AN: This is the fic that doesn't end... Not really... Actually, I have no idea how long this
is going to be, or where it is going. But then, I never do. Many thanks for all the wonderful
bribes- I love my reviewers. hehe I must go and worship the bunny slippers now. Hope everyone
is having a good week. Mine was absolutely awful and well, we'll leave it at that. ;( Till
next time...

Standard disclaimers apply. *rasberry*



************************** Lights, Camera, Action! Chapter Seven **************************


"What in the hell are you doing here? You know a restraining order can go both ways, don't
you?"

Lance smiles beatifically and tries to take my hands in his. He's lucky I don't have my
favorite frying pan in the dressing room or he'd be grasping for those elusive little flying
birdies. "Sarah, don't be like that. You know how much you mean to me."

I cross my arms across my breast and feel the anger build. I just love angry confrontations
with cheating ex boyfriends. Gets my blood all riled up. Fun, fun, fun. "I mean about as
much as some two bit slut I was costarring with, remember. Or maybe you don't, I doubt she was
the only one."

"Sarah, Sarah, you wound me."

"Not deeply enough, you're still here."

For a heartbeat his angel blue eyes darken with anger and his own "special" brand of rage. I
don't feel an ounce of pity, not an ounce. This lying, sleazy bastard broke my tender wittle
heart and God help me if I want to wring his neck for it. Whoever said revenge is a dish best
served cold has never had the 'pleasure' of finding your slimy boyfriend in bed with another
and voicing your feelings that very moment. Of course, creatively speaking, 'voicing' may
include a little bit of violence. Its an artistic outlet damn it!

Temporary insanity got me off without jail time. I'm a lucky gal all right. Mmm, mmm...
sarcasm supreme.

"Lance," I repeat, voice tired, weary, "why are you here? Really? I'm not one of your adoring
fans, cut the crap."

His angelic blue eyes that can lie so easily, they try to grip mine, try to draw me close, so
close that I won't be able to see his deception, to see him for the slime he truly is. He
rises, damn him, and I don't back away. Can't... because that would be retreating and Sarah
Williams, Sarah Elliott, whoever I am, refuses to let myself back down from anything, not a
cheating boyfriend or an asinine Goblin King.

And damn that little broken lonely part of me that doesn't want to back away because I want to
believe the lies he so casually offers so badly, so bloody badly. I want the hole in my heart
filled... I want the ache to go away. I'm so freaking sick of being lonely, of being alone.
Of standing in front of an awe filled world where no one worth loving is willing to take the
shadowed pedestal by my side. I'm tired of being strong.

Even, after a six month vacation, I'm just plain tired.

He takes a timid step closer and reaches up to eagerly brush the planes of my face with cold,
cold hands. "You use to be one of my biggest fans."

I shudder and curse myself for being a fool and an idiot before pushing him away. "No Lance.
I'm not doing this, not with anyone, especially not with YOU." The last 'you' drips with all
the scorn and contempt I truly feel and Lance straightens until he towers over me. He can be
intimidating in his six three frame, when he wants to be. Normally he's all for fostering the
cuddly teddy bear image with his baby blues and softly curling light brown hair.

Right now he's leaning more towards pissed off teddy bear. Pissed off teddy bear who could
break me in two- and he looks like he's about to try the idea out.

Me, scared? Umm, no? Did that not sound convincing to anyone else but me? Me and my stupid
rhetorical questions.

"Is there a problem here?"

Me and Lance whip around together to look in pure astonishment at the deeply shadowed figure in
the doorway, though our shock stems from two entirely different mountain streams... Hell, we're
not even from the run off of the same blasted mountain.

Lance is most likely blown away that another ex who obviously bears ill feelings to me is
willing to stick his aristocratic nose where it doesn't belong. Me, on the other hand, I'm
simply flabbergasted. First he turns into an ass hole and now a knight in slightly tarnished
armor?

What demon of hell would have ever taken the bet that mighty Goblin King would one day aid his
hated nemesis Sarah Williams?

"This is none of your business Mr. King." The last was sneered on Lance's part and I fight back
a pleased grin as Jareth stands to his full height, suddenly practicing some towering of his
own. If towering was an Olympic event Jareth would so snatch the gold from under Lance's
previously smug nose.

I always knew that Lance Johnsen was a yellow bellied coward at the core of his rotten heart...
I mean sure he likes to manipulate women, lie, and fling rocks at small children while puling
puppy dogs' tails but pit him against an irate Goblin King and every trace of anything other
than submission and fear vanish.

Lance is practically withering under the heat of Jareth's mute, reproachful glare. I can almost
see the wrinkles forming... 'I'm melting, I'm melting. Oh help me, I'm melting!'

"Its my business if I choose it to be Mr. Johnsen." I start as Lance's last name rolls easily,
if distastefully, off of Jareth's tongue. I didn't know he knew who Lance was. I meet Jareth's
glance for a brief moment and am confused by what I find there... emotions, tangled, woven,
overshadowed and hidden. Whoever said that eyes are the window to the soul has obviously never
looked closely. Or has never met someone as screwed up as Jareth.

Would anyone like to tell me what the hell is going on here? Oh yes, another rhetorical
question, forgive me.

But Lance is nothing if not stupid. It took him long enough for me to think through the above
before gaining some amount of righteous anger and belligerence. He clenches his fists as he
tries to stare down the disguised Goblin King.

Bad boy, bad Lance!

"Why the hell are you defending her?" I perk my ears for Jareth's answer. "Why the hell do you
care about Sarah Elliott? I saw the interview Mr. King. I know Sarah better than she wants me
to think. Your betrayal cut worst than mine ever could. I may have slept around but I never
went to the media. I was a scum bag but I never told Sarah's little secrets to the world."

I feel the burn of shame at the truth in Lance's words... And then a flush of unreasonable
anger. Jareth has eyes only for me. "Because Mr. Johnsen, if anyone is going to hurt her, its
going to be me." There's triumph in their strange pale depths, triumph and a kind of terrible
sadness. I think I liked it better when I couldn't tell what he was feeling.

Its my turn to straighten, to pull myself together, to draw on the small reserves of strength
that I have left. I lift my chin, defiance clear, and speak. "Both of you can go take a long
walk off a short pier and leave me alone. Out!" I point at the door, meaning about as clear
as I could make it. I mean, if we were playing charades my team would so be kicking ass.

Lance glares at me for half a second before turning and striding out of my dressing room.

Leaving me and Jareth alone.

I think I preferred the proverbial male pissing contest. Testosterone is almost always easier
for me to handle than awkward, confusing, emotional crap. Maybe it was my mother leaving me...
Maybe it was Karen's own prim and proper attitude or my dad's oblivious blitheness but I never
learned how to deal with the touchy feeley stuff. A pat on the back, a quick hug, that I
understand. Anything more complicated than that has me seeing stars.

I start to order Jareth out but once glance at his face convinces me he's not doing anything
that he doesn't want to. Maybe another time I'd argue till I was blue in the face but that
damned tiredness is weighing me down like invisible chains.

Instead I ignore him. He's like a little kid, ignore him long enough and he'll get bored and
go away. That's the theory anyway.

I slid down into the plush sofa vacated by Lance, knees drawn to my chin. I feel vulnerable,
damn it, and know I look it too. There's a nearly unbreakable silence between us for what
seems like hours, though I think some of that may have simply been my imagination.

I hear Jareth's soft steps and his still costumed, fantastic boots come into my downcast view
as he stands like some kind of unacknowledged shadow beside me. When he finally chooses to
break the silence I jump as his velvety voice, rich and darker than before, though less
frightening in its intensity, flows across my skin like a caress.

I've been reading too many damn romance novels. Its what you do when you don't have a real
love life.

"How can someone with nearly everything be so miserable?"

I look up at that, surprised at the question, and raise dark brows. "Funny Jareth," I reply
softly, "I was just about to ask you the very same thing."

The harshness around his regal face softens as he stares unabashed at me, gaze, as always, too
intimate for comfort, and just as unreadable as before. "Touché Sarah."

And who says me and the Goblin King can't carry on a civilized conversation?