oOo

Sarah was in the library. Jareth processed that information, an expression of mingled disbelief and hope warring on his face. Fortunately no one was there to see his confusion.

She'd been avoiding the library as she avoided his presence: like both were plague-ridden. If she'd allowed herself to return to the one…but no. There was no point in speculating. No doubt boredom had driven her back to the library, but he knew it would never bring her willingly to his arms. She tolerated his presence in bed at night because he knew she was a creature of her word; if he ever reached out for her, she would allow his touch. Tolerate it, suffer through it, perhaps even allow herself to respond…and that would be it. She would reject him afterwards as soundly as she'd rejected him the last time, in that tiny little hovel of a room she'd tried to claim as her own.

"I've miscalculated," he said aloud, his voice rueful. The words echoed hollowly through the empty room. His study was usually his sanctuary; now, he was driven there not out of a desire for solitude and peace, but out of a desire to avoid Sarah, much as she was avoiding him, and for almost the same reason. Simply put, he couldn't stand being in her presence knowing how completely he'd ruined his chances at happiness.

"Jareth, there you are. Are you still brooding over your mistakes?"

There was no mistaking Lysira's voice, nor would anyone else dare intrude on his solitude. He heard her move closer to the desk, but refused to turn to meet her. Instead, with careful, deliberate motions, he raised his feet to the desk and leaned back in the leather chair. Go away, his body language said.

As expected, his sister ignored his silent request, maneuvering herself within his line of sight, hopping to the edge of the desk and seating herself there. Her gown was less elaborate today, a simple affair of green velvet with silvery fur-edged cuffs and collar, draping artlessly over her shoulders and dipping down the daringly low-cut back. She raised one knee and clasped it with both hands, keeping her gaze trained on her brother until, finally, he relented and glanced over at her. "What is it now, sister?"

"Why haven't you done anything to recapture the heart of your little human?"

Jareth's fist clenched, his features clouded, then smoothed back out as he shrugged and pretended to gaze out the window. "The game has lost its appeal. When her time of service is up, I'll return her as promised and that will be the end of it."

"It's not like you to give up so easily, brother." That got his attention; he scowled at her as she grinned unrepentantly down at him. "Honestly, she bests you once, she finds out about your petty little scheme to humiliate her, and you let her have the last word?" Lysira shook her head slowly, a mocking little smile playing around the edges of her lips. "Tsk. You've been playing this game far longer than she has or ever could, and yet you concede at the first sign of trouble. I'm feeling somewhat ashamed of you right about now."

The scowl deepened. "How I handle this affair is none of yours," he growled, dropping his booted feet to the floor with a "thunk."

"Ah, but you aren't really 'handling' it, are you?" Lysira's smile turned roguish as she waggled a finger at his nose. "You're letting her make all the calls. Shameful."

"I miscalculated," he said, repeating his earlier words, words meant for his ears alone. But, as usual, Lysira couldn't just let things be, even if they were none of her business. No, especially if they were none of her business. He bit back an exasperated sigh; if she insisted on making his situation with Sarah her own, then so be it. "I never realized how deeply she'd gotten under my skin," he admitted. "Foolish of me, but I arrogantly assumed I held the upper hand. I've gotten what I wanted; she hates me. Undoing that could take a lifetime, and I have little more than seven months to make the attempt."

"The Goblin King admits defeat? Impossible," his sister declared, removing herself from the edge of the desk. She stood, hands on hips, challenge in her voice and eyes. "Find a way, Jareth, or you'll spend the rest of your long, lonely life regretting it."

She vanished, leaving Jareth alone once again, but he felt determination stir in his heart. If nothing else, Lysira had brought him out of the funk of self-pity into which he'd fallen. Sarah was his; he was damned if he would give her up without a fight.

He, too, vanished from the room in a shimmer of sparkles. It was time to correct the mistakes he'd made with his mortal consort, and the first correction would be the easiest one of all.

oOo

Sarah dragged her way wearily back to Jareth's chambers. She was filthy from combing through endless volumes on Fae lore and history, books that were kept on the highest shelves and were therefore in the worst state of cleanliness. Fortunately magic seemed to keep the dust and cobwebs that covered them from actually harming the volumes; she'd been worried about dry rot and mildew, only to find the interiors of the books spotless. The one or two bookworms she'd come across were reading rather than eating the volumes, so she left them respectfully to their studies as she began her own.

It was slow going, but she decided not to bring any of the volumes back to the room with her. She would restrict her readings to the library. If Jareth wanted to know what she was reading, he could simply pop in on her there, but he'd been leaving her alone and she wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible. She needed more time to study up on the world she found herself inhabiting, especially if she was going to be here for, what, over 200 more days.

She stopped short as she entered the bathing chamber. Her trunks were lined neatly against the far wall, but something was different about them…there was an extra trunk, she realized, not quite believing her eyes as she stepped cautiously forward. But the trunk remained, a large one, and with trembling hand she lifted the lid.

There they were, all her Aboveground clothes, underwear and socks, jeans and t-shirts, sweaters, pajamas, bras, even the clothes she'd been wearing the last time she and Jareth…interacted. She found herself blushing furiously at the memory, even as the female center of her sent out an ache of longing that jarred her, unnerved her a bit.

Her clothes were back. Her solitary physical link to home was back, with no fanfare and no explanation. The only question she had was "why", because she darn well knew "who".

With a sudden sense of no longer being alone, she looked up at the wall of mirrors facing her.

There he was, standing by the tapestry-covered entrance, face unreadable as he met her gaze in the reflection. She turned to face him, only to discover that she was alone in the room. Startled, she returned her eyes to the mirror, but he'd vanished from there as well.

Had he ever been there, or had she simply imagined him? She'd seen him appear in mirrors before, but only Aboveground, never here, in his own realm. Was it simply a mind game, meant to keep her off balance?

He'd returned her clothes, and she still didn't understand why. Nothing in her initial readings explained any of what had happened to her since her arrival Underground, except for the initial deal between them. She'd found precedent after precedent in the volume entitled, appropriately enough, "Lawful Dealings With Mortals." However, precedents and examples were all it held, not the rules governing such "Lawful Dealings" or the punishments, if any, that would be inflicted if the deal were broken by either side.

She sat in her dusty blue dress for a long time, puzzling over the situation in which she found herself, until her knees started to complain. Then she repaired to the tub for a long, luxurious soak, leaving the gown and underclothing on the floor in a heap.

At some point the clothes vanished, but she could never be sure when, lost as she was in her own musings. When she finally removed herself from the sunken pool, she hesitated along moment before dressing herself in her favorite pair of jeans, a deep red sweater and the fuzziest pair of socks she could find.

Every time she thought she had a handle on the situation it changed.

She had a lot more research to do, but it felt good to be wearing her own clothes while she did it. She left the bathing chamber without a second glance, humming to herself as she did so.

Watching from within the mirror, Jareth allowed a small, satisfied smile to cross his lips. Then he, too was gone.

A/N: Are things looking up for Our Heroine and (Sorta-Kinda) Hero? They'd better be, or this story is going nowhere! :) Thanks for the kind words, and I hope you continue to enjoy.