Authors note. Okay what with work and finally getting a holiday (as I work in a shop I don't get one a Christmas. Bummer huh?) I've finally got round to finishing this chapter. Quick Thank-you to everyone who was kind enough to review, and no, I'm not being mean or anything, I just can't work out if Jareth's the bad guy in this…oh well. Here goes.

Chapter Two

Looking back, Chris couldn't remember whether it was the gentle dripping of water on his face that woke him, or the laughter that echoed round and round him. Shrill shrieks and childish cackles that surrounded him in the darkness. Chris murmured in his sleep and reached out for the comforting presence of his favourite toy, a stuffed fox Sarah had given him on his birthday two years ago. It wasn't there. Nothing was there.

Chris felt his eyes snap open, as the bottom seemed to drop out of his stomach. The darkness that surrounded him was complete. As he sat up and waited for his eyes to adjust he felt a cool trickle down his cheek. Hesitantly he reached up and touched the spot with trembling fingers. Wet. Chris flicked out his tongue and tasted what was on his finger. A slightly salty flavour couldn't disguise the fact that it was water.

"Like in my dream…" Chris murmured, uncertainty slowing his conclusions. "Like when I dreamed about the…"

The laughter rose up again. Chris huddled against a nearby wall, wrapping his arms tightly around his knees. Almost as if the voices could see where he couldn't, they rose in an eerie crescendo, clamouring against each other somewhere in the darkness.

Chris screwed his eyes up tight as he tried to block out those voices and the growing realisation of what was happening to him. Unbidden, hot tears pricked at the back of his eyes. "This can't be happening..." he whimpered. "I just want this to stop." The harsh symphony of sound seemed to peak, enjoying his distress, invading his mind… his thoughts… reverberating round his body.

"STOP IT!" Chris screamed, desperation tingeing his voice as he tried to drive the voices, the laughter back. "STOP IT, STOP IT, STOP IT, STOP IT!"

Silence now filled the chamber, save for the quiet panting sound Chris made as he sought to regain his breath and form a plan, any plan, to get out of here. As the painful throbbing of his heart settled down to a dull ache, Chris saw something gleaming in the dim light of the chamber. Suddenly he straighten as he realised two things; One, he could now see things in this room. Two, that gleaming object was an iron ring. An iron door ring. The cocky self-assuredness of all eight years suddenly returned to Chris as the ghost of a smile hung around his mouth. He was getting out of here.

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Chris padded lightly down the stone corridor, his bare feet making no noise as he crept forward. It had taken him the best part of an hour to get the door open. Well, that wasn't true. It did open, just to different places. The first time Chris had opened it, he barely had time to take in what he was seeing before vast quantities of copper pots and wooden brooms came clattering down on him. By the time he had summoned the courage to open the door a second time he was shocked to see what had been a broom cupboard was now a slimy cave wall. After slamming the door shut in disgust, Chris had kicked it. Mainly to vent his frustration, although seeing as how it had caused the door to collapse down drawbridge style into a candlelit corridor, Chris was reviewing that judgement. When he got out of this he was going to claim logical progression of facts. Although Devine intervention or some sort of epiphany sounded just as impressive, Chris was a little unsure as to what they actually meant. He was going to stick with what he knew.

Up ahead the corridor turned sharply to the left. Pressing himself tightly against the wall, Chris crept forward and cautiously peeked his head round the corner. The passage seemed to end in what looked like a great big round room. Chris squinted then smiled to himself. Correction. A deserted round room. Thoughts of freedom raced through his mind as his legs seemed to take flight beneath him.

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Dazed, Chris blinked as the ceiling above him swam in and out of view. A soft snuffling sound came from close by, followed by a large pair of golden eyes that blinked owlishly at Chris. Startled his brain chose that moment to spring into action.

"Goblins!" he gasped, sitting up sharply enough to cause the curious goblin to skitter backwards.

A slow handclap drew his attention, and Chris turned to find himself staring at one of the most terrifying sights in his whole eight years of existence. Draped lazily across a throne, was a man. His lithe frame enclosed in tight black trousers, soft leather boots and a white shirt that splayed across his chest. Chris felt his gaze travel upwards from the idly swinging leg, past the extreme get-up to the man's face. It was only then that his heart felt like it stopped. For as Chris stared into the mocking eyes, one blue, one brown he knew, knew beyond a doubt, that this was the goblin king from the story. And he was every bit as cruel as Sarah had said.

The goblin king inclined his head, as though amused. "Well done. Congratulations are to be made for your daring escape." The icy mockery in the kings light tone made Chris want to curl up in a ball and hide. But he was going to stay strong. Sarah would want him to be strong.

The goblin king leaned forward and beckoned for Chris to do the same with a flick of his wrist. "Although between you and me," he began conspiratorially, "It might have been more impressive if you'd at least made it to the city gates before running headfirst into a goblin."

The smile that had been flittering across Jareth's face became fully fledged as he threw his head back and laughed, his tenor tones joined after a moment by the cacophony of goblin laughter from earlier. Chris felt his determination grow and, before he allowed himself to be cowed by the figure before him, he rose to his feet.

"Why am I here?" he demanded, pitching his voice so it would rise above the clamour around him.

Jareth stopped laughing, a vaguely amused expression of amazement playing across his sharply defined features. With a curt hand gesture he cut off the laughter around him, and leaned forward, his chin propped up on his hand.

"You wished yourself here. It seems you humans have a nasty little habit of saying things before you think them through."

Chris glowered at the figure before him. "That's not what I meant. Why did you come to me? Why did you make me want to come here?"

"Ahh." Jareth's eyes began to dance, "Because we're playing a game, Sarah and I. A new game."

Chris's head began to hurt as the mismatched eyes before him continued to be lit by some unnatural glow. Stumbling he fell to the ground, and was vaguely aware of hands clutching at his arms as the strange voice continued.

"And in any game we need prizes, need danger to heighten the fun. Everyone needs the thrill of trying to beat the inescapable."

Barely able to hold onto conscious any more, Chris still managed to croak out a question. "What's inescapable?"

"Destiny."