Highlights from original note:

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Persephone 6

Hallucinations

Several hours passed, in which the Goblin King found he had gotten very little done. It was difficult to concentrate on a pile of paperwork with Sarah sleeping in the same room. Difficult and unnerving. She had not stirred for hours, but he knew that sooner or later Alexander's charm would lift, freeing the fever to claim her once again. Until then, he wasn't really needed, but he would follow Alexander's instructions and stay with her anyway. Jareth tried to work, always with one of his mismatched eyes trained on Sarah over his documents.

As shadows fell, she began moaning, making soft, plaintive calls in the night. He gave up his work and sat beside her, cursing Alexander for leaving him so out of his element. Her pale skin flushed, her hair soaked with sweat and limp and her eyes closed tightly, as if against insurmountable pain. He reached out to touch her, but she started thrashing wildly, and he didn't dare. In her flailings, she caught his hand. Intriguingly, she seemed to take comfort in the connection, settling quickly.

Her delicate eyelids fluttered open. "Are you there?" she asked in a raspy voice.

"I am," Jareth replied slowly.

She drew his hand to her, "Take care of me?"

He smiled, "Of course." Perhaps Alexander had been right, things were looking up. Jareth thrilled at the light behind her eyes.

"I feel terrible," she whined.

"I know; twill pass my dear." He used his free hand to push sticky hair away from her face.

"Promise?"

"Yes."

"It's so cold." She began to shiver again. Jareth conjured more blankets for her; to his surprise and delight, she accepted them, drawing closer to him.

"You're ill." Heartened, he wrapped an arm around her curled body. She snuggled closer. Jareth rubbed her back gently. He would have to commend Alexander for his idea. The game flowed smoothly, with quickly-learned rules. Slowly, her shivering gave way to a slight tremble. He could feel her slight movement, brushing against his chest. To have her close to him, he had never felt freer or more content.

"Sing me something . . . . a lullaby," she looked up at him, wonder alive in her gray eyes.

Completely taken aback, he began to sing softly without thinking of the words or melody. The song flowing out was a different version of something she had heard before, calmer, kinder and a bit more persuasive:

There's such a sad love
Deep in your eyes, it needs a new start
Open and close within your eyes
I'll place the sky within your eyes

Yours is such a young heart
Beating so fast, in search of first dreams
A love that will last within your heart
I'll place that love within your heart


Mine may seem a dark heart
But it's no less than true, you'll stay

Forever with me, within my heart
I'll always keep you within my heart

And I'll paint you mornings of gold
I'll spin you Valentine evenings
Though we're strangers to love
We will choose the path between the stars

I'll take we two, between the stars

Falling . . . .

Falling in love . . . .

XXXX

Sarah's mind beat violently against the utter fog surrounding it. She could not place herself or how she felt. Her entire body ached; her flesh burned, yet she shivered. Her brain searched for memory that matched the horrible sensations. There. She was five years old, battling pneumonia, while her mother watched over her. Yes, that was it. She couldn't make out the face through the haze, but it must be her mother. She knew only that she was being held, cuddled, and cared for, which was all she needed. "Sing me something . . . . a lullaby," she asked finally. She listened peacefully as a beautiful voice caressed her ears. Her mother had always been a wonderful singer. Sarah could not make out the words, but that didn't matter. She fell asleep again, feeling safe.

Jareth smiled down at Sarah as she slept again. In his arms. He leanned against the headboard on her bed, more content then he could remember being in years.

XXXX

Sarah awoke slowly, piecing foggy memories back together. The room was dark, her room, in the Goblin Castle. Jareth's castle. She uncurled from her sleeping position, and felt her cheek brush skin. She yelped and looked up sharply, straight into a pair of alien eyes.

"Welcome back to the land of the living." When the realization that he held her dawned on Sarah, she pulled away violently, tumbling out of his embrace and onto the bed in a heap. "How are you feeling?" he asked. Perhaps his voice was supposed to be kind, but Sarah heard menace.

"How should I be feeling?"

"Not too well, I expect," he slid off her bed and stood over her. "You have a fever."

"Why were we . . . .?" she did not finish the question.

He raised an eyebrow, arrogant amusement playing across his face, purposefully ignoring her leading question. "Are you hungry?"

"No."

"Pity," he conjured a tray on the bed beside her. "Since I am under strict orders to ensure you eat." She looked up at him furious, but very weak. "So eat." She merely looked into the bowl of soup. He put the spoon in her hand; it was cool and she was incredibly warm. His hand left hers, but she didn't move to eat the soup. She is so much easier to deal with while sleeping, he thought. "Sarah . . . ." No response other than her exhausted glare. "Do not make this difficult."

"I'm not being difficult. I'm not hungry," she sulked.

"You still need to eat," he half-growled sitting down beside her. She flinched away. Jareth pulled her close to him, she was too weak to fight against already superior strength. He took a spoonful of soup and wafted the smell of chicken and herbs towards her. Had she been speaking to him, she might have commented that it smelled delicious. "Open your mouth." She pressed her lips together adamantly. He rolled his eyes, reached around her and plugged her nose.

"Hey!" she exclaimed drawing breath, but not closing her mouth quickly enough to avoid a well-placed spoonful of soup.

Jareth grinned. "There. You see Sarah? I always win. Now eat." He fed her a few more spoonfuls of soup, which she accepted sullenly. "Good girl."

That was just to condescending for her pride. She reached out for the spoon, "Give it here."

He dangled the cutlery out of her reach. "Going to eat now, are you?"

Sarah nodded. Jareth gave her the bowl and spoon and stalked away. Sarah cupped the warm bowl in her hands. Now that he was gone, she could allow herself to enjoy the soup. Sarah soon forgot the spoon and drank the broth straight from the bowl. She could taste cloves and spices with the chicken and vegetables. The broth tasted almost like the Williams family recipe for chicken soup, the one her father had made for her when she was sick, and that she had made for Toby when he stayed home from school. Her father. Toby. Home. Sarah tried furiously to blink away the tears, but she was loosing the battle.

XXXX

Jareth paced furiously up and down the corridor. She was so damn contradicting! She crawled into his arms and fell asleep only to jerk away when she awoke?! And he had practically poured his heart to her in song he had not meant to sing. Too much! He would never understand her. It didn't matter. She would be with him for eternity, she had no means of escape. Deciding she had been left alone long enough, he strode back into her room, his cape whirling about him like a storm about to burst with dark energy…then he stopped short.

Sarah lay on her bed, her meal forgotten, sobbing. She looked at him when she heard the door slam, trying in vain to wipe the tears from her eyes. She wouldn't cry in front of the Goblin King who had put her in such a position. But it couldn't be helped. At least she didn't have to look at him; she turned her head and buried her face in the soft down of her pillow.

The moody energy surrounding Jareth dissipated. He did not want to see her so unhappy, he wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her. She was so vulnerable. Knowing that tactic would only drive her away, he quietly crossed the room and stood by her. "Go ahead, . . . cry," he murmured. His hand fell into her hair, caressing the still sweat-tangled strands between gloved fingers.

Sarah did not feel his terrible light touch. She took no notice of him, and sobbed harder, her body trembling. "Shhh Sarah. You have simply had a hard day, 'twill all look brighter tomorrow," he whispered. One hand drifted across her back, rubbing gentle circles. Sarah jerked violently; his hand flew away. She would not accept comfort from the very person who trapped her here. But when his hand returned to that simple circular motion a moment later, she needed comfort so badly she didn't care about the source and let him touch her.

He kept at the same motion over and over. Jareth memorized the contours of her back. The ridges of her spine and planes of muscle under her smooth skin that he ached to touch in a more significant way, but didn't dare. Alexander had been right, her age showed and she was frightened. He could erase those fears, but it might be the most challenging project he had ever undertaken. How patient could he be? He wasn't sure of anything. He knew he wanted her, but for what purpose? His queen surely, but the long and short of the dilemma, how much did he want to feel for her? Could he afford to let his feelings deepen, personally or politically? Were those feelings really love or lust? Or perhaps, he went back to his old answer, they really were merely the same thing. Uncertainty was a new feeling for the arrogant Goblin King.

Her sobs had diminished to tiny hiccups and raged breathing, muffled by her pillow. "Better?" he asked quietly.

"A little," she conceded.

"You just needed a good cry," he pulled her wild hair away from her face.

Leather grazed her cheek. "No," she would not admit weakness to her captor. And she realized his hand was still tracing circles on her back.

"Sarah . . . ." sensing her discomfort, he drew his hand away, balling it into a fist to save the warmth trapped there.

"What?" she hiccupped.

"Go to sleep," he commanded, reinforcing the words with magic.

"I'm not . . . " she yawned.

"Well," he supplied against her will. "Sleep now Sarah . . . ."

Instantly, her exhaustion crashed down and collapsed on her. Sarah found she could not resist his order. Sleep claimed her. Jareth pulled the blankets over her and used a crystal to light a roaring fire in the hearth. Still so beautiful, and so vulnerable no matter how strong she looked. With a long look at her, he disappeared.

Nervously, Gilda crept out of the shadows and into the room. She was glad the King had left by way of his magic rather than the corridor; otherwise, she would have been caught sneaking to the girl's chamber. Sarah was asleep, so Gilda just checked on her quickly. She felt her forehead: hot, and sweaty. So she had a fever. This was very unusual, the girl had not seemed ill previously. There was nothing she could do just then, it was better to make sure Shel wasn't falling over Lyja. Gilda resolved to check in on Sarah again tomorrow.

XXXX

"XANDER!" the Goblin King's angry snarl only brought wry amusement to the silver haired fae of that name who materialized in front of him.

"That was rather interesting, wasn't it?" Alexander chuckled.

"Interesting?!"

"Although I will grant your behavior improved somewhat towards the end." Alexander added a little mock bow.

"You dare to chide me about my behavior?" Jareth fumed.

"In a word, yes."

"And what about her behavior?"

"She's a frightened girl, ripped from everything she holds dear." Jareth gave him an ungratified look, which as was general the other man ignored. "She has an excuse for any so called bad behavior. You don't."

"What would you have me do, all knowing one?" Jareth sneered.

"How about being 'nice?' Horrible human concept I know, but some form of kindness resides in there somewhere," he poked the Goblin King's chest, studying the kings face while considering the mortal concept. The left side of his mouth raised in amusement.

Instead of punishing him, Jareth turned away. "You think wrong."

"Don't be afraid to let her see that there's more to you than . . . . let me see how to put this . . ." He caught Jareth's eye and decided finishing that sentence would not be wise. "Ahem, never mind."

"I don't play nice for anyone," Jareth countered.

"I'm not asking you to play anything," Alexander laughed at a private joke. "Just don't frighten the girl to death."

Jareth rolled his eyes. Shadows rolled over his face, carving lines like a statue.

"And maybe, play a little nice," Alexander winked, vanishing before Jareth could wrap his hands round the other man's neck. Fine, he could try. He would be the nicest Goblin King to rule in the underworld . . . .