Chapter II

What does he mean . . . Wishing he knew, Jareth elegantly uncrossed his usual boot-and-tight clad legs, stretching out on his throne like a cat on it's favorite sofa. Gazing deep into his crystal, he could see her dim silhouette and read the colorful array of thoughts that flashed through her head ever few seconds. His strength was slowly but surely depleting, but she needed to understand the depth of the whole situation. And the danger.

"Do you know what happens when time starts moving backwards?" he asked, knowing very well she didn't, but asking all the same.

You're the Goblin King! She snapped back, you should be the one to know these things!

My, her patience was wearing thin. You'd think a sixteen year old would at least try to listen, but then again – this was Sarah, and Sarah wasn't just an ordinary teenager. Who else knew that better than him?

"Sarah – time is running out, and I can't talk to you much longer – just remember: if you have a choice, don't come back. If there is anything you can do to prevent this from happening – do it."

But why? What would happen if I do come back? Jareth you've got to tell me – I have to know this!

Perfectly right, she did.

"At the very least, you'd have no choice but to retake every step of your . . . What's the word you like to use so much? Adventure. And, most likely, you won't be able to avoid all of your missteps and things you didn't "mean" to do."

She wanted the truth, didn't she? There it was. Lets see how she deals with this little slice . . .Hopefully she's gotten over the –

I can't BELIEVE it! THAT'S NOT F – . . . almost knocked the crystal ball from his fingers. Well. Guess she hadn't.

"Fair, Sarah? Your dying to say it, aren't you? Perfectly true - it's not. Sweet dreams."

Feeling her wrath and knowing she was really close to the edge right now, Jareth decided that it was time to end their little conversation. He hurled the crystal at the floor, and it shattered into millions of tiny fragments, instantly becoming part of the sparkles that made up a great deal of the Labyrinth.

Not fair . . . what does she know about fair? Her world isn't falling apart all over again, she doesn't have moments of weakness and fatigue . . . her emotions are still her own . . .

She doesn't know what it's like – existing. Not even living, because he couldn't, wasn't allowed to live within her, and not too long ago he had found out that another 'he' couldn't live without her, either. That 'he' would rather die . . . if only it could.

"…a thousand years, a thousand more, a thousand times a million doors to eternity…"

Shuddering he remembered what had happened about a year ago – when she had realized that she destroyed his world and believed that he had gone with it. She had tried to destroy herself as well. It took an extraordinary amount of strength and years to recover it, but he had gone to her then, merely a shadow. He had suffered the torturous pains of double emotions. Her fear and heartbreak over the thought that he was gone, her sense of fault, her hopelessness weighed down on him, along with his own worry and fear that he would come to late. It all dragged him down, and if it wasn't for the strong winds of the storm that evening, he would never have made it in time.

He did. She lay senseless, almost a corpse in his arms. He didn't know how long he sat on the floor amid the broken glass, holding her, stroking her beautiful hair . . . didn't know whether he was crying her tears or his own . . . didn't know exactly when she came too, saw him, looked into his eyes and whispered "don't leave me".

For the first time in his endless life, he had no control over anything, including himself. It tortured him for years after – he had never been through that much pain and yet been so happy all at once – what could it all have meant?

First, he had admired her, wanted her beauty, her spirit, and her innocence . . . but then there was more. Slowly, too slowly he started to realize that he needed her there, near him – it was no longer a question of want. After she had pulled away at the Masquerade Ball, he felt a hurt so deep, penetrating the defenses that no one else had been able to . . . for no reason at all . . .he put too much of himself into her dream image of a romantic villain . . . when she had shattered his world, he nearly came along for the ride.

And now- something like this. Years, centuries of attempted healing, rebuilding – all of them wasted. Time had turned back, seemingly to give him another chance, to allow her to come back; he could almost see the happy ending. But not quite. As glittery as it all was on the surface, it made no sense if you really thought about it –as Jareth had been doing these past few months. Life seldom offered second chances. The Underground – never. It was a place where everything seemed to be possible, but nothing was exactly as it seemed. And second chances just were not a possibility.

Rising with the fluid grace that you often hear described, but almost never have the chance to see, Jareth made his way across the throne room. He headed for the huge balcony that wound it's glittering way all the way around the highest tower of the Castle. The "balcony" was, in fact, only a narrow platform, thousands of feet above the ground, and lacked everything that a proper, self-respecting balcony would have considered mandatory; more particularly seats and a railing. But the Goblin King was an immortal with magic on his side, so a railing was an unnecessary extra. Besides, he was always restless, and never felt the need to sit down, save when he was extremely bored, or felt the need to concentrate his thoughts.

Pacing to and fro, sometimes on the seeming solid bricks of his "balcony", sometimes on the thin, but apparently dense air that surrounded it, Jareth pondered his situation. Beneath his feet lay the Goblin city, and spreading out on all sides of his Castle was the Labyrinth, glinting with thousands of sparkling eyes, and alive with memories of Sarah.