Wishes

Monster Talked. Monologues.

Chapter 04

By mikim

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Standards disclaimers do apply to this fic, as I own very little of this fic.

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Hey, you guys, it's been so long! I think I told you my computer was an evil-sent. Well, I got the confirmation: it broke down on me again! Yes! But thank god, I needed to buy a new hardware (yeah, this time, it was windows who fucked up (excuse my language) and I only lost half of my stuff…)

I know this is a short chapter, but I had the urge to write it.

See you around and I hope you still like this.

Mikim.

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Sarah sighed as she closed the door, her back against the wooden material and slid on the ground like a lifeless doll made of faded wool. Her hands fell at her sides, the keys rolled on the floor, tingling in the lonely silence of her apartment. Her head weighted like a hundred pounds, too heavy for her to keep it up, so it rolled as if her neck was broken, her hair falling like a curtain shielding her, hiding her from the sight of her apartment. Apartment she didn't want to look at. The very apartment he had strolled in like he owned it, just a few hours earlier.

Ah, she thought ironically to herself, bad habits died hard. She couldn't bring herself to say his name, even in the deep of her mind. Whenever she thought of him, she would designate him as a "he" but a really particular "he". A "he" that had a single tone, a tone reserved to this "he" only. Always he had to stand out, even in her head.

Sighing again, Sarah's head rolled on the other side and her weary gaze fell on her living room and from where she sat she could see the horrid bunch of magazine, which lay on her low table. She didn't want to move, she didn't want to think, but she had to, it was part of the whole deal of being an adult and independent. Another sigh escaped the barrier of her lips and Sarah pushed on her hands to stand up.

Wandering in this cold place she no longer felt like her home, Sarah moved her body to the bathroom, taking off her clothes on the way and letting them trail behind them, like a reminder of her passage. Naked, she opened the water taps to fill the bathtub and sitting on the rim, she reached for the salts but her hand froze over the transparent cover of her salt bottle.

She wouldn't cry. Not now. She had done more than her share already.

Sniffling, she opened the container and spread the violet crystals in the warm water in a fluid move. She put the half empty container back in place and stood up, heading back to the living room. That was one of the advantages of living alone and at the top floor, being able to move around as she wanted without fearing that somebody could witness her naked. Without looking what was inside, Sarah turned her CD player on and pressed the play button, there was always a CD inside. Then, turning on her heels, the remote control in her right hand, she went back to the bathroom and went inside the bathtub, twisting her hair in a loose bun to avoid getting it wet.

But, if Sarah had looked on the low table of her living room, she would have a hasty written message, testimony that somebody else had been here between the time she had left her apartment with Charlie and Steward and when she had come home, alone. The paper had obviously be torn from the white notepad, next to the phone, usually used to take messages. The blue pen, which had served to trace the feminine writing, was still next to the paper, which read.

"Dear Sarah,

I hope things went well with Jareth. Steward and I are here for you and you know it, give us a call when you get home.

                        Love, Charlie

P.S.: Steward burned his CD and I put it in your player. Whatever the outcome has been, listen to his songs, listen to his side of the story."

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The first melody started, when Sarah leaned against the rim of her white bathtub. It was taunting, almost intimate, with only two guitars or maybe three guitars. A slow melody, which she didn't recognize but warm and relaxing. The guitars slowed down and a haunting voice, warm and low rose among them. A familiar voice. Stiffening suddenly at his voice, Sarah sat up and wide-eyed, quickly closed her arms around her knees that she had brought under her chin. She would recognize it anywhere, anytime. Against herself, she shivered under this voice, despite the warm water she was soaking in and again against herself, she listened closely to his words.

            The rhythm was slow and the voice almost hushed, like the husky whisper of a lover after love. And she listened, like a bird throwing itself on a wall.

I've been told our lives aren't worth a lot
They run in an instant and fade like roses
I've been told the time who runs is a bastard, whom from our pains
Gets some mantles, but somebody told me…

That you sill loved me
It's somebody who told me that you still loved me
Is it possible then?

She caught her breath and closed her eyes, painfully.

I've been told Destiny makes fun at us
That it gives nothing and promises everything
Seems like happiness is within hand's reach,

So we extend our hand
And find ourselves mad
But somebody told me…

That you sill loved me
It's somebody who told me that you still loved me
Is it possible then?

The guitars quickened and his voice went higher, like he was experiencing a triumph, stating a fact he knew was true, like he was smiling, sharing a secret, teasing someone gently.

But who was it that told me that you still loved me
I can't remember it was late at night
I still hear the voice but can't see the traits
"She loves you, it's secret, don't tell her I told you…"
You see, somebody told me…

The guitars slowly tuned down, until it sounded like only his bewitched voice was left. Like he was talking to somebody, so engrossed in the conversation that the outside world faded away.

That you still loved me, did somebody really tell me…
That you still loved me, is it possible then?

The question hung in the air for a breath and the guitars came back gently, reminding themselves to the couple and his voice went back to its original husky whisper.

I've been told our lives aren't worth a lot
They run in an instant and fade like roses
I've been told the time who runs is a bastard, whom from our pains
Gets some mantles, but somebody told me…

That you sill loved me
It's somebody who told me that you still loved me
Is it possible then?

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During the whole song, Sarah had been like chained to her bathtub, unable to do anything but listen. Listen to his taunting voice, because of a silly article she had read and remembered, like a flash of a bad movie.

'Yes, there's a muse, in fact there's 2. My sister first. This album was written for her, an ultimate dedication.' 'And the second one?' 'Secret. It's a girl I know.'

Lyrics born from his emotions and heart, lyrics and melody that actually had a sense, something he had confessed doing for her. Raising her eyes from the top of her knees, as the next song started, Sarah looked in front of her: she could see his figure, his face there, as he had been the same morning. She could feel his long legs surrounding her, his skin teasing hers. She could see the slow smile and the broad shoulders.

Bending her head again, Sarah let her hands fall from around her knees, to reach for her collarbone, where she knew he had left a mark. Then, with trembling fingers and eyes closed, her fingers trailed to the top of her left breast where he had gently bitten her to…

Enraged with herself, Sarah shook her head wildly, to get rid of the memories and  she turned on her right side, showing her back to the door, letting the warm water and bubbles cover her like a blanket. She refused to listen to another song, but couldn't bring herself to stop the CD player either.

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He was driving, just for the sake of driving. Without a destination or a purpose, without a care and without thinking. He only kept his concentration on the road and its signs, his full attention to the road prevented his mind to wander elsewhere. Somewhere he didn't want to go. The fire went to the green and the engine roared to life in the early night and the black sport car speeded away in the night. Even Kings needed moments to themselves that was what made them different from Gods. The car engaged itself to a small road, following the coast, lost somewhere, out of the town, far from its lights and flames. Jareth slowed down carefully as his car was now engaged on a rocky and small road, probably leading to a viewing point of the black sea.

The road finally came to a dead-end and Jareth stopped the engine. The wind was blowing strong enough to push his short bangs out of his eyes, as he stepped out of the car and with the wind, came to his nostrils the salted scent of the sea. Walking around his car, Jareth sat on the hood and gazed at the black sea. On his right, the city lights seemed so far away, reflected, dancing on the sea but where he was, the sea was black. The moon wasn't full, only a small quarter, smiling mockingly down at him permitted him to see a few foot away.

What exactly was he really waiting from this thing with Sarah?

The question came and imposed itself to him. Question he had tried his hardest to keep at bay. But here, in front of the sea, alone, he had nowhere, no one, nothing to run to, to lie to, except maybe to himself. What had he been really hoping for?

Bringing one knee under his chin, Jareth fixed without really seeing it, the sea he knew was there. He definitely felt something for Sarah, but what was the question. Care? Maybe. Sometimes. Otherwise, he wouldn't have helped her when she had been drunk and ready to fall flat on her face on the concrete.

Hate? Definitely. Jareth frowned. Yes, he hated the girl, because she was troubling. She had been busy disrupting his life ever since the first day he had laid his eyes upon her. Demanding things from him, ungratefully fighting him at every turn, refusing his law. Defeating him. Jareth clenched his jaw, it wasn't completely true. Hate was easy but a hate mixed with care? What kind of feeling was that?

Then, there was that maddening possession he felt towards her. That crazy jealousy he felt when men watched her, that rage that consumed him when other men touched her. That was one of the things he couldn't explain to himself. Another was that need, that craving to feel her. Simply feel her. And why was he always granting her whatever she wished for? Why that craving to see her smile, to see those green orbs lit up with a fire that matched his.

He had often dreamed about her. Rather fantasized about her. He had always thought that it was because she had been the first to ever refuse him. The old folk always said that we only crave for what our fingers couldn't reach.

Annoyed, Jareth swiftly stood up and paced a little towards the sea, deep in thought. What about those lyrics? He had written them under his sister watchful eyes. Music was their secret garden and he hadn't dared to lie. Millibel had been the one to initiate him to the writing of songs and poetry. Poetry he had never liked to write, so he had stuck to songs and melodies. An easier way to express himself than an actual diary or confession to someone.

Jareth crouched down and picked up a rock and played with it, passing it in his hands at different speeds and heights.

Words of love had been easy to put down on paper, but his sister had only selected a very few of the songs he had showed her. The most intimate songs he had written she picked up. Millibel had always had the gift to see right through people and through him the most. She had only chosen the songs he had written late a night, alone, in his study or in his rooms, on his books only her knew where to find.

Those lyrics… They annoyed him. Some were too revealing, some were completely absurd. He had often wondered where he had found these, he had often wondered if he had really been the author of those inanities. Sometimes, when he looked back at them, he could remember the nights he had written them. Other times, he couldn't even fathom what had caused him to write these words down. But, something was sure, most of the songs had been written around Sarah's time in the Labyrinth. A few before her actual trip in his kingdom, another couples in the blurry times that had followed her leaving and the last ones in the following weeks of his recovery of her leaving.

His hands stilled and his left fist closed almost painfully around the rock.

Because he had been sick when she had left, more than sick, mad. Mad with pain. Pain of refusal, pain of rejection, the first one he had faced so bluntly. Besides, women never turned him down, he was the one turning them down.

Quickly, Jareth stood up and in a wide gesture, threw the rock at the sea.

So, again, what exactly was he waiting from her? The exclusivity to hurt her? Maybe. Then why was he feeling so at peace and almost happy when she smiled up at him, or when her eyes dilated with pleasure, her lips murmuring his name. The night they had spent together, when he had lost complete control over his senses had been a mistake, but why wasn't he regretting it?

On the opposite, his body yearned to hold hers close again, to bury himself inside of her, inside her essence and to feel her again. It was like he had touched Heavens once, then been kicked out and whatever happened to him, whatever wounds cut his skin, he would try to reach Heavens again.  Heavens… Jareth smirked. Heavens with Sarah? If that was Heavens, with all her yelling and demands, her questions and accusations, he'd rather go to Hell. Shaking his head lightly, Jareth turned around and walked back to his car.

A riddle it was. A last game his sister had given him to solve. If it wasn't for her, Jareth would have never sought to see Sarah again. He would have never bought this huge house, nor came back Aboveground for anything else but duty.

Jareth got in the car and he wished he could be Underground, where he could use his magic, where he would have been able to turn into an owl and fly over his lands, something that had always soothed him.

At least, there was something he knew, he thought as he started the engine, he wasn't in love with Sarah. He couldn't be in love. How could he be, since he didn't believe in love. Love was for fools, for people who didn't pay attention, as to fall in love, he would have needed to stumble but he was a King, he wasn't allowed to stumble. If there was anything he had ever learned from his father and time at the Imperial court was this, at the very last, he wasn't, would never be allowed to stumble and so fall.

That thing with Sarah was probably an infatuation and if his sister had sent him here to confront her, it was because she wanted him to get over it. Nodding to himself, Jareth decided this was the only reasonable solution.

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The water was chilly and pierced her skin like a hundred glaives when Sarah came out of her bath. Drying herself quickly, Sarah engulfed herself in a robe. There was a simple reason why she hadn't came out when she had felt the first touches of the cold: the CD hadn't been over.

Padding in her living room, slightly trembling with cold, Sarah looked at her kitchen and decided against eating. She wasn't hungry anyway, so she turned around and directly headed to her bedroom, where she put her night clothes on. Then after turning off the lights in the living room, she climbed in her bed and buried herself under the covers. She was tired, the day had been tiring. The only thing she was grateful for was that the summer vacations were near and soon, she'd be able to isolate herself to find out exactly what was going on around her and in her own heart.

Sighing, Sarah gave a few punches to her pillow and tried to fall asleep but sleep was eluding her. But someone wanted her to sleep, someone else wanted to meet her, someone else, who had an important mission to give Sarah. So, blowing gently on her fingers, the stranger who desperately needed Sarah's help, sent her a gentle sleeping spell, making Sarah fall instantly in a deep slumber.

Knowingly, the stranger smiled and slipped inside Sarah's dream.

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Hey, guys, hope to see you soon.

As usual, leave me a little thought in the review box!

A peach-flavour kiss for you all

mikim