To everyone, thank you for the lovely reviews! Here's another chapter for your viewing pleasure. It is shorter, but the next two reveal quite a bit, I think. Hopefully I can have them up for you soon...if the goblins will stop moving my papers around...

E. Jane

II

Anniversary

A bump in the road jolted her and Sarah awoke. Blearily she stared out the window, which her forehead was pressed against, at the flat desert landscape. It was dry and cracked with lack of rain, and the night sky hung velvet overhead, speckled with stars. They were much brighter here, away from the city. Very bright, in fact...Sarah realized just how far from town they were, which was pretty much the middle of nowhere.

Fear gripped her chest. She had never felt more trapped than she did now, underneath such a wide sky. Slowly she turned in her seat, moving awkwardly against the safety belt, and saw him.

More terrifying than her actual captor was the fact that he was not driving. He was lounging in the seat and staring at something in his palm that caught the dashboard lights and threw them around. Neither hand was on the wheel, and his attention was so thoroughly absorbed by the object that he didn't bother to pay attention to the road.

They were pushing eighty miles an hour.

"Oh my God!" Sarah yelped, remembering. She was stuck with a stalker maniac in a speeding car to Hell. He turned his head in acknowledgment.

"Good. You're awake."

Without further ado, or help from its driver, the car stopped and the man flicked his wrist. Sarah blinked, but nothing else came from the theatrical movement. Swiftly he climbed from the car, slammed his door, and walked around the front to her side. She gaped at him when he pulled her own wide and motioned her out.

Her brain was frantically going over her options, which, she concluded with a sinking stomach, were none.

With a sigh of exasperation the man leaned over and unclasped the seat belt, then hooked one hand under her knees and the other behind her back. In one fluid motion Sarah found herself sitting on top of the car's hood.

"You need some air," he commented dryly. Thunder cracked far away and she drew the jacket, his jacket, around her tightly. He noticed but only began rolling up his black sleeves. Sarah gulped hard, thinking that he must have lied. This lunatic really was going to kill her, and didn't want blood stains on his immaculate outfit. She felt a little faint. When a low sigh escaped his lips, she jumped. "Why is it always such foul weather when we meet?"

Sarah blinked as something tickled the back of her mind. "Meet? So we've...met before?"

"Quite a few years ago," he nodded, his back to her. Lightening forked the sky. "Six Aboveground years. Thirteen Underground years. It's our anniversary, you know." It was said ironically, and he shook his head, as if enjoying a private joke. She imagined that he was smirking while she could not see.

Her stomach dropped. Underground...she had read about that when she was just a kid, hadn't she? But there was something else going on here.

"Anniversary?"

The man dug in his pocket and extracted something, then flung it over his shoulder without a glance to the girl. Instinctively she reached out and caught it by the tips of her fingers.

It was a crystal ball, clear and smooth and perfect. There was barely any feel of it on her skin, as if it was made of air. Or dreams.

She gave a loud gasp as it floated, hovering before her face. A myriad of colors flashed inside that twinkled and distorted until there was a picture.

Fifteen year old Sarah Williams. Innocent and young. Naive. Running down an endless corridor, dropping down a shaft of hands, traversing a maze of hedges, eating a peach, storming a castle-

He snatched the bauble from the air and it vanished inside his hand.

"You're him, aren't you?" she breathed. The twisted smirk appeared, looking just as she'd imagined. "You're...the Goblin King." Inside her body felt like it was turning to mush. Things best forgotten were pushing, scrambling to the forefront of her mind. "Jareth?"

His face fell at that, hardening as a closer, brighter flash of light illuminated him completely. Thunder rumbled in the second that she saw everything-the angular planes of his smooth face, thin lips, mocking eyes. His stance was rigid.

"Do not address me with so much familiarity, Sarah. You forfeited that right long ago," he bit out.

Her chest was beginning to tighten painfully. It was him, it really was him. The monster she'd beaten so many years ago. No...that was just a story! Memories and reasoning were battling fiercely now, each determined to win. That adventure had only been the poor imaginings of a lonely girl's fantasy. "You aren't real!" she cried finally as he looked on, head cocked quizzically to one side. Her voice was on the brink of hysterical as she shrieked, "You're a myth! A legend!"

Too fast for her to comprehend, Jareth stepped closer. "Don't I sound real?" With a gloved hand he reached out and smoothed his fingers over her cheek, even as she shied away. "Don't I feel real?"

Now she was breathing much too hard and her chest was burning. Sarah could feel the hyperventilation happening, could feel herself slowly slipping from the car. Jareth took a hold of her forearms tightly.

"Sarah," he commanded, "stop it." But she couldn't. Couldn't even move. While her body was stubbornly unreactive, her mind was a whirlwind. She remembered coming home that night and vowing to pursue her dreams. Then, just as she had really started to live her life, everything had fallen apart. Nothing ever came of any ambition, even the simplest of things. Her friends grew distant, grades dropped, family disintegrated, all without reason or cause. Painfully slow she had forgotten the Underground. The...Labyrinth. Not anymore.

Her eyes flickered up to his unyielding face. He...he was the cause of her miserable life. Jareth was responsible for all of this-

She hit him. It was just a single pound on the chest, but the more she thought about it, the angrier she became. Every blow was justified completely in her mind by the fact that he had tortured her even after those thirteen hours were gone. It did not matter that for most of the past six years she hadn't even remembered him. Strangled sobs escaped her, which quickly grew into shaking wails. "Oh, God, look what you've done to me! Look how you've ruined...everything..." He did not flinch. His firm grip held, but she was still slipping.

He drew her closer though she continued to beat him. Sobs wracked her body, and he knew it was true. He had done this to her.

Finally the only sound was her heavy, choked breathing, fading into his shirt. Limply she clung to him, for fear of slipping from the car.

"You cheating coward," she moaned. "Deceitful, wretched, conniving..." Exhausted, she stopped completely and let him hold her there.

Jareth did not move, even after she was quiet. It had been so long since they were this near-he hadn't thought it would hurt this much. Bitterly he told himself it was only what he deserved, for what he had done. Letting himself become captivated by a mortal girl had created an unstable, living thing inside him. It was too wild, too free.

He had pursued Sarah so hard that he had broken her.

It was only going to get worse.

Carefully he cupped her face, moving it from his chest to see more clearly. Her head rolled back, limp, and her eyes-damn those cruel eyes-stared right through him. Tears had made rivers on her face.

Suddenly she frowned. "And I'll call you whatever I damn well please, Jareth."

He growled, a soft rumble of warning, but she did not heed it.

"To Hell if I ever call you 'majesty,'" she slurred, falling toward him. Her body was giving up, she thought distantly. Too much, too fast...

"Then don't address me at all," he whispered dangerously soft. A sigh escaped like an afterthought. "We're leaving."

Sarah snorted in displeasure-the only thing her body seemed capable of at the moment. She mumbled something, probably indecent, into the collar of his shirt. Jareth took her useless hands and wrapped them about his neck, them pulled her firmly against him by the waist. Best to leave her on the car, otherwise she would tumble over completely. Mercifully her hands stayed where he had put them.

"You are going to despise me for this," he mumbled darkly. "But if you hate me, then at least I will have given you good cause." Gently he tipped her chin up to him. Sarah's eyelids fluttered feebly, but refused to open.

Jareth covered her mouth with his own. He meant it to be light and soft but was startled when she went rigid beneath him. For a second there was only a part of them touching as he began to pull away-until Sarah followed, pressing them together again. It started to sprinkle at that exact moment, and Jareth forgot. Forgot everything.

The sky opened up and poured long overdue rain onto the desert land. Sarah felt a great rush of air inside her as he kissed her again. Granted, she was a bit far-gone at this point. Her mind was a blank. All that registered was the liquid feel of his lips. They weren't kissing her-they were caressing her. The wind in her chest welled up until she felt like she would burst.

A gale tore around the car and the figures there. Jareth's lips twitched up in a smile against hers. So she'd done it. The harsh wind swirled around them and up, lifting their hair and flinging their clothes. Bits of dirt and grit were picked up, concealing them with a dark, wet wall of earth. Momentarily he banished the thought of that unnecessary second kiss, for one was all the magic had required.

He gave her a third.

The dust settled as quickly as it had picked up, the harsh wind dissipating into its normal currents. Rain continued to patter heavily, musically, on the empty car. In the morning a police officer would find it on his morning patrol and call it in. There would be no registration, ID, payments, or anything linked to it. The owner did not exist. The police station would run an add in the paper asking if anyone could come forward with proof of ownership, next to the article about Billy Stagton's intent to sue The Rocks. Apparently one of the employees had harmed him, after forcing several scotches down his throat.

A last strike of lightening showed the empty landscape. Not a soul remained. Only the desert, the road, and a candy apple-colored car.

Jareth swore softly as Sarah fell completely limp in his arms. He had exhausted her already. She was ridiculously light for a grown woman, he thought. When he swooped her up and cradled her against his chest the bones were achingly obvious beneath her skin.

Loud booted steps echoed back to his ears as he walked into the single shaft of light. So Sarah had transported them to the oubliette. Fascinating. He cocked his head to the side as before, quizzically, studying her pale face.

She had grown up too fast, Jareth mused. Still...this new, older Sarah was just as captivating as the younger version. Perhaps even more. Underneath her worn, changed exterior was the girl he had fallen for. Somewhere.

He looked to her lips and twitched his own mouth into a grin with understanding. Sarah had done her part of the job in transporting them, but it had been Jareth that made their destination the oubliette. A short chuckle of self-mockery escaped him. Of course. One kiss, or three, and he was completely undone. Jareth had forgotten himself in the taste of her. Forgotten, and transported them to the place of forgetting. It was a pity that the first time he had ever felt her lips against his own was under such regrettable circumstances. He took a moment then to simply look at her, something he would never again have the luxury of doing without her angry stare. Golden locks swayed when he shook his head and they disappeared again.

They reappeared in a room of dark, rich colors. Gingerly Jareth laid her on a lush couch before the roaring fireplace. Obscurity seemed to be this evening's theme, he thought, then heaved the heavy curtains over the windows. Now the only visible things were Sarah and her makeshift bed-the remainder of the room was cloaked in darkness.

She stirred, but only briefly. Jareth looked on as she wrapped his human disguise more firmly about her tiny frame, shivering with cold. They were both soaked through from the rain.

Effortlessly he pulled a clear sphere from the air. "Brock."

A vague image swam inside, and a man answered, "Yes, your majesty?"

"Come to my quarters, and bring Margaret. We have a visitor." The man nodded once and the bubble burst. Seconds later there was a knock on the door.

It opened with a wave of his hand to reveal two figures waiting in the doorway. Eyes traveled from the Goblin King to the frail sleeping girl. The woman's mouth opened in wide shock before she snapped it closed again, but her gaze never strayed from Sarah.

Jareth strode to the doorway, standing close enough to the man to whisper, "How is it, Brock? Contained?"

"Barely," the man whispered back. "It's a little wider than before, a little deeper. But it has yet to break your boundaries."

He nodded back, unsurprised at the news. When he turned to the woman she was still staring at Sarah.

"Margaret."

She jumped slightly at her name, then gave a sweeping curtsy before the king. "Majesty."

"Tend to the girl. I'm afraid there was a bit of trouble Aboveground." When he paused she seemed to take in his dripping clothes with careful scrutiny. "And fetch the physician."

"Is your grace ill?" she asked, something the other maids would be scared witless to do. But that's why Jareth respected her so much-she could think for herself.

"No," he replied shortly, adjusting his soggy gloves. "The girl is malnourished and took a little...fall this evening. She won't stand up to tomorrow if she isn't healthy." Margaret nodded once in understanding. Then she crossed the room in a few steps, placed a hand on Sarah's arm, and they vanished.

Brock looked to the damp, empty couch for a moment. When he turned back to his king he had moved, searching for a glass at a small counter near one wall.

"So that's where you took off to." He watched Jareth stalk back to the couch and occupy the girl's spot. The liquid in the glass swirled, but he did not drink it, stubbornly refusing Brock's gaze. "Sarah looked...weary, Jareth."

He pressed his lips in response, staring into the fire. "I didn't think it would ever come to this-she was supposed to take her dreams. You know that refusing such a large part of the soul can kill a mortal."

"It can kill a Fae just as easily," Brock offered, coming to stand beside the couch. "But yes, I know."

Jareth dipped a finger into his drink and smoothed it around the rim of the glass. A plaintive note wavered in the air. "Tomorrow we end this," he whispered.

"What will you do with the girl, afterwards?" Brock always did have the tendency to voice the awkward, obviously avoided, questions.

"Nothing," Jareth shot back tersely. He was being difficult, and he knew that. But he couldn't face the answer yet.

"Ask her to stay." It was a whisper to the room. The Goblin King turned to find himself alone in his chambers. Again. As always.

He threw the glass into the fire, shattering crystal and making the flames swell with alcohol. Little pieces of broken china glittered eerily from the ashes.

"I can't."