Toby hadn't expected Jareth to turn up. He had expected that the Goblin King would simply forget or refuse. But there he was- sitting down in the window as if the entire day before had never happened.

"What did you want to say to me?" Jareth asked, arranging the billowing sleeves around his arms, "Or have I wasted my time?"

Ah, Toby decided, it was bitterness for the day. "You haven't wasted your time. But I'm not sure yet what I want to say to you." He waited while his husband shrugged and turned away, taking his words as a warning. "How did you sleep last night?"

"My hand hurts."

"I'm sorry."

Jareth looked around with indifferent surprise. "What for?" he murmured, "You never broke it."

"And your shoulder?" Toby asked.

Another shrug, this time with only his good shoulder. 'I couldn't be bothered' was what that gesture said and it boded very ill for the impending conversation.

Toby realized that. And understood it a little too. After all, the depression was fairly deep and people handled it in different ways. Jareth was obviously not handling it very well at all because he simply refused to fight any of it. He just sat there, gazing unseeing out into the overcast sky of yet another cold winter's day and making absent misty patterns on the windowpanes with his breath. Nothing registered- not the Labyrinth, not his Kingdom, not the goblins- nothing! The mortal wasn't quite sure what to say.

"I didn't know you owned a guitar," seemed about the most ridiculous thing to say at this point but Toby had said it. He wished he hadn't, but there it was.

From the look on Jareth's face, it was certainly an unusual choice of conversation considering the circumstances. "I do," the Goblin King allowed, "But that has no bearing on what we have to say, does it? Will you leave now?"

Another interesting change of topic. "No, I don't think so; not unless you actually chase me away."

"I can hardly walk let alone chase. Any chasing I do is all in your imagination."

"Okay, then- if you don't push me away," Toby countered swiftly. He caught the knowing glimmer in mismatched eyes and gave up. "I won't go. But I would like it if I wasn't here just so you could be comfortable. I don't want to stay because I have to."

"I'm afraid you must… unless you like the thought of sharing me with our son." Jareth hadn't meant to sound quite as sleazy as all that, and he cringed inwardly at the words. The thought didn't appeal to him, but the sins of the father…

"For God's sake, you won't sleep with Aidan," Toby exploded, "I know you! You would never sleep with him! You're not in the least interested in sleeping with him. You don't even find him attractive."

"You never found me attractive until after the rape," Jareth pointed out quietly. The biscuit-coloured shirt looked particularly warm as compared to the stark white of his face and chest; the silver look hadn't exactly faded as yet. "As I recall, you refused to even consider having a man in your bed until he put himself there forcibly."

He watched with some twisted sense of satisfaction as the mortal rocked back on his heels as if the words had been a physical blow. The library was no place for this, the Goblin King decided, and he could wish Toby had chosen another room. There had been too many happy times here for him to feel quite safe about bringing his misery in. And in the Underground, the spoken word was such a tangible power; Jareth didn't like to think he would speak of these things where his children frequently came. Especially not since he had only to close his eyes and see Archer sitting in that leather chair again, a cigarette in hand and his eyes and voice tender as he invited his cousin to talk.

"The rape had nothing to do with it. You wouldn't rape Aidan."

"I almost raped you."

"No, you didn't!"

"Twice that I recall- once was at the feast…"

"Where you stopped, Jareth."

"Yes, but not through any finer feelings, I do assure you… and the other was the night after Archer's death. You bled quite freely, I believe."

Toby sighed and shook his head, not noticing that the action threw sparks around the room as the firelight behind him glittered on the golden strands. "You didn't rape me; I chose that. I wanted the pain, Jareth. I needed it."

Dual-coloured eyes raked sternly over him again and again, as if trying to memorize him or look right into his very core. "You fall so far into darkness. I had forgotten."

Toby insistently pushed away the panic that came with realizing that Archer had said those same words to him. This wasn't about Archer and he'd be damned if he got sidetracked now. "And now you remember. Face it, Jareth- there's always pain when we make love. It's not like we were actually constructed to fit as easily as male and female."

"And once again, we are back to your fundamental belief that what we do to each other is wrong," Jareth commented, "Why am I not surprised?"

"Because you know you're talking a load of bullshit!"

The shout didn't exactly startle anyone; Jareth had been pressing all of Toby's annoyance buttons with a very deft- if disinterested- touch. It was something to do. It was a way to live until all this mind-numbing agony left him either dead or mentally incapable of thinking straight. He didn't care! Why didn't Toby just give up? It was hopeless for him and the immortal knew that. He couldn't be healed.

"What exactly did Archer do you, Jareth?"

"He used me." There was no sense in beating around the bush. Jareth didn't feel as if there was any anger left in him to channel. "He fell in love and wanted to become my entire world. I understand that feeling."

"So do I," Toby agreed robustly, "But he enslaved you. Don't tell me you forgive him that?"

"The only difference between my father and Archer is that the former never needed to put a collar on me to break me. Archer simply used any means necessary to get what he wanted. I've done that myself."

"I suppose you enslaved a lot of people too," Toby snapped sarcastically.

Long legs re-crossed themselves so as to fit into the small space. "Archer and I had a lot of lovers in common," the half-goblin admitted, "I did know he had a taste for domination. I saw the tricks. He never hid it from me."

"Then why did you give Ariadne to that?"

A noticeable wince as a long-hidden guilt was dragged into the open. "I didn't care. I gave her a warning; she spat it back in my face and insisted that I give her to Archer and so I complied. She seemed willing and eager. And I trusted that Archer would never actually hurt her."

Silence dragged for a few moments as Jareth looked back out the window, struggling as the depression began to break under the sorrow. He bit the inside of his cheek, hoping the swift pain would stop the heartache. But it didn't; nothing ever did.

"You should have seen her. She was so scared and broken. The things he had done to her I would never have done to my worst enemy. Even I- ruthless as people think me- would never have stomached that. He blinded her…"

Toby swallowed thickly, remembering the snatches of brief conversation in which Archer had cheerfully spoken of his 'beloved' Ariadne as enjoying her new life. Only to find out that she was alone and terrified. It was a hideous image. "I'm sorry, Jareth; I really am."

"I know."

Where was that connection, that spark that always set off another argument and another revelation? It had always worked for them, why not again? Why was life so unutterably unfair! "Jareth, I…"

The moon-blond head turned slightly, not looking to him but obviously willing to listen. "What?" the Goblin King prompted.

"I love you."

More silence. Only this time, Jareth held out his hand to draw his husband to his side, draping Toby's arm over his bad shoulder and holding him there so they could stare out together. "Do you know what I see when I close my eyes?" he eventually asked.

Toby shook his head. He didn't need to speak. The voice was plaintive, a throwback to those days when Jareth's mind had run in circles and he had had very little actual control over himself.

"I see nothing. There was always something- colours or changing shapes… sometimes, actual dreams replaying behind my lids. But now there's nothing. If I could feel, it would scare me. I can't live like this, my elf, I need to escape."

"You can if you would talk to me," Toby swore, tightening his grip on Jareth's fingers as the panic swept over them both. "I won't let you die."

"I have lived for almost five hundred years," the Goblin King sighed, "I cannot keep doing this! Loving and losing and being made to pay are not burdens I can bear. All I asked for was some fun and a few adventures. I got a depraved childhood and a wild Kingdom."

"You have me."

"I had you. You're as lost to me as everything else. I corrupted you. Before me you were the Snow Prince. And then I drew you too close to the fire. Now you're simply an overly tired, overly worried mortal who would change his life if he could."

"I don't want to change my life," Toby protested. Jareth craned his head back to glare at him. "Alright, certain parts of it. The parts where people keep trying to kill me or hurt me, especially. But not the parts with you or the Underground or the kids. I told you I love you; what more can I give that you need?"

"What if experiencing that rape was the payment you needed to make to stay with me?" Jareth questioned, "If it had not been for the time Aboveground, you would have aged as all mortals do and I would never have taken you back."

"Aged?"

"My symptoms were never good," Jareth said cryptically.

Toby considered the statement for a while as he frowned down at Jareth's hair. He absently rubbed his thumb over the gloved hand in his, hating the leather and vaguely wishing that it were gone. Jareth only wore those gloves out of habit now; he wasn't really that cold anymore. "Okay, explain it to me- what symptoms are we talking about?"

"I believe very strongly that moral mistakes are carried from generation to generation; a sort of hereditary disease, if you will. My father began the cycle through necessity. I took you very young, just as my father took me,and I would be lying if I said that youth didn't excite me. It turned me on that you had never had a man before. Innocence is a powerful aphrodisiac... and Aidan is very innocent."

"He would fight you, Jareth. His moral sense is stronger than either of ours."

Jareth laughed, a low disillusioned laugh. "His sense of honour in regards to himself is stronger than either of ours. But not his morals; not with those he loves. And unfortunately he loves me. Why, I can't tell you; but he does."

Toby heard the footsteps approaching and took his hand away, tapping the Goblin King on the shoulder to silence him before the door opened. These conversations were private and the scandal they could cause was not something the mortal relished. So he waited to see the handle turn and the intruder enter.

"Oh."

Jareth paled and pressed against the window in a sudden attack of chilling fear.

"Aidan!" Toby risked a glance back to his husband just to make sure that he would not faint from sheer terror before walking quickly to his son. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to get a book," Aidan said, eyes fixed on his father in a kind of hungry anxiety, "I didn't mean to intrude. Excuse me." He half-left and then gave up the pretence. "How- how do you feel now?"

Jareth almost shrugged, but rolled his eyes at how much of a habit that gesture was becoming. "I am better," he offered instead, "Thank you. I hear you are advising Arradine on the best ways to run a Kingdom."

The child actually smiled, beaming a little with humour as he recalled some of the expressions on the faces of the nobles 'advising' them. "We are. Arradine was a little nervous, but we sorted that out. I left the records on your desk." He pointed to the slowly growing pile of documents to the Goblin King's right. "I know you're ill, but I thought you would want to be kept informed."

"I see." Jareth nodded and felt the corner of his mouth twitch just a little at that naïve self-importance. "I appreciate the thought, though it seems hardly necessary. The captives have been sent to the Castle?"

Aidan hesitated and then turned pink. "King Armand writes that he will bring them to us personally as soon as he has captured them. The letter is there."

"Bring them personally?! When?" Jareth was on his feet and tossing letters about with abandon at the thought of having to play host in his condition. "Why was this not told me?"

Toby sighed at Aidan and shook his head. "You just had to tell him, didn't you? Calm down, Jareth. The letter's on the floor by your feet… yes, the blue one. And we didn't tell you because this was how you'd react."

"I should think I had the right to! Were you expecting to keep me locked in a room while the bloody King of the Fairies tramped through my halls?"

The Goblin Prince was busy trying to decide whether he should tear out his golden hair in handfuls or just bang his head on the nearest wall. "We didn't want to disturb you, Father. Arradine wanted to tell you personally, but we thought…"

"Thought what?" Jareth spat. "There are certain things you cannot do, Aidan! Insulting the fae royalty is not something I need right now."

Blue eyes grew guarded and cold. "I was more concerned with the entourage," Aidan said clearly, "And the contingent of soldiers."

Activity stopped as two pairs of confused eyes looked to the part-goblin standing with deceiving nonchalance beside the door. Toby was the first to break, being close enough to smell the vague hint of uneasiness; there were times it really did pay to have a wolf as his animus.

Jareth was unpleasantly surprised by that reference to fairy soldiers. Of course, it couldn't mean what he had thought of, but…

"I know these are not the same fairies, but they are soldiers. You were raped by soldiers."

The letter fluttered noiselessly to the ground as Jareth's entire body went nerveless. A sudden rushing in his ears became something of dire urgency and he was barely aware that all the blood had drained from his face, leaving a cold grey mask of horror in its place. Aidan said something- he could see the delicately drawn mouth move- and then Toby was shoving him into a chair and telling Aidan to leave.

"No, wait! Damn it, wait!" He struggled away, knowingly sinking his nails into Toby's arm to make the mortal stop restraining him. Aidan was backing towards the door looking guilty. "Aidan, stop. Come here."

"I think I should leave…"

"No, you should explain. What soldiers? What are you talking about?"

The pink flush of anger deepened. "I remember what happened with those soldiers. I remember."

Jareth shook his head, fingers plucking nervously at his neck. "Not possible," he decreed, "You were too young."

"I know, but I remember. They touched you and made you do those things." Aidan's voice was clinical, as if he were discussing the merits of a horse or a book of poetry he had recently finished- straight and slender, an early growth spurt shooting him up almost to his father's height; golden hair clipped severely back from his face with a jewelled clip. "One of the females had a tattoo on her left thigh."

"Not possible," his father repeated.

"You were enjoying it. They hurt you, but you enjoyed it. And then something happened. That fairy- the one who captured you- he did something to you and you screamed and fell. I wanted to go to you but he wouldn't let me. And then you asked him to stop, but none of them would stop. They never stopped."

Toby stayed back and let the two fight their demons on their own. He couldn't quite make out what Aidan was describing. It did, though, sound very much like their son had observed something no child of five should have seen.

It seems he was right. "I told you to shut you eyes," Jareth rasped, feeling the icy cold shock of fear sift through him once more.

"I did! But I only had two hands and I could hear you scream. You cried and I couldn't do anything until after they were done. You couldn't even recognize me, then."

"Archer should have sent you away."

Aidan concentrated on that name; it seemed familiar. "That was the fairy? I can't remember his name. I know I didn't like him, though."

Jareth waved the statement impatiently away. He was mortified, shamed beyond all rational thought. He had tried so hard and in the end it hadn't been enough. He could only imagine what it must have been like to see a parent abused so very badly. He knew he had almost given up after that day; but for Aidan! The child must have been terrified!

"Which is why I didn't want you to see the soldiers. Arradine does not know, but I did ask her to give orders that no fae soldier is to set foot inside the Goblin City. The barracks can house them and you need never see them. I didn't want to give you more pain." The calm voice finally broke.

There were many things that the Goblin King could have said to that. And there were many things he could have done. He wanted to order Aidan from the room and hide in some dark corner until the shudders stopped racketing up and down his body. He wanted to break something just to know that he wasn't completely powerless. But his son… and those blue eyes…

"Come here. Toby, could you leave us for a few minutes?"

Toby almost roused himself from a dream-like daze to those words. Jareth was asking to be left alone with what he feared the most in both the worlds? "Are you sure?" Toby asked, unable to actually believe it.

Jareth sent him an expressive glance and nodded to the door. "You are welcome to stay," he said, "But I do need to speak with Aidan alone."

Toby nodded. Aidan refused to even look at him as they brushed past each other. The mortal paused in the doorway to a very troubling and very strange sight. Jareth was still looking at him, a kind of wistful look in his eyes, and then that gaze tore away from him to Aidan.

"Come with me, luv. Sit down."

Toby shut the door and left them alone.