The rain stopped on the second evening and Jareth made his slow way out of the Labyrinth towards the Castle. His time out on his own had settled his roiling emotions and calmed him again. The morning he had spent letting his senses absorb the cool and peace of the world around him had eased him. How could one stay angry when one's veins throbbed with the same intensity as a river of water?

Going back to the Castle was not enticing, however. He would have to explain himself. At worst, he would have to apologize. The Goblin King did not apologize. And why should he in this case? He had been insulted and by rights, Toby might have been in an oubliette before he could blink for what he had done.

'… nothing but a whore who doesn't know any better…'

Jareth abruptly changed courses and began to walk back to the Labyrinth. Damn Sarah! He did not want to go through all of that again. He missed her every day. Was it even possible to miss someone that one had never actually known? It seemed it was, because he missed her. Savagely. And the wound of it still hurt all these years later.

"I know better," he muttered, just to say something, "I know so much more than you thought I did, dear Sarah."

That had not been his finest night. Not his finest day. Not even his finest week or year. The entire Underground had pointed their fingers and whispered behind his back- literally, if he ever attended any of the balls. A few had the temerity to throw them in his honour and promise to find him a 'proper Underground female'. He didn't want a 'proper Underground female'! How alien a concept was it?

"Here you are."

Jareth straightened back and head very quickly, automatically glaring at the intruder. Most of the people that lived around him knew better than to bother him when he was thinking unless it was an emergency. Only Elban would ever dare. "What do you want?" he snapped rudely.

"Jareth, stop. Wait. Please!"

The Goblin King halted in his stride and waited for the forest sprite to catch up. "Elban, what are you doing here?"

"Do you realize you have been gone for over two days? No one knows where you are. We were all worried."

"And when did they call you?" Jareth growled, clearly not pleased about what he was hearing.

"I came to the Castle door halfway through dinner. You weren't there so I followed your trail to the Labyrinth."

They walked in silence for a long while. Rather, Jareth took out all of his frustrations in walking and Elban kept up. Not especially hard; Jareth was prone to draining himself in furious bursts of energy until he had to pull himself to a halt. It happened as it always did. He stopped abruptly, breathing a little hard, wild-eyed and annoyed with himself and his companion, and switched plans of actions. "Why are you following me?"

"Because I am trying to talk to you and you are not in the mood to listen," Elban said simply, "But that is all right. I can wait."

Jareth put his hands up to rub his temples. "What exactly do you want?"

A soft, deep sigh and then a gentle hand on the Goblin King's dark sleeve. "Come with me, Jareth. I won't take you back to the Castle, I promise. But I've been waiting out here for you the whole day and I want to sit down now."

The Goblin King followed silently, stone-faced and reserved. Elban didn't press him to talk. Jareth wouldn't, if he didn't want to. And Elban respected that. He only took him away to a place just outside the Goblin City where they could sit beneath a tree and talk. There was enough sunlight to keep them warm, and a cool breeze to keep them comfortable. Perfect. The low rumble of the City just within earshot was soothing and restful, highlighting the peace of the field they were in.

"I know something is upsetting you," Elban began, making sure there was a distance between the two of them, "I know you will tell me if you want to. But I just want to be certain that you're- what is the expression… not unravelling like a cheap suit? Yes, that."

"I am surprised at you, my friend. Comparison with a cheap suit is mortifying."

"If the shoe fits, Jareth, if it fits. Can you honestly tell me that you are behaving rationally?"

"I have never been rational."

"No. But you have always been sane. Flashing starlight in a man's eyes because he is arguing with you is not sane. Throwing a bolt of lightening at your sister when she loses her temper with you is not sane. Sending me letters that say nothing makes me question just how much you want me to be here to talk to you. And you have never wanted that before, so no, it is not quite sane."

If anything Jareth looked genuinely confused. "What do you mean? I've never given any indication that I do not like your company. You are a good friend."

"Yes," Elban replied dryly, "Possibly your only friend. You keep chasing the others away."

"They were never worth it." The figurative 'they' were dismissed with a flick of a white wrist, the gloves being slowly removed and set aside. Jareth rubbed his hands on his breeches and sighed, stretching as fully as he could.

Elban just watched him, studying him up and down with worried eyes. Posture was stiff. Jareth's clothes were rumpled and in need of a wash. He looked tired and restless and ragged around the edges. Never a good sign. It was second nature to the fae to be contemplating a hundred different things, but he had always maintained an aura of peace before. Elban couldn't feel that aura of peace any more.

"I am tired," Jareth admitted unexpectedly, "Tired of the whole damned lot of you. What do you want from me?"

"We're worried. I think we have every right to be."

"Why? I am not insane. I think rationally and I function as well as any thinking creature should. I do my duty and my behaviour is no worse than usual. What else am I suddenly supposed to be doing?"

"Toby is…"

Jareth snorted and shook his head violently.

"No, stop denying anything and listen: Toby has lost his sight. Because you flashed the starlight a little too brightly straight into his eyes. The healer says it will take time to heal, if it heals at all."

Jareth froze, eyes fixed on Elban's face with a curious mixture of petty satisfaction and annoyance and disbelief and guilt. He shouldn't have done that, he knew, and now there would be hell to pay for it. He wasn't as surprised as he might have been. But he had instinctively forced the burst of light at the last moment because it was ingrained in his head that he shouldn't use his powers to settle a personal score and in all seriousness, how much damage could light do? He had not expected to send the man blind!

Elban fiddled with the bracelet on his wrist. "I know you are the King of the Goblins, but the law says that punishment must be carried out against any that use magic to harm someone else. You know the leaders will enforce it if they find out."

Was it possible to feel righteous indignation over such a thing? Jareth felt it. He shrugged instead and curled his lip at the presumption of the aforementioned leaders. "Whatever they decide. I could wipe them out with a single wish, but it is their right to insist on Council."

Elban swallowed a growl of distaste. "Toby is insisting it was his fault," he said sharply, "So you need not plan any murders just yet. Honestly! I am trying to be supportive and all you can do is look down your nose at justice. You deserve to be an oubliette and no mistake!"

"And yet I will not be in any oubliette, Elban. Sorry to disappoint you."

"I don't want you in an oubliette at all, you stupid fae. The only reason you are out of one is because of Toby. So don't forget to thank him when you see him next. Which will be less wonderful for him because he can't see at all."

Elban sprang to his feet and stalked off, leaving his best friend to lounge in silence as he stormed away. Obviously fuming too.

Jareth smirked at the retreating back and leaned back against the rough trunk, wishing he were back in his Castle just so he could climb into bed and go to sleep. He hadn't slept very much for the past two days. His head had been too full, too intent on working in circles. Not a bad thing, but all the tension in the past month and a half had severed that tight control he kept on his thoughts. Now they were spilling all over the place, running into each other and generally creating more chaos in his skull than he liked.

But Elban had had a point, though. He grimaced at the thought, picking up his gloves reluctantly as he prepared to depart. Messes seemed to be piling up at the moment; one black situation over the other. In all honestly, he wished he could ditch the whole lot of them and go away to the Labyrinth or the Sea- preferably the Sea because it had been years since he had been there.

He approached the Castle via the Goblin City and stopped by a grocery store. The grocer gawped up at him for a moment and then dropped down to his grubby knees and babbled that His Majesty was welcome to anything in the shop.

Jareth picked up a fruit.

The grocer asked him if he wanted it peeled.

The Goblin King looked at him as if he were mad and then wandered off, promising to have the money sent to him. The goblin got thankfully off his knees and mopped his brow, pulling out an enormous pink handkerchief from his pocket with a relieved moan.

The streets were full of goblins- as was logical in the Goblin City- but there were others. The colourful marketplace was full of fae and elves and sprites and dwarves, shopping busily for their houses and their jobs. Three elves were haggling with a goblin over the price of a length of rough table linen. The goblin was charging three times as much as it was worth. Jareth caught her eye. The goblin gulped and lowered the price to a considerably lower sum, hastily pushing it at the puzzled elves as if her very life depended on it.

Jareth smirked in satisfaction and meandered happily, enjoying the din of raucous shouting and many languages. Animals lowed and mewled and cackled around him and while he was careful to avoid them and the messes they left from standing in one place the whole day, he didn't find it particularly unpleasant. No, he liked being in crowds occasionally. It made a pleasant change from constantly expanding himself to feel the entire country. He couldn't even dare to do such a thing here unless it was essential; he would be overwhelmed with the information if he were to try it.

He eventually came to a crooked house at a fork in the road, the red stone stairs scrubbed clean and flowered curtains in the window. He swallowed whatever was in his mouth and tossed the core away into the gutters. Then he knocked on the green door.

"Yes? Oh, oh, Your Majesty!"

The goblin dropped a quick curtsey and then backed away from the door, wringing her hands in her apron in sheer fright.

Jareth rolled his eyes and stepped inside. "Where is the healer?"

"Just- just… I- I'll get him, Your Majesty." She dropped another curtsey, turning to go at the same time. It took her a moment to untwist her skinny body, but she managed it fast enough that she wasn't yelled at.

Jareth disinterestedly selected a chair and sat in it.

He didn't have long to wait. In the space of two minutes a young male elf came into the room and bowed gravely. "Your Majesty. To what do I owe this visit?"

Jareth didn't get up. "I have been away from my family for a few days. On business. I met just a few hours ago with a friend of mine. He tells me my ward is injured- trouble with his eyes. Will you take his case?"

"Pardon? But Mr. Williams is your ward, isn't he?" the healer asked, looking a little surprised. "I attended him this morning."

The fae wiped his sticky fingers down the front of his shirt and paused as the words sank in. "You were called earlier, were you? What is your diagnosis?"

The male elf studied him curiously for a moment. Like any true healer, he was less concerned with power and prestige as with the questions of health that surrounded the people he met. The light in his house was bad, he was aware of that. Yet still, the Goblin King did not look very well. He might be lounging in a chair with a self-possessed air, but those circles under his eyes were not healthy. Nor was his thinness, or his pallor. Neither did the healer like the restless twitching of his fingers.

"Are you alright, Your Majesty?" he asked timidly, "The situation is not really so bad. Mr. Williams was not in any pain this morning when I saw him. If that has changed at all, then I have a few potions I can…"

"I haven't seen him yet," Jareth interrupted indignantly, "And I am perfectly fine!" He glared to get his message across.

The elf sighed and gave a mental shrug. It was none of his business in any case. "Sorry. May I sit?" He drew up a chair to that curt nod and sat a respectful distance from the King. "Let me see. My diagnosis. Mr. Williams was, as I said, not in any pain. He did have a slight fever but I believe that is acceptable for a mortal exposed to large amounts of raw magical power. I do not like the shape of his pupils, but it tallies with his ailment. Other than blindness and soreness of the eyes, there is nothing wrong with him whatsoever."

Jareth nodded impatiently to each sentence and then slapped his gloves against his thigh in annoyance. "That is his condition. What about a cure?"

"There is none."

"Anything at all? No course of drugs? Expense is not a concern, as you may imagine."

The elf shook his head apologetically. "No, none at all. I wish there were something I could do. The Lady Pandora asked me about this as well. She seemed very upset. The best I can offer is that the eyes will heal themselves if they are given enough time and are not damaged beyond repair."

"And there is nothing at all that you can do," Jareth completed for him.

"This not an illness in the strictest sense. It is an injury. And one without any broken bones or open wounds. This is beyond me. If you would like a second opinion…"

"Of course not! What would be the point? All healers are alike; no use the lot of you."

The elf shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He didn't quite agree, but disagreeing was not an option he contemplated with any enthusiasm. Everyone knew that disagreeing with the Goblin King when he was already annoyed would only bring his sharp tongue out to play. And he rarely played nice.

"You must have other patients," Jareth eventually said, eyes flicking back to focus unexpectedly, "Thank you for your time. My secretary will make sure that you are paid for this consultation."

Once again, the healer was startled, his brown eyes wide in shock at the thought that this intrusion on his time would be worth anything to him. He had naturally assumed that Jareth was as self-absorbed as everyone said. He had seen nothing to change that assumption; until this. "Thank you, Your Majesty, but I cannot charge you for this. There is no active help I can give you or your ward and it would not be right…"

"Gonzo will pay you," Jareth repeated forcefully, getting to his feet, "Look for him tomorrow morning. Are there any other cases in my Castle that I should know about?"

"The centaur who works in your kitchen, Your Majesty. She is due to deliver her firstborn soon. It might be wiser to excuse her from her duties for a month and send her home."

"Consider it done. Have you seen her?"

"Yes. She is in perfect health. The birth should be relatively easy."

"Yes," Jareth commented dryly, "As easy as threading a needle with a tree trunk. And as painful."

The healer smothered a smile but couldn't help looking amused anyway.

Jareth gave him an answering smirk and held out his hand. "Thank you. I appreciate your time." He looked around the shabby house with a keen eye. "If you would like to consider moving to roomier premises, perhaps with a hospice attached to the property, come to the Castle. Ask to speak with Yava, my housekeeper, and she will direct you to Gonzo, my secretary."

The healer smiled and bowed over the gloved hand in his. It was an old-fashioned gesture, but it conveyed the thanks he felt. Not that he had ever discounted the fae as being a bad monarch; he had just never thought that the aloof Goblin King would ever notice details.

Jareth left with the feeling of a job well done. Apart from the fact that he was empty handed as far as quick cures for blindness went.

His mother, he groaned, was going to kill him when he got home.