Author's Note: I know things are getting very confusing here, but indulge me. Toby and Jareth both come from very different worlds, and both bear their own scars and traumas. I'd imagine it would make things very difficult for the both of them to adjust to each other.

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Arienne carefully examined the smooth expanse of stomach, fingers pressing and probing with the utmost concentration.

Toby flinched but held still. It was a supremely uncomfortable process, all things considered; who knew pregnancy tests could be so awkward? And so intrusive! He's already had to pass over a urine sample and that was a disgusting thing to have to do. He had a new-found respect for women these days. Especially since he'd found out that yes, men really were idiots.

"Yes," the old goblin announced, suitably interrupting his internal diatribe, "I am afraid the preliminary test was right. You are pregnant."

The boy heaved a sigh of relief and hurriedly got up, pulling his shirt down. "Are you sure?" he asked anxiously, "I really don't want to have tell Jareth if I don't have to."

"The last test will agree, MyLord. Congratulations."

"I suppose I can't just not tell him, can I? "

"No, these things usually have symptoms," Arienne smiled, packing his curious little gadgets away in his bag, "But you can rest easy; your consort does not know as yet. You have a few more days to think things through."

Toby grinned back, but hesitantly. There was something that he really wanted to ask, something that he was beginning to think was like the search for the Holy Grail, but he had this feeling that Arienne would be as unlikely to tell him as Jamelia or Kyfrem or Cornelia or any of the others he had spoken to. Yet, he didn't think that it would hurt to try. After all, Arienne was educated and shrewd; that and he seemed the only person who paid entirely no attention at all to Jareth's vicious mood swings.

"Something troubles you, child?"

Toby looked up with a start, blinking to see the keen grey eyes peering closely at him. "I was thinking of something," he confessed, "It's a bit personal and I don't know... that is, I need some information."

"Oh?" Arienne decided he was definitely interested. Of all those who counted themselves amongst the Goblin King's allies, he had had the least contact with the King's mate. "And what information is this?"

"It's about Jareth. And this past of his that no one is allowed to talk about?"

Arienne stiffened.

"Wait! I know you can't say anything, but honestly, you have to help me out here." Toby heard himself plead shamelessly. He didn't care. Instead he focused all the wealth of his charm and innocence on the retreating goblin healer. "What's the big secret- that's all I want to know."

"That's worth more than my life, child. At least, to His Majesty it is," Arienne stated grimly. He picked up his bag and made to leave, stopping only when a blond figure propped its back against the door and asked again. "My Lord, I really cannot tell you."

"There must be something you can tell me," Toby insisted, "Anything! Jareth's been going mad for days now. And not the 'I'll-scream-and-shout-and-generally-make-everyone-fear-me' kind, but the kind that boils slowly inside you until you lose your mind when it all tumbles out. I can feel it and I can't do a thing about it. And now there's a child to think about. There has to be something you can tell me."

"Nothing," Arienne snapped firmly, "Put it from your mind. His Majesty will not..."

Toby stamped his foot in a rage and cracked the mirror over his dresser with a short fit of magic-riddled emotion. "I'm tired of what His Majesty will or will not do," he snorted, "Just tell me what the bloody hell is going on. I'm his consort; I have the right to know."

"Rights?" The goblin gently patted the taller mortal's arm in sympathy. "Listen to me, child. You have no rights except what the Goblin King gives you. We none of us do. The rules were made to be flexible when a King so decides it. The people will not aid you for Jareth can level the Kingdom in a few short bursts of strength. Jareth is the Goblin Kingdom; the only right you have is what he allows."

Toby stared. He was standing in a sleek, dark wood panelled suite of rooms with an enormous four-poster bed and a window that looked out to the magnificence of the Labyrinth and the daily sun-rise, carrying Jareth's child even though he was a guy and scared shitless by the very thought, and all he had was Jareth's supreme favour? Even as his legal consort?

"Like hell," he swore quietly, "I am not some goblin who'll stand to be kicked around. I share his powers!"

"You do not, however, share his finesse," Arienne sighed, impatiently shifting the weight of his bag to his other hand. "And if you'll excuse me, I have patients to attend to."

"And I have the Goblin King to think about. What happens if he blows his brains out?"

Arienne smiled- actually smiled at the thought- and shook his head of wispy grey hair. "The Goblin King would no more kill himself than your friend Ludo could. His insufferable pride will not let him. So, you see?"

"No, I don't! Why won't anyone tell me? I'm having panic attacks after every night that we spend together and all I hear is 'don't worry; he won't kill himself'? Just how reassuring is that?"

"After every night? What exactly do you mean?" Arienne set his bag down and fixed a stern eye on the rampaging mortal. That this would be a difficult time for Jareth was an understandable fact; but why would he react with his bond mate? True, his first had not been pleasant, but this child was as far from Him as two people could get!

'Toby can be controlled, Arienne. I have waited a long time for someone so easily manipulated. I do not mean to give him up even if you tell me he cannot give me heirs...'

No, there was more to this than Jareth had admitted to. The goblin frowned and rubbed his chin, surveying his puzzled companion with thoughtful silence. Toby shifted nervously on his bare feet but seemed willing enough to discuss whatever it was that was worrying him.

"He's wonderful," Toby began slowly, "He really is. Which sounds girly and really dumb, but it's the truth. When he's with me, he's fine and we have fun. Which usually means we end up in bed, which is fine too and he seems okay with it. But then after that... he shuts down."

"Shuts down?"

"Exactly. Just like that. He just lies there, staring out of the window and thinking. He closes his mind to me. And- this sounds so stupid- but one night, I pretended to roll over in my sleep and he touched my shoulder to settle me again and his fingers were so cold."

Cold! Arienne felt cold himself as the panic gripped him. But the mortal obviously wouldn't understand the meaning of what he said; and the healer had never yet said more than he judged necessary. "The Castle is cold," he dismissed, "It was the night air."

Toby shook his golden head, folding his arms across his chest. The white shirt he was wearing was one of Jareth's, a sentimental piece of romance that he had allowed himself this morning. "It was a warm night," he shrugged, "I know because I was boiling under the blankets but I couldn't kick them off without disturbing him."

This was all that these troubled times needed to set the match to the wood. Cold! Arienne thought pleasurably of what he would say to the Goblin King when next he saw him, and if that got him thrown into the Bog of Eternal Stench then so be it. Cold!

"It's really serious, isn't it?"

"Not necessarily," Arienne cautioned, "There is something in his past that Jareth prefers to forget, but you shouldn't worry over it. You cannot afford to, right now."

"I shouldn't?" Toby raised an eyebrow and then raised his hand to show the goblin healer the crystal in his hand. "I summoned this long before you came in to see what Jareth was doing. Is it me or does this freak you out?"

Jareth was in his informal throne room, draped as per usual over his stone seat while the goblins he kept for his amusement gambolled around the room and chased a squawking chicken in circles. The Goblin King had the ceremonial dagger from his formal binding in his hand and was hypnotically drawing the flat of the blade over his thumb again and again, eyes dropped to watch the way that the sun from the many windows left the jewelled instrument in shadow. As both watched, the dagger was suddenly raised by a slender arm and hurled with indifferent accuracy at the chicken.

Arienne sighed as the goblins in the crystals immediately backed off, leaving the bloody chicken flopping weakly in the middle of the room. Jareth didn't seem able to lift his eyes from his handiwork either, watching from under hooded eyelids as the creature spilled bright red blood over the scrubbed stone floors and died.

The crystal dissolved on Toby's fingers. "See what I mean?"

Arienne really hated his position in all of this, but the truth was the truth- "He is not going mad, child. The Goblin King you see is just one face. That is another. He kills just as surely as he kisses."

"You're telling me this is what he really is?"

"No, I am telling you that this is what he is capable of," Arienne corrected, "You know this in your heart, child. You must. Jareth does not appreciate his private life being delved into, even by anyone who is his private life."

"Stop calling me 'child', Arienne, it makes me feel thirteen. Which is really wrong considering what Jareth and I get up to." It was a weak shot, but Toby hoped.

Arienne didn't so much as blink. "Sixteen is not particularly grown up either," he pointed out, picking up his bag while he was at it with a determined hand, "Jareth was a fool to have taken you so young. But I suppose he has his reasons."

'He's so young. It reminds me, makes me crave the revenge that I can quench within him. And what is more, he will obey my every command...'

Arienne wasn't so sure about Jareth's opinion in this. It sat very heavily on his conscience that Jareth had manoeuvred the boy into a relationship that was so obviously doomed from the start. No record existed of an Aboveground mortal living happily with an Underground. By their very nature the two were held separate. Of course, Toby's advantage was the peculiar circumstance of his upbringing, touched as he was by Underground magic all through his life since infancy. In many ways, the healer considered that the mortal had been especially bred for the Goblin King's pleasure by that bond.

"Arienne, please!"

A small hand on his shoulder and the goblin stopped, looking down to the limb with some resignation. It was a strong hand, and small but well formed with a broad palm and rather small fingers. Surprisingly enough it bore faded calluses, as if heavy work had once been involved before its recent inactivity. "I can tell you nothing."

"At least tell me where I can find the information," Toby pleaded, "I've spent every spare moment in that library but there are so many books. I can't spend another day like this."

Arienne considered the position of his head and the fact that he liked his limbs all attached to his body. "The highest level of the Castle," he gave up, "Jareth's study is up there, as are his art rooms. Perhaps the records will be there."

Toby dropped his hand and waited until the heavy wooden door closed before coming to his senses. He'd been afraid that Arienne would tell him to try those rooms; Jareth had already asked that he never go there without his express permission. But this was too much. War was war and if he had to fight to get Jareth to listen to him, then so be it.

Toby had worked himself up into a fine fury by the time he shoved his feet into his boots and stomped off down the corridor.

The Castle was as bare as it had always been, the thick stone walls occasionally marked by deep gouges that he was beginning to think were made by those who tried to be whatever it was that Jareth needed. Occasionally a faded tapestry came into view, depicting fantastical creatures and battles with grim-faced goblins. The Labyrinth spread out beyond the windows for his viewing pleasure, ringed by the shadowy blue of the far-off mountains of the Lawless Kingdom.

But Toby was not interested in mountains or tapestries. He wanted his husband and he wanted answers and he was aware that both were not going to be forthcoming. He spotted a door with a carved question mark on its grainy surface and pulled it open, slamming it shut behind him as he used it to stalk into the throne room.

Complete chaos was at hand.

Goblins were kicking around the grubby cushions and greasy tankards that they normally used. Jareth was floating crystals around the room that were full of dancing women. And the mess of the dead chicken was forgotten and forlorn in a pool of blood in the middle of room where the goblins trod on it as they ran around laughing hysterically.

Revulsion was not something that Toby felt much any more when it came to goblins. He had never really considered them to be disturbing creatures once he had met them. But these! "Out," he yelled, picking up the nearest goblin by the scruff of his neck and throwing him to the floor, "Get out! All of you!"

Jareth raised his head and looked down at his bond mate through frosty eyes. "Was there something in particular, my elf?"

Slow, measured steps and Toby was kneeling astride his husband on the seat, nose-to-nose and severely angry. "One more word and I will be very angry," he hissed.

Jareth smirked with unimpressed amusement. "It seems you already are," he said aloud.

"Get. Out."

The goblins didn't need the fire-blond to look at them to know he was speaking to them. They were happy enough to take to their heels and flee. The sharp patter of feet sounded before silence descended.

Jareth had never seen his bond mate look quite so angry. Tentatively he reached mentally for him, alarmed to feel the steely determination mix with very real upset. "What's wrong?" he asked immediately, "Has something happened?"

Without thought he reached out to grasp the thin shoulders, running his hands hurriedly over clothing to feel for any injuries or hurts.

Toby responded only by crushing his mouth to his in a brutal kiss, then pulling away to slap the half-goblin across the face.

Jareth's head snapped to the side with the force of the blow. He righted himself, blinking the shock from before his eyes only to feel his own irritation flare. "You had better have a reason," he warned quietly.

"Oh, I do," Toby sneered silkily.

A dark brow rose with ominous intent as the dual-coloured eyes began to swirl with a dangerous glitter.

"How dare you presume to wrap me up in cotton wool and stick me in a glass cupboard! What the hell is going on and why won't you talk to me? I want to know what's going on and I want to know now!"

"About what?" Jareth spat, "The weather?" Toby found himself tumbling to the floor as Jareth stood up abruptly. The boy rolled instinctively. No one looked like he did and got away without learning to fight for his survival.

"Go back to your room," Jareth advised, "Occupy yourself as you think fit. And never speak of this again." The Goblin King made to leave the room, heeled boots already on the stairs when a hand stopped him from going further.

"Tell me what happened to you," Toby asked. There were no pleas any more, no anger.

Jareth turned just enough to watch the mortal warily from the corner of his eye. "It is none of your concern. Forget all of it."

"When you creep away from our bed at dawn? Is that when I'm supposed to not remember that there's something bothering you? When you touch me as if you need to punish the both of us for something? Huh? Jareth, I just want to help."

"Listen to me." Jareth was serious now. He wasn't angry and he wasn't annoyed. He was simply hell-bent on preserving his lover's ignorance for as long as was possible. "You cannot help me with this. There is nothing wrong with me. I am fine. Forget that this is bothering you. If you cannot, I will be forced to repress your memories and that, my elf, is something I am loath to do."

Toby took a hurried step back, clearly stunned by the warning. Play with his mind? After everything that his rapist had done Jareth would do the same? "You wouldn't dare," he gasped.

Jareth matched him step for step, looking down at him with sad eyes. "Yes, I would. I once told you that I held the power to dare in my hands. It was no hollow boast."

The entire room seemed to stand between them. Toby was vaguely aware that somewhere he could hear a goblin singing off-key, and that by the feel of his stomach it was close to the time for food. But all he knew was Jareth's eyes, pouring into him from two steps and the world away, glowing with something that went beyond insane to supreme. He had never questioned Jareth's dominion over everyone else around him before; it had seemed natural in this wild, feral world. But such complete control?

"You said you wouldn't ever limit our relationship," Toby tried.

"I also said I would take care of you," Jareth sighed, "Believe me I am trying to do what is best for you."

Toby held his silence. There was nothing he could say if Jareth was going to take this tack. And his child… Toby couldn't force the issue because he had the child to think about and Jareth couldn't know because Jareth couldn't possibly want it. Not if he didn't really want Toby and how could he want him if this was what he was prepared to do to him?

"Never bring up my past again," Jareth said, gloved hand extended to curl a lock of golden hair around his fingers.

Toby jerked away and the leather-coated fingers fell.

Jareth whirled away, white-feathered cape floating gently behind him. Boot heels clicked up the stairs and Jareth's straight back retreated from sight.

It was many hours before the Goblin King saw his bond mate again, and when he did it was amongst the rocks on the banks of the lake, crying quietly with some nameless sorrow. Jareth watched him for a while, standing behind him and simply dragging his eyes over the tragic figure seated in the dark of the night on a rock, his face in his hands and slow sobs trembling over his back. Toby never cried. He got angry and upset but he didn't cry. The only time he cried was… Jareth didn't want to think about that. If that bastard had touched his bond mate again, Jareth would not rest until he had hunted him down.

"Toby?" It felt as if a dam had burst in his own soul when his bond mate flung himself into his arms, speedily possessing himself of a shoulder and bursting into tears all over again. "Luv, what is it? What ails you?"

"I'm sorry," Toby gulped, "I know you didn't want this and I k-kept pushing, but I didn't mean to and now you'll hate me."

"Hate you?" Jareth wondered whether stress had forced his lover to regress to the mental state of an eight year old. Hate him, indeed! "I do not hate you, my elf. You know that." Jareth had the icy fear sliding down his spine that Toby had changed his mind!

That was evidently the wrong thing to say because Toby sobbed even harder. "You will," he wailed, his nose red and his eyes screwed shut over the tears racing down his face.

"I promise you that I will not. Will you at least come home first?" Jareth asked, worried. It had been like emerging from a long sleep to remember that he hadn't actually seen much of his lover beyond the walls of their bedchamber. And when he'd waited there for him for most of the day he'd begun to wonder why. It was a heart-wrenching thing to realize he'd simply neglected him in his own anguish. "Come, child. Nothing will be solved with staying here."

Child? Toby wanted to laugh hysterically at that. Child? He wasn't a child! He was old enough to get pregnant, damn it; he wanted that much credit at least!

Jareth must have felt the raging emotions because he looked down and pried Toby's face out of the folds of his cape in order to look him in the eye. "What's wrong?" he asked openly.

"I'm pregnant," Toby sniffed, looking away in dread as he waited for the horror and the anger that would surely be levelled his way. He could feel his husband's shock and yes, even the incredulous denial at first impact. And then there was an eerie silence.

The white hands never left his arms; Jareth didn't let him go and back away slowly. Toby opened his eyes and looked up. A neutral expression graced the face with its carved features, the ancient knowing eyes gazing hawk-like into his. His heart plummeted. Jareth didn't want their child. He was going to refuse.

Then the thin mouth began to smile. It was merely a lovely curving of the lips and then sharp incisors peeped out as the slow smile spread over Jareth's whole face to reach his eyes, lighting them with delight and wonder and triumph. Toby let out a sigh and found himself crushed against Jareth's hard body, strong arms walling him in with secure tenderness.

"Gods, I was so worried," Jareth murmured, "I thought you were unhappy. There were all these reasons in my head for why you would want to leave, ways I made you want to leave."

"Idiot," Toby muttered, the sound muffled by Jareth's chest, "Never leave you... can't... besides, I'm hungry!"

Jareth laughed. "I think you are beginning to babble, my elf. Come home. I believe we have to feed you before you waste away."

Toby snorted, looking up with tired blue eyes, unaware that there were dark circles around them, or that his skin was pale with lack of sleep and worry. "You obviously know nothing about a pregnancy! I'm about to get as big as a house. Give me a few months and the both of us won't fit in the same bed."

"Of course we will... in certain positions," Jareth murmured suggestively.

Which only served to remind the smaller male that Arienne had warned him of the hormones that were going to drive him wild for nine months, and which were probably going to make him extremely volatile. He shivered and unconsciously pressed closer, sliding his flat stomach against Jareth's hip, a leg rising to curl around the half-goblin's thigh.

Jareth laughed again, this time a long low chuckle of pleasure that drew a mewl out of the mortal's wide mouth. He apparated them back to the room in front of their bed chamber, calling instantly for food to be brought for them as he shoved Toby into a chair and forbade him to move so much as a muscle for the rest of the night.