The time was fast approaching. He could feel the place calling to him.

"We will be there soon." he told the boy.

"What happens then?"

"I set you free."

The boy seemed to accept that response, not choosing to ask any more questions. But the man found he wanted to talk more.

"You've been so well-behaved. Nothing like the last ones."

"There were others?"

"Yes, but they weren't the right ones. You're different. Do you know why you're different?"

"I…Sarah says I'm not supposed to talk about it."

"Ah, well, your sister means well, but she can't possibly understand. They say confession is good for the soul, you know."

The boy paused, scrunching his face in an effort to concentrate. "It has to do with a place I went to once. Sarah doesn't like to talk about it, but I know she thinks about it all the time."

"I've searched for years for the right one," the man continued, as if Toby hadn't spoken at all, "and now it's all coming full circle." Breathing a sigh of relief, he repeated to himself, "Full circle."

"Where are we going?" the boy asked, not for the first time. This time, however, as the man felt the Place reaching towards him across the black top, he decided to answer.

"There are still places left in this soulless country that have power. We are going to just such a place."

"What kind of place is it?" he kept asking, happy to finally be getting answers.

"It is an abandoned church in Kansas. Have you ever been to Kansas?" The boy shook his head. "Well, many years ago, when good men were wiping out the pagans that haunted the land, they founded this church. And like their message it has stood the test of time, more or less."

"More or less?" the boy asked, confused. Churches, like any building, either stand or crumble.

"The message has changed over time. The church, well, it's still standing, but it has been forgotten by the people. I am the last of a long line who remember. Once I set you free, though, I will no longer have to carry its weight. I will be released."

"What is the message if its so heavy? Why don't you want to share it anymore?"

"The message? The message is simple: The wages of sin is death. But I am tired. No one in this soulless country listens anymore. The people don't understand why they are being punished, and so the message has lost its meaning."

"Well maybe they just need a better explanation. Is there more to the message?"

The man looked at the boy, his eyes cold, "Everyone must pay the wages."

It occurred to Toby for the first time that perhaps when the man told him he would "set him free," it wasn't the freedom Toby expected.

* * *

Sarah and Jareth rode on in silence. Neither had mentioned the incident that morning, as they had agreed to put it on hold. However, it sat between them in the silence, almost palpable, and they found they could think of nothing else to say. Sarah knew they were drawing close to the kidnapper, and as they were about 100 miles outside of Kansas something in her gut knew the chase was drawing to a close.

"Kansas," Jareth began, reading the sign as they passed, "There's a lovely little story about that place, is there not? Something about a girl and her dog traveling to a magic land?"

"You mean the Wizard of Oz?" Sarah asked, rather charmed that he was familiar with that bit of folklore.

"Yes, that's the one. A shame it's complete rubbish." he flicked his hand as if dismissing the whole notion.

"What, is it infringing on your territory?" she shot back, her earlier reaction quickly forgotten.

"Certainly not. My territory is well in hand. But the author wrote like someone who'd never been there. All that nonsense about wicked witches and peaceful Munchkins. I wouldn't step back in that place for all the wishes in the world." he grimaced, as if the mere memory was enough to make him ill.

Sarah giggled a little in spite of herself, "You know, not everyone who writes or reads these books ever expects that such a place exists. He probably hadn't been to Oz." Suddenly, a though hit her, "Who wrote the Labyrinth I read? I never found an author. Had they been there before? Is that how they knew the words?"

Jareth was mentally smacking himself in the head. He should have known one thing would lead to another. He avoided the urge to bite off his tongue, however and tried as tactfully as possible to answer. It didn't matter, though, he knew what her response would be. "Well…yes, the author had been there before and that, I suppose, is how they knew the words. It's…it's difficult to explain about the author. You see, the book's been around such a long time it's easy to forget there was a time when it didn't exist."

"But you know that there was a time when it didn't. So you know the author." It wasn't a question.

"And again, it's been such a long time that -"

She cut him off before he could finish. "It's you, isn't it?"

His silence was more damning than any response.

"You bastard!" Her arm shot out to punch his shoulder. Jareth winced, but didn't complain. After all, he knew it was coming. "That explains why I never found it in any bookstores or libraries! So how the hell did I end up with a copy?"

Sighing, he leaned against the car door and rested his head against the window. "Once upon a time it was common knowledge that wishing away a child would bring me to their doorstep. Belief was strong, as was magic. Then, as people migrated to this New World, they left their old beliefs behind. Magic will never truly die, Sarah, but it grows weak, complacent. And it is incredibly boring to go decades without being called upon."

"Surely even when people believed in you they weren't calling on you! They knew what would happen!"

"Believe it or not, Sarah, there are very few as loyal as you. Yes, occasionally it would be uttered as a threat, with no real intent behind it. And those few would traverse my Labyrinth, some won, some failed. But you must understand that for many, peasants with too many mouths to feed and too little money, wishing away one meant caring for the rest." He explained as best he could, knowing there was little he could do to make a girl of the 20th century understand famine, plague, or poverty.

But he had underestimated her again, a habit, he realized, that he was going to have to overcome. She nodded slowly, "I never thought of it that way. And all you do is turn them into goblins. That's not so bad, is it? I mean compared to starving?"

"No," he smiled, "it's not so bad. Goblins have no memory of their life before. Granted, they never make good conversationalists, but despite outward appearances they maintain the simplicity of children. They never know real pain or suffering, but for this they exchange higher thought."

"Even if it's not their choice?" she asked.

"They can't make the choice, Sarah. They're children, and like all children they have to rely on their parents' decision." He knew it was a circular logic, but it was the best explanation he could offer.

"So…after people stopped wishing their children away you sent out the books to remind them." Jareth wasn't sure if she was asking or accusing.

"Well, not in great abundance. If it seemed like the child would be better off, I made sure a copy got in the right hands. After the child disappeared the book usually disappeared with it."

"But that doesn't explain how I got a copy. Toby was loved; there was no need for him to be wished away."

"I didn't send it for him." he answered tersely. She glanced over at him, looking somewhat like a deer in headlights when his eyes met hers. "Sarah, surely I don't need to explain myself any further."

The car drowned in silence, until a quiet voice broke through. "No. No you don't have to explain." She surprised both of them when she reached over and intertwined her fingers with his. He looked down at their linked hands as if it were a foreign object, a bemused smile on his face. That all changed though when she said, "Now tell me about the land of Oz."

"Ugh," he half-moaned, "don't get me started."