Toby shuddered for a moment, still unsteady from the blow. His head throbbed, but at least he didn't think there was any blood. A choked sound from the ground beside him and he followed his bond mate down, wrapping his arms around the slender frame, wincing privately as a fist unknowingly hit a tender spot on his body. "Hush," he whispered, "It will be all right."

"Dead... Archer..."

"He's dead, yes. I'm sorry, my love, so sorry."

"I'm not sorry. I wanted to kill him. I love him. I never would have... I... he..."

"Hush, sweetness, it's all over now."

Jareth was alternately sobbing and cursing, spitting vicious words to someone that he couldn't reach. The robe was off one shoulder and he was barefoot, as he always was. His dark hair was wild around his face and his eyes blazed- with emotion, with pain, with relief, with anger. And the collar glittered and gleamed as he tried to call on his magic, as his memories came rushing back.

Toby carefully slipped a hand around his back, trying to unobtrusively reach the clasp on the collar without alerting his bond mate. But it was a lost cause. To someone who had lived by their body for seven years, the smallest breath of air was perceptive and Jareth certainly felt the fingers fumble at the nape of his neck.

Toby caught his breath, anxious for his husband's frailty and not sure how he would react. Jareth half-turned his head, tears stopped, emotion forgotten as he calculated this new turn of events.

"Well, get it off," he eventually sniffed, "Or must we wait the rest of the day."

Toby gurgled with laughter but willingly complied. The clasp was stuck and he couldn't get the little bar to lift from position. "It's almost off," he murmured, "I'll just use some magic and... voilâ! All done." He tugged the metal off and flung it down to the ground in disgust, sitting back politely as Jareth raised his hands to rub his skin. "Better now?"

"Much," the former Goblin King replied. He made to stand.

"Standing will be good, but hold on. I think everything will just rush into you for a few minutes," Toby warned, helping the other male to his feet. He didn't choose to notice that Jareth snatched his hand away and averted his face. But he did know enough to understand that Jareth would retreat if he approached him now. He remembered that- the feeling that he would scream if so much as one person touched him again, no matter how much he loved them. And Jareth didn't love him, didn't really love him...

The Goblin King almost hit the ground again.

"Whoah! I think I'd better..."

"Let. Go."

"Fine." Toby let go and stood back, a hand outstretched in case the half-goblin needed it.

Jareth didn't need it. He had never needed anything less. What he needed, was that handy little Aboveground gadget that humans called a 'gun' so he could blow his brains out. He didn't need people trying to help him, staring at him with mournful eyes and offering him good advise. He just wanted them to stop staring!

"I think a change of clothes is in order," he commented neutrally. He flexed his hands, feeling the power spark off them. It crackled over him, almost tangible as it coated his tongue and pumped into his blood. With it came another sense, a sense of another person; but he quickly shut that down again. He didn't want another person in his head. He couldn't handle it.

He raised his hands and looked at them- manicured, cared for, wrists bruised and scarred. Rope, chain, scarves... people too, when there were enough. He attempted to call upon his magic and felt it jolt inside him, not quite as smooth as it used to be.

How had he instructed Toby?

'Take it one step at a time. Start with the top and picture each change, feel it, plan it down to the last detail and trace it out with your magic and your senses.'

Start at the top- his hair. He picked up one of raven black strands of hair and suddenly clipped it off. "Hold that, please," he demanded, holding it out to Toby. The mortal took it silently and clenched his fist around it. He grew the strand back and then shut his eyes, remembering it as it once was, remembering the exact way that the silver flecked through it and how it looked when he walked into moonlight. The exact feel and texture, slightly coarse, long and light.

"You've done it," Toby said quietly, "Your hair's back to normal."

He opened his eyes and looked at another strand. The colour was mostly right. Perhaps when he could see properly, or when he could sense himself the way he once could, he would check again. For now, it would do.

The process was slow. Toby watched, dark lock of hair clenched in his hand as Jareth dressed and re-dressed, painfully indecisive. A few bitter curses in the goblin language were whispered out into the air. Toby smiled a little, but didn't dare show his humour openly. It wasn't even humour in any case; there was nothing to be humorous about here.

"Jareth, before I take you to the others, I think we should take a little walk," he said bluntly, restless by the time the former Goblin King was admiring his new boots.

The result was remarkable. "Aidan! Oh Gods, I need to get to him now. The guards will be searching and they..."

"Which is why I want you to come with me. Come on! I'm not giving you up to them and we can't lead them back to the cave."

Jareth found his hand seized and then found himself being dragged to the nearest tree and told to climb it. He looked at Toby, looked up at the tree and then stared at Toby again. "Climb?" he enquired.

"Yes! We need to hide. I can't fight them and neither can you," Toby hissed, "You can climb a tree, can't you?"

The half-goblin smiled, a rather terrifying smile all things considered- "Oh, I can climb a tree, my elf." He never said a word about the irony. It was funny how climbing a tree figured at both ends of his relationship with Archer- at their first meeting, and at the end. It seemed fitting, all things considered.

The sound of the soldiers was almost non-existent. They were well trained. Toby had almost caught no warning scent of them on the breeze. Of course, the exotic perfume that Jareth was wearing was heavy enough to drown out the smell of anything! He made a mental note to get rid of it later.

"Down there," Jareth whispered, pointing to the shadows moving silently around the area.

Toby nodded and readied a knife, putting the dark lock of hair into the sheath for safekeeping. A hand on his arm stopped him. "I won't fight them. I aim well, though." The hand was taken away.

Aim.

Throw.

A fairy fell with a knife in her throat. Toby grimaced at the prickle of his conscience and readied the next one. It was a wonder the others hadn't heard that choked gasp. He would have! But then his hearing was better than most.

Another knife whistled quietly through the trees and another fairy fell.

Jareth smiled. Those two were all right, but he recognized three others on the other side of the tree. Moving quietly, he shifted position. Now was not the best time to perform such a spell but he was damned if he didn't revenge himself on the three from the group that had raped him. Multiple times, if he wasn't mistaken.

Toby stiffened as the soft voice began to chant. The words were none that he had heard except once- when he had first seen Jareth greet Archer. Why was Jareth using the Old Language? And why were the words shooting a very large amount of apprehension into his brain.

Jareth chuckled quietly and dropped down from the branch.

"Jareth, no, wait!"

"It is quite safe, Toby. These three won't be going anywhere," the half-goblin called up cheerfully.

Toby climbed down, only to find his bond mate shedding his coat and walking to pick up one of his knives. He stared open-mouthed as Jareth casually walked to first one, the other and the last, cutting a single rune into their backs with the sharp blade. All three seemed unconscious and they made no move.

"Jareth, what's that?" he managed, pointing to the knife.

"An old spell, my dear. A very vicious spell." Jareth handed him his knife and sat down comfortably on the ground. "Would you like to see it work?"

Toby hesitated. A good decision would be going back to his friends and family, going back to protect those he needed to protect. A bad decision was revenge. And then he looked at Jareth's eyes- saw the anger and pain and grief in them. He didn't know how it had happened; he didn't know why Jareth recognized him so suddenly. But he could guess that Jareth needed this. He sat as close to him as he dared and watched.

For the first ten minutes, nothing happened. And then something began to move beneath the earth. Toby had spent enough time with elves to know that earth never just shifted because it felt like it.

"What the..."

"Patience, Toby. You will see. This is a wonderful spell." Jareth's grin was positively satanic.

The bodies began to stir. The runes vanished and the ripped shirts mended themselves so that no evidence was left on the backs. A female blurrily caught sight of their prey sitting calmly off to the side and tried to stand.

"I advise you to sit, my dear," Jareth called, "My fieries get excited when you run."

"The fieries? You called the fieries?"

"I summoned them, Toby. They aren't creatures like any you know. For the most part they are mischievous fire sprites that like causing chaos. But they were once vengeance spirits in the forgotten past. Fae and goblin peoples offered them sacrifices. I invoked the spell to summon them now, as gods and deities. My sacrifice- these poor fools here."

"Jareth, no, you..."

The fairies were on their feet and lurching drunkenly to them, blinking pretty eyes in an effort to clear them. Jareth simply smiled, a smile of blissful contemplation. The sound of music and revelling was beginning to sing through the forest.

Toby knew ever after that they had sat there for two hours, watching as the cheerfully inane fieries dismantled the fae with many a song and much laughter. He almost threw up when one pushed his hand into the warm, pulsing cavity of a screaming male's stomach and pulled out his liver, swallowing it raw. Jareth never opened his mouth, or joined in the laughter. But he watched every minute with a grim smile playing over his lips.

When it was done, Toby was light-headed and green. Jareth made the appropriate gestures of thanks and dismissed the fieries, turning away from them as they swung away through the foliage talking of a lucky escape from the Fairy Queen's cages and how no one wanted to kill anyone anymore in the Underground.

"Are you quite done?"

Jareth was pale and his mouth was an ugly gash in his face. His fingers were shooting sparks for some reason as he fought to maintain control of the emotions and power that writhed inside him. "No," he bit out, "Archer's domain will cease to exist. But not tonight. There is one in that Castle that I must speak with. Let them tremble in their stone fortress and wait for my vengeance. The morning will come soon enough for them."

"More?" Toby sighed, "Jareth, I know you hurt, but you cannot kill everyone simply because of Archer."

"I am not. I killed Archer because of what he did. I killed the guards for the same reason. No one in that palace lifted a finger to help me, Toby; no one. Ariadne was worse than the lowest peasant amongst them. I failed to protect her and she died. Do you know how? She was beaten to death."

Toby winced and touched the wound on his ribs. It was shallow and it could wait. Jareth's pain could not. "Jareth, you cannot blame yourself for that. Archer ordered her death, not you."

"I watched her die. With every denial, I watched them beat her. With whips and clubs and sticks, I watched them beat her. And I shut my eyes and said nothing."

Oh. Well, that did put a different spin on things. Toby naturally didn't see what it could cost Jareth to save a life, but there was so much he didn't know. How would he know what Jareth was being asked to do?

"Archer ordered me to call him 'Master'. I refused. Ariadne was just lying in the corner, waiting for his command just like she always did. She was asleep," the raw silk voice broke, "And that monster sent her to her death."

"I'm sorry."

Mismatched eyes looked to him, dispassionately taking in the sadness and sympathy, and came to a perplexing belief- "No, you're not. You can't be. You never met her. You do not know what she suffered. You never saw her eyes when the life faded from them. I did. I called Archer 'Master' with everything in me after that."

"Why?"

Jareth began to walk. Aimlessly, really, because he had no idea where he was going. The high-collared black shirt was thick and wrapped every inch of his skin from his neck to his waist, lace cuffs falling over his gloved hands. The black coat was long and simple, buttoned over his waist and falling mid-calf. Even the boots seemed to be trying to hide him as much as possible. "He threatened to do the same to Aidan."

"What?" Toby stopped, stunned and shocked. A child? Archer would have let a child be beaten to death? "That bastard!"

"Yes. And he touched you. I am sorry for that. I wish there was more I could say."

Toby touched the wound again and wished it too. There was plenty that Jareth could say but too much was happening too fast, as always. And they were approaching the cave. He now had another problem on his hands.

"Father!"

Jareth looked up and cursed, moving faster to get to his son. The child was scared and confused as he rushed to the only familiar person in the world gone mad. The dwarf had tried to calm him and then that- that girl had said he was her brother! How dared she! His father was his; this girl couldn't have him. He burst into tears as his father picked him up.

"Aidan, stop crying," Jareth sighed, "Come, my son. There's nothing to cry for, is there?"

Aidan nodded, knowing this talk by heart. He gulped his tears away and let the familiar feel of hands rubbing circles on his back soothe him. But then he opened his eyes, and everything felt different. He picked up a lock of moon-blond hair in his hands and stared at it, blinking in confusion as he fought the evidence of his eyes.

"Do you like it?" Jareth whispered, leaning his forehead against his son's. The child was frowning now, staring at the lock of hair as if it would bite him.

"Why did you change it?" Aidan demanded.

"I didn't change it, Aidan. My... Archer- the Fairy Lord- made me make it black. It's really yellow."

"Not yellow," Aidan said decisively.

"Not yellow? Then what is it?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know. That's all right. We will think of that colour tomorrow. We are going to take a long journey, Aidan. These people are taking us back home. We're going to see goblins and a big Labyrinth and a Castle- all our own and no one will tell us what to do."

"But Leela!"

Jareth bit his lip and turned to look at Toby. The fire-blond was staring at his son with a peculiar mixture of thoughts in his eyes. He wanted so much for this to be a happy reunion, but he didn't assume it would be. He couldn't spring all of this on Aidan all at once. The child would be terrified. He pleaded silently for Toby to forgive him, silently promised him the world if only Toby would not press the issue.

Aidan looked around to see that the male with the blue eyes was staring at him. Not knowing quite what to do, Aidan did what came naturally- he stuck his tongue out and squeezed his eyes shut again before burrowing into the crook of his father's neck.

Toby blinked. The child had just stuck his tongue out at him! In the midst of madness and drama and angst and secrets revealed, his unknown son had glared at him with all the petulance of a five-year-old and stuck a small pink tongue out at him! A giggle bubbled up. Then he caught sight of Arradine's face. He began to chuckle louder. Aidan peeped at him suspiciously with those big blue eyes and that did it. He began to laugh, rolling onto his back in the mud and laughing weakly up at the sky.

Archer!

Oh God, Archer had been behind this entire catastrophe! His rape, the war, Jareth's capture... every bit of angst and pain had happened because Archer couldn't fight his obsessive love for someone who he should never have thought of in the first place.

"My elf, you're frightening the child," Jareth remarked, turning to look at the convulsing mortal on the ground.

"I c-can't help it..." he was off again.

Jareth watched him. Toby was laughing so hard he gasped, hands clutching at his stomach. The former Goblin King could not, however, share the mirth. He wanted to scream, to cry, to burrow somewhere warm and dark and childishly pretend that nothing was happening because no one could see him. He wanted to die.

Aidan tugged at his sleeve. "Father, who is that?"

Jareth looked along the little finger to see a little girl. She was watching him with the same blue eyes, innocent and worldly all in one glance, silver-blond hair framing her face in uneven lengths. Who was that, indeed! "Arradine?" he guessed.

The girl took a step forward and looked from father to son. The adult she knew; she remembered him from her dad's description and from the crystal. But who was the boy? He said the male was his father! "Dad?" she called, "Daddy?"

Toby got off his back and walked around to get to his daughter. He still giggled sporadically, the loss of blood from the gash across his ribs not helping matters. He put an arm around Arradine and gently took her closer. "Jareth, I think you remember Arradine. Arra, sweetheart, say hello."

"Hello," she muttered, staring at him.

Jareth nodded, choking slightly because Aidan's arms had tightened around his neck. "Aidan, let go, please. Gently, luv, gently." Managing to pry Aidan's arms looser, he nodded to Toby and spoke quietly in Aidan's ear. The child shook his head and pouted. Jareth ignored him... again. "Aidan, say hello to Arradine and- and Toby."

"Hi, Aidan," Toby said softly, holding out his hand.

Aidan pressed back and flicked distrustful eyes over that hand. "No."

A look of panic and pain crossed the former Goblin King's face as he opened his mouth to counteract that statement, but Toby hushed him. He hadn't expected anything else. Aidan obviously didn't trust anyone besides his father. It would take some time.

"I'm sorry," Jareth muttered, raking a hand through his hair, "I'll explain it to him later." His eyes fell on the others, the ones standing behind his husband and he stiffened, wild-eyed and embarrassed. Almost as a habit, he made to pull his robe closer, conscious of how he looked to Hoggle, Ludo and Sir Didymus.

Toby noticed the direction of that glance and turned slightly. "Hoggle, could you take Arra back to the cave? I think I need a few minutes to talk to Jareth. Uh, Jareth, do you think Aidan will go with them?"

Jareth glanced down at his son and smiled reassuringly. "He can't hurt us now," he whispered, "Go with the dwarf and I will come find you later. Okay?"

Aidan looked reluctant but went obediently enough. It was a puzzling thing considering his mistrust of strangers. But Toby had other things to think about. He waited while Sir Didymus bid the former Goblin King welcome and then listened sharply to make sure everyone had gone before daring to approach. Jareth just stood there, trapped in his normally controlled appearance with the wild animal staring out of his eyes.

It would take a long time to heal. Toby felt his own emotional wounds rip open as he remembered the callus way Archer had lied to him. Every soft touch or comforting look, the way the Fairy Lord had pretended to want to help him, when all the time he was driving him insane. Toby felt the fear and doubt flood him once more. And he knew Jareth felt the same.

The Goblin King was staring at him with a curiously bewildered look in his eyes, stiff and unsure.

Toby reached timidly for him, expecting him to move away, expecting to see disgust on Jareth's face. He had left him there, after all, for seven years. He was no fit mate for Jareth, never had been. He had only ever brought sadness and chaos. What right had he to expect to be allowed to taste those tears?

Jareth accepted the embrace, stepping into it with a soft, heartbroken sigh, the tears trickling slowly from under his eyelids as he stopped fighting. He didn't have the strength to keep fighting. For seven years, he had fought to stay alive and healthy, to keep himself and his child in one piece. And now they were over and he was no longer a slave. But he couldn't forget. He couldn't stop his body reacting the way Archer had taught it to react.

When Toby bit softly at his neck and pulled him to the ground, he followed willingly, needing and aching to forget.

The mortal laid his husband on his back and straddled him. Jareth never saw the pain of that first, swift impalement. He had his eyes closed, luxuriating in the pleasures he had not had for many long years. Archer had never allowed him inside him and Archer had never treated him with such capable gentleness. So he never knew that Toby was bleeding, or that the stinging pain grew worse with each movement.

He did see the tears, however, and he did feel the small figure huddle closer for warmth when it was all over, both of them sated and comforted.

Toby stared at his husband for a long time after Jareth fell asleep, keeping watch as he felt the throbbing ache recede with each inactive minute. He hadn't minded the pain. He had known he was too tight for something like that; seven years did tend to do that to the most limber of bodies. And he didn't care. Jareth had needed it; he had needed it. And it had been wonderful.

He held his lover close and gently let his magic out to strip that annoying perfume away, leaving only pine and smoke to be breathed in. And just like so many years ago, Toby filled his lungs with it as he drifted off into a fitful sleep.