Author's Note: Just to let you know, there was a slight mix-up with Chapter 11 because I originally forgot to upload it into the story. A couple of you might have read the story without it, which is fine. You didn't miss much except what happened on the last night with the draconites and Jareth's collapse. But it's a good emotional piece to lead into Chapter 12, so take a moment and read back over it.

Author's Note 2: The memories in this chapter are clearly italicized in bold and are segmented in the flow.

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Toby was frantic, spending all his time in the blue and silver bedroom with Jareth. The windows were once more open to the wind and rain, and the drapes around the bed were pulled steadfastly back, exposing the unconscious Goblin King to the elements.

Lorelei spent a large amount of her time with him, helping him try to bring Jareth around. But nothing seemed to work! Fiorle was too busy with the kids, trying to keep them in some kind of functioning order. After all, if things ended badly- and Toby really didn't want to think about that- if things ended badly, it would hit them less if they had a routine to return to.

"Please, love, wake up," he whispered, not attempting to sponge the greying face on the white pillow for the simple reason that the water would make no difference, "Aidan needs you, Jareth. And Arradine is too young to rule herself let alone a Kingdom! And Ereditha misses you. You promised to paint her one day and you haven't even started it yet. You have so much to do still, love, you have to wake up."

Hoggle would occasionally knock softly at the door, fearful of entering without permission but wanting to help. "Get some rest," the dwarf would say, "I can watches him for a couple of hours. Wellis is spraying the fairies today, so I gots the time."

"Thanks, Hoggle. I'm right here, but in case I don't hear when something happens, wake me up immediately, okay?"

A nod from the big head and Toby would curl up in the bed, on the side he used to sleep on. He couldn't touch Jareth. The Goblin King was too fragile, too cold. He repelled people, and those who fought that extreme discomfort touching him brought were always risking his safety. But sleeping far enough away was a comfort that Toby afforded the both of them. It made him hope wildly that whatever had troubled Jareth about his departure would ease if the half-goblin knew he was right there.

Not that it had ever worked!

And time was growing shorter. He could feel his own strength draining. Jareth's body was not responding. Nothing happened- he just lay there. Toby would have gone out of his head having to administer sponge baths and changing soiled clothes or bed linen, but even that was preferable to this complete stillness .

'The fear of the immediate future acts as a deterrent to the sufferer's living abilities. Studies have shown that the life force of magical creatures is strong, and the body and the spirit share a unity that fights death until the sufferer himself chooses death. The combination of the fear and this united strength of body and spirit places the sufferer in a condition of passive denial. The sufferer usually chooses not to live the perceived immediate future, instead entering a frozen state of unconsciousness in which the body and the soul are literally halted in their passage through time to stay firmly within the present moment… Jra-boon-hei verdos-gh, i dightough ana saer verd: The fearful unlive, in hope not to face fear'

The book fell to the sheet and Toby wanted so much to say something meaningful. Maybe if he promised that whatever Jareth feared would not happen? But the Goblin King could not hear him and… well, the rays of sunlight in his head promised him that it was out of his hands now.

He shut his eyes and tried to rest, the fine linen beneath him soft against his tired skin.

Hoggle watched over them both, uncomfortable seeing them in bed together. While they weren't exactly curled up together and making love, it was still scandalous according to the Underground code of polite conduct for him to sit in a monarch's bedroom while he was in bed with his consort. Never mind that said monarch was two steps away from his after-life, and that the consort was exhausted.

Hoggle pitched his eyes somewhere on Jareth's right hand so that he'd see movement, but didn't have to spy on anyone. Sarah had asked him to come for Toby. Lorelei had asked him to come for her sake, for when she couldn't be there. Toby had simply been grateful and humbly taken all the help offered without once asking for more. It was as if the mortal was unaware of anyone else in the room beyond the half-goblin-half-fae creature driven so far into his illness; Toby did what needed to be done and if someone volunteered to do it for him he didn't object. It simply was not important so long as it got done.

And that book. Toby had been reading through that book for days now, having found it in the drawer of the desk in the sitting room. With every page he lost more hope and Hoggle was beginning to think that this would all end very badly.

There was no movement.

Hours passed, days passed and Toby found he had to leave the sickroom because a decision needed to be made about Arradine. Gringol was dead- had died two years ago- and there were few nobles that the mortal could trust the Kingdom to. There was a general murmur that Arradine should be crowned, seeing as how it was only a matter of time before Jareth died, and Arradine had responded to the tentative suggestion by bursting into tears and refusing to leave her room.

Aidan was like a ghost of himself, sitting for days on end in the library and ignoring such mundane things as sleep, food and sunlight. If he wasn't staring into space, convinced all of this was somehow his fault, then he had buried himself into one of the many books that came to hand. More than the girls, he was devastated by the news. Like Toby, he seemed to derive some strength from finding out everything he could about the illness.

Hoggle looked up as the doorhandle turned and the door slid open a little way. A small silver-blond head poked its way into the room and blinked inquisitively at Hoggle. The dwarf flapped a hand at her, trying to tell her to leave. This was no place for Ereditha and everyone had done their best to keep her away from all the unpleasantness. Now here she was, bright enough to know that whatever she was curious about lay in this room.

She trotted in, ignored Hoggle and climbed up on the bed. Most people tended to forget that nine-year-olds were not that innocent. Red played her cards beautifully, but the downside to being the pampered little one was that she never got told anything important. Which was where her willpower came in.

"Why's he sick?" she asked Hoggle, touching her father's face. A quick glance at Toby told her that her dad was only asleep. "Is he hurt badly?"

"He's, uh… yeah. He's hurt badly," Hoggle ended.

"Aidan said he was dying. Is that true?"

"Yeah."

"I do not want him to die."

Hoggle thought about that. "I don't wants him to die neither," he admitted, "Ain't no fun without him strolling around, yelling at peoples."

Ereditha giggled and nodded. "Lorelei said he could get better," she suggested.

Hoggle thought about that too. His wife had told him categorically that a cure was only ever affected in this later stage by someone who whole-heartedly took the cure and burned the fear out of themselves. The Goblin King wasn't even conscious to hear any reassurances, let alone fight his fears. No one expected to see him live more than a few months.

"Red?" Toby asked drowsily, sitting up at the sound of voices. He left the bed and came around, pulling his little girl into his lap and burying his face in her neck. She smelt sweet and fresh, like spring. "Why are you here? I told you to stay with Fiorle, didn't I?"

"I wanted to see Father," she said plaintively, "Why won't he wake up?"

"Because he's sick, Red. He- he is very sick."

Ereditha narrowed her eyes. "Is he dying?" she asked. If her dad said yes…

"Yes. He's dying."

"Oh."

Toby studying her face and waited for her to saying something. She didn't looked much like Jareth but she was the only one who approached him with no trace of fear. She alone had spent time with him in the library or his art rooms… his art rooms! "Come on, Ereditha. I need a walk and you need to leave."

"Can I touch him?" she pleaded.

"He's not an exhibit in a museum, you know. But okay. Just be very careful not to press too hard." It wasn't that Jareth would break under a poke from that tiny finger- perish the thought- but more likely that he would suffer a mild bruise. But Toby couldn't bear to see him hurt more than he already was. He waited while Ereditha's gentle fingers brushed through his hair- tugging out an alarmingly large handful even with that attempt not to harm him- and then scrambled off the bed.

"Where are we going?"

"Upstairs. I want you to show me your father's art rooms."

Ereditha walked pleasantly enough beside him, her hands in her pockets and a grown-up look of severe gravity on her little face. "Haven't you been there?"

"Only once. I wasn't often allowed there," Toby murmured distractedly. The arched windows were nearby. He remembered those; he had always stopped for a second to look out the windows to the Labyrinth when he'd passed to and from his bedroom. But that was all in the past. He remembered a ball once, when he and Jareth had made their slow way back to their suite at the end and stopped at one of the windows to kiss.

"I wasn't allowed either," Ereditha pointed out confidentially, "But I still went. Father was very angry when he found me there, but I told him I liked his painting and then… oh! I, um, wasn't supposed to say."

"I'll pretend to forget." Toby had no intention of forgetting. He'd stopped keeping his curiosity to himself. How much damage he had done, simply because he'd been afraid of causing a scene! If he had questioned more, forced Jareth to talk, manipulated him and charmed him into revealing all these things, Jareth would be dying in a bed. Their marriage might have ended, but Jareth wouldn't be dying! That was all that mattered! "In here?"

He pointed to the staircase that led up to the turret and stopped as a memory washed over him.

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"Sire?"

Jareth turning from the staircase, wrenching his mind back from the simple thought of taking to the skies to relieve this insane frustration niggling at his soul, blinking a little as he saw Arienne smiling at him. The way Arienne had looked- not so old, not so sombre- smiling with delight to see the Goblin King he had watched grow from a child.

"Arienne, I require your aid." Jareth had known he needn't stand on ceremony with the healer who had helped calm a terrified thirteen year old in the day following his wedding night. "There's something wrong with me but I don't know what." Complete confidence that Arienne could cure him of anything.

And Arienne's kind smile; the look of understanding and amusement in his eyes when gestured his readiness to help.

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Toby blinked rapidly clearing his head of that memory. Where had it come from? Surely it couldn't be something he'd seen because it was the day that Jareth had found out about their bond. He knew that somehow. He shrugged mentally to himself and followed his daughter up into the tower.

Basically, it wasn't a tower, but the upper floors narrowed to the studio-like room that he had visited with the news of Arradine's latest escapade. Ereditha had already run up the stairs and Toby followed, taking the stairs two at a time in an effort to keep up.

Then he was inside the room and it was dark. No windows in this part of the Castle; Jareth protected his artwork and personal collections of books and papers with a jealous eye. It was not unduly dusty, nor was it damp or depressing. It felt like a much-loved room that hadn't been visited in a few days and was kept guarded against intruders.

He spotted the same old guitar lying in the couch and picked up. Like most boys his age, he'd learned a little from friends and from his dad. But what he knew he had long forgotten. But the instrument was kept tuned and obviously properly strung and cleaned. He contented himself with a few chords and then set it down, only to be hit by another memory.

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"Gina, put that shit down, you silly cow. Now come here and show me how to use this thing."

"Aw! But Jareth, honey, you're no fun! I thought we were going to go do something!"

The dim electric lights shone with a mellow tinge on the three strikingly vibrant paintings on the wall and the black leather couch. The red velvet drapes looked imminently mysterious with the same inflections and the woman sitting cross-legged by the table was scowling at her male companion as she sniffed and wiped her upper-lip before reluctantly obeying.

"We will," Jareth promised, "Once you show me a few chords."

The guitar was on his knee and he was running his fingers reverently over the strings with a deeper depth of feeling than that with which he touched his latest girlfriend. He respected this thing of wood and string, loved the raw sound that came from it when a knowing hand touched it. And like any artist, wanted it to be his hand that could draw out that sound.

Gina plopped herself down next to him and took the guitar with a grumbled expletive. "You're taking me out dancing after this, you hear? God, if you weren't such a good lay I'd drop you."

Dramatically made-up mismatched eyes gleamed wickedly at her. "Show me the chords and I'll take you to that T-Rex concert tomorrow. I'm sure Marc Bolan would love to meet you."

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"Marc Bolan?" Toby echoed, "Who the hell?"

"Here," Ereditha said authoritatively, tugging on his hand to draw him to a corner where a large something-or-other was covered against the dusk. "Father showed me this once. Take the cover off."

Toby obeyed and then gasped. Below the dustcovers was a graceful old cabinet with a mint-condition record player. Packed into the shelves below and into neat boxes on the side were more records that Toby believed one person could have collected. But his daughter was already on her knees, sifting through the shelf at the bottom for one particular one.

"Here," she said again, pulling one out and showing it to him. "Father played it for me once. I liked him.There is a photo in there."

Toby took it out instantly. His husband looked back at him, but not the way he remembered. Still with the same hair and the same superior smirk, but now with a come-hither gleam in his eyes and a layer of make-up that would have made a geisha faint. His arm was around another man, this one with long, tightly curled hair of the kind that used to be called corkscrew curls. Elaine had worn her hair like that for a dance, once. It had looked ridiculous on her but on this Marc person, it somehow fitted, making him look like a mischievous pixie in mortal clothes and glitter.

So these were Jareth's memories he was getting? Looking around, he suddenly realized with a start that there were four hundred and seventy years worth of memories here! What was going on? Was it just the emotions lavished on these things that he was picking up on?

No, it was more than that, he decided. Those memories never just poured into his head unless…

Blue eyes widening, he turned to direct another stare around then enormous room crammed so neatly with its treasures. 'Love?' he sent out mentally, 'Jareth, can you hear me?'

There was no answer and he wasn't expecting there to be. Jareth was too lost in unconsciousness to be reached this way. But, like the glamour, the barriers must have faded without the constant upkeep. Toby could feel through the link again.

Those waves of depression and heart-stopping wrenches of pain hadn't been all his, then?

He looked down to his daughter still patiently to be noticed. "Thank you, Red," he murmured, throwing his arms around her and dropping a loud kiss on the top of her head. "Thank you so much."

"Dad! What are you doing?" she asked wriggling around like a little fish, though she wasn't trying to escape the embrace.

"I have a lot of work to do, Ereditha, but I want you to do something for me," Toby ordered, "Go down and sit with your father. Don't touch him, don't kiss him, don't even try to do either of those things, okay? But if you want to talk to him, that's fine. If anything happens, call a goblin and send him up for me. Can you do that?"

"All right," she agreed dubiously, "But what are you going to do?"

"I'll stay up here for a while, Red." Toby risked another look around. "There's a lot of things to see."