Disclaimer: Not mine. Probably not yours. Doesn't mean we can't all have a little fun.




Best Laid Plans

- Chapter 3 -


We do what we must, and call it by the best names.

--Ralph Waldo Emerson--



With Jareth's final words still ringing in her ears, Sarah found herself once again in her bedroom. But any relief she may have begun experiencing quickly disappeared when she realized that Michael was no longer there.

"Michael?" No response.

She glanced about, her panic rising. "Michael?" She was just about to rule out the possibility that he was still somewhere in the room when an idea struck her and she quickly dropped to her knees. Peering beneath her bed, she saw nothing but dust bunnies, an etch-a-sketch, and a pile of Beverly Hills, 90210 posters back from the days when she used to think Luke Perry was god's answer to everything (she shuddered to think upon it now)—but no Michael. Well, it was definitely worth a try.

Rising from the floor, she made her way to the door but abruptly stopped and made a quick detour to the closet. She snatched herself a nice thick, comfy sweatshirt, quickly pulling it on as if it were an impenetrable armor against whatever may come. Somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered whom exactly it was that she was protecting herself against, but that was a question better left for... never.

She flew down the stairs, but her search ended quickly when she turned the corner and collided into a warm body. Before she could hit the ground though, strong arms caught her and she found herself looking up into Michael's eyes.

"Where were you?" Sarah gasped. Absently, she noticed that he too was once again wearing his shirt.

"Where was I? Where were you?" Michael exclaimed. "I'm not the one who was just abducted by the sex police!"

Sarah groaned inwardly, since this was the part she had been trying hard not to think about. How to answer all the questions that were probably racing through his head. Part of her wished she could just resolve this as Jareth had; simply transport Michael back to his house, and avoid him until she was ready for their next meeting. But she couldn't, and she liked to think she wouldn't even if she were endowed with the ability to do so. Silently, she led him to the living room and seated him on the couch. This was definitely one of those "you better have a seat" things.

Michael watched her expectantly as she paced the floor and fumbled about for an explanation. Where to begin? What to include, and what was best left out? Well, there was an easy answer to that last question—the kiss. Her fingers gently traced her lips, but she quickly snatched them away when she realized what she had been doing. Do not go there, she silently admonished herself.

Finally, she decided on the safest route possible. Pausing before him, she asked, "Exactly what did you see?"

Michael blinked. She could almost see him take the two mental steps back. "Well," he began slowly, "We were on your bed, about to have sex"—Sarah tried not to wince, while wondering why he couldn't just say "it" like any normal person—"when that guy showed up out of nowhere."

"And...?"

"And he called me 'the biggest mistake of your life', then you two were just—gone!"

Sarah ran a hand through her dark hair, a gesture that belied her frustration. She had been hoping that he'd somehow missed the part where she and Jareth simply disappeared into thin air, but it seemed that Fate was not on her side today.

"Sarah?" Michael said quietly.

She glanced at his face, seeing confusion and something else that she couldn't define. And it struck her as strange that this was the first time in the course of their relationship she couldn't read him like a book.

Oh great, two minutes of being in the same room as the Goblin King, and the man began to rub off onto you.

"You said you knew him. How?" When a long moment passed and she hadn't replied, he continued, "Were you two involved?"

The inflection was obvious. And it was as if Sarah's body didn't know whether she should pale at the suggestion, or blush at the possibility. She did neither.

"Oh god, no!" she replied, horrified. Horrified, yes, definitely, she told herself.

Michael looked relieved. "Well then, how?"

Sarah sighed and sat down on the couch next to him, angled so she was actually facing him. "It's a long story."

Michael raised an eyebrow. "I have time. Considering that our original plans seem to have been—put on hold."

"Hmm, well that was his intention," she murmured softly, eyes downcast.

"His?" Michael prodded gently.

"Jareth," she replied, and it was as if a great weight had been—well, not quite lifted completely off her shoulders, but rather shifted to a slightly more comfortable position. "I have to start this from the beginning." When Michael didn't interject, she continued, "Three years ago I kind of… wished my brother away." She paused to assess his reaction.

He didn't appear to know what to make of that. "A Richard Simmons' Dream Maker kind of wish?"

"Um, no."

"A drop a penny in the wishing well kind of wish?"

"No."

"A 'when you wish upon a star…' kind of wish?"

"No."

A brief pause. "Well, I'm stumped. What kind of wish was this?"

"An 'I wish the goblins would come and take him away' kind of wish."

"Okaaay." Well, it wasn't the worst reaction she could have received, although there was still plenty of room for amendment. "And this Jareth guy comes in how?"

Deep breath, moment of truth. "He's the Goblin King."




- END OF CHAPTER 3 -


Okay, I stopped here because it seemed to be a natural break, but I promise to get the next part out real soon.
I'm already working on it. But in the meantime, keep those reviews coming—I love y'all for 'em.
Even those of you who choose to threaten me.
*There's a little masochist in all of us.*