Chapter Four:
Heather, meet Justin in the second floor hall the next morning. He had showered and was
dressed completely differently, in a black ribbed men's tank top and black baggy jeans belted
around his waist. He looked every bit of nineteen, except most nineteen-year-olds didn't have
those kind of arms, power incarnate, very muscular and strong, and nineteen-year-olds didn't
have those king of eyes either. Those wizened gray orbs twinkled after his rest. His hair was in its
proper place lying flat with slightly longer hair in that little area in front of his ears, it was a very
shiny black, and his feet were bare.
-This would be a perfect place to insert what our friend Heather looks like. She is a tall beauty
with long curly red hair, and dazzling green eyes. The kind of natural beauty that doesn't need
makeup. Freckles dot her skin, and she looked very Scottish. This morning she had raided Sarah's
closet for a lightweight beige sweater, the summer kind, with no sleeves. She wore boot cut blue
jeans, and a pair of Doc. Martin sandals, the classic style with interwoven straps. -
It was Justin who spoke first.
"Is this appropriate for your world?" (Meaning his clothing.)
"Yes, you look fine. Have you been down stairs yet?"
"No, I was waiting for you. Look." Justin unwrapped the cut on his palm that Heather had just
so recently bound and stitched. It was gone. "It's still a bit stiff though." He added as an
afterthought, rubbing his hand in remembrance of pain.
"What are you?" Heather asked earnestly and suddenly. "What am I for that matter? You said
we were the same. What did you mean?"
Justin smiled. The first smile she had seen him allow himself. "You are of Irish decent aren't
you"
"No Scottish, I'm a McDaniel. Why?"
"Have you ever heard of the Sidhe?"
"The Fae! Oh my God!" She gasped, grasping her mouth with her hands.
"It makes perfect since. Of course I have heard of the Fair Folk "
"Now you begin to see. Jareth, down there, is a full-blooded Sidhe, I am but half. My father
was human, like Sarah." Heather nodded in understanding. "You." Justin stopped, unused to
talking much he had no idea what to say, or how to make Heather understand what he wanted to
tell her.
"I am half Sidhe too. Aren't I?"
"Yes."
"How do you know?"
He looked down at her, their eyes met, in a most brutally understanding way. Once, Justin,
himself, was told what he was in the same way.
"I know my own kind."
"I think I knew it too. When I saw you. Oh, I don't know." She sighed giving up on a
explanation.
"When you saw me you recognized what it is in yourself that you do not understand."
She looked up at him.
"Yes. That is it."
Together they started to walk down the hall towards the stairs, but Heather stopped and turned
to him.
"Justin?"
"Hum?"
"I don't know who my real father is."
Justin smiled again.
"Then that is the one who is Sidhe."
"Will I meet him?"
"Possibly."
Heather, meet Justin in the second floor hall the next morning. He had showered and was
dressed completely differently, in a black ribbed men's tank top and black baggy jeans belted
around his waist. He looked every bit of nineteen, except most nineteen-year-olds didn't have
those kind of arms, power incarnate, very muscular and strong, and nineteen-year-olds didn't
have those king of eyes either. Those wizened gray orbs twinkled after his rest. His hair was in its
proper place lying flat with slightly longer hair in that little area in front of his ears, it was a very
shiny black, and his feet were bare.
-This would be a perfect place to insert what our friend Heather looks like. She is a tall beauty
with long curly red hair, and dazzling green eyes. The kind of natural beauty that doesn't need
makeup. Freckles dot her skin, and she looked very Scottish. This morning she had raided Sarah's
closet for a lightweight beige sweater, the summer kind, with no sleeves. She wore boot cut blue
jeans, and a pair of Doc. Martin sandals, the classic style with interwoven straps. -
It was Justin who spoke first.
"Is this appropriate for your world?" (Meaning his clothing.)
"Yes, you look fine. Have you been down stairs yet?"
"No, I was waiting for you. Look." Justin unwrapped the cut on his palm that Heather had just
so recently bound and stitched. It was gone. "It's still a bit stiff though." He added as an
afterthought, rubbing his hand in remembrance of pain.
"What are you?" Heather asked earnestly and suddenly. "What am I for that matter? You said
we were the same. What did you mean?"
Justin smiled. The first smile she had seen him allow himself. "You are of Irish decent aren't
you"
"No Scottish, I'm a McDaniel. Why?"
"Have you ever heard of the Sidhe?"
"The Fae! Oh my God!" She gasped, grasping her mouth with her hands.
"It makes perfect since. Of course I have heard of the Fair Folk "
"Now you begin to see. Jareth, down there, is a full-blooded Sidhe, I am but half. My father
was human, like Sarah." Heather nodded in understanding. "You." Justin stopped, unused to
talking much he had no idea what to say, or how to make Heather understand what he wanted to
tell her.
"I am half Sidhe too. Aren't I?"
"Yes."
"How do you know?"
He looked down at her, their eyes met, in a most brutally understanding way. Once, Justin,
himself, was told what he was in the same way.
"I know my own kind."
"I think I knew it too. When I saw you. Oh, I don't know." She sighed giving up on a
explanation.
"When you saw me you recognized what it is in yourself that you do not understand."
She looked up at him.
"Yes. That is it."
Together they started to walk down the hall towards the stairs, but Heather stopped and turned
to him.
"Justin?"
"Hum?"
"I don't know who my real father is."
Justin smiled again.
"Then that is the one who is Sidhe."
"Will I meet him?"
"Possibly."
