Stepping into the castle foyer, Sarah's breath caught in her throat. Up ahead, she could see the shimmering lights of a thousand candles reflected off of the gilded mirrors placed so they could catch the optimal light. The sound of stringed music floated through the room, barely audible above the din of the crowd. Men and women all dressed in expensive suits and designer dresses clustered together holding flutes of champagne. The men joked in small groups while the women all pretended not to eat the hors d' oeuvres.

The heat of embarrassment crept into her pale cheeks. She had been to social parties at the university before, hating every last moment of them. While she wasn't the queen of social graces, she did know that she was grossly underdressed and out of place. Her eyes quickly scanned the crowd, poring over the sea of faces. While the candles provided more light than she would have imagined, the room was simply too vast to see. Regardless, she strained to catch a glimpse of Jareth. With a bit of chagrin, she belatedly realized that she had no idea what Jareth might look like. It had been over ten years since she had last seen him and she was a child no longer. Would he look the same through her adult eyes as he did when she was nothing more than a child?

The string quartet changed the song, trading Mozart for a gentle waltz. A soft murmur moved through the crowd and couples began to pair up. Closing her eyes, a faint memory tugged at the edge of her senses. With a ferocity that surprised even herself, Sarah shut it away. This was NOT the time to start reminiscing, she chided herself. She promptly forced her eyes open, resuming her scan of the crowd. Standing there, peering as hard as she could, Sarah jumped when a cold hand closed around her elbow. It was Malcolm.

"My master wishes to see you directly. Allow me to lead you to his study, Madam."

Sarah was relieved. For a moment there, she was terrified to think that she would have to navigate through a social situation more nerve wracking than she cared to deal with for the moment. Simply the task of facing Jareth was more than she was up to, now that she mentioned it.

Again forcing her rebellious mind to push away all fear, she shrugged her shoulders trying to stay as nonchalant as possible. "Whatever. Lead away, Jeeves." Whether it was from her own nervousness or the intensity of the situation, Sarah was much colder than she meant to be.

Malcolm's flinty eyes managed to turn a few degrees colder before he turned away. Obviously he wasn't accustomed to being addressed so coldly. Sarah shrugged. Maybe he just didn't like the moniker. Jeeves... She grinned. It was evil of her, but seeing Jareth's strutting peacock of a butler so irritated suddenly put her in a much better mood.

Keeping his stiff back to her, Malcolm skirted around the crowd and lead her to a hallway awash with artificial lights. Again, the opulence of the place amazed her almost as much as it annoyed. Plush red carpeting covered the floor. The walls were covered in expensive, extremely tasteful, silk paper. Set against the wall was a plate mail suit. One quick glance told her that this was no replica either. Although it wasn't her specialty, she knew just enough about ancient armory to make her dangerous, as Silas loved to say.

The hallway seemed to stretch on forever. On the walls were expensive paintings, an antique tapestry. Enough Jareth, Sarah mentally growled, we know you're rich already. There's no need to beat our heads against he bloody wall. Finally the butler stopped before a set of mahogany doors. Opening it for her, he gestured for Sarah to enter.

Stepping inside, Sarah's eyes immediately scanned the room. Bookcases ran from floor to ceiling filled with leather bound books and tomes. A spiral staircase led up to a second level that circumvented the entire room. A stone fireplace was set against the far wall, immaculately clean. While it was a cool night, there was no fire in the grate. Set before the fireplace was a massive desk fashioned out of the same mahogany that adorned the doors and the wood all around the room. There was no one at the desk. In fact, there was no one in the room at all. Sarah turned, but Malcolm had already shut the door behind her.

Sighing in irritation, Sarah moved further inside. It was so typical of Jareth to make her wait. It was obvious that he knew where she was, when she was coming. Devil take the man, she wasn't looking forward to this meeting any more than he was. Did he absolutely HAVE to make this as difficult as possible?

Since it seemed she might be waiting awhile, Sarah took the liberty of inspecting Jareth's study. Scattered around the room were leather couches and chairs that looked so comfortable and inviting. Instead of sitting down, though, she moved to inspect the desk. She wasn't sure what she expected to find, but was surprised to see a tidy (and of course expensive) laptop. Next to it were two neat stacks of papers held down by a crystal (big surprise there) paperweight. Impulsively, she reached out to touch the crystal half expecting to be shocked by jolts of magical energy when she did. Rolling her eyes at her own idiocy, Sarah smirked. Granted, in her experience, whenever crystals and the Goblin King were mixed bad things seemed to happen. But, that did not excuse superstitious twaddle.

Crossing her arms against her chest, she turned her back to the desk, leaning against it. As she stood there, she slowly became aware of a spicy, completely male scent that filled her nostrils. This was a scent she had experienced before - one she would never forget. Inhaling deeply, she breathed in Jareth's smell. Again, the tug of memory teased her weary mind. This time, however, Sarah didn't immediately push it away. Instead, she allowed herself to relax ever so slightly. Only when her body was relaxed did she notice just how tense her body was. Licking her lips, she closed her eyes.

Jareth wasn't here yet. Knowing him, he would make her wait as long as it pleased him before he deigned to give her his company. Throwing caution to the wind, Sarah inhaled deeply.

Scent is the strongest sensation tied to memory, after all. Closing her eyes, she didn't fight back when the memories filled her mind. Memories of dancing, of being held. Memories of fighting, of resisting. She remembered how it felt when his strong arms surrounded her, holding her so gently yet so strong.

She was searching for something....

No. That was not it. She was searching for someONE not someThing. And that someone was eluding her once again, losing himself in the sea of people that surrounded them. She was dressed like a princess from some forgotten fairy tale, a vision in a delicate ball gown of sliver and pink. Her hair was swept behind her, falling in a dark waterfall of raven curls.

She was innocence...She was beauty incarnate...She was HIS...

Yet she could not find him...Her someone...The man who she searched for. All around her, evil men and women were dancing, twirling around. Their skirts blocked her pathway, barring her from reaching him. Hands grabbed at her, trying to force her to stay, but she fought through. Each time she turned her head, she thought she glimpsed him, but he was elusive.

All at once, it seemed the crowd was pressing in further. Surrounding her...holding her back... She didn't understand their intentions, but she knew enough to be afraid. Frantically, she twisted and turned, her heart pounding hard in her chest. They were all around her now. Pulling her, sucking her in, blocking all chance of escape.

But then she felt his eyes upon her, and all fear was gone. She turned to face him...

His strong arms encircled her waist, drawing her close against his body. Protecting her - shielding her from the vicious crowd. They were dancing then. He was whispering to her, his lips tickling her ear... She looked into his eyes and felt that she must kiss him or die. He must have sensed her need, for he lowered his lips to her own...

Sarah literally growled. This was NOT the time or the place to start reminiscing like this. For heaven's sake, Sarah, pull yourself together!! Blinking her eyes, she rubbed at them with the back of her hands. Irritation filled her, replacing all the pleasant feelings the "memory" had left.

"It wasn't even a memory," she muttered to herself. "First of all, I don't believe I'm remembering it right in the first place. Second of all, the whole bloody memory was nothing more than a last ditch effort from Jareth to trick me."

"Since when did you start the nasty habit of talking to yourself, my dear? It doesn't suit you."

Sarah's stomach lurched in a mixture of shock and fear. Never in a million years could she forget that voice. It was smoother than silk, cultured and aristocratic. Yet it held a cold edge that was easily hidden but never completely covered up. That edge, she knew, could cut sharper than any sword, shredding the hearts of men, not to mention young girls, to pieces.

Slowly, Sarah turned on her heel to face her nemesis. She had steeled herself. Prepared herself. She had promised that she would betray no emotion. Give him no joy in seeing her squirm. Standing before him now, she could not prevent the sharp intake of breath as she gazed into those blue/brown eyes. Like everything else this evening, so it seemed, she wasn't sure what she expected to see. This was most definitely NOT it.

The last time she had seen the Goblin King, he had worn the wings of a broken bird, begging and pleading for her "love". His hair was wildly unkempt, and in it fluttered the white feathers from his stunning costume. Other times, she had seen him arrayed in outfits that bespoke of a fantastical king from the imaginations of a thousand love sick school girls. Always in leather coats, tight breeches, flowing shirts adorned with lace. Always with high riding boots and black gloves. He was, well.... erm... Well, he was just Jareth...

And now, Jareth stood before her once again in all his blessed glory. His wild hair was tamed back into a civilized, sleek mass gathered at the back of his neck with a neat leather thong. Instead of leather pants and boots, he wore a tuxedo. It was obvious by the fit and cut that this was hand tailored and not purchased off of some rack. Most shockingly of all, his slender hands were bare. Only a thin wristwatch encircled one wrist.

While Sarah never expected Jareth to look Goblin Kingish, to see him looking so... so... Human was more shock than she could bare. And yet, he wasn't completely human looking either. There was something strange about him. Something unearthly, too intangible to put in words. There was a wild, feral look hiding behind his rich suit and fancy surroundings. Perhaps it was the arrogant way he held his head, or the lethal gleam in his eyes. There was a magical air, an unseen current of energy about him that Sarah could sense. With dawning horror, she realized that he was still completely, utterly handsome. And god help her, there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

Luckily for Sarah, this sentiment quickly faded away the instant His Royal Majesty opened his big fat mouth.

"My dear Sarah," he murmured. Jareth's eyes were shimmering darkly, showing his obvious amusement at her discomfiture. He was used to the admiration of women. It was nothing new to a man of his station. Usually such attentions did nothing but bore him. Sarah, on the other hand, was something else entirely. He had always treasured the tortured looks on her face. Some things were so hard to forget.

"Sarah Williams," he repeated slowly, rolling the words in his mouth. His lips pulled back into a wide grin, revealing a glimmer of white teeth. The look was meant to be charming, but to Sarah it only made him look more like a wild animal hiding in sheep's clothing. If that was possible, of course. Sarah thought it was at least.

He paused, giving her the chance to speak. Sarah tried, but her thoughts raced through her mind too fast to catch. Since she did not, Jareth took the initiative.

"And what brings you to Monte Carlo, my dear? Come for a little gambling, perhaps?"

The questions was innocent enough, but the mockery of his eyes was simply too much. Jareth took a step towards her, moving with the eerie, fluid grace that she remembered. When he approached, standing within arm's reach Sarah did not back away. Even if she couldn't summon up the courage for words yet, she would not back away.

Again, Jareth's lips curled, but there was no attempt at charm this time, only a distinct distaste. "And here I thought this place a little to high class for a schoolteacher."

Sarah's eyes blazed with fury. She took a step towards him, her hands balling into fists at her sides. Suddenly, kicking his lace wearing ass wasn't such a bad idea after all. "First of all, I'm not a schoolteacher, I'm a Professor. Get it right. Second of all, what the Hell are you doing here?" Okay, so maybe it wasn't all that eloquent, but dang it, she was past the point of caring.

Jareth spread his arms in a wide gesture. "What am I doing here? Last time I checked, I live here. You're the outsider here, Sarah. Try to remember that."

"Oh, I'll remember that just fine, Your Majesty." She bit out the title like it was a curse. "But that's not what I was asking and you know it. What are you doing in this world? You don't belong here anymore than..." She was about to say "anymore than I belonged in yours..." but the words seemed to strange in her mouth.

Jareth didn't seem to pick up on her hesitation. He turned his back to her and walked to a nearby table with a crystal decanter filled with brown liquid. He poured himself a tumbler before he inclined his head toward Sarah. "Scotch?" He asked politely.

"Not a chance," she grated, remembering the last time she accepted food or drink from him. "Just answer the question. Why are you here?"

Jareth took a healthy swallow, for the moment looking absurdly civilized. "I like your world Sarah. For the moment at least, that is. I love your fast cars, your women, your intrigue. Not to mention the whiskey." He gave her a salute with his glass. "I grew tired of my last little world, and decided to sample others. Yours was the most logical of choices."

For a moment, Sarah's mouth hung open. She thought of the world of the Underground. Of all the creatures that inhabited it. Everything inside of the Labyrinth seemed so vibrant, so alive. To hear of it spoken of as nothing more than a discarded toy was shocking. She shook her head slowly.

"What," Jareth asked. "You're beginning to look a trifle pale, my dear. Are you sure you won't have any of this Scotch?" From the looks of his strained face, he was trying to hold back laughter. Sarah's eyes widened.

He knew.

The bastard actually knew why she was here. He knew the Labyrinth was falling apart and he didn't care.

She hadn't expected this. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she had hoped that when Jareth found out about the state of the Underground, he would rush back and fix it. At the very least, perhaps she could get him to promise to restore it somewhat.

Sarah forced herself to meet Jareth's unwavering gaze. She had to at least try....

"Jareth," she could barely raise her voice above a whisper. She swallowed hard and forced authority back into her voice. "Jareth. The Labyrinth is falling apart with your magic gone. You have to go back to the Underground. You must go back before..."

Before the words were even out of her mouth, Jareth was on her. He tossed the tumbler into the fireplace before grabbing her shoulder. Gripping it painfully, his voice was like ice. "I have to? I must?"

His lips pulled back into a sneer. All of the amusement leeched form his eyes leaving only a cold fury. "How dare you attempt to tell me what I will and will not do. The day when you had any influence of me is over."

Sarah reacted with a fury of her own. Shaking her arm free from his grasp, she took a step forward. Her eyes blazed. "How dare you destroy an entire world simply because it no longer amuses you." She couldn't keep the disgust she felt from her voice. "If you don't help them, they're going to die."

His face was hovering before her own now, inches away. He was close enough that Sarah could feel the heat from his body through the thin material of her blouse. It was like he had some kind of internal furnace, blazing hot. She hated herself for it, but she couldn't help but notice how it felt having his body so close to her own. Had she ever felt so aware of her own body? This thought only made her angrier, even if the anger was more at herself than Jareth.

Jareth opened his mouth to speak when the door opened behind them. Malcolm's voice floated towards them.

"His Serene Highness is here, Sir. Your instructions were to notify you the moment he arrived."

Jareth's eyes never left Sarah's, although his lips curled back into a sardonic grin. "And his daughter?"

"The Princess is also in attendance. Shall I escort her here?"

"No. I'll find her myself, thank you. I do have a little task for you though, Malcolm. Ms. Williams and I have concluded our business. You will escort her back to her hotel."

Sarah's face felt like concrete, but she at least managed to keep her expression from changing. She felt like howling with fury, scratching first Jareth's eyes out then Malcolm's. How DARE he dismiss her this way.

"Very good, Sir. If you will, Madam." He gestured for Sarah to follow.

Fighting to keep her temper, she turned. With her back to Jareth, she whispered low enough that he could hear her even if Malcolm could not. "Our business is not over. We will discuss this later."

Sarah turned to follow the butler. Just before she was out of earshot, Jareth's voice called out. "I hope you haven't forgotten how to play, Sarah. This seems to be a most promising game."

Sarah stalked down the hallway, the sounds of his mocking laughter echoing in her ears.

A/N: Hope you guys liked it... more to come : )