Disclaimer: To my great dismay, Labyrinth does not belong to me. It is the property of Jim Henson, George Lucas, Brian Froud, David Bowie, etc.

"In Dreams"

Sarah was still reeling from the shock of Bard being so tiny and elderly as she and Jareth sat at his kitchen table. It was a nice kitchen, all hand-carved wood and shiny cookware hanging from the ceiling, but Sarah was too tense to truly admire the aesthetics or marvel at how the small wooden stools did not break beneath their weight. Jareth, in contrast, seemed perfectly content, leaning back casually in his chair and sipping a cup of tea before the crackling fire, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he watched Sarah's stunned expression. I expected Bard to be someone more like Jareth, perhaps even of the same kind, she thought. When he had spoken of a fierce warrior, she believed that the stranger would fit the description in every respect. Instead there was this little man in this little house.

The moment they had entered the barrier of the river rocks, the cottage appeared entirely different. It was no longer decimated and abandoned. It was almost like new, made of polished stone and wood. Bard's home was tiny, almost ridiculously so. Jareth hunched over as they walked in and Sarah's head brushed the low ceiling. The inside was just as lovely as the out with an arch engraved with fairies separated the living area from the kitchen and two doors, also carved, leading to what Sarah assumed must be bedrooms. Although it was small, she couldn't help but be enchanted by it.

Bard, however, was a different, less charming matter. Sarah was all too aware of this as he stirred the soup on the fire, shooting her distrustful glances over his shoulder.

"Jareth?" Sarah whispered under her breath. "What exactly is he?"

"He's a hobgoblin," Jareth replied in a hushed voice.

"He doesn't like me," Sarah said back, out of the corner of her mouth.

Jareth chuckled and she gave him a dark look. "Well, you did send him hurtling to the ground."

Sarah had to smile slightly at that. Bard hobbled over to the table and set down a tray laden with small pastries and the teakettle, still piping hot. Sarah gave him a grateful smile and was awarded a suspicious stare from the hobgoblin. Bard backed away carefully from her, as if he were afraid she could bite.

"Bard, might I ask why you keep giving such curious glances at my companion's apparel?" Jareth asked lightly, taking another sip of tea.

"I mean no disrespect, sir," Bard said gruffly, giving Sarah another quick once over. "But that's an odd symbol she wears. I thought she might be a witch, come to put a spell on me…"

Sarah almost laughed as she looked down at the smiley face with x's for eyes, but stopped herself and tried to look respectable. "I'm not a witch, Bard."

Bard raised his white eyebrows and looked to Jareth for confirmation.

"She isn't," he said, a pointed grin on his lips.

"Can't blame a hob for suspecting," Bard wheezed and sat on a third small stool before the table. "Never seen the likes of her around here before…"

"She's from the Above," Jareth explained.

"Really?" Bard said, now far more interested. He settled comfortably and took a long drink. "Why is she here?"

"She's here to help me take back the Labyrinth," Jareth replied, his voice as casual as speaking about the weather. "And you'll be helping me too, of course."

Bard's eyes widened. Sarah could almost see the hope there rise, fizzle, then die.

"Majesty, forgive me but…this place has been ravaged. I don't know if…" Bard trailed off.

"If? If what, old friend?" Jareth asked, studying the hobgoblin from across the table. Sarah had forgotten how intimidating Jareth could be when he wanted too, all steely gazes and sharp teeth. She shivered slightly as he stared Bard down.

Bard seemed more dejected than afraid and shook his head, wisps of hair fluttering. "I just don't know if it's possible."

"It has to be," Sarah spoke up, voice filled with desperate conviction.

Bard gave her a curious look and Jareth appeared vaguely stunned.

"Bard, help us," Sarah said and leaned forward. If this hobgoblin could be half as helpful as Jareth had said, Sarah knew that they couldn't do it without him. Her tone was desperate, her heart heavy as she asked, "Please?"

A curious look dawned on the hobgoblin's face, he stared at Sarah very hard, as if picking her apart visually and trying to find something within. Sarah continued to stare at Bard, confused, as the hob looked to Jareth. Deep realization seemed to wash over the little man and Sarah wished that she had thought to glance at Jareth, to see what on his face had made Bard look so awed. The hobgoblin shook his head in disbelief, but there was something akin to joy in his expression. Sarah found it all incredibly perplexing.

"I'll do it," Bard grunted and ran a hand over his eye so quickly that Sarah couldn't tell if it was reflexive or if, perhaps, he was brushing away a tear.

"You will?" Sarah asked, daring to feel hopeful.

Bard's expression was somber, almost reverently serious, as he answered, "I will."


Sarah

Sarah was twirling, dancing wildly around a room in a haphazard and discordant ballet. The air around her had substance, a thick, cold mist. Her eyes were tightly shut, but she could feel the coolness of ground beneath her feet as she spun. Notes of the music clashed, harsher than nails on blackboard, sending chills up her spine, but she continued dancing to its dissonant tune.

Mine.

Sarah twirled again, and again, and one final time before taking her bow, arms reaching toward heaven. She rose from her knees and her eyes fluttered open. Darkness was all around. It called to her, surging in a sinuous rhythm and beckoning. A pinpoint of light in the distance was all Sarah could truly see, the rest she seemed to feel. The blackness was seduction without the choice, harsh and merciless. Sarah's fingers reached to the bright orb of vision, a brilliant, unattainable goal floating in the distance.

This is your world.

That voice, that harsh, shrill voice. It both echoed for miles and closed in, gutted and filled. It was everything and nothing, and it had spoken in her ear. Sarah was certain she had heard it before…

Her light circled a final farewell and plunged her into total darkness.

"Hello?" Sarah called, spinning around for a glimmer of anything, straining to see in the shadows. She was rewarded. A pair of white eyes, devoid of iris and pupil, watched her with a predator's gleam.

Sarah tried to run, but found that she couldn't. Instead she bounded through the black fog, her world murky and her limbs sluggish as she struggled to get free. She slowed and stopped without warning, restrained. Fingers touched her, soft and hazy up and down her exposed arms and legs as she moved forth.

"Stop," Sarah whispered. "Please."

Mine. Want to taste…

"Stop!" Sarah insisted. She struck blindly and hit a solid body, but it was unlike any body she had ever touched. It was smoke made solid, or perhaps solid made mist. The feeling of it made Sarah's stomach churn as she touched it in sick fascination, both repulsed and enthralled by its indescribable texture.

"Did you miss me?" said a second voice in a soft whisper against her ear. A shadow of a voice. A tongue darted out to touch her cheek.

Sarah spun around and saw only blackness. "Where are you?"

White eyes opened just in front of her face and Sarah jerked away, but the changeling caught her and pulled her close.

"Don't run, you'll be late for the wedding," the monster rasped, his sharp nails digging into her hips, trapping her against him. Sarah shrieked, the sound of it reverberated around her. The changeling laughed. "What's the matter, Sarah? You don't like me touching you anymore?"

Sarah screamed again. "Let go!"

Never, the word crashed harshly in her ear, an internal symphony that made her head feel as if it were splitting. Never, never, never. A laugh, cold and chilling, bounced around within her skull.

You are mine.

Sarah gasped and sat up straight in her chair.

"So, we send the scouts, the quietest, stealthiest goblins only, Jareth!" Bard said.

"Oh those should be easy to find," Jareth said with a haughty look. "My goblins are simply renowned for their ability to remain still and quiet…"

"We'll train them to do it, then. I mean it, these scouts must be quieter than the shadows themselves!" Bard insisted, pounding his fist on the counter. "If they're not, this will never work!"

"What won't work?" Sarah asked, her heart still pounding after her nightmare. She rubbed her temples and could feel Jareth's eyes on her.

"Oh, you're awake," Bard said, his excitement palpable. "You slept a few good hours, you did."

Sarah looked around Bard's kitchen. The sun had clearly set, the room was shuttered and lit only by firelight. It danced and jumped, reflecting off of the gleaming wood of the table and stools, and the multitude of brass pots and dried goods that hung from the ceiling.

"I guess that you two got started on planning," Sarah said, glancing to the map of the Labyrinth that was laid out on Bard's kitchen table and lined with ink, tracing paths. "What do you have so far?"

"My greatest plan to date, missy, that's what!" Bard said, impassioned. "I am a genius, my dear, a military genius."

"He's having delusions of grandeur," Jareth said, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Don't you doubt me, majesty. Following this plan, we'll wipe the floor with those bastards, I can assure you," Bard said, a wicked gleam in his eye.

"So what is this 'master plan'?" Sarah asked, taking a sip of her cold tea to steady her shaking hands. Jareth was staring at them. Quickly, Sarah replaced the cup and clasped her trembling fingers in her lap.

"I was just telling his majesty a piece of it," Bard said. "The Labyrinth is all but impenetrable to outside forces, so it will be very difficult for us to get inside, particularly if the Consciously-Pompous-Shadow-Master has anything to say about it."

"The Consciousness is not to be trifled with, I've explained already how powerful he is," Jareth responded with a dark look, his hand twitched up as if to touch his injured side.

"Oh, bah! He's like the rest of the beasts and the fire should do the trick if we get it burning soon enough," Bard scoffed. "Well, we'll send in scouts first, stealthy goblins, and then..."

Sarah listened as best she could to Bard detailing the plan, his gruff voice laced with excitement, and tried to not let her attention wander. She and Jareth would set out for the Labyrinth in the morning, alone, while Bard remained their contact within his barrier.

"I'm too old to be of any use," Bard explained and earned a smile from Jareth, like a friend telling an inside joke.

"Now, tomorrow, you two take the off-road to the south," Bard explained. "The path cuts round to the opposite side of the Labyrinth, they would expect you in the front. Plenty of cover there, too, for when you run into changelings."

"Once you arrive," Bard continued. "You go straight to the forest, no flittering about. You must contact these friends of yours and tell them the plan. That night, send your stealthiest goblins into the Goblin City," Bard emphasized to a petulant looking Jareth, "and have them stake out the changelings strong points. They will also be planting our secret weapon, in case anything goes wrong."

They would be storming the castle the next day. Bard explained the number of fighters they would need for each battalion and so on. Sarah grinned as Jareth looked more and more exasperated each time Bard said something ostentatious.

"We'll need a general, a cavalry man for the next phase," Bard mused, thinking. "He'll need to lead your group in."

"Sir Didymus," Sarah prompted automatically. "If he accepts, I think he would be the best one for the job."

Bard looked skeptical. "That little knight? Are you sure?"

"I have absolute faith in him," Sarah said. "He's one of my dearest friends."

Was it her imagination, or did Jareth look…jealous? Make up your mind, Goblin King, Sarah thought, how do you feel?

"If that's how you feel, then Didymus it is," Bard said. "As for the battle—"

From all Sarah knew about military procedure—which was next to nothing—what Bard explained sounded solid. They would infiltrate slowly, the way that the changelings had done, and take the entire city by storm at different points. Meanwhile, goblins would surround it, destroying any backup that the changelings called. Sarah felt a spark of hope rise within her as he spoke. No wonder Jareth brought us here, she thought, Bard knows his stuff.

"If all goes according to plan, we might just stand a chance at regaining it," Bard said. For the first time that night his face fell slightly and he looked almost doubtful. "The only problem is defeating this leader of theirs. I only hope that the fire is enough…"

"Don't worry, we'll find a way," Sarah said, but her insides seemed to twist with anxiety. Jareth was strangely quiet, leaning against the wall with his fingertips pressed together.

"I'll make us something special for supper," Bard said, perking up. "It's not every day that his majesty and the—"

Jareth cut him off with a curt shake of his head.

"That his majesty visits my home," Bard finished, clearing his throat, "and with such a lovely lady friend at that. I'll make something special in any case."

"What was that about?" Sarah asked Jareth, who stood and wandered into Bard's comfortable living area.

"A slip of the tongue, nothing more," Jareth said, but his face gave it away. He was hiding something.

"You know, this whole not telling me everything deal is getting really old," Sarah said almost playfully, but she crossed her arms and stared him down. Jareth met her gaze. Sarah hadn't expected to see such caring in his eyes.

"You were having a nightmare," Jareth said, looking her over in concern.

"Yes," Sarah answered quietly. "I've been having those a lot lately, to be honest…"

Jareth frowned. "What about?"

"What do you think?" Sarah answered, touching the corner of her mouth unconsciously. "I just can't get him out of my head…"

A loud swear and the clink of metal hitting the stone floor rang out in the kitchen.

"Bloody hell!" Bard shouted to the sound of another pot clattering to the floor.

"I'd better make sure he doesn't hurt himself," Sarah said quickly and disappeared into the kitchen. She knew Jareth wanted to talk about her dreams, but how could she when she didn't understand them herself? It's for the best that I keep things quiet, Sarah thought, trying to convince herself it was true.


Sarah sat with Bard as he cooked their meal, making small talk as Jareth went outside to inspect the barrier. The hob had pulled down many dishes, thankfully not dropping them all, and set about to cooking. Although Sarah explained that she was a hopeless cook, Bard assigned her to chop vegetables for soup. She sat at the kitchen table, trying her best to keep the pieces even as Bard bustled around, tasting, stirring, and mixing. All the while, he talked.

"Again, I'm sorry about before," Bard said, stirring the pot over the stove which bubbled and hissed. "But I don't trust witches. I had to go to one of the Sisters Three to get that damned barrier put up. Theodora was the only one left and she's as batty as all hell, the mad old hag."

Sarah cracked a smile. Despite his initial demeanor, she liked this hobgoblin.

"How many survived?" Sarah asked, almost slicing her finger instead of the onion.

"I know a good dozen, maybe. Some stayed here at first, I've got a supply trunk of things they left behind," Bard said. "Most went back to the Labyrinth, some were taken…you just don't know who you can trust anymore…"

"No, you really don't," Sarah said, thinking of Derrick. She could feel the hot sting of tears threaten to overwhelm her. I won't cry, Sarah thought, clenching her fist around the knife.

"The barrier is fine, although I suspect our presence here could attract some changelings," Jareth said from behind them. Sarah jumped at the sound of his voice, almost losing her grip on the sharp blade. Jareth walked further in the room and gave her a curious glance before turning back to his friend. "Just how strong is that barrier, Bard?"

"If anyone sets a foot in my yard without trying the blood ritual, they'll get what's coming to them. Trust me, it's terribly unpleasant," Bard explained with relish, looking fiercely delighted.

"Well, that's reassuring, at least," Jareth said. Sarah was almost uncomfortable as he studied her slumped shoulders. He knows my dreams, Sarah thought.

"Bard, do you have supplies here?" Jareth asked.

"Yes, I've got a trunk of things that were forgotten when I was running a safe house, a hodgepodge of sorts," Bard explained, kneading bread as he spoke, clearly distracted.

"Might you have some clothing that would fit Sarah?" Jareth asked.

Sarah raised an eyebrow. Clean clothing sounded like heaven in comparison to her dirty pajamas, but it felt almost like he was trying to comfort her with material goods. She wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

"Perhaps, trunks in the second bedroom," Bard said, stirring the pot over the fire again and tasting. "Needs more pepper…"

"Sarah, come with me," Jareth said, gesturing for her to follow.

She stood and wandered with him to one of the carved wooden doors in Bard's living area. Jareth went in first and Sarah could see him lighting candles all around the small bedroom with a match. It was sparsely furnished and decorated with lace doilies. Sarah couldn't help but smile at those frilly things in toughened, war-loving Bard's home. It was a pleasant surprise, much like his love for cooking.

Sarah lingered in the doorway as Jareth knelt before a large trunk at the foot of the bed. She could not say what held her back, she'd been alone with him before, and very recently at that, but there was something deeply intimate about being in his world, in his friend's home, and in a candlelit bedroom that made her feel that she was losing a certain measure of control.

"This could fit," Jareth said. He held up a long cream-colored dress. The sleeves would cap off at her upper arms, the material would cling to her. Sarah was tempted to put it on right away just to feel it against her skin.

Sarah ventured a few steps in as Jareth stood and held the dress up against her. She tried to scold her heart into beating slower, to no avail. Jareth's hands rested languidly against her body, holding none of the restriction that she had come to expect. Yes, the contact was through his gloves, the dress, and her t-shirt. But the warm, wonderful pressure of being touched was there, his fingertips pressing lightly beneath her collarbone, just against the swell of her breasts to hold the gown in place.

"Will I be able to run in it wearing my slippers?" Sarah asked, finally finding her voice.

Jareth frowned, setting the dress on the edge of the bed. "I'll be back, wait a moment."

Sarah decided to pick through the contents of the trunk, pulling anything she thought might fit, which was very little. Everything seemed to be for goblins, fairies, or perhaps very corpulent women, judging by the impressively large skirt she found there. Apart from clothes there were supplies, weapons and nonperishable foods. She made a mental note to ask Bard what was all right to take.

Despite continuing her search, the only thing Sarah found that could fit her was a thin, white undergarment set with boning and laces, like a corset or cincher. Well, you didn't wear a bra, Sarah thought to herself, at least you'll get some use out of it. Digging a bit further in the box yielded a pair of matching pantaloons. When Jareth returned, he was carrying something that Sarah hadn't been expecting.

"Those are yours," Sarah observed, setting aside the undergarments and staring at the dark brown leather boots he carried.

"Yes, and I have others," Jareth stated and set them beside the dress. "This way you can run."

Sarah righted herself to stand beside Jareth and stare down at the clothing. In doing so, she glanced down at her feet and then his.

"They won't fit," Sarah said.

Jareth tilted his head. "Oh? Explain, precious."

"Your feet, they're bigger than mine," she explained.

"I see," Jareth said, tapping his lower lip with a long finger. Sarah tried to look away from the motion, but her eyes flashed instantly to his mouth. Jareth caught her stare and slowly dropped his hand to cross his arms, a smug look in his eyes. He conjured a crystal in a flash.

"Jareth, don't," Sarah said. "Won't magic attract the changelings?"

Jareth smiled wryly and began to spin it with a tilt of his head, slow at first, then faster, until it was nothing but a sparkling blur in his hand.

Just as Sarah thought she could not take staring at the spiraling orb any longer, he threw it straight down. The crystal shattered over the boots with a bright spark, leaving traces of glitter along the floor.

"They're the right size," Sarah marveled.

"Try them on," Jareth said.

Sarah sat on the bed and pulled the boots on, one at a time. They fit as though made for her. She stood carefully. Even though the boots had heels, they were incredibly comfortable, the leather soft against her. Sarah twirled a couple of steps, unable to help it.

"They suit you," Jareth commented.

"Thanks," Sarah said with another little twirl. "I think I understand why you like these things so much now. You will not be getting them back, by the way," she informed him with a smile.

"Wouldn't ask it of you, precious," he said, closing the trunk.

Sarah stopped mid twirl and gave him a pointed stare. "Why do you keep calling me that?"

She hadn't meant to sound so husky, but it bubbled out and there was no way to retract it. Jareth looked a bit taken aback by her bluntness.

"You called me that before too," Sarah continued, "all those years ago. Why?"

"I think it should be quite obvious," Jareth said, bristling, trying to keep the demeanor he paraded before her, a calm and cool exterior, but his voice lowered as he next spoke, "It's what you are."

"Food's ready," Bard said, shuffling through the open door. He stopped and stared from Sarah to Jareth and back again. "Am I interrupting?"

"No," Jareth said in a harsh voice before briskly striding out.

"What's gotten into him?" Bard asked, staring.

"I'm not sure," Sarah whispered.


Dinner was a quiet affair. Bard had made a fantastic amount of food in such a short time. Roasted meat, fresh bread, delicious soup, all piled on the table before them. Sarah could hardly concentrate on eating, even as Bard set out an impressive layered pudding. He's doing it again, Sarah's inner teen grumbled, ignoring me. It was true. Jareth barely granted a glance in her direction throughout the entire meal. Bard seemed to notice to and took turns speaking to each of them while the other stared off, lost in thought.

"I think I'll go to bed now, I don't feel very well," Sarah said, standing abruptly and making Jareth and Bard stop midsentence.

"Sleep in the guest room," Bard said. "The one with the trunk."

Sarah didn't need to be told twice and bolted. She shut the door tightly behind her and lit a few candles to change by as she kicked off the boots. Perhaps sleep would put her mind at ease. Sarah wriggled out of the pajamas which were already worn and slightly thinner after a few days in the Underground. She slipped on the white undergarments and tied the laces tightly before putting on the dress. The silk was soft and creamy, heaven against her aching body. Sarah almost sighed as she snuggled beneath the sheets. After sleeping on unforgiving ground, the bed was an answered prayer.

Sarah…

Hands searching, touching, but not catching. Light pulsed before her, teasing her with its welcome brightness, a wanton wild creature. It lit curlicues in the sky and beckoned to her.

"You," Sarah said, it echoed a thousand times around. The small light flickered in the distance, dancing, showing her the way.

Mine, always.

"Don't leave me!" Sarah called. The light ignored her desperate plea and swirled, a dizzying pattern in the eternal dark. Sarah moved forward, her fingers reaching. Searching, touching. The light floated further. A smile, a Cheshire's lazy grin, appeared in the dark. Her bright orb darted towards it, playing right into its wicked hands.

"No, please," Sarah whimpered, but it was too late. The smile blew and snuffed the light out.

Cold hands descended on her shoulders, long nails grazing her arms and making her skin erupt in goosebumps. You are mine, you know…the voice whispered. So harsh, so guttural, so inhuman it hurt to hear. She could feel sharp teeth gently teasing against her neck from behind, hands smoothing up and down her sides. Mine…

"I'm not," Sarah said, sounding stronger than she felt. She had a purpose.

Are you his?

"Whose?" she asked, the resulting echo ominous in her ears.

You tell me.

A shape, living darkness, moved before her in the void. Eyes opened, teeth gleamed.

"Sarah," the creature before her said. A harsh taunt in a human voice.

"Derrick?" Sarah asked. Lips collided with hers, smothering her. Sarah could not draw breath from mouth or nose, both were pressed too tightly into the shadow. The voice at her back laughed, its hands pushing her forward, trapping her between two evils.

"Sarah!"

Someone had hold of her shoulders and was shaking her awake. Sarah fell forward against the hard line of Jareth's body and clung to him, trembling and gasping. He rested his head against hers, his hands stroking her hair gently. Sarah pressed into the warmth of his shirt, her head tucked beneath his chin. She drew deep breaths and could feel her shaking subside.

"You must not allow yourself to have those dreams," Jareth murmured against her hair. "They're draining you."

"You know what I've been dreaming about?" Sarah asked into his shirt. Jareth untangled himself from her embrace.

"Not exactly," he said. "Your dreams are dark. They're troubled, I know. But I can't go inside your head and see your dreams. Besides, with the changelings here everything feels...wrong, distorted. Even in the world of dreams, it's not as clear as it used to be."

Sarah breathed deeply. "It's the same ones, over and over. Now, he's there. He wasn't there before."

"I see," Jareth answered. Just like that, the distance was back. He stood, eliminating the space between them to stand at the foot of the bed.

It was dark in the bedroom and the only light was that of the half-moon filtered through the shuttered windows. All Sarah could discern was a flash of his pale hair and aristocratic profile. He was so secluded within himself, so very far away.

"I didn't do it on purpose," she whispered.

"I haven't the slightest idea of what you mean," Jareth said with a turn of his head.

"Jareth," Sarah said, sitting up straighter, "you know."

"And perhaps I don't. Explain," Jareth said, a clear challenge in his voice as he crossed his arms. His eyes dared her, but to do what, she wasn't sure.

"I didn't have those dreams intentionally," she said, fists clutching at the sheets. "I don't want Derrick in my head."

Her voice cracked with unshed tears on the last sentence and Sarah could sense an immediate change in him. Jareth sat at the end of the bed. He was a safe distance away and even if they reached for each other, they couldn't touch. But Jareth was still there, that was enough for her.

"You loved him," Jareth stated openly, not looking up. He wasn't asking her to deny it or apologize, he simply stated what was.

"Yes, I did," Sarah said. "But I didn't need him and he didn't know me. In the end, I wonder what it was I really felt."

"Do you miss him?" Jareth asked.

"I miss how he made me feel," she said with a sigh, then caught sight of Jareth's expression. "No, you pervert, not that," she scolded and earned a welcome smile. Sarah sobered and moved closer to him until they sat side by side, "I miss the way he made me feel that it was all figured out and I miss how he made me feel loved. It's selfish and stupid, but it's true."

"It's not selfish," Jareth said, eyes flashing. "Everything needs to be loved."

The silence between them was palpable, but calm. It was not the angry, confused quiet that had pervaded earlier. This was something akin to peace.

"Jareth, where are you going to sleep?" Sarah asked.

"I'm sure I'll find somewhere acceptable," Jareth said then furrowed his winged brows. "Although, knowing Bard, the beds should be a tight fit…"

"Stay here," Sarah said. Jareth had a rare look of genuine surprise on his face. "Please? I don't want to be alone."

For once she had him at a loss for words. Sarah got back under the covers and felt Jareth do the same on the other side of the bed. It was a routine she'd shared with Derrick, with Nick before him, and so on. Sarah had been wrong many times in her life, about many things. As soon as she was beneath the sheets and could feel the warmth that radiated from his body, she knew.

This is right.


Author's Note: Jareth's on and off behavior will be explained in better detail as the story progresses. Lot's of J/S interaction approaching! Thanks for taking the time to read my story and to those of you who have reviewed, followed or made a favorite. Please R&R.