OOOOOO

"…Is that alright with you?"

Sarah nodded profusely, not having heard a word Karen just said. This was a habit she really should have overcome, what with the amount of time she spent with Underground denizens. One must never agree to anything without having heard what it was, and possibly scrutinized every word, spoken and unspoken. But though she had improved greatly through association with Jareth and his minions, Sarah had always been lacking in the thinking-before-speaking phenomenon. She argued that if she stopped to think before every sentence, people would either assume she was slow, or if everyone did the same, the conversation would never get to the point.

"Thank you, princess." Robert grinned at his daughter, and she nodded more warily now.

"Yes, you're such a dear to give up your Friday night, and I know its short notice, but the sitter can't make it, and we've had the booking for weeks…"

Oh. Sarah had inadvertedly agreed to baby-sit. Though this wasn't the train-smash it had been about three years ago, Sarah would still have rather had her Friday night to herself.

"Er…yeah, no problem."

She didn't think it wasn't a problem for very long. The boy, four years old and painfully energetic, had instituted himself on the couch. Head on her lap, he giggled occasionally at the strange cartoon, featuring some sort of blob-like green creature and his equally strange friends. Sarah decided that for the sake of her remaining mental health she probably didn't want to know what those things were supposed to be. It was nearing half-past seven, and the giggles grew softer and further apart, as the boy drifted off to sleep. Sarah suppressed a sigh of relief, her eyes scanning the ice-cream bowls, empty milk glass and other paraphernalia testifying to Toby's late night. She expertly hefted the boy in her arms, careful not to wake him lest she had to watch any more of the disturbing cartoons, perhaps that awful one about the purple monkey and the kid it was related to. Sarah secretly felt that of she did her head would explode. As fate was in a mocking mood, he didn't wake as she made her way up the stairs, winced at the slight creak in the nursery door, and maneuvered the pale blue covers of the boy's bed, while balancing Toby with one arm. He didn't wake as she deposited the boy inside, folding the covers around him, nor as she tucked his bear, Lancelot, next to him.

Stifling a sigh of relief she'd almost cleared the door, when,

"Sarah?"

Purple monkeys swam before her eyes. She suppressed a shudder.

She escaped twenty minutes later, having put in a good half-chapter of The Once and future King. Though most of the story was lost on Toby and he demanded explanations left and right, the boy was currently going through a Knight-of-the-Round-Table phase, the blame for which Sarah fervently denied, blaming it on some other dodgy cartoon the boy watched at nursery school. Toby had a way of loudly, and persistently demanding to hear knight stories that made one indulge him for the sake of silence. After hearing yet another adventure, he would grin wildly and run around with a toy sword, leaping off the couch and spinning around doorways by leaping off the back of Robert's recliner, little hands gripping the doorframe. He had also taken to wearing a maroon table cloth as a cape. Sarah had graciously agreed to read to him from her 'grown-up' book, laughing at the irony.

When she came back down stairs, removed some of the plates that littered the coffee table back into the kitchen and curled up on the sofa with a cup of tea, she was delighted to find one of her all-time favorite movies showing. She could recall the first time she'd watched it as a child of about nine. It was one of the first snowy days that year, when the snow mixed with the mud and turned to sludge, and too miserable to go out. Her father had been out with a few friends from work, and Linda had just finished revising one of her numerous scripts. Setting aside the bound pages of As You Like It, she called to Sarah, who had been staring mournfully out the window, eager to go play outside. Curled up against her mother, the girl watched the romantic story play out before her. As the sepia faded into color, she admired Katherine Hepburn's acting, mentally comparing the famous actress with her mother's many performances. With the loyalties of every daughter, Linda came first. And while some nuances of the film were lost on her as much perhaps as the T.H. White book was lost on Toby, she felt perfectly happy, curled up next to her mother, munching on a brownie and watching Tracy Lord stubbornly defy her father, banter with her former husband and call-off the wedding to someone who was obviously not her One True Love. Smugly, Sarah knew she'd never make the mistake of nearly losing her love.

But Linda was not there, she was probably at some fancy New York shindig, smiling graciously as people admired her latest designer hat or gown, drinking champagne and sharing secret smiles with Jeremy, whom Sarah still liked a great deal, though her childish crush on him was long gone.

Now the girl felt a bit alone, as she sat it the dark room, watching Katherine Hepburn sweep across the screen in a trouser suit, chin up proudly. An expression she herself favored. As she thought of that, an idea came to her. Sarah closed her eyes and wished, murmuring her wish out loud.

"You called?" The sour tones greeted her. He was still irritated about her abrupt departure by the bridge, and had been looking forward to a quiet night's sleep after a day that refused to end, frustrating even the creature who held the ability to re-order time.

"Yes."

"May I enquire as to the occasion?"

"I was watching a movie. I didn't want to watch it alone."

"And those friends of yours would not suffice?" He asked snippily. There was still a slight tension in him where her friends were concerned. She never informed him that her friends felt the same way about him.

"No." Strange, she thought, they always had before.

He was caught off-guard yet again.

"Will you sit with me?" She asked then, as he continued watching her in silence, making her feel somewhat edgy.

She reminded herself that in spite of his displeased expression, he would not have come if he hadn't wanted to.

He did, frowning and considering if perhaps he should leave before she pushed him completely off balance. She had a way of doing that. Disconcerting him.

"It's The Philadelphia story." She informed, knowing all the while that the title meant nothing to him. Huffily, the King settled on the couch next to a girl in baggy pale blue pajamas featuring penguins, his exquisite dark red velvet dressing gown an almost comical contrast.

Sarah noticed what he was wearing and felt her cheeks heat up. There was something entirely intimate in seeing him like this. Dressed down, preparing for bed. At the idea of bed she had to drag her mind out of the gutter, blushing further.

Jareth, noticing the change of hue to her cheeks, his vision superior to hers, hid a self-satisfied smile, guessing at the paths her mind was taking.

Sarah tried to focus on the movie. Jareth focused on her intent form, all the while fervently denying the feelings of closeness assailing him.

They sat in silence for a heartbeat or two, when he decided to bait her (or so he told himself) by putting his arms around her. His own heartbeat nearly stopped from shock, when a heartbeat later she easily leaned back against him, a small smile he couldn't see but felt, all the same, curling the very corners of her lips.

Suddenly all felt right. Naturally, they would drink Bog water sooner than admit it.

They sat in companionable silence and watched the Philadelphia story.

OOOOOOOOOO

One despairingly sunny day (Robert told her that there was no pleasing her where the weather was concerned), Sarah was walking carelessly down the street on her way to Sunday Lunch with the family. Karen had instructed her to pick up some potato salad on her way, and the bag which held the plastic container swung slightly on her wrist. A sign across the street caught her eye. An antique shop. "Smiths' antiques", the plaque read simply, fashioned to look as if it were made of weathered oak.

A feeling came over her. A strange possessed feeling. Like she just had to go in. Like it was already written in the stars that she would. Sarah, uncharacteristically enough, held little stock in the stars. They were too distant, far too distant to matter. All the same, the nagging feeling persisted.

Without heed, she dashed across the road and through the door setting the bell ringing.

Sarah bought the clock. It was insanely overpriced, but Sarah paid without blinking an eye.

When she got home and showed her family the prize, Karen raised a bemused eyebrow at the fanciful girl, and her father chuckled.

"Really, honey, I won't even ask how much you paid for it. Overmuch I'm sure. What good could it possibly do you? Thirteen hours!"

"Who would ever think to make such a strange thing, I wonder." Her stepmother commented thoughtfully, leaning closer to inspect the article with a critical eye.

Toby said nothing. The boy stared at the clock with large, far-away eyes, which seemed out of place on his chubby, baby face. His older sister grinned with pride she could not explain at her strange find.

Sarah was asleep when the clock struck midnight. She turned over in her sleep when the little, sword shaped arrow slid straight to one o'clock.

OOOOO

Sarah was on a date. Little black dress, red wine, young man…the whole nine yards. Sarah longed to be at least nine yards away and counting. He was a find of her friend, Claire's, who took great pleasure in trying to convince Sarah to at least try and act normal. Normal, in the sense of having a significant other. It wasn't that Sarah liked being by herself, although she certainly didn't mind. But somehow every boy she met was…wrong. And they didn't pay her much attention either. Maybe it was her raised chin, or the inhuman glow that sometimes entered her eyes, but she had always come short of the "pick-up" radar. Sometimes she wondered if they saw her at all. Once this used to upset her, if a little, now though, it did not bother her.

Claire had, in her exasperation, blurted out to Sarah that she was unapproachable. Distant. Hard to read. That young men often asked about the unspoken distance she always kept. Then she looked distinctly uncomfortable, waiting for Sarah to take offence. Sarah watched her with a touch of cruel amusement for a few silent moments, before throwing her head back and laughing.

The strangeness really took hold when her date, nervous at the glint in her eyes, the silent mockery he could just barely perceive, knocked a glass of expensive red wine over the edge of the table. Without a thought, Sarah's hand shot out and caught the stem. The movement was a little too quick, a little too fluid, a little too elegant and startled them both.

"Er, nice catch." He said eyeing her dubiously.

"Yeah…just lucky." She laughed with fake cheer, fluidly returning the glass atop the table. A miniscule drop of crimson stained the inside of her bare, pale forearm.

After the meal, loaded with odd glances and prickly smiles they made their way back to Sarah's home. The night was warm, and the moon was out. Sarah thought it all seemed a touch contrived.

Something in her eyes as she said her polite farewells made the young man drive off as fast as he could. He did not so much as glance back, and she moved to open the door only to be yanked by her arm past the door and potted plant Karen had placed there, and behind the corner. She stared down at Hoggle in mute shock.

"Sarah! Who was that? His Majesty saw 'im and was none too pleased." His voice was hushed and urgent. She saw no need for the melodramatics. Then the implication of his words really registered.

Sarah felt a momentary spark of annoyance, but fought it down.

"No-one. Why would it matter to the king?"

They both knew the redundancy of that question.

Hoggle huffed in irritation. "You know why! If you gonna ask stupid questions…"

"I'm sorry."

"'ts alight." The dwarf sighed again, watching her with obvious pity. "I must be on me way now. Just came to warn ya. An remember, cards, on Saturday."

She nodded and he took a step back into the Underground. Hoggle was a terrible card player. He cheated shamelessly, and accused everyone else of dishonesty at every turn. It was tons of fun, though Sarah was beginning to slowly run out of plastic trinkets she could wager.

OOOOO

He was waiting for her upstairs just like she knew he would. Seeing his expression she spoke before he could.

"You have no claim."

She didn't bother telling him that the boy was nothing to her. It didn't matter. She didn't ask him about her strange reflexes either. She was sharp enough to put them together with her heightened hearing and sense of smell, sharp enough to remember her fairytales and putt the two together. She didn't mind the change much and he didn't hold with stupid questions.

"No." Words meant to freeze blood, but they creased her brow instead.

"No." she agreed.

Silence. She took off her coat, and joined him by the window. Close but not touching, she was afraid of what would happen, were they to touch.

"Dine with me."

She didn't smile. It wasn't expected.

"When?"

"Beltane."

She frowned as she searched her mind for the approximate date.

Sarah paused for a heartbeat, watching him slyly out of the corner of her eye.

"I'd be delighted." She turned to look at him directly and lifted her hand to hover just above his cheek, still not touching.

His hand shot up and grabbed hers, his eyes aflame.

OOOOO

Her summer dress was insufficient, she felt, but she wore it anyway. It was dark red in color, cut above the knee, and blowing lightly in the breeze. He appeared before her, eyes taking in the dress, speaking volumes, and then the world blurred. Light and laughter. They danced, though she did not know the steps, and watched laughingly as some children in the distance leapt over the smaller bonfires, giggling.

They drank light fruity wine and Sarah swore she recognized some of the other revelers. She hoped for three faces in particular and dreaded them all at once. Some things were yet to be openly said, and she wasn't sure if the right words would come.

So she scanned the crowds for them. Her dearest friends. They did not appear.

The night made her feel at peace though she felt anxiety building. They listened to bards sing songs and watched a minor deity appear in the fires. Couples walked by, here and there, and danced around the obligatory maypole. Sarah didn't remember getting home and would have believed it all a dream but for the fact that under the covers she wore the dark red dress.