Chapter 21

Hoggle's face paled with the thoughts of what had brought him to the portal, and the mortal realm. "It was like nothing I've experienced in or out of the Labyrinth," he commented in hushed tones. "Didymus and I were meeting for our weekly arranged dinner," he began thoughtfully. "I made him a stew, he likes stew you know~" the dwarf paused, "He found one of Sarah's hair clips near the junkyard and was bringing it to me." Hoggle stopped, looked up at the King and waited for a moment.

"Go on," Jareth said as he braced himself against one of the trees that darted his lawn.

Unsure, but seeing no way around it, Hoggle continued, "We both said how much we missed the little Miss," he confessed quietly, "Lamented that she's not spoken to us for some time."

"Is that odd," queried the King with a grim expression, unwilling to share his feelings about Sarah with the dwarf. For reasons that Jareth found unfathomable, he felt a slight, ever so slight bit of competitiveness with the dwarf where Sarah was concerned.

Now it was more than discomfort that Hoggle was experiencing. He swallowed the growing lump forming in his throat, "Yes," he said quietly.

Eyes narrowing, Jareth tapped his chin, knowing the motion gave the willies to the dwarf. "I see, I take it that you and Didymus have kept contact with Sarah… against my orders."

Hoggle shifted his feet, admission was treason; "Well…" he winced thinking of the consequences, "I wouldn't put it that way," he fell back into old patterns quickly.

Jareth resisted the urge to smirk at the little traitor, "No," he agreed, "Of course not, not after my warnings."

Hoggle shook like a leaf, remembering the last time the King had used words similar and in that same mocking tone, "It was at that moment something shifted in the fabric," he changed the subject effectively. "Something set Didymus off; he even showed his fangs… he never does that."

This information was more interesting to the King than discussing Hoggle's treason. "Didymus barred his fangs," he repeated thoughtfully. "Hoggle, think what did it feel like, did you notice anything out of the ordinary?"

Hoggle began to pace, talked quietly to himself, reliving those frantic moments before he and the King's knight headed to the secret passage. His hands moved in odd gestures to the dialog he was carrying on with himself. He seemed unaware of the King's thoughtful gaze, at once he stopped. Looked over at Jareth and gasped as if he could not breathe, "There was a smell… foul… not like the bog… but in some ways far more pungent and… frightening!" He began to pant as if still in the throes of being chased. "We took to the passage, and it should have placed us at the castle… the Labyrinth had other ideas, and sent us to you."

"She protects herself very effectively," the King commented. "Nothing not even I could penetrate her defenses."

"In the passage," Hoggle closed his eyes remembering more than he wished to; "That roar… I locked the latch," his eyes popped open. "I locked the latch! I know I did…" He was recounting the incident once more in his own mind.

"Something was in the passage with you," suggested the King. "That's why the Labyrinth sent you here instead of the castle." He tapped his chin thoughtfully, "Whatever it was must have been trapped in the passage."

"It didn't smell like the thing on the outside," Hoggle said, "But that roar, it was painful, and we started to run." He began to pace again, and go through the motions in his head. "The walls began to move back and forth. Swinging to and fro and we got pretty well battered about."

"That explains the injuries," Jareth agreed. "Whatever was in the passage was being kept from exiting with you; however she could not separate you from the thing preying upon you."

"You always refer to the Labyrinth as a she," commented the dwarf.

"I do," Jareth admitted freely. "If gender is something the Labyrinth can claim it would most assuredly be feminine." He motioned for the Scholar who was still waiting with Anton.

Artemis moved toward the King and the gardener, "Yes, Sire?"

Still resting against the tree the King commanded the dwarf. "Hoggle tell Artemis the details you recall."

Scratching his head, the dwarf complied, and the Scholar listened with his trained ears. Once the gardener finished his memory, the Scholar began to ask questions. "You're sure it was two separate entities?" When the gardener nodded, the Scholar gave rumination to the information at hand. "Sire," he asked suddenly. "Have Loa ever gone… between?"

Jareth was about to say no, but paused, "Once," he said thinking back nearly one hundred year to an incident he would have liked to have erased from his very long memory. He pushed away from the tree; "Sarah's not being used as bait by me… but for me." He commanded the gardener, "Hoggle round up the goblins, and prepare them for battle, Artemis come with me!"

Following the King as swiftly as he could, "Where are we going?"

"To warn Hattie," shouted the King, "Anton the car!"

--

Sarah sat on her bed, holding the jacket that had covered her last evening. It had been in her hands since her return to the bedroom, held on her lap. Now she lifted it slowly to her face and sniffed. A thrilling chill caused her to shiver deliciously, dangerous and bone chilling but deliciously. Her face softened as the image of a girl in a cotton candy confection of a gown danced in her mind. She remembered herself as a younger girl, in the arms of a man… He was handsome, attentive and his eyes so full of passion were upon her and only her.

The images of the Crystal Ballroom filled her mind; she remembered the others in the room. Lewd men, and bawdy women, garments on both that were more revealing than the skimpy bathing costumes her contemporaries wore to the beach. Eyes behind hideous masks, and voices that seemed to be everywhere and laughter that was hideous and vulgar. She'd been confused, but it had not prevented her from entering the open arms of the King, willingly. Sarah opened her eyes, not really wanting to face the truth, not just now. However she'd put off too many truths too long. It had taken her the better part of her eleven hour journey in the Labyrinth to face the fact that she didn't hate Toby, not really. It had taken her all that time to come to grips with the fact that all the faults she'd accused him of, just before wishing him away, she herself was guilty of.

Lifting the jacket once more to her nose, she drew in a deep breath of the scent that clung to the expensive fabric. "Jareth," she whispered the name she'd more often than not refused to say before she realized she's said it out loud. The scent was like nothing anyone who'd not known the Fae had ever experienced. It was spicy, hot, sweet, and intoxicating. Sarah was drawn deeper into the memory of the Crystal Ballroom, a memory that brought her pain and joy, in equal portions. Jareth had eluded her when she'd first entered the opulent surroundings, playing a wicked game of hide and seek it seemed. Instead of finding him right off, she'd been subjected to the leers and jeers of the masked occupants of the ball. Some had frightened her, others more or less made her feel soiled, and a bit cheep.

That feeling was not foreign to Sarah; she'd been made to feel sordid by the affair and abandonment of her mother. She remembered the pity that was followed by the comments that apples don't fall far from the tree. More than one young man in her class had made lewd suggestions to her, telling her that she was no better than her whore mother. She'd hardened herself to their jeers, and earned the title Ice Princess. The whispers and jeers in the ballroom had awakened all the feelings of inadequacy she'd felt after her mother had left. Sarah wondered why it was she blamed her father and not her mother. After all, hadn't Robert Williams stayed? Hadn't he raised her, given her a wonderful home life~ and even a new mother. Sarah opened her eyes and once more felt the rush of color to her cheeks that anger brought. All these years and she was still harboring resentment toward her father and Karen, when it was actually Linda who should be the recipient of these feelings. But no, she had held her mother and even Jeremy Eden on a pedestal… even now.

This time Sarah buried her face in the jacket and drew even more deeply the scent into her, closed her eyes and let the reminiscence of the Ballroom to fill her, and take control. It was time to confront her fears. The room around her began to swirl, and in her mouth there was the faint taste of peach… "Everything's… dancing," she muttered as she fell back on the bed, allowing the images to form fully. There were no crystal orbs floating in the air, not this time, this time it was Sarah controlling the images.

She was part of the images and yet apart, as if experiencing and observing at the same time. The part of her that was experiencing was that young girl; the part observing was as she was now, years older and yet just as innocent. The younger Sarah still seemed so impressed by the opulence of the ballroom, while the older Sarah was seeing it through fresh eyes, eyes that were not influenced by the romantic notions of a spoiled child on the threshold of womanhood. The Ballroom was magnificent, there was no taking that image away, but it was not sugar coated. There were dangers here that the younger Sarah was only mildly aware of. The older Sarah understood more of the nuances of what this place represented. It was more than just a beautiful ballroom spectacle, it harbored a dark secret. Sarah was now watching herself being led a merry chase by the Goblin King, but also she was more aware of the others who had filled that room. She had taken little notice of the men and women in the area away from the dance floor, or she'd told herself she had taken little notice. Now, as an older girl, a more sexually mature girl, she was only too aware of the goings on in that pleasure pit. Men and women were not just enjoying wine and refreshments, there were obvious acts of sexual behavior taking place that she'd ignored during her brief time in the Crystal room. Men and women, elegantly reclined, watched her with wicked eyes even as they copulated. The younger Sarah had seen, but had not understood, and so the images were buried deep in her sub-consciousness.

--

Jareth in the back of the limo seemed agitated, and suddenly closed his eyes, hissing, "Sarah." He tensed, and became oblivious to the surroundings of the Limo. He was drawn into the memory against his will.

His ballroom had known opulence. Between glittering cornices were hung many long chandeliers where the wax, dripping for a hundred years, had formed stalactites. The silk covering of the walls had faded and, in places, worn threadbare. Bubbles decorated the room, and the whole of it was contained within the iridescent skin of one great bubble. A tall, gilt, thirteen-hour clock stood in a corner. It was almost twelve o'clock.

Sarah's gown was silvery, the color of mother-of-pearl, with puffed short sleeves. She had a pearl necklace on, and her hair was braided with strings of pearls. Her eyes were wide. She was the picture of innocence in that setting, a picture that excited the dancers, who never took their masked eyes off her, while they moved with weary grace to the cadence of the sinisterly beautiful tune. She walked slowly around the room. Two gorgeously gowned women snickered behind their fans at her. Sarah paused beside a tall mirror and looked at her image. The dancers watched Her, from behind their masks.

The men sported silken shirts open to the waist and tight velvet breeches. Some of them wore wide-brimmed, plumed hats; others had capes or carried staffs. The women's gowns left their shoulders bare and dove low between their breasts. They had their hair coiffed high, and many wore long gloves. The dancers moved in a ring around the ballroom, with a kind of lethargic brilliance, as though the party had been going on all night. Men who were not dancing lounged indolently against the columns, or in a cushioned pit in the center of the ballroom, in the company of women. Maids and footmen, with skin the color of old parchment, served them trays of fruit and refilled their goblets from decanters. And always the dancers were watching through the eyeholes in their cruel half-masks, from which snouts projected and horns sprouted above. Moving together or elegantly reclined, they watched

Sarah, or watched each other watching, and beneath the masks the mouths smiled at each other like knives. The girl felt self conscious about her appearance and her presence in the room and seemed to be seeking someone, and moved past the haughty figures.

Jareth became aware that he was observing the memory, and yet he was also participating. He caught a glimpse of the oddly older version of Sarah watching and taking in the images in a way the younger version moving among the guests had not. He squared his shoulders, drew in a deep fortifying breath and moved toward the other observer. "Sarah," he spoke her name much as he had from the first moment he'd addressed her in the nursery on that night, what had seemed a forever ago. Her name always came out sounding as if he were caressing it. Sarah looked at him, but didn't answer; swiftly she looked back at the place she was observing. Jareth calmly took his place at her side and watched as well.

People passing behind her, in the mirror, were watching her like ravishing birds of prey. Dancers swayed and swirled. Behind her she saw Jareth, standing alone. He was a resplendent figure, upright and blond, in a midnight blue frock coat, diamante at the neck, shoulders, and cuffs. Ruffs of pale gray silk at his throat and wrists set off the pallor of his skin. On his legs he was wearing black breeches and black, shiny boots. He was holding a horned mask on a stick, but he had lowered it now, to look straight at Sarah in the mirror. Behind him, dancers were whirling. She spun but it was too late, he was gone, vanished into thin air. Once more she walked slowly around the room, seeking but not finding.

She found herself looking into another of the tall mirrors around the room. Sarah saw something in the mirror that made her gasp. She had caught a glimpse of Jareth, entwined with a voluptuous woman dressed in shades of green and lavender, dancing past. She whirled around, but he had vanished. She stood there, peering through the throng for him so intently that she did not notice the young man leaning against the column beside her. He had his head held back and was staring brazenly at her. He relished her face, then her white shoulders, her breasts, hips, and legs, and moved closer to her. He murmured into her ear, "You are remarkably beautiful, my dear girl."

Sarah spun around to face him, her mouth open. At the mixture of surprise and pleasure on her face, the young man threw back his head and laughed. She smiled back at him nervously and moved on past this strange young man. Hidden behind another man's cape, Jareth had watched it all, but Sarah had not seen him watching. His eyes were following Sarah wherever she went in the corrupt ballroom.

Jareth looked at Sarah; her mouth had dropped in surprise. Her eyes widened as she realized he'd been watching her the entire time she'd been looking for him. Turning, she shot him an accusatory glance, fire in the heart of her emerald eyes. It took her a moment to return her attention to the scene playing out from the inner depths of her mind.

She was tense now, self-conscious, among people she could not understand but who behaved as though they knew something that she didn't know. She moved hurriedly around the ballroom looking for Jareth. She did not know why she wanted to find him, or what she would say to him. She just knew that it was vitally important that she should find him. When she saw him, he was whispering something to his beautiful partner, who responded by smiling knowingly from beneath her mask and licking her lips, slowly, with the tip of her tongue.

Sarah blushed and turned away in embarrassment only for a moment, when she turned back Jareth held his hand out.

She had turned around, not expected that he would really be there. He was, and he was still holding out his hand to her. She took it, feeling dizzy, moving as if in a dream. Her dizziness ceased when she went spinning around the ballroom in Jareth's arms. She was the loveliest woman at the ball. She knew it, from the way in which Jareth was smiling down at her. All his attention was on her alone. The touch of his hands on her body was thrilling. To dance with him seemed the easiest and most natural motion. When he told her that she was beautiful, she felt confused.

Suddenly everyone, including the images of Sarah and Jareth froze. Even the sounds ceased, as Sarah turned her fury on Jareth. "Why did you bring me here?"

"I didn't," he stated coolly. "You brought me," he said crossing his arms over his chest defiantly.

"I don't mean now…" she blustered.

"Neither do I," he smirked unable to hold back.

Suspicious and not sure she could trust anything he had to say, Sarah cocked her head to one side; "Oh really?" She pointed down to the ballroom below them, "You're telling me this is not yours?"

"I never said it didn't belong to me," he teased saucily; "I said I didn't bring you here."

"But it is your Ballroom," she countered.

"One of them," he admitted with a wink.

Sarah growled under her breath, "Just how many of these… dens of iniquity do you possess?"

Taking exception to her statement he growled back, "Den of iniquity? What would you know about dens of iniquity?"

Placing her hands to her hips, and tapping her fingers rapidly, Sarah shot at him in an angry tone, "At that age nothing! Bringing me here was… unthinkable! This is no place for a child."

Staring at the pulse that was now visible in her trembling lips, Jareth murmured darkly, "I repeat, I didn't bring you here, you brought me." He fought the urge to reach forward, garb her and pull her into a toe curling kiss. "I merely sent you a little gift, a free be as it were…"

"Free be?" she questioned thinking back, and then gasped. "The orbs!"

Jareth smiled at her in such a simpering manner it caused her to back up a pace, "Ah you do remember." He teased none too gently. "I must say I was~ amused by the choice of location, and that you desired to have me take part in your little… pageant."

Stunned into silence, Sarah felt her lips tremble even as she tried to protest. Her hands slipped down from her waist to hang limp at her side. She turned to look at the decadent room, and its depraved occupants. "I brought us both here," she questioned.

Giving into the urges to touch her at long last, Jareth placed his hands on her shoulders, "Indeed you did."

Sarah made a strange strangled sound before turning to him, "I thought you~" he shook his head and she moaned softly. "You must think I'm some kind of…." The word was on her mind but she could not voice it. Once more her green eyes closed with pain.

"I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he said to ease her mind. "Look at me Sarah," he tipped her chin upward. "Look at me."

Sarah opened her eyes; he looked no different now than he had so long ago when he'd moved away from the Fae woman in his arms to dance with her. "I'm so embarrassed," she moaned.

"Don't be," he murmured as his hands cupped her face.

She looked at him, "It was you last night, wasn't it?"

He nodded with a wistful smile, "Of course."

"Why?" she asked softly.

Looking past her, he gazed at the handsome couple on the dance floor. "Because of what no one knew," he teased gently.

Sarah also looked at the couple, "I shouldn't have been here…" she placed one of her hands over one of his, "I was a child… I had no business… here."

"Something inside you pulled you here, and you pulled me into it as well," Jareth stated gently.

"You were going to kiss me, weren't you," she said trying to understand the moment she'd run from him.

"I would have," he agreed. "I still might."

Sarah turned to look up at him, "I don't think I'd run this time."

"There's no baby to save, this time." He said firmly, "Only the babe."

Breathily she whispered as she stared into stormy mismatched eyes, "What babe?"

From deep in the back of his throat he warbled, "The babe with the power."

--

A sudden jolt and Sarah sat up bolt right still clutching the jacket.

--

Jareth opened his eyes, now aware that the Scholar was trying to gain his attention. "I'm fine," he assured Artemis. "Driver, would you mind speeding it up a bit?" He winked at Artemis, "I've a date with destiny."