Sarah slammed the stop on her sleek hi-fi. She cast her searching gaze around the room. There was nothing there except what she had strategically placed in her expensive penthouse apartment. Not a thing was out of place. She could feel his gaze burning like all the acid and flame on and above earth. She knew who it was, she sort of knew why but she could never hope to fathom what emotion daily clad her body.

Enough was enough. He tortured her in her dreams with fulfilled sexual tension and mind puzzles, expecting something back off her.

"Jareth."

***

In his gritty castle Jareth smirked. She was playing exactly into his hands. Soon she'd be more than pliable. He'd have his pride avenged with no side affects.

***

Sarah screamed with frustration as he just kept /staring/ with a malignant tone to his glare. She could imagine his eyes...

She physically shook herself and snapped the CD back on to prepare herself for the Hollywood party. Dare she take a shower?

***

Hours later she was glad she'd risked a shower under Jareths all consuming eye. The smog had burned off, leaving LA's barren landscape scorched. It made her feel bright and chirppy, which she could see, was grating some of her co-stars nerves.

With an inner mocking smile Sarah thought /who would have thought that anti- social Sarah Williams would be one of the fastest rising stars and looked like she was here to stay?/ Of course what no one else knew was she had a pissed off Goblin King stalking her.



Yup, she was /something/ special.

She gave the poor bloke trying to chat her up an uninterested meaningless smile and drifted off to the buffet, feed up of talking on aching feet. Arr, to have the cheese on sticks or the cheese on plates?

"I wouldn't bother with the cheese at all."

Sarah stiffened and bridled at the familiar mocking tones, in an exaggerated British accent.

"What. Are. You. Doing. Here?" she ground out.

"Why, enjoying the party, /Sarah/" he breathed it down her neck, although he was a few feet away. "Have a nice time." And he was gone. Sarah cursed, she should have used the opportunity to bitch about being spied on, but no, to caught up in his eyes. She vaguely wondered why no one was staring at him. He was after all vaguely conspicuous with his eighties look and mad hair.

Her suspicions of her being the only one to see him where confirmed, as people seemed to ignore him, and dazedly stagger away from his area of space. He meet her gaze from across the room and smirked.

/That's getting very unoriginal/ Sarah thought, /what's he up to?/

The stare in the centre of her back stayed all the way into the early hours when Sarah carefully manoeuvred her tipsy body into the back of the limousine with belying grace and sank gratefully into the leather upholstery. A quickly murmured conversation later and she was safely on her way to bed.

She was pooped, to put it mildly.

She must have drifted off, for when the car stopped she heard a voice saying, no /commanding/ the driver to let her sleep. She felt herself be deftly scooped up and carried. She couldn't make herself wake up, even the alarm unfurling in the snake pit that her stomach had been transformed into couldn't make her heavy eyelids open.

When Sarah was next aware of her surroundings she was in her bed. The stylish red sheets that in turn clashed and blended with the decor where carefully wrapped around her. She didn't' remember last night, and put her wooziness down to drink.

She staggered naked out to her bathroom and ran into Jareth eyeing her suggestively. She pointedly ignored him till she had taken aspirin and brushed her teeth. Safely wrapped in a dressing gown she sank down to a cup of steaming coffee. When she was half way down her cup she decided that he had been a hallucination till the unwanted thought of where the coffee had come from rose unbidden from somewhere in her suffering head.

She pried her eyes open and attempted to glare at Jareth's smug face and interesting eyebrows.

"Get out." Her voice was dead pan, listless. He had her at a disadvantage, and he knew it.

"No. But I have a hang over cure for you, since you mortals are susceptible to drink."

She brightened, she really shouldn't take anything he offered her, but she had such a bad head. What could it hurt? "What's the catch?" she managed to crank out.

He didn't answer, just handed her a steaming goblet. She regarded it suspiciously. "And what is in /that/?"

As he said, "things to make your head better" her headache came back full force. She gulped the scalding liquid down and soon fell into a dreamless, sleepless daze.

Jareth caught her half-naked form easily. "I thought better of you than that." He told her, knowing she'd be able to hear him, but not respond. "But I can give you a 'Place for Your Head' like no other."

In a whirl of glitter the apartment stood empty, awaiting the mortal's futile attempts to find her, trace her till the police gave up and left it to the dust and grime of obsessive fans.

They didn't have her. He did. He'd make her pay, he'd have his revenge.

***

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