Author's Note: Someone asked if the Fairy Queen was Mab. She is not. She is my own creation- sorry!- and everything to do with her is from my insane little brain. My apologies if it confused anyone.

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By late evening, the talks had finished. Business had been discussed and Jareth had resigned himself to writing a thinly-veiled apology to Queen Amarild for calling her certain names that no lady wished to be called. He had submitted to his cousin's chastisements with good grace, banishing all self-satisfied smirks from his face as Archer spoke at length of the Fairy Queen's reaction. Then the talk had switched to other, more interesting things- Toby, for one.

"Things seem to be better than the last time I visited, cousin," Archer probed, reclining in an armchair while Jareth perched precariously on the window ledge, "I take it the situation is becoming better?"

Jareth shrugged guardedly. He did not want to involve Archer in the litany of the wrongs done to his bond mate. And frankly, he felt it more as an insult to his own honour than anything else. "He thinks of me as a friend," he evaded.

Delicate eyebrows arched over warm brown eyes. "An improvement, then," the fairy Lord quirked, "And do you make it a habit to sleep with all your friends? Had I but known, Jareth, our time might have been better spent through the centuries. After all, we're both lonely men in the darkness of a room."

Jareth laughed and shook his head, leaping from his seat and coming forward to sit on the armrest of Archer's chair. "Bed my only cousin? Do you not think my subjects would disapprove?"

"They have disapproved of all your lovers before," Archer stated. When the darkness threatened to intrude, he lightened the tone by teasing, "Particularly Henry."

Jareth did brighten. "Ah, Henry... now she was interesting. A right royal pain, and as selfish as a bitch in heat, but interesting. Her tongue was a rare delight."

Archer ran a hand through Jareth's hair. "I know," he reminded his cousin, "You gave her to me for my birthday one year. Myself, I did not like her independence. And she was far too forward for my tastes; wouldn't stay still when asked, if you understand my meaning."

Like a cat the Goblin King seemed to be losing himself in the soft strokes over his hair and shoulders. Archer could almost imagine the contented purring humming deep in the other male's chest. He hid a grin, but continued- "And your Toby?"

The spell broke. Mismatched eyes opened and Jareth stiffened his spine. "He has a delightful tongue too, but of an entirely different sort," the blond admitted, a humourless smile on his face, "It knows no tricks and sets no traps, but somehow... his spirit, Archer. He is strong as a fortress and fragile as glass."

Before Archer could comment, Jareth had bounded off the armrest and retreated back to the window, not noticing the slightly odd look on his cousin's face. "No," the Goblin King corrected, summoning a crystal, "No, like a crystal. He has such capacity! One can pour so much into him and he will become the most beautiful thing this world has ever seen. But push him too far..." His face set in a decidedly grim mask, he pushed a touch too much power into the vessel and blew it apart, raining thinnest shards all over his hands and boots, shards so thin they dissolved on contact with anything solid.

Archer shifted uncomfortably. "Do you plan on pushing him too far?"

"I do not need to," Jareth growled, staring out the window and feeling annoyed because he was concerned. Had it been any of his past romances, he would not have bothered. It wasn't that Toby was incapable, but this was bigger than him and the boy's mind wasn't healed just yet. And the feeling throbbed harshly within him like a foreign piece of grit in a wound rubbed open. "And he is out after dark! The Gods protect him, I shall kill him when he finally comes home!"

"Jareth, you did give the child a crystal," the amused fairy Lord reminded him, "Had anything untoward happened, he would have summoned you."

Jareth shook his head slowly, so slowly, not wanting to admit what he knew. "You do not know the child. He has had a bad experience and the shock of it has weakened his sense. If something frightened him, he would likely run wild rather than call for help."

"Can the bond not feel for him?"

"No. No, it is too fragile, too general. It was forged when he was but a babe and we never met until a few weeks ago, how could it be specific? I can feel nothing from him but the strongest of emotions. And even those I can only feel when he submits to the night, Archer. It is not night yet and I am worried for him."

Jareth didn't like this uncharacteristic urge to worry. Toby was strong and healing faster than most others would have. His mind was still intact and now that the shock had worn off, he could surely think clearly enough to protect himself. Jareth did not worry for him as he had over the past week or so. He had work; he had the Labyrinth to complete; he had chores to do and while he hated doing them he hated this restless anxiety even more.

"Stay here," he snapped, his patience worn away as the clock struck eight, "I'll go find him myself."

The fairy made no move or sound of dissent, but let Jareth have his way, watching the white owl flutter into the darkening sky with darkening eyes. He smiled softly, clearly amused at what he was witnessing, and shut his eyes in contemplation.

Jareth, however, was keeping his eyes open and focused, flying low and scanning the area around his Castle as if searching for the proverbial needle in the haystack. Finally he spotted a glimpse of blond hair... swimming?

Toby was splashing happily in the little lake he'd found. To his mind, it had been a bit of luck running into Hoggle like that. The dwarf had talked of Sarah for hours, wanting to know everything about her. It had saddened him for a while too, especially since he had missed her wedding and would probably miss the rest of her life. He wistfully thought of a nephew- maybe with Sarah's dark hair and Ben's open grin? But he didn't like dwelling on things like that; he was only glad that none of his family had witnessed what had happened to him. They'd have hated him for sure. But they didn't need to know and since he was stuck here, the least he felt he could do was enjoy the shallow end of the little lake- guaranteed free from nasty surprises. So he splashed happily and sang as loudly as he could.

The first thing he noticed about his bond mate was that the latter was not an appreciative audience to his musical talent. The second was that Jareth was glaring at him with a face as black as a thundercloud.

"Er... hi, Jareth."

" What are you doing here?" Jareth demanded

"Swimming," Toby answered. He was going to say more but something struck him as odd.

Jareth stifled an inappropriate condemnation of mortal youths who played in lakes when they were meant to be safely in their bond mate's Castle so as not to send said bond mate insane with needless worry. He settled for a more sedate, "Are you aware that the sun has set?"

"Well, gee! However could I have missed that?" Toby teased, but the words were less light than before. He wasn't paranoid; there really was something hovering in the air and he could feel it! His muscles were tightened and his nerves on fire with anticipation. This feeling was never good.

"Toby, will you please come here and get dressed? I have waited for your return quite long enough!"

"Well, turn your back then! Goblin King or not, I'm sure you can give me a little privacy. I'm a little, um, underdressed." Toby tried to keep up his spirits, but they were sinking like the smooth pebbles beneath his toes. He didn't like the humming that was filling his mind, or the sharp little prickles in the fabric of his thoughts. The sooner he got out of the water, the better. The sooner he could get to Jareth, the more safe he would feel. God, he needed to get out of there, even if Jareth didn't turn his back. It didn't matter! It didn't matter! He had to get out of the water.

Jareth's eyes narrowed as blue ones fought for focus, icy-cold fear gripping his innards as they lost concentration and the blond head shook as if trying to refuse something or dislodge a particular thought. Alarmed, he stepped closer to the edge of the water, a hand outstretched in desperation- "Toby, get out of there! Come here; come to me, my elf. Let's go home. Toby, leave the water!"

'Leaving so soon? What are you wearing, dear heart? Nothing? My, my, what an erotic thought! Well, then. Step forward, dear heart. Let me see you naked by the light of the moon. I could not enjoy such a sight the last time we met...'

The change in Toby's face was so instant as to be frightening. He froze, his pupils dilated even as his eyes began to dart around.

The water was already waist-deep but suddenly he began to walk backwards to the deeper middle, going further and further until the water reached his shoulders. He couldn't get out, now. His rapist was here. His rapist would see. The only cover was the water and he couldn't get out!

Jareth's panic was back full-force. How could this be happening while he stood right there? And Toby was going in too deep with no thought. If he stumbled and went under... Jareth had sickening visions of Toby panicking. "Toby, stop! Don't go any further. Stop!"

Toby faltered, frozen and shivering, his head in bewilderment as two voices called to his mind. One was deep and rich, whispering obscenities in his thoughts and the other- oh, those slender rays of sunlight that always seemed just out of reach and vision! He shook his head again, the wet ends trailing in the water.And Jareth knew that look of abject fear; Toby wore it when he heard The Voices.

Jareth followed him, standing where the water was waist high and holding out his hand. "Listen to me," he said quietly, "He is only in your head. You don't have to listen to him; listen to me. Come back. We'll find him together. I'll keep you safe. Come on, Toby. He can't touch you now."

'Go on! Your Saviour waits for you, glinting in the darkness like a beacon, like a lighthouse to your storm-tossed ship. He doesn't know you're already shipwrecked.'

Slowly moving as if physically fighting an opposing force, Toby took first one step, then the next. A hand slowly reached for the white one outstretched towards him. A few steps more and long fingers gripped his wrist and pulled him gently against a hard chest.

Toby began to gasp, sobbing dryly with no tears as he struggled to maintain his control. The darkness was creeping in again and it wrapped around his soul with a seductive fist and called to him so sweetly, even while it repulsed him with every fiber of his being. That voice in his head-

'But I do! I've tasted you, touched you, spilled my seed within you...'

Toby whimpered, burrowing deeper into Jareth's shirt. Jareth's hands were sliding down his back, soothing him, touching him. No! Jareth mustn't touch him!

He pulled away with an animal cry, scrambling to the bank and falling to his knees. Poisoned! There was poison inside him; he was unclean! Poison was in his blood, in his hair, in his mouth, seeping from his very pores! He began to spit and retch, raking and ripping at his bared flesh with his nails. Blood welled up and blossomed from deep scratches on his arms and shoulders.

Jareth made for the bank and yanked the thin arms away, cringing as a piercing scream rose into the air.

"Stop it," he shouted, at his wits end and trying to get some kind of sense into the mortal's head.

'Frigid bitch! Who cares for your pleasure? You weren't meant for any!'

Toby struggled like a wild cat, unseeing and unknowing of anything except his need to get away.

'I can still feel you under me, laid open and writhing. Your blood smelt so beautiful. The next time... oh, the next time, dear heart!'

No! Next time? Death! Toby would die in shame and pain if there were ever a next time, if he ever had this man's seed in him ever again. He wouldn't survive! He couldn't possibly survive being that thing again, bound and chained as if he was nothing but a toy. No! He couldn't! He couldn't! He...

Jareth caught the slight body as it slumped, his own shirt ripped off one shoulder and a vivid set of deep red gashes in the exposed skin. He was panting, dazed. Who knew the boy had so much strength?

Toby had gone pale, a grey pallor blooming under his light golden tan. Suddenly his face seemed too small, his eyes too big even when they were closed. In unconsciousness, his body was draped almost bonelessly in its enforced position.

Jareth hurriedly lowered him to the ground, magicking his clothes onto him and chaffing his wrists. "Toby," he called softly, "Come on, my elf. Toby? Wake up. Come on, open your eyes. It's over. I'm here. It's all over and you're safe."

Toby shook his head, coming out of his dead faint slowly as he was pulled from blissful oblivion to shuddering pain. Somewhere in his gut he hurt, and his throat burned, and his head hurt. One of his fingers felt twisted at the knuckle.

"No," he murmured, weakly trying to shrink away, "Poisoned!"

"Poisoned? Who's poisoned?" Jareth was beginning to think he was going mad from the trauma. Arienne would need to be called now, certainly. Toby couldn't say 'no' after this, could he? Jareth had let him make that decision but he wouldn't have the boy's insanity on his hands.

"Me," the boy whispered, "Don't touch... 'm not good."

"I will touch and you are not poisoned," Jareth said firmly, "We need to get back. Can you walk?"

Toby had his eyes shut but he nodded and sat up. His first step, however, had him almost pitching face-first to the ground. Jareth said nothing but compressed his lips and picked him up. His bond mate was suffering, whimpering like a kicked puppy. Jareth held him close and apparated back.

Archer was reading when Jareth burst into the library with Toby in his arms. The fae dropped the book with a start and jumped to his feet. "By the Gods, what happened?"

"Get brandy," Jareth ordered breathlessly, laying his small bundle on the nearest table. Turning, he shouted for a goblin servant. "One of your get in here right now!"

There was a general scuffle at the door and then a thin, scarecrow of a goblin with a beaky nose and torn jerkin fell inside, getting hurriedly to his feet and bending so far forward with a bow that his sparse hair brushed the floor.

Archer wasn't paying attention. He held a snifter of brandy and was standing over Toby, looking down at him.

"A blanket and a- a... oh hell, bring me twenty blankets." Deciding that he couldn't think straight, Jareth resorted to snarling. To relieve his anger that such a thing had happened again, the Goblin King lobbed a viciously accurate crystal at the open fireplace where it burst into a blaze so huge, it blew halfway across the room and almost singed everyone else.

"Do not burn the Castle down," Archer said softly.

Jareth looked like he might hit him for that remark but didn't react. Merely taking the brandy and tipping a few drops into Toby's mouth. Toby spluttered, but swallowed, assisted by slender fingers that gently stroked and massaged his throat. He consented to three more sips before refusing anything more to sink back under that delightful wave of blackness.

Jareth caressed him and soothed him until he fell into an exhausted sleep. Then he permitted no sound until the blankets were brought and two wrapped securely around his bond mate.

Archer stood to the side and watched the Goblin King at work. That Jareth was furious was obvious- it was in every clipped order on his tongue, every blazing glance from his mismatched eyes, or precise movement of his hands. Jareth was never more controlled than when he was beyond angry into furious.

And despite the clear distress of the pretty mortal, Archer was quite amused to see his cousin in the throes of love.