream lovers for company."

When the knock sounded on her door early the next morning, she assumed it was the old lady down the hall wanting to borrow some milk for her coffee again. However, it wasn't Mrs. Simmons and she tried shutting the door again as soon as she caught sight of that blond head.

"Go away Jareth. I'm quite content here with my cat and my dream lovers. They're vastly more entertaining than you ever could be."

He wedged his foot between the door and jam before she could close it. Black motorcycle boots she noticed absently. Good for holding doors open. "How did you get past the doorman?" she demanded.

"I don't need doors to go where I wish."

"I'm suppose I'm lucky you just don't pop in here anytime you feel like it then." She released the door and stepped back. She couldn't stop him from magically coming in if he wanted. He looked very determined. She crossed her arms over her chest defensively, wishing was wearing something other than her pajamas and robe.

"I came to apologize," he said stepping through the doorway and shutting the door quietly behind him. "I should not have said such things to you. But like you I can be cruel even when I don't intend to be."

"I think you did intend to be cruel, Jareth."

He ran his surprisingly bare hand through his already disheveled hair and sighed heavily. "You are probably right. I was already in a foul mood last night. You wounded my pride and I lashed out. I am deeply sorry that I hurt you."

"You didn't. You've made your pretty speech, now get out of here," she said gesturing to the door.

"No," he replied not budging. "I value our friendship far more than that."

"Friendship?" she scoffed. "Is that what we have?"

"I like to think so. I have found your companionship extremely enjoyable since we have become reacquainted. It makes exile a little less lonely when I spend time with someone who knows what I've been cast out of. It is also very rare that I find someone I can name as friend."

"Oh, you're good."

"It's true."

She studied him long and hard. He had been without his glamour from the moment he shut the door. She'd never seen him look quite so- upset, for lack of a better word. This normally luminous skin looked dull and gray and there were dark circles under his eyes. He looked like he'd gotten dressed in a hurry in a grey turtlenecked sweater and dark jeans. His overcoat was merely thrown over his shoulders with his ubiquitous gloves peeking out of the pocket rather than on his hands.

He met her eyes unflinchingly with as an open and honest expression as she'd ever seen from him. "I don't want to lose you from my life, Sarah."

"Jareth, you're... very confusing," she finished with a sigh.

"You still see me as your imaginary villain, don't you?"

"Sometimes. You can play into it so well." She took a deep breath, trying to push the lingering anger and hurt from her mind. "But I would miss your friendship if it was gone too. You're the closest friend that I've had in a really long time. I can talk to you about things I've never been able to talk to anyone else about. I guess that means you know exactly how to cut me to the quick.

"Does that mean you have forgiven me?"

"What were you upset about last night?" she asked instead of answering his question.

He scrubbed a hand over his face as if her were completely exhausted."Yesterday, I had a visit from a cousin who decided to come by for a bit of gloating about my continued exile and to drop hints about some unfortunate things that may be happening in the Goblin Kingdom. I find it incredibly frustrating to be so powerless that I can't even confirm if the things he insinuated were true or not. Unfortunately, I couldn't allow him to see how much it bothered me, so I just brooded over it all day and you ended up being a convenient target for my ire."

"What an asshole."

Jareth's eyes widened in shock and she almost laughed at his expression. "Not you," she said quickly. "I meant your cousin. To deliberately come Aboveground to taunt you like that."

His lips twisted into a small smile. "Yes, he is."

"Well, I suppose that explains things. I thought you were just toying with me because you were bored and I was there. I've seen you be that vicious with people before."

He grimaced. "That's not one of my finest traits, I must admit. But I would never use you as that kind of entertainment, Sarah."

"Then I accept your apology, Jareth."

"Thank you." The tension seemed to leave his body at that moment. "Could I take you out to breakfast? As a small recompense?"

"Sure. Let me get dressed," she said gesturing to her robe.

Once Sarah got dressed she came back out into the living room to find Jareth sitting on her couch with Frank curled up on his lap.

"Traitor," she accused the cat. She took a secret delight that Frank would shed his creamy colored fur all over Jareth's normally pristine dark colored clothes.

Jareth stroked his back. "Your familiar is a very fine old gentleman."

"He is. I've had him for fifteen years. I don't know what I'd do without him at this point."

Jareth lifted the cat from his lap and gently set him on the couch to beside him.

He stood and looked down at the fur on his jeans and sweater. He waved a hand and it was gone. Of course.

Jareth raised an inquisitive eyebrow at the dirty look she gave him.

"Never mind," she told him. "Let's go."

Jareth thought it was strange that Sarah was calling him a little after 11:00 pm on Christmas Eve. Surely, she was occupied with her family for the holiday. Perhaps she had missed him. He smiled at the thought, but a shiver of foreboding ran through him as he stepped into the storeroom so he could hear her. "Hello, Sarah. Did you miss-"

"Jareth, I need your help!" she cut him off, her voice was hoarse and she sounded out of breath.

"Are you alright?" he asked in alarm.

"No," she sobbed. "Please, Jareth, can you-"

He transported instantly to her almost without thought, with his glass of wine still in his hand. Sarah was right in front of him crumpled on the sidewalk. She was still attempting to talk to him on her phone.

"Sarah, what's wrong?" He slipped his own phone back into his jacket pocket and crouched down next to her. His eyes scanned over her searching for injuries, but he saw none. "Were you attacked?" He looked around but the the street was empty. He thought was probably a couple of blocks from her building. Any sane person would be warmly at home on this freezing night, especially on Christmas Eve.

"No." She focused on the wine glass still in his hand. "I'm sorry to take you away from your party."

A flash of irritation shot through him at her stubborn stoicism. "Don't be stupid, Sarah." He rolled his eyes and set his glass down on the icy sidewalk. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"I slipped on some ice and I think I broke my leg."

He reached out and gently felt along her flannel clad legs. The right was okay. But when he touched the other one, she moaned in pain despite her gritted teeth. He let his hand linger there for a moment and closed his eyes as he used his magic to take stock of the damage. "The left is definitely broken, but it's a clean break." He looked her over again searching for any other injuries. She looked positively ill and she was dressed in what appeared to be her pajamas under her coat. "What were you doing wandering the streets at this hour in your nightclothes?"

"Do you ever stop being the Fashion Police?" she growled. "I have the flu, okay? I went to the pharmacy to get more medicine and I didn't feel like getting fully kitted out for that."

"Why didn't you call me then? " he asked, his irritation rising again. Stubborn woman. When would she learn she could rely on his help. "I would have made sure you had what you needed.

Sarah coughed and wheezed. "Can we discuss that when I'm at the hospital?"

"Hospital? Don't be ridiculous. I can heal your leg myself."

"You can do that?"

"Of course. I'm going to pick you up. I'll try not to jar you too much, but it may hurt." He told her and she nodded in response. "Put your arms around my neck if you're not too weak."

"I'm not too weak, you ancient jackass," she bit out wrapping her arms around his neck, one hand still clutching her pharmacy bag. He rolled his eyes again, but didn't otherwise comment on her lack of gratitude for his concern and assistance. He put an arm under her knees and the other around her back before rising to his feet, doing his best not to jostle her. Her face was presses against his neck and he could feel how feverish her skin was, even in this cold. "I'm going to transport us now."

The next instant they were in his living room. He gently laid her down on the sofa. "How do you feel? Dizzy?"

"A little."

"Take a couple of deep breaths. It will pass in a a few moments."

"I'm too congested to breathe."

He tugged the bag from her grasp and inspected the contents. He went to the kitchen and got her a glass of water. She swallowed down the pills he handed her and then lay back heavily on the cushions. He took off his gloves and stroked the hair from her clammy forehead. "I'm going to put you a to sleep for a bit so I can set and heal your leg. Is that alright, Sarah?"

She nodded before closing her eyes.

When Sarah woke up, she still fell like absolute shit, but there was no longer any pain in her leg. Jareth was nowhere to be seen, but she did see a plume of smoke and followed it to it's source. Jareth was lying in the floor between the sofa and the coffee table with his eyes closed. She smiled slightly as she took in his festive attire for the first time. He was wearing a green velvet dinner jacket, with a sprig of holly in the button hole. He'd obviously popped out in the middle of the club's Christmas celebration. Karl and the rest of the staff were probably wondering where he had disappeared to.

"Jareth?"

He opened his eyes and lifted his head slightly to look at her, but it fell back to the floor. His hand shook as he removed the cigarette from his mouth. "How do you feel?" he asked, his voice was strangely breathless.

"Are you okay?" she asked in concern. He didn't look entirely well himself.

He nodded tightly and brought the cigarette back to his lips. "I will be shortly. My magic is somewhat dampened Aboveground. Transporting several times and healing the bone has drained me a bit."

Sarah started coughing.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking." Jareth sluggishly pushed himself up and stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray on the coffee table. He leaned heavily against the couch. "I'll take care of your illness when I've rested a little."

"You could have just taken me to the hospital," she said, feeling guilty that he had expended so much of himself to help her.

"What and miss a chance to have you in my debt?" He turned his head toward her, managing one of his mischievous smirks.

"Conniving fae. I should have known better than to call you," she replied falling easily into their usual banter, but even his smirk looked weak and that worried her. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I just need to eat and rest. You do too. What can I have sent up for you?" He pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and started scrolling for his contacts.

"Nothing." She sat up and it set off another bought of coughing. "I'll just go home now that I can walk." She just wanted to collapse into her bed and and sleep until she was well again. "Call me cab, will you?"

"No, You will stay in the guest room until I'm able to heal your illness."

"I'm not staying in your guest room," she protested automatically, his imperious tone irritating her.

"Would you rather stay in my bed?" A teasing glint lit his eyes. "Unfortunately I won't be up for much at the moment." Apparently, he wasn't too exhausted to flirt though.

"No, I have to go home. I can't call any of my neighbors on Christmas to take care of Frank."

"I'll send someone for him."

"Who? Do you have servants?" She looked around the room. It certainly seemed expensively furnished, but wasn't ostentatious or overly large. Actually it was must more modest than she expected from him and didn't seem like the kind of place that required servants. He had been a king. Was he that used to be waited on hand and foot?

"No, I'll call the concierge. He can send a member of his staff."

"Concierge? Where in the world do you live?"

"The Waldorf Astoria."

"Of course, you do. Take the King out of his palace, but can't take the palace out of the king. Should've figured you wouldn't have a normal apartment."

"There are other people that have apartments here. It's hardly unusual."

"I should still go," pushing herself up into a sitting position. "You don't have to heal me. I'll be fine in a couple of days."

"Sarah," he said softly, reaching out and laying a hand on her arm. "While I greatly admire your strength and self reliance, just once let someone help you. Let me take care of you."

She huffed,"Oh, alright. I guess." She knew he was right. She was just being hard-headed.

The soup was really good, but even so she had to force herself to eat it. She really had no appetite. All she wanted to do was to go to sleep.

She looked across the table to Jareth who appeared to be ravenous in his hunger. He was plowing steadily through the large array of food laid out before him. Now halfway through his meal, his color had improved a bit and his movements seemed steadier.

He looked up from his plate and caught her, bleary gaze on him. "Would you like something else?"

"No, I'm going to lay back on the couch."

"Nonsense." He pushed back from the table and stood. "Let me show you to the guest room so you can rest comfortably."

He led her to an elegantly furnished bedroom. He gestured to a door on the left. "The bathroom is through there. A hot bath may make you feel better. I'll bring Frank to you when he gets here. Call me if you need anything." He moved toward the door.

"Jareth, thank you for coming for me. I don't know what I would have done without your help."

He smiled. "Anytime."

Sarah had a long hot soak and had nearly fallen asleep in the tub. When she went into the bedroom, a pair of purple silk pajamas with black velvet robe was laid out on the bed. On the floor was a pair of matching shearling lined slippers. She immediately stuck her feet in them. They were a little big, but they were warm. She was thankful he had provided her something to sleep in. Her pajamas were dirty and damp from where she fallen in the ice and snow. The soft silk felt divine on her skin. She doubted Jareth would have anything so practical as flannel pajamas. Actually, she was surprised he had pajamas at all. He didn't seem the type, sensuous fae that he was.

She also saw that her medicine was laid out on the nightstand with a pitcher of water and a glass. She took a dose of dose of cough medicine before she got into bed.

Just as she was about to drift off, she heard a familiar inquisitive meow in the hall and called, "In here, Frank."

The cat ran through the open door and jumped up on the bed. He rubbed his face against hers, a loud purr rumbling through his body. Once he had enough petting, he nosed his way under the covers and curled up beside her.

Sarah woke to feel an odd weight on her chest. It wasn't Frank, because she could feel him curled up at her side. She looked down to see that it was a brocade covered arm and a pale elegant hand with its long cold fingers slipped beneath the neck of her pajamas. She turned her head to view the figure curled up awkwardly beside her on the edge of the bed.

"Jareth, what are you doing?"

"Hmm?" He blinked blearily at her. "How do you feel?" he asked, his voice had the same breathless quality that it had after he had healed her leg.

"Better," she said, surprised that she actually did. She wasn't as achy as she had been and she could actually breathe now, although she still felt lethargic. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said before his eyes drifted shut again.

She felt awkward. Jareth didn't seem intent on leaving. She didn't want to seem extremely ungrateful by asking him to after he had healed her and now seemed absolutely exhausted again. She assumed his hand was on her chest because he'd had to touch her to heal her and he had fallen asleep after. But his fingers were positively icy against her skin. "Your hand is cold," she whispered.

"Sorry," he mumbled, withdrawing his hand from her chest. He wrapped his quilted brocade robe tighter around himself and curled up in an almost fetal position. "I'm cold all over."

It was odd and a bit disturbing to see Jareth look so vulnerable. He was the most vital person she had ever encountered. And as much as she was loathe to admit it, she was deeply moved that he had made himself so weak and vulnerable to heal her not once, but twice and not even for life threatening illnesses either.

Sarah studied him in the pale morning light that filtered through the curtains. His skin looked ashen again and the area around his eyes almost looked bruised. She wondered what exactly healing an illness entailed for him, because he looked as ill as she had been earlier. There was a strange innocence to his face as he lay there sleeping. Even in his most relaxed state she had never seen that perpetually haughty mask fall. She supposed when you were a king you learned to hide your true self so well that only when you were completely exhausted did that mask unintentionally fall away. Perhaps, the unstyled disarray of his silvery hair added naturalness of his expression. Jareth's appearance always had a carefully studied quality to it, even when he was trying to appear 'casual'.

Unable to help herself she ran her fingers through his hair. She was surprised how silky and soft it was between her fingers. Honestly, she would have expected he used a lot of product in his hair. She would almost swear he purred as she continued to stroke his hair.

"So what's all this healing going to cost me?" she asked quietly after a while.

He cracked his eyes open a sliver. "Come to my New Year's party."

"That's all?"

"Mm-hmm." He shifted his head slightly as if indicating where she should pet him next. He closed his eyes again when she scratched her nails along his scalp. "It will be nice to have someone to hide away with when my guests become too tedious."

"You really are Jay Gatsby, aren't you?" she chuckled. The pointed tip of his ear poked up through the strands of his hair. She traced a finger over it and an unexpected shiver went through his whole body. She jerked her hand away in shock.

"Turn over," he said his voice suddenly gruff.

"What?" she asked in surprise. When she didn't move he shifted her over onto her side and spooned up behind her, the duvet separating them. "What are you doing?"

"Going back to sleep. I'm cold and exhausted from healing you. You need to rest to build your strength back up too. Don't think, Sarah. Just sleep."

And surprisingly she did just that with a former Goblin King pressed against her back his heavy arm across her waist and Frank curled up against her other side purring.

Sarah woke to the smell of coffee and found she was completely alone in bed. Not even her cat was still there. Her stomach rumbled and for the first time in nearly a week she actually had an appetite. She crawled out of bed and put on the black velvet robe and slippers.

She met Jareth in the hallway as he was coming to wake her. "If you're hungry, we have a rather late brunch."

"I am. Thanks."

She followed him into the dining room where an array of food was laid out again. She was surprised to find Frank standing up in a chair eating what looked like salmon from a plate set in front of him.

"Jareth," Sarah protested. "Frank doesn't eat people food or eat at the table."

He shrugged. "It's Christmas. Your familiar shouldn't be left out."

"He's already a pest around food," she grumbled. Whoever heard of ordering a cat lox? Frank would probably try to eat a bagel and cream cheese if she let him. "You're going to make him even worse."

Jareth just smiled and put another piece of salmon on the cat's plate. She didn't bother to object again and sat at the place where there was a plate most amazing looking french toast with a berry compote and bacon that was cooked crispy, just the way she liked it.

As she ate she studied Jareth, his color looked marginally better than it had earlier, but he still had dark circles under his eyes and an air of extreme exhaustion. She got a good look at the robe he had been wearing earlier and it was unusually old-fashioned. Made of a blue and green silk brocade quilted for warmth, it had a high collar and braided buttons running down the left side. It was something she could imagine Mr. Darcy wearing in his study at Pemberly.

"Is that a banyan?" she asked remembering her historical fashion research for her Regency novel.

Jareth paused in eating his omelet and looked down at himself. "I believe that's what this type of robe was once called. I suppose it is rather old-fashioned." He seemed slightly embarrassed for once. "But it's the warmest one I have."

She suppressed a smile. "I like it," she said trying to assuage his never ending vanity. "I'll have to pick your brain when I work on my next Regency novel."

"I'd be happy to be of assistance."

That was pretty much the end of their brunch conversation. Jareth seemed to be putting all his energy into eating and her own french toast was too good not to savor.

After brunch, Sarah went back to the guest room to take a shower. She hadn't felt like washing her hair since she had gotten sick and she couldn't stand it any more. After her shower, she put the pajamas and robe back on. She really had nothing else to wear and she wasn't about to go poking into Jareth's closet. Who knew what she would find there?

When Sarah came back out, Jareth was reclining in a chair wrapped in a fur blanket.

"Trust you to have a mink blanket," she commented as she walked past him.

"What's wrong with it? It's very warm and soft."

"Do you know how many minks died to make that blanket?"

"Ah, so you object on moral grounds," Jareth chuckled. "That makes you rather a hypocrite, because you have a coat with a mink collar."

"That coat is vintage," she informed him. "Those minks died long before I was even thought about. There was no reason for them to have died in vain."

He raised an eyebrow. "How do you know my minks didn't die long before you were born either?"

That gave her pause. Most of his furnishings had a certain Art Deco style. How long had he owned this apartment?

He closed his eyes and settled back into his chair, so Sarah decided to snoop about his living room a bit. She hadn't really paid much attention to it the night before. It was very nicely furnished, but also looked lived in. There was a Steinway grand piano in one corner, with bits of sheet music scattered across the top. She paused for a while at the bookshelves that lined one wall. He had quite an interesting variety of books. She grinned to herself when found her own novels there. In front of the sitting area, Jareth had a very modern audio visual setup with a large flatscreen tv mounted on the wall and a very impressive stereo that had everything from a turn table to an iPod dock.

When her curiosity was satisfied, Sarah sat on the couch and flipped through the channels on TV, skipping past all the Christmas movies and finally settling on The Thin Man movie marathon on TCM. Nick and Nora Charles were one of her favorite fictional couples. She didn't even care about the mysteries at all, she just loved Nick and Nora's banter and seemingly genuine affection for one another.

After a while Jareth, came over and sat on the couch beside her. He shifted Frank from her lap and laid his own head there as he stretched out on the couch. The fur blanket pulled up over him to his chin. Once Jareth got settled Frank jumped back up there and curled up beside him.

She was about to make a comment about his presumption until her gaze fell on his still slightly ashen features and felt a stab of guilt again that he had so exhausted himself healing her.

At some point, she found herself absentmindedly stroking his silky hair much the same way she would have Frank's fur had he still been sleeping in her lap. When she realized what she had been doing she pulled her hand away.

"Don't stop," Jareth murmured.

She didn't comment but continued combing her fingers through his hair. She looked down at him and he had a contended little smile on his face. She stroked his hair back away from his forehead and exposed his pointed ears. Even after seeing him so often without his glamour, she still found his ears incredibly fascinating.

She gently traced the tip barely touching it. A shudder went through his body. He reached up and covered his ear with his hand. "Please don't do that."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

He gave a short laugh. "It didn't hurt. It's just my ears are very sensitive."

"Oh," she said realizing what he meant. "Like a Ferengi?"

"A what?"

"You know in Star Trek with the big ears."

"The logical ones?"

"No, the greedy ones obsessed with gold pressed latinum."

"I'm afraid I'm not familiar with them."

"We'll have a Next Generation and Deep Space Nine marathon one day."

He shifted onto his back to look up at her and she could see that mischievous smirk of his. "Won't you go ahead and tell me how their ears were sensitive?"

"Go back to sleep," she told him tartly.

Jareth dozed most of the afternoon in her lap, occasionally waking and watching some of the movies with her.

"I like these people," he commented during Another Thin Man.

Of course, he did. Nick and Nora Charles would have definitely been regulars at Belle Epoque.

A little before 8:00, what seemed like a legion of bellhops arrived with carts of silver domed platters and festive flower arrangements. Upon Jareth's instructions they set up in the dining room. When they were done they trooped to the door where Jareth gave them all particularly generous tips and wished them "Happy Holidays".

When they had gone he turned to her and gave her a courtly bow. "Dinner is served."

"There was no need to go to so much trouble," she told him feeling a bit like she was imposing on his hospitality after he had already done so much for her.

"Nonsense. We have to eat don't we?"

She followed him into the dining room. It looked lovely with the lights lowered and the room lit primarily by candles. There was a beautiful centerpiece of red and white roses and holly in the middle of the table.

He held her chair for her as she sat down. It was rather absurd that they were having such a formal dinner in pajamas and robes.

"What is this?" She stared down at the small exquisitely wrapped gift beside her plate.

"Your Christmas present."

"I didn't think Christmas would be something you would celebrate," she said feeling suddenly embarrassed, because she hadn't thought to get him a Christmas present.

He shrugged. "When In Rome…"

"I'm sorry. I-"

He sighed wearily, as if he didn't have the energy or inclination to hear her apology. "Just open it, Sarah."

She pulled off the shiny gold bow and tore off the paper revealing a worn leather covered case. She opened it and resting inside was what looked like an antique hair comb in the shape of a butterfly with delicate wings enameled in vibrant colors. It looked so fragile she was almost afraid to touch it.

"Do you like it?"

"It's lovely," she replied honestly.

"It reminded me of that threadbare sweater you always wear."

She looked up at him sharply before seeing the teasing smile on his face and she laughed.

"It's very beautiful. I love it. Thank you, Jareth." She pulled part of her hair back from her face and twisted it back and inserted the comb to hold it in place.

"You're welcome. I'm only sorry. I don't have the strength to transport you to your family for the rest of the holiday."

"Tired of my company already?" she teased, trying to divert him from the subject of her family.

"Of course not, but I'm sure you must be miss celebrating with them."

"Not really." He looked surprised and she continued, "I haven't spent the holidays with them for years. We really aren't that close."

His surprise turned to confusion. "What about your brother?"

She snorted. "He grew up to be quite the entitled asshole. I should have let you turn him into a goblin. He would probably be more pleasant that way."

He took a sip of his wine as he contemplated what she had said. His eyes seemed to penetrate through to her very soul. "Were you going to spend the holidays alone even before you got sick?" Weirdly his tone almost held a hint of anger.

"I normally do," she shrugged, she had made her peace with her lack of family connections many years ago. "Sometimes I'll take take a trip somewhere."

Sarah picked up her wine glass and took a long sip. She didn't really want discuss this, but she supposed if they were truly friends he had a right to know.

"I stopped making an effort with my family long ago," she told him. "It saved a lot of grief for all of us. Every holiday I went back during college was somewhere between a passive aggressive nightmare and a screaming match. Ever since my father got remarried, I've been an outsider and became an afterthought once Toby was born. There was no point to push myself on them when I wasn't wanted. They didn't even bother to send a card or call for my 40th birthday. Only you, my editor, and my fans even acknowledged it." Suddenly there were tears streaming down her face and she couldn't stop them. She didn't understand why this was coming out now. She wasn't the type of person who burst out into tears at the drop of a hat. She was so embarrassed to be balling in front of him like this. Jareth, of all people, who expected her to be strong and defiant. "My editor is out of town, so you are literally the only person I could call last night." She gave a slightly hysterical laugh and stood up to flee the dining room. She couldn't stand for him to see her like this.

Jareth stood as well and blocked her path out the door. "You can always call on me, Sarah. I will come to you no matter what." He pulled her to him and she surprised herself by actually letting him fold her into his embrace. "It seems we are both exiles." She cried harder, burying her face into the the quilted silk of his banyan. "You have been the only friend I have had in centuries and I would do anything for you." She clung tighter to him and he just stroked her hair until she quieted. "Would you like me to turn your bother into a goblin now?"

She laughed despite herself. "Don't tempt me." She pulled back and took a deep breath trying to pull herself back together. "I'm sorry for crying all over you, Jareth. I'm not normally a cryer."

"I think it was a release you needed for a long time," he said gently as he wiped her tears away with his thumbs. "Go wash your face and we'll finish dinner."

When she got back to the table, Jareth was sitting there at the table staring into his wine glass like it was one of his crystal balls. He looked up after she sat back down. "I feel like I should offer you an apology, Sarah."

"Why?"

"Due to your exposure to the magic of the Underground you are what is called 'fae touched' and unfortunately it makes it difficult for other mortals to connect with you. They sense something slightly otherworldly about you that sets off a primal fear."

"That may be true, but I never really fit in before I ran the Labyrinth either," she told him. "I've always had my head in the clouds. I had a few close friends when I was a kid, but most people thought I was a sort of weird. My stepmother certainly thought so. She wanted my dad, but she didn't really want an odd little half grown daughter. She ended up sending me to therapy, because I wasn't interested in the things she thought a teenager should be interested in. But it was actually really helpful, because it helped me deal with my resentment of her and my dad for always giving into her and my anger at the way they seemed to prefer Toby over me. Not to mention my anger at my mom for abandoning me to pursue her acting career." She laughed. "I'm actually way more well adjusted than I have any right to be."

"You should have told me you didn't have anyone to spend your birthday and the holidays with. I would not have you be alone in a time of celebration."

"Thank you, but I do have friends you know," she said feeling a little defensive. "It's just that we aren't as close as we used to be now that they have mostly moved out of the city and had families. It's hard to schedule things. My editor is a very good friend and I usually go to her place for Thanksgiving. I like being self-sufficient. I can't stand clinginess."

Jareth gave her a slightly frosty look. "I will endeavor not to be 'clingy'."

"I didn't mean you. I enjoy spending time with you almost more than anyone," Sarah told him truthfully. "I can definitely say that despite the broken leg and the flu that this is the best Christmas I've had for a very long time. It's been nice sitting around with you watching old movies and having a truly fabulous dinner. So thank you, Jareth."

"You're welcome. I was glad of your company as well," he said somewhat formally, but with a smile.

Ever since she was a little girl, Sarah had liked to dress up. She had always liked how different clothes or different hairstyles could make you feel like a different person. It was probably that aspect of acting that had attracted her as a kid rather than the actual performing, because she really was abysmal at remembering her lines. As a writer she could live so many different kinds of lives without having to leave the comfort of her apartment or her pajamas. However, she still loved dressing up. She had learned over the years that certain clothes could be a kind of armor, making her feel like she was invincible.

After her experience in the Labyrinth, she stopped dressing up in her fairy tale costumes. She had learned being a fairy tale princess wasn't all it was cracked up to be. During the rest of her high school and college years, she went through various phases of trying on different skins after that, mainly variations on punk and goth. Those styles had alienated her step-mother even more than her romantic fairytale phase.

In college, during that whole swing revival thing in the 90s, she had decided she wanted to be one of those sassy take charge women in old movies. That phase lasted with her longer than any of the others, although she still loved her goth and punk music. That period was when she had really started to get into vintage clothes and adding bits and pieces of old Hollywood glamour to her wardrobe. It made her feel powerful in a odd way and that was probably when she had first unintentionally started scaring men. But she had never really considered it a bad thing. If a man didn't like if she spoke her mind and stood up for herself, she didn't need them. She didn't like macho men, but she also didn't like wishy-washy types that let her steamroll over them. In retrospect, she probably had her teenage encounter with Jareth to thank for her taste in men.

After her books had taken off, she had ended up being nominated for a romance writer award. Sarah decided to splurge on a fancy vintage dress to wear to the awards ceremony. She had fallen in love with a green taffeta full-skirted 50s style cocktail dress. It even had a matching velvet opera coat to go with it. She felt like Audrey Hepburn in Funny Face every time she put it on and couldn't help swishing the skirt when she walked. But, sadly it wasn't something that she got to wear very often. Formal events were few and far between in these times. Besides, most of her boyfriends had never really liked it if she went all out with her vintage styles. Most of them felt it was too costume-y.

But if there was one person she knew who would appreciate the exquisite style of the dress, it would be Jareth. So she decided to wear it to his New Year's party.

Thinking there was no use to do things by half measures, so she went to the salon to get her hair and make-up done. She really hadn't spoiled herself with a whole day of beauty in a long time and she reveled in it. She normally wore some sparkly rhinestone jewelry with this dress. However, since the butterfly comb Jareth had given her went perfectly with it, she would wear that with simple emerald earrings.

She was about to start the process of getting dressed, which was quite involved with this outfit, when there was a knock on the door. It was a florist delivering a clear plastic box that contained a spray of gardenias. There was no card, but she had no doubt who sent the corsage. She was puzzled by the very fact that he had sent a corsage more than anything. It was a strange, old-fashioned gesture to send someone a corsage before an event. In fact, she had only seen it done in black and white movies. Gardenias were an equally old fashioned flower. Was this one of the rare instances where Jareth was out of touch with modern times?

And why had he sent them to her before this event? She had joined him for the theatre, the symphony, and all sorts of events at his club and he'd never sent her a corsage before. She would have to google how to wear the thing, because she hadn't worn one since her high school prom and that one had an elastic band that slipped over her wrist. She put the box in the refrigerator to keep the flowers fresh until it was time to put it on.

On her way to her bedroom an idea struck her and she stopped at her bookshelf, pulling out her book on the Victorian language of flowers. Was Jareth really being that old-fashioned? She knew well how much he did enjoy his games after all. According to the book, gardenias meant 'you're lovely' or 'secret love'. She put the book back on her shelf and decided she was thinking too hard about it.

When Sarah entered Belle Epoque that night, it wasn't Karl that met her as usual. It was Jareth himself. She smiled when she saw him chatting with the coat check girl and couldn't help admiring how debonair he looked. He was wearing a classic double breasted tuxedo with a red silk pocket square artfully folded in his breast pocket and a gardenia in his buttonhole. His hair was combed back from his face in a very neatly. He looked like an old movie star lounging there against the counter. They were well matched tonight. She knew she would have to watch herself with him tonight. There was just something about a man in a tuxedo that made him even more attractive than he normally was. Sarah had resisted her innate attraction to Jareth so far and she refused to fall victim to the glamour of a beautifully cut tuxedo.

Jareth straightened and smiled when he noticed her. "Good evening, Sarah," he said pulling her green velvet coat from her shoulders and handing it over to the coat check girl.

His eyes raked over her from the butterfly comb in her upswept hair to the toes of her matching green satin shoes, his warm smile of greeting turning into something of a sensual smirk. "You look magnificent, Sarah. What a wonderful dress."

"Thank you." She couldn't help but blush a bit under his scrutiny and frank admiration. "And thank you for the flowers, but you do know that corsages aren't really done anymore." She hadn't meant to phrase it like that. But there was something almost carnal in the look he was giving her and it made her more than a little nervous about his plans for the night. Was this supposed to be a date?

"Are they not?" he asked seemingly unconcerned as he offered his arm. "A pity."

She sort of agreed.

"Are you hungry? We have a light supper for the staff and select guests before the party actually begins."

"Starved. I was afraid to eat much before I got this dress zipped. I'm not used to these wasp-waisted things." He led her to the buffet where the laid out. "This looks fantastic, Jareth. I'm glad I didn't eat."

She and Jareth filled their plates and went to sit at the bar and eat with a couple of the waitstaff. Sasha was eating himself, so Jareth went behind the bar to retrieve a bottle of champagne and two glasses. After he poured he told her, "Thank you for coming to my party tonight, Sarah. I hope you will enjoy yourself."

She clinked her glass with his. "I'm sure I will. Thank you for inviting me."

Once the party officially began, Sarah and Jareth retreated to their normal table up on the balcony with a bottle of champagne. The entertainment tonight was an electro-swing band and she was really enjoying them. Jareth had a talent for picking out great bands to grace the stage anyway. She found herself tapping her toe and leaning over the railing to watch some of the people of the dance floor below. It made her think about all the swing nights she used to go to in college. She had never been a particularly great dancer, but she had enjoyed herself.

"Sarah."

She was startled by Jareth's voice in her ear. She turned her head, her cheek brushing against his as he leaned over her shoulder. She hadn't realized he was so close. "I'm sorry. Did you say something, Jareth?"

He pulled back slightly, a knowing smile stretched across his face. "I asked if you'd like to dance?" He held his black gloved hand out to her in invitation.

"With you?"

He looked disgruntled for a moment before his expression smoothed out. "I assure you, I'm a very competent on the dance floor. However, if you'd prefer-"

"No," she cut him off. "I didn't mean it like that. I was just surprised. You've never asked me before, other than-" My peach dream, she didn't say. "You've just never asked me before."

"Well, I apologize if I've been remiss in the past and you;ve wanted for a partner. It was thoughtless of me."

She smiled at his courtly little speech. "It's okay."

"So?" he stood, his hand extended.

"I can't."

"Of course you can. You told me-"

"I can dance. Somewhat. I'm just not drunk enough yet." She held up the champagne glass she's been sipping on. "I'm far too self conscious to dance without being a little tipsy first. I think too much and end up tripping over my own feet."

"I can fix that." Jareth waved down a waitress and ordered several shots of bourbon.

Sarah walked back to Jareth where he was leaning against the bar. He handed her another glass of champagne. "There are people snorting coke in the ladies room," she told him.

Jareth merely raised an eyebrow. "Did you want some?"

"No!" she protested in shock.

He laughed darkly, his smile turning into a sneer. "Sarah, are you truly that innocent? You didn't just arrive from the countryside yesterday."

Her face flushed deeply. Jareth had a way of making her feel so gauche sometimes, despite having traveled the world and living in New York City for more than a decade. "I've seen people do it before, just not in my friend's club," she explained. "I don't want you to get in trouble."

He waved her concern away with an elegant gesture of his black gloved hand. "There will be no trouble. There's no need to worry. Let people enjoy themselves as they will."

She didn't even ask how he insured that. She was better off not knowing.

His expression became entirely too devilish as his arm snaked around her waist leaned and he spoke in her ear. "We can adjourn to my office if you'd like to partake. I always keep some on hand if the mood strikes."

"Jesus, Jareth, is there anything you don't do?" She pulled back from him as far as she could with his arm around her and he wasn't letting go.

"Very little, I assure you." He shrugged. "I'm fae. It's in my nature to revel in pleasure of any sort."

"I bet you really enjoyed the 70s, didn't you?"

"I did actually." He grinned even more broadly. "Sadly, humans aren't as resilient as my kind and the revels ended."

She could picture him holding court at Studio 54 with beautiful women and men vying for his attention and participating in all sorts of debauchery. She could imagine him-

Sarah shut down that particular thought quickly, her imagination was running too far as it was. She suddenly felt too warm and he was entirely too close to her. She gulped down her champagne.

"What were you thinking of that brought such a delightful flush on, my dear?" his rich voice was like velvet in her ear.

"I don't know what you mean," she replied doing her best to inject an icy tone into her voice.

He just laughed mockingly at her. "Liar."

She refused to respond to that and just took another sip of her drink.

"Shall I show you what it was like?" he produced a crystal with a deft motion of his wrist and held it before her face.

Her eyes were transfixed for a second on the crystal. It was the first time she'd seen him create one since she had met him again. "Put that away. What if someone saw you do that?" She pushed his arm down, careful not to touch the crystal.

"Aren't you tempted to see what once was?"

"Your past is none of my business."

"A pity. It was such an... interesting moment." He threw the crystal into the air and it dissipated into glitter. "Perhaps I could interest you in the present then?" He pulled her tight against him.

She was always tempted when he tried to corrupt her, but she knew she was one of those unresilient humans. She had more than one friend whose life had been destroyed by addiction. "No. It will probably just make me want to clean. Stimulants always make me feel like being productive." She stepped away from him and this time he released her. She held up her now empty glass. "How about champagne? I find that much more enjoyable."

If it hadn't been New Year's Eve and Sarah permitted herself to get a little more tipsy than normal, she wouldn't have allowed herself to dance so close to Jareth during the slow dances. She wouldn't have enjoyed just breathing him in, his spicy cologne, the heady scent of the gardenia, and the subtle, but sharp tang of magic. She would have ignored his teasing seductive touches and he would have stopped when he saw she was unaffected and uninterested. But as it was she was feeling more than a little uninhibited and she had reveled in what seemed to be a seduction. So she went without question when he suggested going upstairs for a bit to get away from the crowd. After all it wasn't unusual for them to escape the main rooms of the club so he could smoke. She leaned heavily into him, relishing the heat from his body as he guided her up the stairs to the private rooms.

As Jareth shut the door behind them, he continued to hold her close by his side. He pressed his face into the curve of her neck, but he didn't kiss her. His lips just skimmed over her skin until he reached her ear. "I want to taste you, Sarah. Will you let me do that?"

A shudder of arousal went through her at the raw sound of his voice and she forced herself to take a step back. He let her pull away from him. When she met his eyes they smoldered with a passion she'd never seen there before. Both his pupils were so wide his eyes looked almost black. The look of pure desire he fixed her with made her knees weak and she backed up a couple of steps until could sit down in a chair.

His lips curled up in amusement as he followed her. He braced his arms on the back of the chair on either side of her caging her in. He leaned in and nuzzled the side of his face against hers again. "Sarah, won't you please let me taste you? I want to so badly."

She closed her eyes knowing this was such a bad idea, but how he tempted her. How he always tempted her. Would giving in just once for a mere taste make her weak? "Yes," she breathed barely audibly.

She had thought Jareth had meant a kiss and it wasn't like she hadn't imagined kissing him before. She had imagined it all too often, especially in her teenage years. Perhaps it was best to get it out of her system once and for all.

However, she felt him pull away from her face and she opened her eyes to see him gracefully sink to his knees in front of her.

"What are you doing?" she asked in surprise as she watched him take his gloves off. The act of removing one's gloves should not look so sensual.

He didn't answer her immediately. Instead, his hands were slowly gliding up her stockinged legs. Then he looked up at her with a sultry smirk. "I find it very sad that you have to ask."

"That wasn't what I meant," she protested weakly when she realized his intentions.

"But you didn't specify where I could taste you when you agreed. Despite all my powers, I'm not a mind reader you know." He pressed a delicate to her right knee before his hands slipped under her skirt.

She shivered when his bare fingers met the skin above her stockings.

"Besides," he pressed a kiss to the other knee. "Don't tell me this isn't something you haven't thought about before. The Goblin King on his knees before you, pleasuring you."

"No comment," she gasped and tightly clutched the arms of the chair as one of his long fingers grazed the edge of her panties.

Then his hands trailed back down her bare thighs and nylon covered legs until he grasped the hems of her dress and crinoline pushing them teasingly slow up to her waist.

A finger trailed back down one of her exposed garters. "Such a delightful way of securing one's stockings."

"Jareth-"

His eyes caught hers. "Would you like me to stop, my Ice Queen?"

With those words she surrendered completely. The last thing she wanted was for him to stop.

"No," she said, her voice surprisingly steady. "Make me melt, Goblin King."

"Your wish is my command, my queen." She'd rarely seen him look so pleased, before he dipped his head down. In that instant, she realized that he'd magicked away her panties when his hot mouth descended on her without any barrier. It was the last thought she had for a long while. All she could do was feel.

Sarah didn't know how long it took for her to come back to herself, but Jareth was still on his knees before her, his head resting against her thigh and his hands soothingly stroking her calves. She unclenched her hands from the armrests and reached out to stroke his hair. His careful style was already in disarray from his exertions. He nuzzled her thigh and made a sound low in his throat almost like a purr. She felt like she should say something, but she had no idea where to even begin. She clutched at his jacket trying to pull him up to her, but he lithely rose to his feet and disentangled himself from her.

She sat there dumbly with her skirts still rucked up to her waist as he gave her a smoldering look that spoke of pure sex and a self-satisfied smile. He took out his gold cigarette case and lit a cigarette as he continued to take her in as if she was a piece of art.

"What about you?" she finally managed to ask. She could see that he was definitely aroused.

He walked back over to her and tugged her skirts back down into place, before settling on the arm of her chair. He lightly ran a hand up and down the curve of her shoulder and arm and she leaned against him. "That was a gift for you. One dream that I am still capable of granting."

And it was a dream of hers. There was a very similar scene in one of her books involving a couple fleeing a dreary ball. It has also been one of her earliest sexual fantasies once she became aware of oral sex as a teenager.

She leaned back a bit and looked up at him and his eyes still smoldered as they met hers. "You don't strike me as the sort of man that would deny yourself pleasure."

"Ah. But that can be a kind of pleasure in itself. I have lived a very long time, my dear, and I have learned that some pleasures are meant to be savored and that sometimes it is better to give than receive."

She laughed. "Then this must be a dream." But perhaps she should have known Jareth was the sort to play a long game.

"Time to wake up then for it's almost midnight." He stood and snuffed out his cigarette. He put his gloves back on before holding out a hand to her. She grasped it and he pulled her to her still wobbly feet. He drew her arm through his and lead her back downstairs to the club where the party was reaching its fever pitch as the countdown began.

She felt like she was finally coming back to her senses when she noticed that his pocket square was no longer red silk, but green satin and black lace. "Are those my-"

But he silenced her with a scorching kiss that left her clinging to him for support as she couldn't help but devour him back. He pulled back slightly and spoke into her ear, "Happy New Year, Sarah." He pressed one last kiss to the corner of her mouth and handed her a glass of champagne he snagged from a passing waiter.

"Happy New Year, Jareth," she replied and downed the glass of champagne in one go.

Sarah was lounging on the small sofa in the entrance hall of the club with her shoes kicked off and her green velvet coat wrapped tightly around her. She was almost at the point of deciding sleeping there would be the best option, because she was too boneless to move.

"Sarah, are you ready to go home?"

She blinked blearily up at Jareth, who had finally reached the point in the night where he untied his bowtie and unbuttoned his jacket. It was unfair that he looked as good disheveled as he did perfectly groomed.

"Your home?"

"I think that's best, my dear. You've had a little too much fun tonight."

"I have had fun," she agreed with a grin. "You throw a hell of a party, Jareth."

"Thank you. I'm pleased you've had a good time." He hauled her to her feet. She put her arm around him and rested her head on his shoulder. He walked her into the empty coat check so that they would be out of view when they transported.

"I could have danced all night," Sarah sang quietly to herself.

"I think you did, my dear."

"And still have begged for more," she continued before trailing into a hum.

When the disorienting feeling of being transported was gone, Sarah lifted her head from his shoulder and she may have been slightly disappointed that Jareth had transported them directly to his guest room. He kept his arm around her for a few moments to make sure she was steady on her feet before stepping away. He had been carrying her shoes and them down in front of the closet.

"I shouldn't have had that last glass of champagne," she commented.

"Just that last one?" he teased.

"Probably the last ten, honestly."

He laughed at that. "Shall I run you a bath or are you just going to pass out?"

Her irritation flared at his apparent amusement at her state. He had matched her drink for drink. The only difference is that he did not seem excessively effected. "I'm not going to pass out." She took her coat off and flung it angrily over the chair in the corner. The force of the motion made her wobble and she clutched at the back of the chair. "Yet." She amended smiling sweetly. "A bath would be nice. Thank you."

Jareth disappeared into the bathroom with another laugh.

Sarah stood in front of the dresser mirror and unpinned her corsage. It was slightly crushed, but still smelt divine. She reached back to undo her dress, but couldn't seem to grasp the zip. She kept twisting herself in front of the mirror trying to undo the hook and eye and unzip the back of her dress. However, it seemed to be a losing battle.

"Need some help?" Jareth's voice was suddenly in her ear. She looked up and met his eyes. For a moment she was transfixed. His human glamour was gone. His silvery hair was in disarray, his eyes were dark, and he just seemed altogether sharper and more predatory. More carnal.

Her voice seemed to catch and she cleared her throat. "Could you? My arms don't seem bendy enough tonight." She quickly turned around so that her back was to him.

"Of course." She felt the hook release and then the zipper lowered much slower than seemed necessary even for a vintage garment. Then his warm bare fingers trailed seductively down the exposed skin of her back. A wave of arousal welled up in her and she was suddenly very aware that she wasn't wearing any panties. But that desire was quickly tempered by nervousness as all the implications of falling into bed with Jareth ran through her mind. Her drunken languidness fled and she tensed up.

Jareth chuckled and pressed a hot openmouthed kiss to the sensitive skin behind her ear. "Don't worry, Sarah." He nipped her earlobe with his sharp teeth. "I'm not going to fuck you tonight."

Her nervousness was overcome by outrage. She held her loose bodice to her chest as she spun around to face him. "Why the hell not?"

He threw back his head and laughed. "Because you are very, very drunk, my dear." He gently cupped her face in his hands and placed a chaste kiss to her forehead. "Pleasant dreams." He released her and exited the room.