She was obsessive about the crystals. Since Aboveground air was poison to her lungs Jareth complied to her wishes by gifting her with crystals, ever-watchers he called them. Their eyes were fixed forever on the life of Toby. The boy's condition was to her satisfaction, mostly. He was different from the young boy from the illusion, his colors seemed dimmer, his smiles less expressive and his overall appearance not quite as… beautiful. The king had certainly made the fake Toby a beauty with likeable charms, and to Sarah's disappointment the real Toby was dull.

But still, she was transfixed on them, never leaving her bed except when Hoggle visited, and spending all her time watching. She found too that if she wished it the crystals could transport their images backwards and she could watch Toby's entire life from Labyrinth and beyond. It occupied her time, gave her something to focus on. She felt like cracking most of the time, unsteadied in reality. Visits from the king did not help much either.

At best he was not pushing her too far.

"Must you stare at those damn rocks for all of your waking hours?" He grumbled one evening. He was sitting by the fireplace in a cushioned chair. It was a new fixture in the room, taking the place of the rocking chair. The cradle from hell was replaced with a small bookcase, overstuffed with books from Sarah's time in the illusion. She had not verbally requested their presence, but had wondered of them one evening and they had appeared the next morning.

"If you're bored then leave." She was bored herself.

"Impossible woman."

"Pathetic man."

"Do you intend to never leave that bed?"

She rolled her eyes. He asked very uninventive questions. Even though his scent radiated over towards where she slumped on her pillows, heady and spicy, she was done with him. His charm had its limits and she was learning quickly how to quell her own heart by reminding herself that he was just the product of her own wants. Sort of.

"I like this bed."

"You are not that stupid," He snorted. "How about a trade?"

"I'm listening," She actually looked at him.

Regretful of that choice she directed her eyes elsewhere. How long had it been since she last peeked? She concentrated: Toby had lived five human weeks, during which she only slept three times for seven hour increments. Jareth visited every fourth hour of her wakefulness. She had been awake four times. She needed a shower.

She recalled looking at him very hard after he gifted her the ever-watchers. His own odd eyes had looked back into hers for a swift moment. During this brief connection she could have sworn a delicate light had twinkled in his irises, but a smirk on his face made her turn away before further observation could be made of the strange light. That was three nights ago, and since then she had not looked at him when he visited.

"I give you one question," He said. "And you attend dinner with me outside of this room."

"I did not think I had the choice to leave this room." She said. "No doors."

"I would have thought the Labyrinth would have taught you more about observing your surroundings." He said. "Do we have a deal?"

"Can it include a shower?"

"With all my heart," He said. "I wish you to bathe."

"How did you know my mother?" She sat up in bed, dropping the ever-watchers to the blankets and combing back her sweaty hair with her hands.

From his chair he laughed, and looked away. With his dangerous eyes avoiding the touch of gaze Sarah was able to observe him. It seemed that every time she looked at him he seemed unfamiliar to her, as though his memory would always be slightly blurred of him once he was no longer right in front of her. Like a dream. In the moment you could recall the details and see all the beauty, but waking made it difficult to know for certain whether or not that dream-object was blue or orange.

"You could say I have known your family for a number of years," He said, turning back to her. "I have known them since they lived in England."

"I'm not even a quarter English."

"It's been a long time." He said. "But you were worth the wait."

Sarah looked away again. She hated the way he talked sometimes, as though she was his prize. But what had he done to earn it?

"I did plenty." He sounded offended.

"Get out of my head!" She whipped a pillow across the room.

"Certainly," He stood, straightening his coat. "I shall see you at dinner… If you can find your way."

She meant to watch him leave in hopes of discovering the location of the door but a flash of light in front of her distracted her. With a pop the wall cracked open and a bathing room appeared. She was thrilled and upset for him over looking that for so long. At least, she smiled, there was a toilet.

That and a closet had appeared an hour after she first began watching Toby. The closet doors creaked quietly in the gentle light of the chamber and then flew open to get her attention. Inside rows of gowns and cabinets of accessories and garments sent Sarah's head spinning. Another door appeared, with that same distinct pop, when she was exploring the closet. She scurried outside to find a small toilet sitting in a narrow room. But now shower or bath.

Either way she was pleased it was here now. She stripped down even before the water was on, eager to be free of her own scent and the reeking nightgown. Bathing quickly, however luxurious the water felt on her skin, or how dizzy with delight the smell of soap made her, she was a great deal more eager to be free of the bedroom. Once clean she scurried to the closet, still dripping wet, happy to leave a water mark on Jareth's carpet. It may have been her room but she had the sinking feeling that everything here belonged to Jareth, so abusing it was not a difficult thing. Of the clothes in the closet she picked a pretty little gown to wear with tight sleeves to her wrists. It was a bright red. She ignored the shoes that matched. To keep her back from being uncomfortably wet she tied her hair up into a pretty bun.

This bun was altered by invisible hands when she sat down at the vanity to search through some of the perfumes. After she had sprayed a pinch of her favorite scent across her chest she observed the new hairstyle. It was pretty: a braided mass looped around a braided bun while some tiny ringlets hung free. She liked it, but tore free the ruby-tipped pins that gave it an air of richness. She left these on the vanity.

Happily cleaned, dressed and feeling worlds better she scooped up an ever-watcher. Holding it firmly in her hand she looked about the room, hunting for a way out. Each wall was the same, rolling into one another with no bends or variance in shadow. The light from above was bright and Sarah was thoroughly frustrated. She finally took to walking around the room's perimeter, hand extended to the wall, feeling for gives or breaks.

She fell and crashed to the floor almost before she could realize what happened. Laughing she pulled herself up.

"You're kidding!" She hollered. The wall had been an illusion. Or at least this part was. She recalled her time in the Labyrinth, trying to find the turns and corners.

"You try walking through it; you'll see what I mean!" The lovely worm!

She straightened and moved forward, finding a turn leading to a small hallway. It had been well hidden by that same trick she had solved years before. In this dark hallway she could see something she had been wishing to see for days: a door. Thankfully it had no guards to tell riddles, or locks to keep her in. Proudly, she turned its small knob and opened it.

The Goblin King smiled. She had found her way out. It had taken a great deal longer than he had originally supposed it would, but there she was, on her way to him. He laughed when she took a swift step out the door and was nearly killed by the goblin sleeping there. She had caught herself before falling, but had certainly terrified the spirits out of the napping goblin. He turned away from his ever-watcher as she struggled to comfort the screaming creature. He returned the seat he had left and sat down, wary of the presence lurking there.

That morning had been a difficult one. He had woken from a dreamless sleep to find a familiar haunting face pressing on the glass of his window. The features were sharp, from the hard-tipped nose to the hollowness around the miss-matched eyes. These eyes were like his own but a shade darker. Instead of a fine halo of golden hair to frame this twin's face, dark, thick feathers and strands of beads crowned the skull. A sharp-nailed finger tapped the glass.

Jareth did not rise to open it, but instead nodded to allow the being entry. The window melted away and the creature gracefully filled the space left by the disappearance. If a third set of eyes had been watching they might have seen what looked like a pair of twins, different only by coloring. Where Jareth was golden, from flesh to hair, and blue in the eyes, this man was black. His feathered hair was thicker and held down by some select strands that were beaded. His skin was pale, like the white of a burning star, yet it did not shine. Accompanying this skin, like ghost flesh, was the dark hair and dark eyes, black like coal, with white pupils. All this the third observer could see, and they might notice how differently these twins dressed. The golden twin had his choice of a vast wardrobe, all colors and fabrics. That morning he wore naught but his bed sheets. The twin on the window ledge had not the need for much clothing; hanging upon him was a liquid-like robe, which seemed to swim across his flesh in dark thin patterns. It did little to hide the thick muscles of his body, or the lumpy ridges of scars that crisscrossed his skin in awkward patterns.

It was the golden king of the goblins that spoke first. "Jarah." He said, nodding toward the black figure.

In response this dark man only smiled. To any mortal this smile would be frightening, however un-malicious its intent, it was just too long, the teeth expose too sharp to allude to any kind of happiness.

"Jareth," he nodded back, the movement sending his black robes rippling over his body.

Jareth did not know what to say back, he had not seen his brother in so long a time. What could Jarah possibly want now?

"How are you fairing, little brother?" Jarah settled down on the window ledge, long legs that ended in clawed toes creaking with the movement.

"Quite well. And you?" Jareth made every effort to appear unamused with him, standing up and shedding his sheets from his body.

"Your scars look quite infected today." Jarah laughed. Jareth turned away to dress, the entire process taking only a breath to perform.

"What is it you want?" He asked. His patience had always been short. With Jarah around it was non-existent.

"I am simply here to see you, dear brother." Jarah's voice was gentle.

Jareth was not so certain. The rest of the morning played out as any morning might with Jarah around. No goblin or Labyrinth folk appeared to serve the king, or pester. They could smell Jarah there and not a one of them would tolerate him.

The king himself listened to Jarah's prattle, stepped carefully around the probing questions and almost ignored his brother.

"I have heard your little pet is awake from her dreams." Jarah smiled.

"Yes," Jareth answered. "She is somewhere hating me right now."

"Want me to maggot her brain up a bit?" Jarah sounded too eager.

This eagerness was worrisome. Jareth knew how much his brother delighting in 'maggoting' human brains. But Sarah was his toy, his human. Jarah was not to touch her. Keen on not causing upset in his older brother though Jareth never outright said he could not. Denying the King of Nightmares his pleasure was a dangerous thing to do. He knew their mother still suffered from once punishing Jarah for plaguing a village of humans with wakeful nightmares.

Jarah jabbed at Jareth with a sharp nail. "She'd be no worse off than she already is."

"I have hardly had my fun with the girl and now you are already trying to spoil her." Jareth tried to sound teasing.

"It was worth asking, she is a special kind of dreamer." Jarah smiled that dreadfully sick looking grin again before his dark eyes unfocused and Jareth knew he was already worlds away in someone's sleeping mind.

"Best be off little brother," Jarah said. His large hand came out once more to touch Jareth's chest through the leather vest. The king's heart momentarily grew cold. But when Jarah finally vanished for good the coldness left with him.

Jarah's essence was still there though, following him about the castle and into every room he ventured. Even to Sarah's chamber, smelling a little rottenly of her unwashed body, when he made his daily visit. Troubled as he may be with his brother now, he pushed that worry to the back of his mind. He had a dinner to eat, with his little favorite Sarah. He peeked again into his glowing ever-watcher to find her already at the dining table, the dwarf… Higgle? at her side and making her smile.

Well, that simply would not do.