A/N: I'm sorry about the lack of updates, but I am very pleased with how this chapter has turned out. Here's part 1 of some journal entries from Jareth that can possibly give him some more depth, development and everyone a bit of fun historical fiction-based viewpoints on the situation.

"Could someone please walk through with me?

I've got nothing to hide, nowhere to be

Why do we have to come through here

'Cause nothing leads me to you"

Eisley- "I Could Be There For You"

Sarah found him in the Escher room a few hours later, sitting against the wall with his eyes glazed over, looking as though he was in a trance.

She walked slowly, being careful not to disturb his racing thoughts.

Jareth's head snapped up at the noise, his eyes focusing at the source.

"I don't understand what... any of this... means..." he mumbled, resting his hands in his lap and letting his eyes grow cloudy again. His right eye, formerly blue, had changed to a light brown. He looked older, somehow, as though the weight of the memories had transformed him.

She sat down next to him, arching her back against the wall gracefully.

"We were here, you know. In this room," she spoke, and he nodded in response, running a hand through his hair nervously. He motioned with his right hand towards the journals sitting next to him. He had read them voraciously, trying to comprehend the new meaning of his memories.

"He... well, I guess I... I said so," Jareth sighed, closing his eyes. "Caroline... how is she doing...?"

"I sent her back home with her family. She's fast asleep in her bed," Sarah replied, musing on the fate of the golden-haired little girl. "She was such a sweet little thing. I wish I could have kept her."

Jareth glared at her before his gaze mellowed again. "I guess it shouldn't matter. I mean, she's not really my sister."

"Don't say that, Jareth. She's the girl you've grown up, in this life, at least, caring about. She's the only sister you've ever known," she replied defiantly, sitting up straighter and focusing all her attention on him.

"The real me... never knew how to do that. To care about anyone. He just... didn't."

Finding herself unable to disagree with this undeniable truth, Sarah rested her head on Jareth's left shoulder and shut her eyes. Jareth angled his head towards her, studying her delicate features and feeling her heartbeat against him.

Slowly, his shut his eyes and contemplated everything that this new life had cursed him with.

Journal Entry

Written: 12 July, 36 AD

Mortals are, officially, idiots.

I cannot believe that these insolent beings, these Jews, decided that they were going to kill their savior, the son of God himself. For all of the dumb things I've done in my life (and, admittedly, I have done a lot of them), I can't believe I have done anything that dumb.

He told them, repeatedly, that he was the son of God. He performed miracle after miracle, and still, nothing. People just thought he was some kind of glorified magician. This Pontius Pilate, even he succumbed to the mob mentality.

I guess that human behavior is, after all, irredeemable.

Maybe this will show how boring the next thousands of years are going to be.

I am not so excited about eternity, at this point.

Lucifer desired me to tempt Jesus, early on, when he was still young and discovering his own meaning. I politely declined, seeing as I have enough to do down here, taking away children and people wishing things away or making deals with the devil. Also, I wasn't particularly interested.

But this Jesus of Nazareth, I had no idea he would be so steadfast in his beliefs. If there's one thing I can respect, it is not being tempted by power. That was my mistake, so many years ago. Lucifer offered him his dreams and Jesus turned them down, instead desiring a larger mission and meaning for his life.

And now, in his selfless death, I suppose he has achieved that.

I'd go up to Heaven to pay him a visit and sit and talk with him, except I am still not allowed contact with anyone up there. God needs to get over this silly grudge he's holding against me. Just because I found a way out of my punishment on my own doesn't mean he has to be such a sore loser about it.

Journal Entry

Written: 12 July, 64 AD

Mortals are still idiots.

Nero gets bored, decides to set fire to his own city.

Rome burns to the ground.

Nero blames the Christians.

Christians are now being torched, killed, maimed, slaughtered, you name it. I'm a fan of death and torture as much as the next agent of the Devil, but admittedly, this is overkill. Lucifer agrees, as we watch from downstairs, eating chips.

"This is a bit senseless," he admits, and I can't help but agree. It shows an inspired lack of dignity that I can only attribute to mortals.

Journal Entry

Written: 11 March, 177 AD

Emperor Marcus Aurelius has decided, once again, that mortals should push the limits of idiocy.

Lucifer and I sit downstairs, watching the persecution in Lyon, France. Lucifer delights in this episode of inspired, inventive violence and restrictions.

"Much better than that mess with Nero," he tells me, and I agree wholeheartedly. This is almost fun. Christians are fun to persecute, being so resolute in their faith. You can do almost anything to them and they won't budge. It's fantastic.

One woman in this mess almost looks familiar. I can't help but wince as her head is lobbed off in a public forum, her raven black hair swirling around her torn flesh.

Lucifer claps his hands in delight and I fake an expression of satisfaction.

What's wrong with me?

Journal Entry

Written: 14 September, 303 AD

5,000 Christians dead or imprisoned this time, thanks to the Roman empire.

I am starting to wonder whether Christians really know that their faith is so dangerous when they get involved.

There is, truly, no "correct" religion to follow or labeled set of beliefs. All deities follow similar names yet possess the same essence. They appear as different things to keep themselves from getting bored. It is an inventive strategy.

But these mortals do not grasp this.
Frankly, I think they are just looking for an excuse to kill each other.

Journal Entry

Written: 08 January, 640 AD

The Library of Alexandria has been destroyed.

I am shocked and saddened by this loss. The largest collection of scrolls and information in the modern world, gone.

Bast and I would spend time there sometimes, reading up on whatever we could find. She is a knowledge-seeker and I can respect that, though she is also an agent of God.

I asked her the other evening how everyone was doing. She did not speak of Uriel, and I do not know why.

Not that I care about Uriel one way or the other, I am just curious.

However, Bast promised to try and set up tea with Jesus and I.

Secretly, I am thrilled.

Journal Entry

Written: 28 November, 1065 AD

I visited the consecration of Westminster Abbey, this evening. I had been present, watching since the start of construction, and I am impressed with the shape of the building.

Lucifer does not understand my fascination with Christian relics.

I tell him that I learn from their suffering and enjoy tormenting them.

Secretly, I just miss the only place and feeling that used to be my home.

It is painful, having no one to talk to anymore. I have Bast, but she is always so busy and it is hard to find time to see her.

I will admit, it was nice having Uriel to talk to.

I would never tell her that, though. She was always so optimistic and bright, I couldn't stand it sometimes. Every day was an adventure to her.

Everyone always wondered why she and I got along so well, with both of us being defined opposites.

I just wish she would contact me. I still can't get in touch with anyone up above, and I've been wondering how she's doing.

Journal Entry

Written: 17 August, 1311 AD

Lucifer has just finished reading his copy of Dante Alighieri's Divine Comedy. We both agree that Dante has done a spectacular job and that, when he gets to hell, he will be rewarded.

Then again, seeing who he had as his tour guide, it makes sense that he had an accurate view of the whole thing. I am a wonderful ferryman for the dead.

It just goes to show you what happens when you make a deal with the devil, to know what hell is really like and to have the opportunity to write about it- you lose your decision to visit what's above.

Dante will be kicking himself for years about this one.

Journal Entry

Written: 11 May, 1431 AD

Joan of Arc is such a beautiful woman. As she sat in that prison cell, contemplating her fate, I could not help but beg Lucifer to offer her a deal, anything to save her from her demise.

"She is stubborn, honestly," he replied, sighing. "I would love to have her here, but she has a holy mark and has been touched by God personally to receive it. I haven't seen someone this steadfast in a long time."

We sit and contemplate this, together.

For someone to have something so decided and important to live for, having that kind of meaning. It must be wonderful.

I think that I am inclined to adore stubborn women.

Maybe they are just more of a challenge.

Journal Entry

Written: 08 July, 1512

Michelangelo has finally finished the ceiling.

I visited him to watch the unveiling for God. All of the angels were in awe of the beauty of the ignudi figures, holding banners and naked in their splendor, in celebration of God.

Truthfully, He himself was very pleased.

"I look so good! You wouldn't think I was a day above forty," He spoke, with his booming, jolly laughter. I did not see Uriel there, and I was unaware of her presence in the room or on the ceiling.

I had stayed with Michelangelo while he painted, neglecting my duties to see the strong beauty of the female form. Facing punishment from Lucifer, I returned to only check up on him every once in a while.

Truthfully, I was a bit disappointed that I could not be included on the ceiling. However, I stayed later to talk with Michelangelo, delighting in the descriptions of his work. I told him of how Raphael had come to look at the paintings, ran back to the Church of Sant'Agostino and completely repainted his painting of the Prophet Isaiah that he had, a day before, claimed finished. Michelangelo laughed in response, twisting his paint covered features into a smile.

"Did you see, I included you, Sariel," he told me, pointing up slightly to the portrait of Eleazar and Mathan, smiling that sly smile I had grown to admire.

On the right, a blonde, beautiful man sat with his legs crossed, my favorite peach silk robe draped around his shoulders. I barely noticed a woman sitting behind him, with her strong, striking features and ebony hair, a slight shadow on her expression.

I asked who the woman was behind me.

"She was a remarkable woman I met once," he replied fondly, his eyes tracing the outline of her features.

Journal Entry

Written: 22 October, 1692

Witch Trials have begun in Salem.

Mortals are still idiots.

Journal Entry

Written: 03 March, 1824

False predictions of the Second Coming of Christ by Millerities

Maybe I should just abandon faith in watching these mortals.

They don't seem to do anything interesting anymore.

Journal Entry

Written: 28 November, 1971

I had not been to the mortal world in some time and decided to visit, if only to pick up a copy of The Exorcist which had been published (Lucifer recommended it to me, seeing as we are "characters" in the story, delightfully enough). It is a remarkable, mostly true story. Some of the details are slightly exaggerated, but I am, overall, impressed. Literature: the one thing that mortals can manage to get right.

As I was walking back towards the portal, I noticed a young couple getting everything out of their automobile, and a tall woman with black hair picked up a baby from the backseat.

She was a particularly beautiful child, with full lips and a sleepy gaze.

While I take care of wished away children, I never pay much attention to them.

But there was something about this child and her perception of the supernatural. She raised her head, blinked a few times and fixed her gaze right at me.

Her mother looked down and brushed some hair out of her child's face.

"Sarah, darling, what are you staring at?" the woman murmured softly, petting the girl's cheek.

She just kept staring.

Which is even more remarkable, in retrospect, because mortals shouldn't be able to do that.

She was probably staring at some rabbit or something flitting around behind me. It was dark, and I should not have assumed a mere child could have seen me without lowering my defenses.

But I am curious, and I have not been this curious in a long time.

Reviews are always loved! Part 2 of Jareth's early perspective will, hopefully, be up by the end of next week.