A/N:

Chapter 4. Wherein Jareth is a workaholic and Sarah finds out.

As ever, I own nothing.

Please enjoy.

Jareth was, for want of a better word, swamped. His desk was covered in mountains of files, folders, papers, and various cups of tea and coffee that he had been too busy to finish. He was up to his ears in issues, and it was only Wednesday. Suppliers were demanding renegotiations, his legal and accounting departments were inundated with requests from Miss Williams' auditors, and had passed them on to Jareth for approval (as if he didn't have enough on his hands), and everything had so neatly coincided with Underground's year-end internal audit and check-in process (which took about two months of scheduling just to begin). Jareth didn't think that he had seen anything but the inside of his office for the past four days, and he was seeing reports in his sleep. The little time he found for himself, he spent cursing his impulsive stupidity, creating a few new curses to properly describe his idiocy.

Huge piles of folders littered the floor by the office walls, waiting for Jareth to reach them. He swore to himself, when this was over, he was moving back to Brixton; surely that hell couldn't be any worse than this. A gloved hand carded a trail through hopelessly wild hair, the other raising the latest of his mugs of tea to his lips. What he wouldn't give for coffee, but too much of it and he literally could not sit still; an unfortunate side-effect of being British. Sadly, he'd reached his saturation some hours ago, and he was stuck on tea for the foreseeable future. Just what he needed; internalising budget analysis and profit projections and everything bloody else - without coffee. Honesty, at the moment, Jareth was glad he was even still awake; at last count, he had been up for thirty-seven hours and counting, and before that he'd only managed a forty minute nap. He hadn't even been able to escape to work at Labyrinth recently. Which probably explained his mood.

Several of his employees delivered another trolley of folders into the office, Jareth pretending that he hadn't seen them, and that he wasn't there. Fortunately, even his imbeciles knew better than to acknowledge him when he was behind that much paperwork. Jareth tended to spontaneously send folks to Oubliette when they tried that. After the record numbers last year, Jareth was pleased that they had finally learned their lesson. He didn't enjoy having to ferry his employees back and forth from Gruagach to Oubliette; the added paperwork wrought havoc with his already stressed mind, and made him temporarily more vindictive. His reputation for occasional cruelty was well deserved. With a digusted sigh (he detested procrastination, especially in himself), Jareth forced his tired, protesting eyes back on the papers in front of him. The minutiae were somewhat beyond him right now, but he had faith (blind hope) that if he stared at it all hard enough for long enough that it might finally somehow sink into his terribly overcrowded mind.

The first song he was singing when he got back to Labyrinth was going to be Five Years; the irony was too much to ignore right now. My brain hurts a lot, indeed. Jareth could sympathise. In fact, he wasn't sure what was going to give out first; his burning, exhausted eyes or his clogged, protesting mind. That was always assuming that lucky option three didn't win out. Jareth's patience was thin at the best of times, with all this added fun, it was about as thin as a wet piece of paper - and as structurally viable. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he read two conflicting reports for the progress of his Irish enterprises. Jareth did not have the time to fly out there to discover what in God's name they thought they were bloody well playing at, nor was his schedule particularly forgiving in terms of time-differentiated phonecalls. He cast an exhausted glance at the ceiling. Why couldn't he have a problem free check-in for once? Was he a bad ruler? Had he been an utter arsehole in a previous life? Was it really too much to ask for him to not want to return to that hell in Brixton just for a break from the madness? Perhaps the universe hated him; Jareth had heard of stranger things occurring. His fears proved well-founded as the double doors to his office swung open. Sharp clicks heralded the entry of Sarah Williams, her mouth dropping open in surprise. Jareth glued his eyes to his paperwork, praying that this was just a sleep deprived hallucination. The startled intake of breath shattered that bubble, like a chair thrown into a mirror. Jareth's shoulders slumped; this was all he needed. Well done old chap, he thought sarcastically, you've handed the contract to Midsummer. Through supreme force of will alone, he forced his gaze to meet hers, a self-depreciating smile twisting his lips. "Good afternoon, Miss Williams."

All things considered, Sarah Williams was having a good day. Her little brother Toby had called in high spirits, gleefully telling her that he'd scored the lead role in his elementary school Christmas play, Karen had invited her over for dinner on the weekend, and her father was loving his promotion in his job (a position he'd held for the last six months but was only seeing the perks now). Sarah herself was content. So there was no grand romance in her life, but she had a good job, good friends, and a family that she loved. The only thing currently challenging her was the latest contract dispute she was called in to deal with. As far as Sarah could tell, it was fairly straightforward. They needed someone to acquire certain objects (whatever was needed at any given time) and the Midsummer Corporation (known for a small but reliable acquisition branch) were contesting the contract along with the biggest import/export firm in the city; Gruagach. Earlier that morning, Sarah had met with Robin Goodfellow, but had been forced to cut it short before meeting with his employees. She understood; the run-up to Christmas was a busy time for most companies, Midsummer would be no different. Luckily though, it gave her the opportunity to pay a visit to Gruagach. Despite what her youth might suggest, she had earned her way to her job, and it hadn't been on her back. One of her favourite things to do when working on a new dispute, was to do a bit of research into the companies. Midsummer was strict and old-fashioned, and Gruagach was not. From what she had managed to glean from her contacts, Gruagach was revolutionary . The employees were considered adults that never bothered to grow up, and laughter and mischief were common within the Alba Building. Despite that, the company was wildly successful. Recommendations were through the roof, and her old contacts only had good things to say for Jareth Regent. Sarah had to admit that she had not expected the man she met. From the reports about his Harvard graduation, business sense and boardroom flair, she had envisioned a stern, grey haired man with an impeccable suit and severe expression. The kind of man that had taught them at business school and never gave out an A in his life. What she got was a handsome English man in his early thirties (looking younger), with an easy smile and an impeccable if rather understated suit. He was like something from a half-remembered dream. His bearing alone had informed Sarah why his employees called him 'King'. However, she could not afford to take anything on face value; Jareth could be a tyrant or worse (Goodfellow had certainly implied something of the kind), or he could be the man his reputation showed he was. Sarah could only know for sure through her process. And what better way to find out about a person than by turning up unannounced? It was Karen's favourite way of gathering gossip, and worked nine times out of ten for Sarah too.

The Alba Building was about as architecturally and atmospherically as far as you could get from Sarah's. The steel and glass she was used to was replaced with stone and wood, giving the place a castle feeling rather than the office block it was. It was such a surprise, Sarah just stood and gawked at the interior. Here and there people raced carts full of mail and folders, often crashing into one another and laughing uproariously. Chatter filled the busy atrium, and Sarah wasn't even going to mention the sheer volume of candy covering every available surface. The whole place reminded her of Toby's last sugar high. Utter chaos but somehow working in spite of it. "Ello!" Sarah's heart stuttered in shock. Manning the reception desk was a small man with a tuft of bright blue hair and an even brighter grin. She approached the man, her eyebrows raised.

"Did you say 'hello'?" Sarah asked curiously; never had she been greeted in such a cheerfully casual way.

"No" the Londoner grinned, shaking his head. "I said 'ello', but that's close enough. Welcome to Underground." Sarah blinked, nonplussed. Gruagach, Alba, Underground - she was getting confused, it was no wonder Jareth hadn't wanted to go into detail in the last meeting.

"Um, thank you" she managed, befuddled by the atmosphere of the offices. "I am looking for Jareth Regent, do you know where he is?"

"He's in his office" he chirped, cheerful as ever. "Top floor, double oak carved doors, you can't miss it." Sarah nodded her thanks, swiftly crossing the marble floor to the bank of elevators. Several casually dressed Gruagach employees joined her in the elevator, all happily chatting about kingy and chickens. Chickens must not have been a one-time thing at Gruagach; Sarah sympathised with their King. It was a wonder that he didn't call the place Bedlam and have done with it. Life and laughter filled the air, but it was as stark a contrast as possible with every other job Sarah had ever worked. Gruagach was a kindergarten for adults. How they ever got anything done was a mystery to Sarah. Her first impression was less than professional, but then she pushed open the doors to Jareth Regent's office, and Gruagach turned her world upside down again.

Sarah honestly did not know how to react. This was Jareth Regent, the very archetype of the self-made man. Yet until now a part of her had believed Robin Goodfellow's subtle warning. There was something otherworldly about Jareth Regent; his eyes, his voice, the way he carried himself with a dancers grace and the poise of a king. The intelligence in his eyes, that accent, his fortune; Sarah honestly believed Goodfellow when he hinted towards Jareth's tastes. And yet, this caught off guard man was so truly surprised to see her that Sarah could not take this to be anything other than a glimpse into the real workaholic Jareth Regent. His blonde hair was wild like he'd walked through a hurricane, his simple black suit (two-piece) held several days worth of creases, and there was a twitch to the way his gloved hands moved that spoke of the man having ingested more caffeine than was healthy. Slowly, he raised his mismatched eyes to meet hers, and Sarah held back a gasp. Never (not even in her University days) had she seen eyes that red from sleep deprivation. Astoundingly, Jareth wore that well, the added pallor only serving to highlight his incredible bone structure. She suddenly felt terrible for interrupting. "If I've come at a bad time?" Jareth smiled sardonically. Judging by the mountains of boxes and folders, her question was an incredibly stupid one.

"Not at all" Jareth demurred, pressing a button that stopped the background music; David Bowie's Low album, if Sarah wasn't mistaken. "At the moment, Miss Williams, I welcome the distraction." He shook his head, seeming to force some semblance of alertness. "I have to work out a solution for a problem in Ireland before I can continue." Sarah winced sympathetically, ready to insist that he call her when he wasn't so busy. "So, Miss Williams, are you here for me or my employees?"

"Both" Sarah admitted, rewarded by Jareth's honest smile. It lit up his face and took some of the exhaustion away.

"I can spare an hour or so, if I can see something other than these walls; a constant reminder that I'm neglecting my duties." Jareth chuckled quietly, rising somewhat unsteadily to his feet. He looked done in. Jareth caught her concerned look and waved it off. "Coffee and fresh air will clear my head enough for us to acceptably converse." He tilted his head a bit like an owl. "Although I must ask you to forgive my lack of verbal filter." His rich chuckle again warmed the air. "I'm told that I'm rather blunt on too much coffee and too little sleep." The way he said 'blunt' let Sarah know it wasn't the word that had originally been chosen.

"In my line of work, I value bluntness" Sarah smiled, watching in amusement as Jareth tried to smooth the wrinkles out of his suit. Jareth adjusted his black and silver striped tie, and moved to a little room Sarah hadn't noticed, triumphantly pulling on a long black overcoat. Cashmere, Sarah was impressed. Of course a man that good-looking would only dress in the best. No cheap imitation for Jareth Regent. Sarah felt a tingle of excitement; something about Jareth just made her feel like one of the characters from the fairytales she loved as a child. There was a magic about him that both warned and warmed her; he was dangerous, he was a dream.

For the rest of his existence, Jareth would forever be in awe of the way Sarah maneuvered them out of the Alba Building without letting his employees waylay him. It was for the best; his patience would not have held long, running as he was on fumes. The wind picked up as they strolled towards Central Park, Jareth letting his unerring sense of direction guide them to the little coffee truck that Jareth relied so heavily upon. Save for his little diner, the coffee truck was the only place in New York that made a cup of coffee strong enough to keep him going through the hours he pulled. Sarah, bravely, ordered the same coffee as Jareth, pulling a face at the strength and bitterness. Warmth burst in Jareth's chest at the sight, accepting the coffee as Sarah ordered a more acceptable drink instead. "So, besides pulling all nighters and drinking awful coffee, what else do you like to do?" Sarah's grin was the perfect mixture of teasing and cheeky.

"I don't like to pull all nighters and drink awful coffee, Miss Williams" Jareth playfully chided, leading the way to his usual amble. "I have to. Part of the job. While pulling all nighters , I have to drink awful coffee, otherwise I won't be able to function enough to pull the all nighter in the first place." Sarah hid her smile behind her cup, but Jareth noticed anyway. "What do I like to do?" Jareth repeated curiously. "Why, the same as anybody I suppose. I read avidly, when I can find the time. I like to paint, when the mood strikes. Music is very important to me too" he mused, Sarah peering at him with those cruel eyes. "Aside from that, when I'm awake I'm usually working." His eyes sparkled merrily. "All work and no play makes Jareth a very dull man, as you can tell."

"Dull is not the first word that comes to mind whenever anyone sees you, Mr Regent" Sarah countered, eyes carefully watching where they were going.

"Jareth" he heard himself say, much to their mutual surprise.

"Sarah." They shared a brief smile, both looking away in embarrassment.

"Why Gruagach of all names?" The embarrassment crawled back up Jareth's spine. Ordinarily, he'd proudly own up to his reasons, but he felt unsure about announcing his love of fantasy to a beautiful woman. Sarah glanced at him cheekily. He capitulated once again.

"I have a doctorate in Celtic mythology from Oxford."

"Oh" Sarah breathed, an unreadable expression crossing her face. "And Gruagach?" Jareth shrugged elegantly.

"Irish word for goblin." Sarah nodded wisely. "Seemed apt considering my employees."

"You don't mean that" Sarah chided laughingly. Jareth chuckled, enjoying the way that laughter lit up Sarah's face.

"Oh, Sarah, you have no idea."

They ambled in companionable silence for some time, sipping rapidly cooling coffee and enjoying the crisp air. It hit Jareth quite suddenly, between glances at his unusually silent companion, that Sarah was waiting for him to talk, to tell her whatever he was willing to divulge. Clever girl, Jareth silently praised, let him damn himself if that was his wish. Oh yes, Sarah was a very clever opponent. "I don't approve of the way that Midsummer operates" Jareth began quietly, seeing Sarah watch him speak. "We were set to partner for a mutually beneficial expansion, but one of my advisors did a little investigating. Midsummer broke my cardinal rule. So I decided to take the City up on it's long-standing offer to contest a contract." Sarah glanced at him, curiosity burning in her gaze.

"Gruagach doesn't need to win the contract?" Jareth chuckled.

"No. We've been more than comfortable since the late eighties, '88-'89." He smirked and tossed his cup into the nearest garbage can, flexing his leather gloved fingers. A frown marred Sarah's lovely features.

"Then why-?"

"Politics, Sarah" he replied tiredly. "A game I've grown rather lax at playing." Sarah guided him over to a bench, her eyes holding her worry for his sudden lightheadedness. "Think of big business as a medieval court; backstabbing, intrigue, rumours, information held back until the time it can do most damage." He shook his head, chiding himself yet again for his impulsiveness. "I'm afraid that I rather let my company down. I let my anger draw us into this situation, and now I have to deal with that. I forgot the game that we were playing." The weight of Sarah's gaze became almost too much to bear. Instead of energised, Jareth felt exhausted, the doubts chattering away in the back of his mind.

"It's lunchtime" Sarah announced, to which Jareth raised an eyebrow. "Let's go somewhere warm, and you can tell me all about Jareth Regent." Jareth smirked at her audacity.

"I'm not getting gawked at." Sarah took her hands off her jeans and pushed herself to her feet.

"Trust me, I know just the place." Jareth cocked his head, wondering if she knew the difficulty of what she was asking. He didn't trust anyone this quickly, and yet here he was getting to his feet, ready to try. For some reason, all Sarah had to do was ask, and Jareth was her slave, ready to do as she bade. He didn't like the feeling; he didn't like it at all.

Lunch was, in a word, enlightening. From the very first moment they stepped into the hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant, Jareth felt like he could breathe again. There was no pressure here, no expectations. Sarah simply wanted to get to know him, and Jareth would be a fool if he missed the chance to get to know a beautiful, intelligent woman. While they waited for their pasta to come, Sarah teased out anecdotes from his early days at Gruagach, laughing at the situations his cretins had got themselves into. To this day, Jareth still had no idea how they managed to smuggle chickens onto a cargo ship, nor did he know why they thought it genius to strap a chicken to a firework and then set it off. In turn, Sarah shared some stories of her little brother and the antics he got up to back in her hometown. Young Toby seemed to be a scamp after Jareth's own heart; many of his adventures reminding him of what he was like when he was young. Sarah winced at a particularly embarrassing tale of her brother causing havoc, but Jareth couldn't help but watch those cruel eyes sparkle with life. "I think he sounds like a fine fellow" Jareth smirked, mostly to stop himself from staring. "I was just the same at his age, fortunately I turned out all right."

"I can imagine you terrorising your neighbourhood" Sarah smiled, playfully pointing a bread stick at him.

"I'm afraid that it was rather the other way around" Jareth smirked, self depreciating. "I was born in Brixton."

"That is more dangerous than Long Island" Sarah conceded slowly, curiosity burning ever brighter in her eyes.

"Quite" Jareth agreed, finishing another mouthful of the excellent seafood lasagne. "But, I won in the end. I terrorised Eton from the age of eight." He chuckled wryly. "I remember first arriving and seeing all my fellow schoolmates and I distinctly remember thinking what a stuffy bunch they were."

"So you made it your mission to show them how to have fun?" Sarah guessed, smiling at his laughter.

"Oh yes" he nodded "and how they hated me for it." Sarah's head tilted, and Jareth found himself elaborating. "Most of them wouldn't know fun if it danced naked in front of them looking like Ziggy Stardust, and the few that did had no appreciation for my mischievous temperament." He laughed merrily. "They were always so disappointed when I managed to beat them at their own game." He shook his head in disgust. "Trust me, Sarah, the British public school system does not breed natures inventive thinkers."

"As you said, Jareth, it doesn't seem to have done you any harm."

"I only lasted six years before I left" Jareth rubbed his temples, certain that he was saying more than he meant to. "But you don't need to hear all about that." Sarah leaned forward, gazing at him from across the table.

"What if I want to?"

"It's not worthy lunchtime conversation" Jareth sighed, clenching his jaw to stop a yawn. Sarah nodded her understanding.

"Did I tell you what Toby did in his third grade math class?" Jareth shook his head, sure whatever the fine fellow had got up to would be amusing. He wasn't wrong. Jareth's eyes sparkled as he listened to Sarah spinning her tale.

"Oh, Sarah" he smiled pityingly. "I can top that." There was a challenge in Sarah's eyes that he couldn't ignore, each pulling out their most outrageous stories for the entertainment of the other. Anyone who looked in would never think that they were truly meeting for the first time, they acted like unlikely old friends. A strange pair indeed.

The unlikely pair were still laughing as they chased one another down the sidewalks. Jareth fought back his laughter, glancing across at his companion in mock irritation. "I cannot believe that you got us kicked out of that restaurant!"

"You started it!" Sarah's eyes snapped with fire.

"Yes, yes" Jareth waved a hand in elegant dismissal. "Life can be cruel." Sarah glared at him, mouth open in righteous indignation.

"I've never been kicked out of anywhere before!"

"Clearly you haven't been doing it properly" Jareth smirked, knowing from past recipients that it could test the patience of saints.

"Not doing it-?" Sarah broke off, shaking her head. "Jareth, nobody actually wants to get thrown out of restaurants."

"You can want to get thrown out of anywhere, Sarah" Jareth replied easily, his eyes alone betraying his mischief. "As I said, you just have to apply yourself." Sarah threw her hands up in exasperation.

"You're impossible!"

"So I've been informed on many occasions" he agreed cheerfully, even his bone deep tiredness unable to shake his good mood. Higgle would be so proud, or so shocked he slipped and called him rat to his face again. Either way, it was bound to be amusing. Sarah shook her head again at him, cheeks flushed from the cold. "Back to Gruagach, Miss Williams?"

"Anywhere, so long as it's warm" Sarah replied, smiling in relief as Jareth gestured at the Town car that had been following them since they left the restaurant. "How did you do that?"

"Magic" Jareth smirked, nodding a greeting at Qüiver. "Back to work, please."

"Right away, Mr Regent" Qüiver replied professionally, not batting an eye at the appearance of his employer. They returned to more professional topics as they drove back to the Alba Building; Sarah questioning him on the size and scope of his company, and Jareth in turn satisfying himself on the few questions he had about the arbitration process. Jareth kissed Sarah's hand as they parted ways in the lobby; Sarah bound for her impromptu inspection, and Jareth for the paperwork he had neglected for a whole three hours. That was not something he was looking forward to. But he'd rested some, and he could carry on a while longer before his exhaustion claimed him once again.

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