THAT SUMMER
inspired by the song "That Summer" by Garth Brooks
Ch. 10 In a Dress She Hadn't Worn in Quite a While
Disclaimer: Neither the song "That Summer" nor the movie Labyrinth are mine, and I make no money or other profit from my writing. Would I could and did, but I can't and I don't.
Rating: M for mature themes & sometimes explicit scenes including, but not limited to, death, drugs/alcohol, abuse, and sex. If you can't handle these things, leave now.
A/N: Still working on it…slowly but surely…
TS=-+=-+=-+=-+=-+TS
Sarah looked at herself in the mirror. The soft denim dress fell prettily down over her hips, flaring into a pretty skirt, the snaps down the front shining softly in the light. Her hat and boots were waiting in the corner.
Jareth was dragging her out to go fulfill her end of that damned karaoke clause in the Rules of Pie. She hadn't wanted to go out, but he'd done so much for her the last two days that she felt a little obligated.
He'd brought the healer from his kingdom two days ago, and she had finished the last vial of medicine just this morning.
Obligation didn't begin to cover what she felt for - owed - Jareth. She owed him everything. Including her health. But the last two days had been difficult because of what he'd done to return her to health, and they needed the company of others, if only for a little while, to put them back on an even keel.
If they continued as they were…
TS***TS
Two days ago…
"Sarah," Jareth said, motioning to the house, "when you've finished the barn, come inside. The rest of the chores will get done."
"All right," she replied, no little confused. It was less than an hour to finish the barn and make sure everything was squared away. She walked into the house, relaxed and only mildly curious as to why Jareth called her into the house. Whatever she had been expecting, it certainly wasn't what was waiting for her inside.
"This is Healer Tregaran," Jareth said, gesturing to a tall, handsome man with pointy ears and slightly green-tinted blonde hair. "He is my court healer, and the only healer that my brother and I allow to tend us."
Healer Tregaran looked at his king and added, dryly, "What His Majesty fails to mention is that I tended him and his twin from birth, tended his father and grandfather as well."
"Oh." Sarah frowned. "So you're used to working on males, not females?" she asked.
Healer Tregaran shook his head. She could see the flash of a silver-green at his temples. He was old, even if he still looked like a human movie star. With pointy ears and greenish hair, but who was counting?
"I tended the last six Queens during their pregnancies and in childbed." He tipped his head to the side and studied her carefully. "I assure you, I am quite well versed in the anatomy of a human female." At the mildly horrified expression on her face, Jareth clarified.
"He's also tended the whores that went to the satyrs, and their children. When dealing with certain human ailments, Tregaran is the best in the kingdoms." Jareth smirked. "Even if his phrasing leaves something to be desired."
"I said something inappropriate?" the older man asked, confused.
"You implied your knowledge of human anatomy came exclusively from sex," Jareth replied, the smile leaving his face. He couldn't remember if Tregaran had ever been Here Above.
"Ah. Then the language of the humans has changed greatly since the last lady I tended joined us." He shrugged. "I doubt anything else has greatly altered."
Sarah choked down a laugh and managed, "I would presume it hasn't." She looked at Jareth, trying to keep control of herself. "What exactly did you want, Jareth?"
The elf stared at her. She had addressed the king as an equal. It was one thing for an old retainer to lose some formality, but for a snip of a girl to do so was…was…he paused. Typically Jareth. For all that, though, there was something intriguing about her. A feel, almost magical, that radiated from her. But that was impossible. She was only human.
"Healer Tregaran is here to take care of your medical issues, even the ones Doc may have missed." He nodded to her and gave her a reassuring smile. "There's almost no limitation to his healing magic. In his field, he could be my equal in ability."
Sarah nodded slowly. "All right." She waited a moment. Jareth didn't move. "Jareth, could you, well, leave?"
"No," he said softly. "His limitations are few, and his technique is no less than miraculous, but the power required for any healing will have to be provided by a third party - me. As a child," he glanced over at the healer, "he had other methods and several assistants that he could use to practice his arts on my brother and myself, but that is certainly not the case any longer." Jareth hesitated a moment, adding, "And he is not a young elf any longer. I am afraid tending to me and Gareth has drained him more than we anticipated."
"Perhaps," the elf murmured, "but you have also provided innumerable situations that I would have otherwise never have encountered, Sire. The practice of the royal healer is now considered a separate and elite branch of medicine."
"You're joking - aren't you?" Jareth demanded.
"I am not," he replied seriously. "It isn't every healer that can deal with the most mundane of injuries, heal a complex poisoning, attend any number of visiting dignitaries of whatever race who were also poisoned, provide an antidote to a human with a severe affliction, and then attend to a royal childbirth and the resulting infants, frequently within the same seventy-hour period. The healers must be the best. My apprentice is almost ready to begin tending your nursery, Your Majesty."
"The same apprentice?" Jareth asked, thinking about the man in question. He ignored the dig about the royal duty to provide an heir and a spare.
"Yes."
"How long has he been your apprentice?"
"About six hundred years," the elf said.
"And he's only an apprentice?" Sarah asked, appalled.
"Oh, he's a full healer in several disciplines - but he is not yet a royal healer. He is very nearly prepared to replace me for everyday duties, though." The elf gave his king a significant look. "It is time for me to conserve my energies, Sire, and allow another to stand in my stead." His tone was almost apologetic. "And it is true, Sarah, that I will build the healing magics within you, but the power must come from His Majesty. Once, perhaps, I could have healed you, but those days are long since gone."
Sarah shook her head and started to back away. "I can't - not with you here, Jareth. It's just too much - "
"You misunderstand, my dear," Tregaran said, his voice taking on the same soothing quality that Doc's had. "The physical examination will be accomplished within moments, down to the cellular level, and the only thing we will need are these." He held up a wooden bowl with a silk pouch tucked into it. "Unlike human medicine, there is no need to compromise your modesty."
She looked at Jareth. "What did you tell him - " There was enough temper in her voice to make the elf interrupt.
"He didn't say anything, my dear. I am quite familiar with the hesitation that accompanies certain forms of maladies and histories. Your own actions and reactions have said more than he has on the subject."
"Oh."
"Please, come sit down," he gestured to the leather chair next to him.
Sarah did, waiting to see what came next. She had determined that the best way to deal with this situation was to treat Jareth's office as a part of the labyrinth, at least while Tregaran was present.
"Put your arms on the chair and hold out your hands," he instructed, emptying the contents of the pouch into the wooden bowl. He selected three things, and placed two in her hands - a green gemstone in her left hand, a gold one in her right. "Open," he said, indicating her mouth. She did. A blue stone was placed on her tongue. "Move your knees apart a bit." As soon as she had, a red stone was placed just below her zipper on her jeans, the healer's hands so quick and deft that she had no time or reason to object.
"Now, simply remain as you are, and let me know if anything I do causes you discomfort. This is the examination, not the healing. There should be no pain at any time."
Sarah nodded, waiting for something. Then she felt the lightest tingle in her hands. The stones were starting to glow. Her eyes went wide and the powder struck her fully. She could feel the forest around her, the air heavy with the smells of loam and leaf, the laughter of a brook nearby, the slow heartbeat of the earth and trees, the bright, quick flickers of motion. The sun itself slid into her veins and she heard herself gasp at the wonder of it all. Her eyes slipped closed as tears trickled from eyes, the beauty of the magic so pure it hurt.
"Are you in pain?" a voice whispered in the treetops. She shook her head. The sun filled her, then slowly receded, leaving her entire body energized and peaceful. The healer gently removed the stones from her hands and between her legs. She opened her mouth for him to take the final stone from her tongue. As he did, she noticed the stones had changed color. The blue stone from her mouth had a grey cast to it. The green and gold were a muddy brown, and the red stone was almost black. The peaceful feeling abated somewhat at the sight, and she managed a question.
"It's worse than Doc said, isn't it?" she asked them, not addressing either one directly.
"Yes," replied the healer quietly. "Your immune system is severely compromised, my dear, and there is something, a virus, affecting you at the cellular level in your blood. I can neutralize the threat, but a true healing - "
"I am here to assist," Jareth reminded him.
The healer shook his head. "It is more complex than simply magic will allow. Neutralizing the illness will be the beginning. There will be a medicine, as well. I will need to return later to ensure that all traces of the illness are completely removed and flushed from the body. It will not be an easy process, and it will tax you physically, even as it taxes my king magically."
"You have not experienced the depths of my power in a very long time," Jareth reminded the healer. "I was born with great power, but I have had many decades in which to practice the use of that power, and to grow stronger." From someone else, the arrogance of the statement would have disgusted Sarah. From Jareth, it was no more than a statement of fact. He was incredibly powerful, quite possibly the most powerful of the Fae alive, and with his brother, definitely the most powerful pair.
"And Sarah is not Fae, nor elven, nor magical at all. She is not even gifted in the way of the ancient humans. She is human, and the healing will require the skill of a surgeon and the power of a tornado. She will drain both of us, Sire, and there is nothing I can do to change that fact." The magical residue he'd noticed earlier, that hint of power that clung to her, was Jareth's signature, his magic. That tantalizing breath of the Underground was, alas, simply contagion.
"I have learned not to underestimate this particular human," Jareth replied, giving Sarah a small smile as he spoke. "She is surprisingly resilient." He looked at the elf with a much harder expression. "We will heal her. Now."
"As you will, my liege," Tregaran sighed. He turned back to Sarah.
"Don't I get a say in this?" she asked, looking back and forth between them. "I am the one who needs healing, after all."
Jareth started to reply, then closed his mouth and gave her a curt nod.
"What will this entail?" she asked, then added quickly, "I'm not concerned about pain or disgusting potions or whatever, but Jareth needs to be able to use his magic and get around physically - this isn't a palace, for all that it is a huge homestead."
"I will be quite well, Sarah," Jareth said quietly. "Of that, I can be more than certain."
"There is a lengthy cleansing, first. The less serious ailments will be cured and removed from you at that time. You will have the opportunity to rest and refresh yourself, and then the serious work begins." He saw the look of disbelief on her face and continued. "Not that the ailments should be dismissed, but the last will require a complex series of spells, healing, and, to an extent, regeneration of damaged cellular structures and organs. There is a great deal to do and then there will be the potions, as you called them, to mix and prepare for you to take. The trauma to your body will be great, even if there is no overt sign of what I am doing. In fact, the only thing you will have is perhaps a small bruise where I must hold the healing stones against the skin of your wrists." He paused. "I hope that no deeper magics will be needed, but it is entirely possible that we must… Well."
Sarah was quiet for a long moment. "Will it be painful?"
"No," he replied slowly, considering her question. "I do not believe so. It is possible that you may swoon from the intensity of the power flowing through you, and that you may feel as though your body has been…scrubbed, very hard, inside and out, but actual pain?" He shook his head. "No. If the healing must progress to the deep magics, then there could be discomfort from the transmission gems, but not actual pain from the healing."
"Then there's no reason to keep talking about it. Let's just do this."
"So simple, is it, Sarah?" Jareth asked, his voice soft, that delicate thread of inquiry the same one that asked her the questions she still wrestled with in the moments she had to think about them.
"Yes," she replied, eyes focused on him. "It is."
He nodded in reply, seemingly pleased with her acceptance of his offer of healing and of the healer.
Tregaran nodded and removed two emeralds from the wooden bowl. "Please extend your wrists, Sarah."
She held out her wrists and strong hands wrapped around them, pressing the emeralds against the pulse points. Jareth leaned over and placed his gloved hands over the healer's, then nodded. The forest slid into her again, this time delicately, the threat of a storm off in the distance. The storm rolled closer, boiling across the horizon and slashing through the peaceful forest. As the storm lashed at her, filling her, she closed her eyes. She felt her spine lose its stiffness and her head fall back against the leather chair. How had she forgotten this? It had only one source - Jareth's magic. The wild power slid into her veins and sapped at her will, taunting her with visions of dancing and crystal stairs, of improbable clocks and even more fantastic creatures, whirling and dipping and swaying to the haunting tune sung by a king.
She felt the pressure increase on her wrists, heard the healer hiss a warning to Jareth, but she was lost to them, drunk on the magic she'd only tasted in a sweet peach and sweeter dream, long ago in the labyrinth.
This time, she knew so much more of the dance between woman and man. She understood the laughter, the very real seduction that was being played out in front of her - the seduction of the senses in the hedonistic crowds and her own.
The understanding hit her like lightning. She had followed a dream that would fail because she couldn't have what she had denied. But now - here - there was a chance…wasn't there?
But she didn't want this. She didn't want to be the mistress, the lover, the queen. She wanted…she didn't know what she wanted, only that she hadn't realized how empty she was without the feel of Jareth's magic filling her senses and spinning her head and tasting so very sweet - sweet as a peach on her tongue.
Slowly, the feeling faded and the crystal dream fell away into a sparkling shower of dust.
Soft eyes found the blue-cinnamon of Jareth's and he saw in that instant what she had remembered, remembered and expanded. It was there in the slow blink, the gently parted lips, the dreamy eyes.
Tregaran frowned. "She should be exhausted," he murmured to Jareth in the language of the Underground.
"This isn't the first time she has tasted or tested my magic," Jareth replied.
"Surely you haven't bedded her." The healer didn't get that sense from her, or the notion that she had been old enough for bedding the last time she had met Jareth.
"No. She ran the labyrinth when she was barely old enough to understand there were certain dreams a girl could not handle. She is now," he murmured, almost to himself.
"How did she test you?" asked the healer.
"A bespelled peach and a crystal dream," the king smiled fondly as he remembered. "She was so very earnest, even then."
Tregaran shook his head and indicated Sarah. "Let her go upstairs, shower, and eat. Even though the magic came from us, her body has been fighting at our instructions. She needs a break before we begin to work on the debilitating illness." Jareth nodded in reply.
"Sarah, can you hear me?" Jareth asked. Sarah's eyes returned to his face, and she nodded slowly. "Go upstairs and take a bath. Dinner will be ready when you come back down."
Still slightly dazed, Sarah drifted up the stairs and into her room. She managed to pick up her robe and move to the bathroom without much thought. Her bath was a vague haze of silky water and soap over sleepy skin. It wasn't until she had towelled off and dried her hair that her wits started to return, albeit slowly.
"And this was the simple healing," she murmured, closing her eyes as she realized that she was in deep, deep trouble. She had wanted Jareth for years, but she hadn't understood what it was she had felt. So many things had been tangled together when she had experienced the labyrinth and Jareth's confusing presence - and now those were only memories, and hindsight is considered the only perfect vision.
She wanted Jareth, even with what she'd done and been, she wanted him. She understood what, as a child, had not been there and what, as a child, she had been unaware of in herself. From the feel of his magic and the time together at the ranch, that storm she had felt was more than his power: it was his desire for her.
He hadn't lied. Not that he would. He would consider her favours as a beautiful gift. And he would break her heart. Or would she break his? Or would they walk away whole and healed from the encounter?
There were too many questions and not enough answers. Her stomach growled, a rude reminder that, no matter the mental and emotional angst, the body required a regular refueling, however mundane it may be compared to the current mental anguish and emotional turmoil. With a shake of her head, Sarah walked downstairs in her robe and socks, hair clipped neatly back at the base of her neck. The peach silk was well-lined and heavy enough to ward off the chill; the hem brushed the tops of her feet; and the overlap was enough that the neckline didn't plunge or gap. With the way she had reacted to Jareth's magic, the message could be misinterpreted, but Jareth would understand: the robe wasn't an invitation, but an acceptance of reality. If the 'shallow' magics had left her dazed and confused, the 'deep' magics would probably sweep her from consciousness altogether.
Even if Tregaran didn't' understand, she was positive Jareth would.
Downstairs, dinner, also procured from the palace when Jareth had gone for the healer, waited in perfect preservation on the dinner table. The sight of the delicate porcelain and silver on the practical kitchen table made Sarah blink.
"I took the liberty of ordering dinner," Jareth said, seeing and ignoring the robe. "I hope you don't mind dining on the fruits of my kitchen staff's labour?"
"Dinner fit for a king? How could I object." She gave him a quick grin. "Is it mutton?"
"Bite your tongue, you ungrateful wench," Jareth said, sniffing in reproof.
Sarah giggled and walked to her customary place. Tregaran joined them at the table and watched as Sarah and Jareth teased one another gently throughout the meal. It was more affection than the old elf had seen from Jareth for anyone but his twin in more years than he cared to remember. The Goblin Kings were not known for their kindness or forbearance of women. They were known for womanizing, wicked rumors that Tregaran had never, ever been able to find confirmation about, and being amazingly good rulers, given they were Fae and in control of the goblin kingdom. An elf could appreciate good stewardship, no matter the steward. Whatever their faults, Jareth and Gareth truly worked to ensure the well-being of their kingdom.
After dinner, Sarah started for the living room again.
"No," Tregaran stopped her. "You will need a place where you can lie down for this - somewhere that is big enough for Jareth to lie down as well. This will be much more intense than the first healing."
Sarah looked at Jareth. Jareth looked at Sarah. Slowly, they turned and went upstairs. Jareth looked at her, and walked past her room to the one on the other side of the bathroom. The walls were a deep, pleasant green. The wood glowed like warm honey, and the fine layer of dust said that this room had not been opened in quite some time.
"This will serve," Tregaran pronounced his judgement on the space. "Please, Sarah, sit on the bed and try to relax. I will use the healing stones again, but this time I will be building the instructions and pathways that Jareth's power will travel in order to complete the healing. I warn you, this could take hours to complete, and you will be very, very tired afterward."
"You said I would be tired earlier. I was just…flaked out," Sarah objected.
The healer shook his head, declining to answer. "The reasons for that are myriad and unexpected. This, my dear, will tax even my king."
Without another word, Sarah settled into a comfortable spot on the bed, legs crossed, spine straight but relaxed.
Sarah felt the healer's hands on her wrists, emeralds pressed against her pulse points, and this time, the forest-filled magic didn't consume her senses. She relaxed as the magic eased through her, covering and webbing through her entire body. She could feel the places where the magic pooled, others where thin streamers branched out and led to other pools. All the while, the healer was chanting softly, the sound like the wind in the leaves, soft shushes and sighing sibilants.
Sarah let the magic in, accepted it, and began to wonder what it was waiting for. The magic was simply sitting in her, doing nothing. After a long while, the healer stopped. Every part of her was filled with magic, filled to bursting with the forest green of the healer's magic. She tried not to long for the storm.
The healer's hands left her wrists, and she could feel his hands still on her wrists, the pressur of the emeralds against her skin, even though she could see he was across the room. It was a kind of echo, left behind as the place where the magic had entered her. She saw Tregaran nod to Jareth, hand him a stone the size of her palm.
"I need to move behind you, Sarah," Jareth said, his voice soft, that same lulling tone he used with Warlock. Sarah nodded her understanding and felt the bed dip behind her. She could feel him behind her, the wild power he contained reaching for her. It was an effort not to lean back into him.
She didn't need to. Jareth's arms wrapped around her, the stone pressing against her heart. As his magic began to read the webs and pools the healer had left in her, he began to pour power into the stone. It was filling the stone, light beginnng to shine as the magic pushed deeper and deeper into the crystalline matrix, when the stone shattered under his palm.
Jareth cursed, quickly pulling the pieces away from Sarah's skin and to his hand. Even so, he could not prevent a small burn from a chip of the stone, a tiny mark high on her left cheek, near the eye. The magical burn would heal when Jareth's power met the healer's magical instructions, but it would not fade like an ordinary burn. Magical wounds never healed quite the same as a physical wound.
"There is only one other stone that I have, Sire, that could handle the amount of magic you will need to employ," Tregaran said softly.
"Get it," Jareth replied curtly, tossing the remnants of the shattered transmission stone into the garbage. Tregaran hesitated.
"Sire, it is not a single stone. It is a web of stones and electrum - "
"Get. It." Jareth said, voice impatient and exaggeratedly slow.
"Sire - "
"Tregaran!" Jareth snapped.
The healer bowed his head and walked to the bowl where the silken pouch lay. From it he withdrew a stone the size of Jareth's fist, webbed to a series of stones that grew smaller and smaller as they reached the end of the delicate electrum net.
"Lie down, Sarah," Tregaran said softly, sorrow in his dark hazel eyes. "The large stone must be over your heart." He hesitated. "There can be no barriers between your skin and the stones," he added, "for either of you."
Jareth glared at the healer, but nodded curtly.
"Leave us," he ordered.
"I should monitor…" Tregaran's protest faded as he saw the look on Jareth's face, on Sarah's. "If there is difficulty, call me," he said, bowing low to his king. The healer lifted his bowl and faded from view, returning, Sarah supposed, to the Underground.
Sarah looked over her shoulder at Jareth. She couldn't think of what to say, only wondering if the healing was truly worth such revelations.
"I will turn off the lights, Sarah," he told her, not looking directly at her. "Place the web with the largest stone over your heart. Make sure that all of the other stones and the entire web touches your skin. I will not look, except to ensure the web is in place." He looked at her then. "There is no joy in such revelations, Sarah, and I do not expect you to take any." He did not like the conversation, and it showed in his voice. "I would not take any liberties with you, Sarah, as I - "
"It's okay, Jareth." She snorted. "It's a lot better than any exam I've had, and, I can do this." She paused. How do you thank someone for not doing something when they already said they wouldn't - twice?
Jareth turned off the lights and waited for a long moment before turning around to walk back to the bed. Sarah had pulled the net over her, carefully positioning the large stone over her heart, and making sure she could feel every inch of the healing web. Once it was draped over her skin, she realized that the web was larger than it had looked in the healer's hands. The smallest stones fell down on her sides, at her collarbone, and across her hips. She pulled the peach silk over her again, just because.
Seeing the silk, Jareth gave her a small smile, then realized it was dark enough in the room that she couldn't see at all. Perhaps that would make this easier for them. He could see, shadows against lighter shadows, but he was using a small tendril of magic to help him. He walked over to the bed and closed his eyes.
Sarah waited, eyes closed, wondering if this was a good idea, knowing it was too late to stop. Every time she thought she had a clear direction and knew what she was doing she ended up like this: in situations she didn't want, doing something she hadn't expected with someone who, maybe later on, she would want to do something else with. She wanted to cry from the irony of waiting for Jareth in a bed, but no tears would come. The soft pops of Jareth's snap-front shirt opening made her remember what Tregaran had said before he left. No barriers.
The bed dipped and she felt as much as heard Jareth stretch out beside her, carefully not touching her. Several moments passed before he said, voice soft, "We can't wait much longer, Sarah."
"I know," she replied.
"Are you ready?"
She took a deep breath. "Yes." The bed jiggled as he turned on his side, facing her. The lack of light was good and bad. She wasn't sure she could handle seeing Jareth as he checked the web, but at the same time she had become a bit of a control freak over the past several years, at least concerning her body and what she allowed to happen. Before she could delve too deeply into the question of which was better, the darkness or the light, the silk was pulled aside and Sarah was bare past her hips to Jareth's gaze. She guessed he could see quite well in the light.
Jareth located the center stone and frowned. "This isn't correctly placed," he murmured.
"The heart is on the left," Sarah said, trying not to blush, knowing full well how high the center stone rode on her breast.
"Actually," Jareth said, lifting the stone and moving it more to the centerline of her body, off and just below her breast, "it's more here. The myth that the heart is on the left is inaccurate. The heart is mostly hidden behind the sternum - the breastbone - and barely peeks out to the left side." He tugged the corners of the web into place. "There."
Sarah licked her lips and gave a humourless laugh. "Of course," she muttered.
"Is something wrong?" he asked, checking over the web with a tendril of magic, one light enough that she didn't feel it.
"The stones are falling in…interesting places now, Jareth. I'm not sure I like that." She snorted. "Not that that particularly matters, but it is uncomfortable, in the emotional sense, not the physical."
"Of course." He paused. "This is not…what I would prefer, Sarah."
"I know," she whispered. After a small silence, "I'm as ready as I'll ever be, Jareth."
Jareth said nothing, but placed his hand over the center transmission stone. He began poring power into the stone, and Sarah could see it begin to glow in the darkness. The light was worse, she decided, and Jareth must have seen the expression on her face, for he spoke then.
"I have to charge the stones first, Jareth said. "Once they are all fully charged, I'll have to release the magic, and to do that in a controlled manner, I must touch all of the stones." He paused. "I regret to say my hands are not so large, nor am I able to be in several places at one time."
"It's okay," Sarah said, able to see him in the glow of the stones now. His gaze was trained on her face, watching for her reaction to him. "I'm not… Do you think it will hurt?"
"A bit at first, perhaps, but not real pain. More of an overwhelming sensation." He thought for a moment. "I remember a few major healings from my youth. They are disconcerting enough for Fae - and elves are by far the best healers among the races. I am not certain how difficult it will be for you. You accepted the power of both Tregaran and myself quite well earlier."
"Do you think it was because of the peach?" she asked, knowing he would understand.
"It is possible. Or it is the residue from your visit to the Underground. Magic can be a form of contagion, you know, much like pollens or spores. If you had any long-buried genetic tendency toward human gifts, then you would have an easier time with the magics."
"Do you think that's the case? Are there any, well, symptoms or signs of the old gifts?"
He thought for a moment, the stones glowing brighter from the center of the web out, but the smallest stones still uncharged. He saw what she meant by the stones being in inconvenient places. He had hoped that removing his shirt would be sufficient. He saw now that it would not. He refrained from cursing the healer, even in his mind, and concentrated on what he knew of the human gifts.
"No. It's been so long since any human has legitimately been gifted that the signs are little more than myths among the oldest elves." He paused. "I do not believe that you are so gifted, Sarah, though it is possible that someone far back in your line was. Magic is not comfortable or easy for most humans to be around. They frequently liken it to the feeling of an electrical charge in the air, like the feeling lightning will strike. I cannot really relate to that description, because magic is another sense to me. It is simply something that is and that is a part of me. It's like asking a cat what it's like to have whiskers and a tail - what possible answer could they give?"
Sarah grinned. "You do realize I'm now picturing you with cat's whiskers and a long furry tail, right?"
"You would," Jareth sighed, smiling back at her a bit. The row just from the edge of the web began to glow softly. The smile faded from his face as he glanced down to check the stones against her skin. He closed his eyes. Looked at her face. "Sarah, I had hoped that simply removing my shirt would be enough." He didn't say the rest.
Sarah closed her eyes and sighed softly. "I should have known it couldn't be that easy." She opened her eyes and looked at him, a soul-deep sorrow in her grey eyes. "Will…will we have to…" she couldn't finish the question.
Jareth hesitated. "I want to tell you no, Sarah, but deep magics are difficult to control. If I could stay like this," he motioned to his jeans and socks, "I would say absolutely not, even with the deep magics, but…I must be honest, Sarah, even when it pains me to speak truth. It may be that we cannot control our response to the magic - and it will be your reactions as well as mine which dictate the outcome.
"The question is," he continued, "do you want to remember?"
"You can do that?" she asked, staring at him. "You can take the memory?"
"Yes." He said no more as the last row of stones began to glow softly.
Sarah swallowed hard. "Please, don't take this the wrong way, but no, I don't. I don't want to remember, not when it's a reaction to something and not my active choice. I want… If we ever do, after tonight, I want to remember that as the first time you touch me." She hesitated. "Can you forget? Magically, I mean?"
He looked at her, the same sorrow in his eyes. "Yes." He did not mention the difficulties of locking down a memory so deeply buried in magic, but that was his burden to bear, not hers. "I will try not to make it necessary." It was as close to a promise as he dared make.
With that, he shifted over her, and Sarah felt the rough denim brush against her legs briefly before his arms slid between the silk and her back and the denim disappeared. She moved her legs instinctively, letting him press against her, the inconvenient stone placed in such a manner that any pressure was uncomfortable. When Jareth pressed his chest to hers, she hissed at the feel of the transmission stones biting into her skin.
She looked up into Jareth's face in the nearly smothered light. His eyes were closed and she saw him take a deep breath. The magic hit her the next instant with the force of a tidal wave. Sarah gasped and her spine bowed as the magic ripped through her, the sheer power of Jareth's magic tearing the ability to think from her and leaving her at the mercy of her instincts.
Jareth panted softly as he poured power though the stones into her, dozens of lances of magical power finding the healer's web and flowing down the lines to remove the illness and repair any damage to her body. He dropped his head to the curve of her neck.
Sarah's hands slid up Jareth's arms and over his shoulders as his head found the hollow of her neck. Her hands slid into his hair, pulling the tie out of his hair and sending the silky locks free over his neck and shoulders.
He wanted to beg her for mercy. Anything but a lover's touch - he could withstand anything but that.
She had no idea what she was doing.
He did.
When her hand curved around the back of his neck, he was lost. He lifted his head and looked down at her for one instant, seeing the wild magic riding her, stealing her breath from her lungs and clouding her beautiful grey eyes.
Sarah stared up at Jareth through a haze of crystal. She could see him, feel him, but she couldn't speak. Her breath was gone - until he sealed his lips to hers. When he gave her breath back, she moaned in gratitude.
The power surged deeper within her, and she knew nothing more.
She woke the next morning wrapped in Jareth's arms, his weight on her a kind of comforting blanket, despite the lack of cloth separating them.
"Jareth?" she whispered, blushing at the feel of him pressed against her.
Jareth mumbled something unintelligible and moved closer to her, denying the morning.
"Jareth, it's time to get up," she said a little louder, cheeks flaming from the situation. He didn't respond, except to press a kiss to her shoulder. "Jareth, I need to get up!" she said, more urgently.
With that final plea, Jareth finally picked up his head and blinked several times. "Sarah?" he asked, voice rough with morning. "What on earth - the healing." He rolled onto his back and threw his arm over his eyes. "Bloody hell. You gave me a hangover." He moved his arm and stared at her as she sat up, then stood. "You bloody well gave me a hangover! You! A human!"
"Hangovers are usually the responsibility of the one suffering," Sarah shot back. "If you have a hangover, it's your own fault. You were the one who got drunk on the magic."
"Doesn't work that way, love," he replied, snorting. "Magical hangovers come from expenditure, not like alcoholic hangovers, which come from excessive intake." His eyes narrowed as she moved easily to the door. "And you should also be hungover from the excessive intake of magic."
"How could I possibly be hungover from your magic, Jareth?" she asked softly, looking at him. She saw him blink as he registered what she had said. Quickly, she slipped out of the green room and to the bathroom down the hall. By the sink, she found a series of small vials and instructions to take one every six hours after waking until they were gone.
She lifted the first vial to her lips and drank swiftly. It was horrid, but it was better than living with STDs, with one in the "go blind and crazy" category.
It was a thousand times better than telling Jareth his magic couldn't make her drunk because it felt like coming home.
TS***TS
…she was going to end up in his bed, if she wore this. She probably would anyway, but she wanted more than the need borne of the seduction of his magic, his scent, him.
She stared at her reflection in the mirror. The dress hugged her figure, skimming over her breasts and hips in a smooth curve of soft denim. The pale blue made her eyes stand out that much more.
She was pretty. She shook her head and quickly pulled open the snaps, determined to wear jeans and a regular shirt, but the nicer boots and her good hat. It would be enough. More than enough.
She was still too wounded to wear anything else.