A/N: I really like this chapter. ^_^ Thanks for your patience, I appreciate it!

Disclaimer: I reeeeeally don't own Labyrinth. M'kay?


A Writer Required

Chapter 9


Sleeping my phone, I stretched tiredly in my bed and yawned, wincing at my aching muscles. My recent bout of flu had incapacitated me to the point that the majority of my time was being used in sleeping, or practically inhaling chicken noodle soup. 'Thank you, Campbells!' I'd thought gratefully, on more than one occasion.

I thought back about how calm the week had been. A whole week had gone by prior to tonight, and nothing more than the usual had happened. I'd gone to work, praying no one would notice the difference of how much better my eye was. Marcus made a mild comment on it, saying it looked a bit better, and I was relieved it wasn't too drastic a difference. My dates with Andrew had been better lately. He was more attentive and cheerful and I was happy to see it. Though every once in awhile I'd catch him with a distant look on his face. When I'd asked him if he was alright, he vaguely mentioned something about a possible promotion and how he wasn't sure if he should take it. We discussed the pros and cons of it, but he still seemed unsure. I didn't press him-but I did encourage him to do what he thought was best. My days with Jareth were productive and we were able to document a great we were beginning to talk about other things, too, which distracted us from our work. I'd ask him about his experiences and he'd go further into depth about them. His face would often light up as he recalled his past, and I was mesmerized. In the back of my mind I knew I should have been more focused on finishing our project, but so long as we made progress, I didn't mind the occasional distraction.

Today I did nothing but rest and sleep in bed until about dinner time. After I ate more of the miraculous Campbell's soup, I read one of my books and did some writing I needed to catch up on. It was late into the night by the time I decided I'd better sleep. With a quiet sigh I sank further under my down blanket and closed my eyes. The fever had fallen a bit, but it was still very much present. The dreamy feeling of dozing off began to fall over me.

Creak…

My eyes flew open, and I looked to my bedroom door. Was that...?

CreeeEEAak…

Fear lanced through me.

It was.

It was the loose floorboard underneath the laminate flooring in the kitchen doorway. That spot was the only part of the kitchen floor that made that particular sound. After that sound came, another was supposed to come. It did. The loose floorboard lowering again when pressure was taken from off the end of it sounded.

Creeaaak…

Which meant-

Creeeaaaaak…

-that someone was in my house.

Fear and adrenaline pulsed through me, and as quickly as I could manage in my sickly state-which was more sluggish than anything-I kicked off the covers and rolled off the bed into a crouch. My muscles complained in the form of pain and I winced, almost falling onto my backside from my momentum.

Reaching into the dark, I snatched up the baseball bat leaning against the wall between my bed and the night stand. I'd kept it with me ever since I'd started living alone. I know how to use guns, but I don't like them. There's too much room for error. My dad had been pretty firm about me and my sisters learning self defense. That included different methods of protecting ourselves, whether it be guns or physical self defense. A baseball bat was pretty self explanatory, and I didn't have to hurry to get it out of a safe or load it.

The floor creaked behind my bedroom door, a slow, hesitant sound. Still down in a crouch, I stepped back until I was in front of my dresser, my back pressed against its front. The dresser stood beside the door, and with where I was crouched, I'd be out of sight. I hefted the baseball bat slowly over my right shoulder and waited. Thinking it through, I thought about my plan. First I'd aim for the kneecaps. Using the bat's own force to my advantage as it'd rebound, I'd turn the bat up and hit him in the face as he fell forward. He'd clap his hands over his face, unable to see me, and that'd be enough for me to knock him over and get past him, and out of the house.

I came back to the present as the door opened, and my fingers tightened around my weapon. The burglar walked cautiously inside, one step at a time, and something sharp and gleaming in his far hand made my blood run cold. He was holding a freaking knife! The intruder stopped short when he saw my bed, and he peered at the covers. Realizing something was off, he put the knife away into a scabbard on his hip, and moved further into the room.

'Now!' I thought, and swinging the bat as hard as I could, I turned my body at the same time into the swing to add to the bat's already considerable strength. The bat hit his knees with a sound 'THWACK!', and he inhaled sharply as he fell forward against the edge of the bed with a bit-off yell. I swung the baseball bat up to hit my second target, but had misjudged the speed with which he was falling, and when I raised the bat to hit his face, I instead hit him in the gut when he fell onto the edge of the bed.

Still a good hit, but now he was on his knees, he would able to see me. The burglar looked over at me and my face paled as I momentarily froze. "You!" I gasped. It was the man from the restaurant where Lizzie and I'd gone-the one that had given me such a bad feeling and stalked me onto the bus! I felt my body go cold in fear and my eyes grew huge. How did he find me?!

With a growl he lunged at me, breaking me from my thoughts when he grabbed hold of my shirt at the neck. He began to pull me forward and I lurched away with a yell. My shirt tore along the front of my shoulder, the back of the collar painfully yanking against my skin before the fabric gave way. Part of my chest now visible, and his eyes fell down. I used his distraction to my advantage. Still pulling away, I retracted the bat with me and jabbed it forward again at his face.

I barely managed to hit him, but the crack his nose made was satisfying. He yowled in pain and released me. Clearly realizing he had made a mistake in breaking into my home, the man scrambled with difficulty to his feet. I raised the bat again, and in seeing the object of his pain, he made a run for the door. He shoved it fully open, making it slam against the bedside table and tip the lamp against the wall. The ring wobbled beside it, and the door rebounded after him while he hobbled faster than I thought possible, and disappeared back into the kitchen. I leaned over to peer out the door to watch him. He gained speed at the archway to the living room, until he was almost running. Then, he was out the opened front door. I waited to see if he would come back, but there was only me, and an empty, tense silence. Standing, I made my way to the front door and noticed something.

The doorknob was broken.

"Crap!" I said when I saw it. Just what I needed on top of everything else tonight-a broken door. I rested the baseball bat on one shoulder in case I needed to use it again and extended my other hand out toward the door. The burglar had done a number on the handle. I realized he must have used his knife on the doorknob when I saw how the wood was chipped off above it. The handle was bent out of place, leaving a considerable gap in the wood that would show the outside if the door was closed.

My eyes trailed up when I remembered the lock, wondering why it hadn't worked to keep the door shut. Then I noticed how the wood higher up was chipped, too. The deadbolt attached to the door had fared better than that, somehow unlocked and undamaged, and I noticed the wood was also chipped near it. "I can't stay here, now." I murmured, and shivered at the frigid breeze coming through the broken door.

I thought about going to my parent's house, but I didn't want to wake them and worry them over this. Especially since nothing was taken-and I was fine except for my flu. Well, that, and I may also be in shock. I rolled my shoulders, a cold breeze sweeping across my skin and reminding me of my torn shirt and sore neck. Ok, so my neck was sore and my shirt was torn. I could've fared far worse than I did, though.

Taking a step forward, I narrowed my eyes out at the darkness. It was quiet again, silent snow drifting peacefully down and accenting a dim backdrop. Everything was in shades of dark and light blues and white; the pearlescent moon above illuminating icicles and sidewalks.

On the doorstep were footprints in the snow. They had been distorted from when the burglar had backtracked, and it was difficult to make them out. But at that moment I remembered how unsafe I currently was, even armed. I had to leave.

I threw on my coat and boots, and tossed my fleece blanket over my arm to use in the car for added warmth. Any form of comfort at this point was more than welcome. Plus, being warm was generally healthy in a post-snowstorm, post-traumatic setting. I grabbed my phone and laptop along with their chargers, and dropped them in my purse.

I moved faster. Boots on and car keys in hand, I closed the door as best I could. I'd wrapped a scarf around the doorknob on the inside to keep the cold out, and luckily it wasn't obvious on the outside of the house that anything was amiss.

I briefly eyed the footprints, but was disappointed when I remembered they'd been stepped on again as the burglar left. The sole of the shoe was rows of zigzags, though. So probably just a common mens shoe. I didn't spare them much more attention than that, only going as far as to note that the shoe prints came from, and went back up, the street.

Getting in my car, I drove for ten minutes, telling Siri as I left to call Andrew. When he didn't answer, my stomach sank. Was he asleep? "What am I saying-of course he's asleep!" I muttered to myself. My vision blurred slightly, and thinking I was sleepy, I turned the heat down to just below what was comfortable, hoping the colder air would keep me awake. I tried getting in touch with Andrew again when I was almost five minutes away from his apartment, and apparently the second time was the charm. His sleepy voice answered in bewilderment.

"Amelia-what's wrong?" He questioned. My hand was shaking and I pressed the speaker button, putting the phone down on the dash. I realized I had been shaking after the ordeal, but it wasn't until now that I really noticed it. My neck felt hot and I switched the heat nearly all the way to cold, allowing almost frigid air in. The cold air felt nice and I breathed a margin easier.

"I'm on my way over." I spoke rapidly, tapping the steering wheel impatiently when the light turned red ahead of me. It was one of the worst lights in town-ill timed and favoring one street over the other. For now I focused my attention on answering Andrew. "Someone broke into my house. They opened the lock, and the doorknob is practically falling off. Nothing was stolen and I'm fine-" I was cut off by the sound of Andrew's bed springs creaking violently, and the faint thud of his feet hitting the ground.

"What?"

The light turned green and Andrew spoke on. "Are you ok? Did he hurt you? Where are you now?"

My heart warmed a little in comfort at his words, but I shook myself to focus on driving. The light wouldn't stay long in my favor. "No, I'm not hurt. Definitely shaken up, though. I'm just a few blocks away. Can I spend the night with you? After what happened, there's no way I can go back until my door's fixed."

Andrew was quick to agree. "Of course! I'll meet you out front."

Relieved, I replied. "Thank you. I'll be there in a couple of minutes." As it turned out, I was there a bit sooner. I hit every green light-these lights being more aware of traffic-and since I was one of the few out driving, it was practically a straight shot to Andrew's.

Andrew's apartment building was nice, only a few years old, built up in a busier part of the city. There used to be an office building there, before it was purchased and demolished, apartments built in its place. I parked on the street in a reserved spot where the staircase to his apartment was. Most of the tenants were out of town for the approaching holidays, so it left me plenty of places to park. I spotted my boyfriend standing in pajama shorts, a coat, and boots outside on the sidewalk. I hurried over, and he enveloped me in a hug.

"I'm so glad you're safe!" He breathed in relief, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. Some of the stress from tonight fled, and I relaxed enough that the shock began to affect my eyes, and tears began to form.

I sniffled and wiped my eyes, and when I tried to hide them, Andrew noticed. "Let's get you inside." He suggested, and I nodded mutely.

His apartment was on the third floor, overlooking the street where I'd parked my car. Andrew helped me to sit on the couch, and we sat there a while, his arms wrapped around me. My face felt hot again, like it was burning, and I realized I had grown too warm. I told Andrew that I needed to take my coat off, and when I did, he gasped in horror at the rip in my shirt. The upper part of the left side of my chest was visible to him. I noticed four small red raised lines like scratches along my neck onto my collarbone. I hadn't noticed them before-were they from that man when he'd ripped my shirt?

I went red in the face, tugging the fabric together and avoiding Andrew's suddenly furious gaze. His eyes were fixed on the scratches on my neck, his face flushed with anger. "The burglar tried to grab me, and he ripped my shirt. It doesn't hurt, I'm not in pain." I attempted a nonchalant tone and shrugged, still holding up the fabric. I wasn't really hurt, there was no point in making a big fuss about it.

"'It doesn't hurt'?" He echoed in disbelief, his face redder than I'd ever seen it. In fact-it came to mind that I'd never seen him this angry before. I shrugged my opposite shoulder, feeling uncomfortable under his heavy scowl.

"I'll get a different shirt at my house tomorrow." I said.

Andrew snapped, his eyes refocusing on mine. "The hell you will!" His words raised my gaze to his in wide-eyed surprise. He'd never sworn before, either. I opened my mouth to question him, but he stood carefully up before I could utter a sound. "You can use one of my shirts tonight. Tomorrow I'll go and look things over. You're not going anywhere near there until I and the police have checked it out and I'm satisfied that you'll be safe." His tone left no room for argument, and over the course of his words, my jaw had dropped. I forced myself to shut it when I realized what my expression must have looked like.

pCompletely stunned, probably.

"Uh… ok." I agreed, and Andrew's tensed expression relaxed. "I'll be right back." He reassured me. My boyfriend vanished into the hallway, and I stared after him. Andrew was rarely firm like that, so he must have been really very worried about me. My thoughts were put on hold when he returned a moment later with a large ACDC shirt. He gave it to me and stepped out of the room to allow me privacy to put it on. Once it was on I gave a short burst of a laugh in amusement when the shirt nearly drowned me.

Andrew heard my laugh and asked if I was decent. I said I was, and once he came around the corner to see me, humor touched his own eyes. "It's rather big." He admitted.

"Just a bit." I smiled. "It's perfect, Andrew, thank you." Andrew nodded and shrugged off his coat, putting it on a hook on the wall by the door. He returned to the couch beside me and threw an arm around my shoulders casually. "Anything for my flower." In contrast to his casual motion, his smile was soft and he lay a tender kiss on my lips.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, but I shook my head no. Wrapping his arms around me fully, he held me close. "Ok. I can get you something if you change your mind." I nodded in silence, grateful for his thoughtfulness.

Eventually the adrenaline that had powered me through this ordeal faded, and I was overcome with exhaustion. As I was beginning to doze, Andrew frowned and pressed his cheek to my forehead. I sucked in a startled breath at how cold his skin was, and I looked up at him in question. The frown on his face resounded in his voice. "You have a fever!"

I made a face and turned it into his shoulder, his cool shirt soothing against my feverish face. I didn't want to think about fevers. I wanted to snuggle with my boyfriend and go to sleep. I found myself sleepily speaking. "...All of the stress must have weakened my immune system…" I murmured to him, feeling a little bit like a medical dictionary. "Maybe it will help if you drink some water?" Andrew suggested gently, and I nodded in agreement. "Yeah, that's a good idea." Carefully he left me to get a bottled water from the kitchen. I sipped it slowly and he fetched two more and placed them on the coffee table within reach just in case.

I fell asleep in Andrew's arms. I didn't wake up until late the next morning when it was easily past eleven o'clock. We were laid out on the couch, me tucked under Andrew's arms. A blanket had been thrown over the both of us and I recognized it as the one that usually occupied the back of the couch. Andrew was awake, but he was on his phone while he waited for me to wake. "I slept in-" I began apologetically, but Andrew shook his head.

"It's fine. I'd rather you slept as much as possible." He lowered his phone down to where I could see it, and switched from candy crush to a web browser app. I winced at the bright light. "See?" With a flick of his finger across the screen he showed me a web page that talked about home remedies for fevers. "It's good to get a lot of sleep. I'll have to go to the store to buy some ibuprofen, though. We can put a cool rag on your head to help reduce the fever in the meantime. Do you think you'll be alright if I run to the store?" Andrew questioned, tilting his head to one side to see my face.

"Yeah, I'll be alright." I replied, and Andrew nodded and carefully got up. He put a cool rag on my forehead, tucked the couch blanket around me, and kissed my cheek tenderly before leaving the apartment.

Within five minutes my fever grew worse-even with the rag. The fever had been bad before, but now it had me worried. It should have faded some by now, right? Instead it was getting worse, and that made me worry. It should've died down over time, but this one hadn't-and that was not a good sign. It wasn't until my head began to burn and ache with a familiar headache, that I knew I was in real trouble. I groaned in dismay, burying my face in Andrew's extra pillow. "Really?" I demanded of the inanimate cushion, my voice muffled to my own ears. The pillow remained silent, and I sighed. A lot of help it was.

I'd have to call the doctor. That it'd started with a fever and not the headache was odd, so I'd have to let her know that. Normally this type of thing wouldn't be so bad for most people-but because of how my body was, it made this particular problem dangerous if left unchecked. At this point I couldn't do anything without a doctor's help. Grumbling under my breath, I snuggled down in the blanket on the couch, curling up into a fetal position and silently wishing very much that Andrew would hurry back.

Another five minutes passed-although it could have been shorter or longer than that, I wasn't really sure-and the fever was beginning to make me feel a little floaty. I heard the door open and close and a strange sound that followed it. Thinking it was Andrew, I croaked. "Did you get the Ibuprofen?" But it wasn't Andrew's voice that replied.

"I was unaware that I was supposed to." Jareth's voice replied. I heard his voice before I saw him, and it stirred me some from my feverish half-sleep. He came round the couch by my feet, and I blinked at his shiny black boots. Were they always that shiny? When he saw me he froze, then in a hurry he moved forward and knelt down beside the couch, his face oddly blurry. But I could swear his eyes had what looked like concern in them.

'Wait-am I dreaming?' I wondered suddenly. I was feeling kind of floaty, so I could've been. Brow furrowing, I reached out to his face. He looked surprised by the action, and uncertain before he hesitated and at last intercepted my hand, taking it up in both of his. Oddly, relief filled me and I closed my eyes. "You're hot." Jareth said, his voice sounding anxious.

Whether it was dream-induced or fever-induced humor, I wasn't sure; but his comment made me give a derisive snort, followed by a grin and a burst of giggles at his remark. Opening my eyes, my words were slurred when I replied. "Whyyy, thank you, Sir! You're not so bad yourself!" I burst into giggles again at his shocked expression. His shock turned into seriousness, and he released my hand with one of his. Jareth rested his palm on my forehead.

His hand wasn't as cold as Andrew, and I closed my eyes again sleepily at how soothing his touch was. "That's nice." I murmured without thinking, and Jareth paused there a moment more. I felt his mild surprise in the air between us before it faded and he delicately shifted his hand from my forehead to my cheek. I was hot there, too, and the palm of his hand had since been warmed by my forehead. He turned his hand so the back of it was on my skin, cooling my cheek as he had my forehead.

His dry voice replied, but I thought I'd detected concern behind it. "I meant you're burning up. How long have you had this fever?" The urgency in his tone made me open my eyes in question, half squinting at him. "Just a couple of days. A lot of my coworkers have been getting sick lately, too." I blinked at him and after a moment my lips tugged down in question when he failed to offer a reply. "Why?"

Jareth hummed in response, scooting forward and narrowing his eyes at my forehead. "Not like this." My eyebrows twitched up at his observation in amazement, wondering how he knew.

"No," I agreed slowly, and his eyes met mine. "not like this." His lips curved down into a frown and he shifted so that his face was close to mine. "I can help lessen the fever, but I'm not able to interfere too much. Your own healer will have to assist you further than that." I hummed and nodded my head in way of a reply. "I know." I shrugged my shoulder. "It's something my doctor and I had been working on. I appreciate your help with the fever."

Jareth shifted closer when he suddenly paused and raised my hand in his. "You're missing your ring."

My brow wrinkled when I realized he was right. I had completely forgotten the ring! I'd left it sitting on my bedside table. "I forgot it in my room at my house."

Jareth huffed lightly, surprisingly not as annoyed as I thought he'd be. "You are exceptionally good at trying my patience." He foraged in his coat pocket until he found what he was searching for, and held the ring up with raised brows. "Oh!" I exclaimed quietly. He'd gone and picked it up? He looked down at our hands, turning mine over to put the ring into it. The nausea I'd been feeling abated somewhat, and I closed my fingers around the ring. Jareth continued. "I went first to your home, and when I found only the ring, I used its connection to you to find…" He looked around at Andrew's apartment with a clearly disdainful curl of his lip. "...this place."

Mismatched eyes met mine, the disdain fading in them when I smiled. "That was clever." I praised, and the disdain faded entirely into mild humor until I went on. "I'm sorry I forgot the ring. I hadn't meant to." I struggled to slide the ring onto my finger and was amazed by Jareth's tenderness when he muttered reassurances and helped me to put it back on. I let him help, feeling too weak to protest, and instead observing him. Once the ring was on, the nausea I'd been experiencing fled entirely and I closed my eyes, breathing deeply in relief.

"That's a lot better." I murmured, and somewhere in the back of my mind I noted with embarrassment how bold my words had been throughout our conversation. But the majority of my awareness was just happy to be feeling even remotely better than before. And in all honesty, I probably wouldn't even remember this conversation later. Feeling sleepiness begin to take over, I heard Jareth's worried voice like it was far away. "Amelia, I'm going to use a spell to reduce your fever now-you will fall asleep so the spell can do its work. You should still see your healer as soon as possible." I nodded. "I will."

Jareth hummed and responded. "Good." His cool hand rested upon my forehead and he murmured under his breath. A feeling like cool spring water running slowly over my forehead and across my head made me shudder and huddle further under my blanket. The feeling lasted and a peaceful sleepiness began to fall over me. It reminded me of summer at my parent's house. Of falling asleep in the hammock under the apple and cherry trees. Feeling the dappled sunshine and warm breeze on my skin, it was peaceful and soothing.

"Amelia?"

"Hmm?" I heard myself respond. I squeezed Jareth's hand when it shifted and loosened around mine. Was he going to leave me? Sudden panic hit me and I held tighter to his hand. "Don't go. Please. I don't want to be alone." His hand gently squeezed mine.

"It's ok, Amelia. I'm here."

But it wasn't Jareth's comforting voice that had replied-it was Andrew's.

My eyes snapped open. I squinted as the sunlight shining in through the living room windows hit my face. I could see Andrew kneeling before me where Jareth had been. He was a comforting sight, to be sure-but he wasn't the one I had expected. I realized Andrew was speaking again and I focused on him. "-I was able to get the ibuprofen, but I think your fever's gone down." I studied Andrew's face. He had put the bottle of ibuprofen on the coffee table beside a bottled water and his hand that wasn't around mine was rested on my forehead. Where had Jareth gone? Had I imagined him being here? I cast my eyes around the room carefully, looking for any sign that he'd really been there. When none presented itself, a strange ache in my chest appeared. I frowned at this and pulled my hand out of Andrew's without realizing it as I pressed my hand to my chest. The ache only grew.

"Amelia? Are you ok?" My eyes refocused on Andrew's concerned face and guilt hit me. Here I was thinking of Jareth, and a worried Andrew was before me. "Yes. Sorry, I was just thinking." Andrew smiled lightly, teasingly. "Well don't think too hard; you're still sick, after all." I smiled back and then winced when the burning in my forehead increased and a pressure started behind my eyes. "No danger of that." My eyes flicked to the ibuprofen on the table, and Andrew noticed.

"Do you want to take some now?" He queried. I nodded at once, hoping it would help take out the fever and help lessen my growing headache. "Yes." After Andrew got me the pills and water, I asked him if he'd get me my phone. He did, and his brow wrinkled. "Who are you calling?"

After finding the number I wanted, I rolled over onto my back, pressing one hand to my forehead and taking a deep breath. "First I'm calling my doctor. The headache is back." I emphasized my words and immediately Andrew understood and grew serious. I went on. "Then I'm calling in sick to work. The headache will get worse before it gets better, and I'd rather not be somewhere stressful when that happens. Depending on what the doctor says, I may be staying home for some time."

I rubbed at my forehead with one hand, simultaneously smoothing away worry lines while trying to ease the pain. I was worried about my headache, of course; but I was also worried about whether or not I was doing the right thing by not telling Jareth the truth. The truth about how the the man who had stalked me now knew where I lived, and had broken into my house.


A/N: I love Jareth's concern in this chapter. X3 Sooo sweet. Anyway. Chapter nine!