Chapter Four - Charged

Sarah's breath caught as she stared at Jareth, though her heart pounded wildly in her chest. In her panicked state, her eyes scanned down and up his lean body, taking in scattered details. His wild hair fluttered, as if caught by a breeze in her still, silent room. His lips were curved in an amused smile. Tight, maroon leather jacket. Her eyes skipped lower to note grey leggings tucked into leather boots, then flickered up to meet his eyes before she could stop them. They were the same piercing blue she remembered, with the unnerving wide pupil on the left.

"You look the same," she said lamely as her lungs emptied themselves. She took in a great gulp of air and tried to organize her thoughts. She found this easier when she focused on the windowsill instead of him. It needed painting, she noted. Also, the window was dirty. It was dark outside – what time was it? Maybe she should get something to eat. What was he doing here – could writing his name really have called him? Her gut tried to curl up inside itself - had he heard her that night she'd called it out?

His chest shook as he chuckled, a deep throated sound that drew her eyes back to his before she could think to stop them.

"That is likely. You, on the other hand. I was not expecting such an interesting ensemble." She followed his gaze down to her sequined top, and blushed furiously. Of course he would appreciate it. She sparkled nearly as much as his throne room.

"I don't always wear this," Sarah started. She glanced around her bedroom nervously, her hands gesturing as she spoke. She felt the guitar-strum inside her quicken, becoming more staticky. "Well, I've been wearing this one for a week now, I suppose, but I usually change more often. And this is for going out. I still like jeans. I –"

"A week? Gods, what have you been doing in that outfit for a week?" Jareth chuckled again. "I'll be staying over here, thank you." He patted the windowsill, then frowned and inspected his dust-covered fingertips. His glittering eyes narrowed as he took in the state of the bedroom, and Sarah's bare feet. "For that matter, what have you been doing for the last ten years? And really, could you lower your aura? I don't know what you're trying to accomplish, but I am only here to talk to you, my dear."

The barrage of questions, combined with her annoyance at being so confused, finally snapped Sarah from her dazed state. She climbed to her feet, brushing the dust off her shirt and leggings, and glared at Jareth. The electric feeling inside of her kept rising, and it fueled the frustration inside of her. It also dampened her embarrassment, for which she was intensely grateful.

"What the fuck are you doing here? I didn't call you, not on purpose! You showed up in my bedroom and started asking these patronizing questions. You have no idea what I've been doing this last decade!?" Sarah rolled her eyes up to the ceiling and waved her hand airily. "Oh, yes, I simply forgot about the entire Underground and moved on with life. I got an Accounting degree at the local community college and moved into a suburban house dressed in shades of taupe, with an herb garden out back, and joined a bingo club!"

At Jareth's level-eyed look, Sarah ran her fingers through her messy hair and groaned, yanking handfuls down towards her ears. It felt like it was frizzing all around her forehead, or floating like Jareth's pale locks.

"I don't know what I've been doing!" she said sullenly, starting to pace. "There is something wrong with me, and it finally feels better, and then you show up, spouting nonsense! I know this is not a coincidence! Why now? Why you?"

Her pacing brought her to face Jareth, and she steeled herself to stare at him defiantly. But when she met his eyes, she didn't see anger. It looked more like… was Jareth unsure of something? She could smell him, this close – it was spicy and cool, she couldn't quite place it. She realized that if she could smell him, he could likely smell her, and stepped back a pace.

"What about my aura?"

"It's blasting.

"Oh-kay. What aura?"

Jareth straightened his lithe body, tapping his fingertips against each other in front of him. His eyes bored into Sarah, as if he were trying to read her mind. After a moment, he smiled widely, his feral teeth shining. Sarah shrank away momentarily, then straightened back in a show of strength.

"May we talk somewhere?" Jareth asked, still grinning. "I think we have some catching up to do."

"What's wrong with right here?" Sarah asked warily.

Waving a gloved hand in front of his face, Jareth faked a weak cough. "It's musty, and dreary, and simply inappropriate for discussions of this sort."

Sarah snorted. "You've got to know I'm not going anywhere with you."

"What if you pick the venue? I'll even," he waved a hand in her direction, "make sure you're appropriate." His wide smile slid into a grin, and he openly leered at her. "Not that I mind your current choice, of course." He sidled closer to her, and she resolutely held her ground. "It's just, well, you're a bit fragrant—"

"You ass." Sarah blurted, punching him on the shoulder without thought. He staggered back in surprise, looking down at her fist. Sarah, too, examined her hand. Where she had contacted Jareth, a small spark had arced out, like a static charge. She shook her fingers gingerly and sighed. She was taking this entirely too well, she decided.

"Okay," she said, hanging her head. "It's late though. At least, I'm pretty sure." Sarah glanced out the dark window, and then looked up at Jareth, who was still entirely too close. "It's been a really long, confusing day."

"Hasn't it, though?" Jareth smiled again.

"I suppose you had something to do with that?" Sarah asked.

"With what?"

"I- I don't know. I felt like I was going to die, or implode this morning, I remember that. And now… now I feel… good." Sarah shook her head a little, her choppy black hair swaying into her eyes and clinging to her forehead. "A little charged, like I'm in a thunderstorm, but good."

"Do I make you feel… good, Sarah?" Jareth asked, smiling at the blatant implication.

This was the first time he had said her name in so long, and it made her shiver. There was so much in his voice, it reminded her of heroin. Dark, and alluring, and deadly. It was hard to tell if the cheesy line was meant to make her uncomfortable, or to make her laugh. She wrapped her arms around herself, looking away.

"I may have… relieved you earlier today. But it was only at your request, and even that took a great deal of twisting intent."

She peered up at him quizzically, but waved it off and said "Tomorrow. Let me shower and try to get some sleep. I haven't had a good night's sleep in… too long."

Nodding thoughtfully, Jareth stepped back from her, towards the window. Raising his hand to face his palm towards her chest, he hesitated briefly, and asked "May I?"

"NO!" Sarah shrieked, slapping his hand away. "What the hell?!"

He laughed then, not a chuckle, but a full, throaty laugh she could hear from within his chest. "Oh Sarah, you have changed and you have not." She remained motionless and his hand reached out to tug on strands of her hair. Sarah turned around and observed in the dirty mirror that her hair really was electrified, and standing out from her scalp like Einstein. She blushed and ran her fingers through it futilely.

"Turn, dear." She did.

Jareth placed her hand in front of her chest again, about five inches away from her rapidly beating heart. A blurry pulse pushed out from his palm and shook the black sequins between her breasts before it settled inside her chest. Sarah felt her hair fall greasily against her head. Her shirt fell back from her body, where it had been clinging against her form. She felt neutral – she could feel the charge inside her, but it no longer radiated out. It was so relieving; she plopped onto the bed, as weak as if she'd just received a full-body massage.

She watched Jareth's shoulders slump, and his posture relax.

"Gods, that's much better," he said. "I don't think I could have stood it much longer."

"Stood what?" Sarah asked mildly. She knew she should be suspicious, but now that she no longer felt like a full battery again, sleepiness was washing over her in waves.

"That, we will discuss tomorrow evening. You may choose where. Until then, I have things to attend to." Jareth pursed his lips, then, giving Sarah a dismissing wave, and poofed out of her bedroom.

"But-! Oh, fine." Still sitting dreamily on the bed, Sarah blinked and watched glitter settle onto the old dusty carpet and disappear. In only moments, all evidence of Jareth's presence had disappeared. No, not all – she felt the little shrouded pulse inside her ribcage, muffled and easy to ignore. That, and her clammy palms.

"I think. Maybe. I think that I maybe did too much this time." Stumbling onto her feet, she walked to turn off the light switch, and fell into bed, lazily brushing old papers onto the floor. She squirmed under the blanket and stared out the window, mulling over the night's events.

He was not as scary as she remembered. She wasn't sure if he had changed, or her, but she was willing to bet it was mostly her perception. The years since conquering the Labyrinth had been wrought with ecstatic happiness and wretched depression, all coupled with the various pitfalls of human nature, and the girl who had fought so frantically for her little brother was not the same woman who curled up in the dusty childhood bed, still in her spangled, week old clothes. But that girl was when it all began, and she was still a part of Sarah. It was all the other parts that needed figuring out.

As she finally fell asleep, without any illicit substances, for the first time in years, Sarah Williams dreamed.


A/N: Ohh, the quarter ended yesterday, and I wrote this today. I hope it's not too sloppy, I was just so excited to be able to get back to it.

I worry that I get so excited about writing that I forget to do a good job. I just want the story to be alive! This is so much fun.

Thank you to my reviewers! And thank you to Rena Cresten, who reminded me that I do not edit very well. I think I need a beta. :)