Disclaimer: I do not own 'the Labyrinth', but I do have a computer and patience, so I'm gonna borrow the characters for a few minutes. Do sit back and enjoy the show…

Sarah was introduced to the power of dreams when she was joined by Jareth in her own adult version of her crystal ballroom dream. They might have shared more than a single kiss, but Sarah's words shattered the dream, leaving her to wonder whether it was a dream, or something more…? And where, oh where, is Duncan?

Storms and Veils:

"Ye did a wonderful job with the roof, Jareth, and I hate te ask more of ye…"

Jareth fought the curse rising in his chest. He would be damned if he was going out into that rain again, two days in a row. As a Fey he was less susceptible to illnesses, but as a King he had his pride. Still he quirked a brow in question, waiting for the woman to continue.

"…but would ye please take Sarah into town for some groceries? She knows what te get, but I just couldna' think te send her to fetch them alone. Not in this weather, and not with-- well suffice te say, 'tisn't safe fer a lady te be alone right now."

Jareth's eyes narrowed. She knew more than she was telling… He shook off the demands for answers, knowing that he didn't have the rights he so strongly desired here. Without his powers he could no more dip her into the Bog of Eternal Stench than he could sprout wings and fly.

At the reminder his Owl grew just that much more restless. Being Aboveground and unable to fly was causing his inner beast a good deal of aggravation.

Taking his silence as refusal, Sarah stood, her breakfast forgotten. Her good mood had disappeared as well, at his lack of response. If he didn't want to be around her then fine, she could live without him. She had done it for five years already, she could do it for ten more, or twenty… It didn't matter to--

Her inner rant was cut short at the feeling of his bare hand on her wrist. "It would be my pleasure to take you, Sarah." Her pulse jumped at the feel of his skin against hers and his use of her name. It reminded her of the dream--was it a dream?--that she had the night before. It was still vivid in her mind.

And had that been a double entendre? No, surely he only meant that he wanted to take her to the… store… The longer she held his gaze, the less she believed her own rationalizations. There was clearly something sinful, something wicked and wonderful, on this man's mind.

"Well then, 'tis all settled. I think there is an umbrella in the front closet fer ye both te share, so long as ye don't mind it." Miss O'Fallon shot Sarah a wink, and retreated behind the kitchen door.

"I don't mind sharing, do you?" He stood, his height intimidating Sarah in a way it hadn't when she was sixteen. Then he had been the captor, the man keeping Toby from her. Now… what was he now? The words escaped her, and she shook her head to clear her mind. The physical act was one of habit, and Jareth smiled, releasing her wrist slowly.

When she caught sight of that smile, one that was more smirk than smile, she knew that he was genuinely pleased. He thought he had already won. Sarah had just enough guile in her, just enough feminine pride to want to give the arrogant Fey King a run for his money, so to speak.

She tugged on the heavy overcoat that waited for her by the door, covering her soft dove grey sweater. It was long enough, in fact, that it covered most of her black slacks, stopping just short of her heavy winter boots.

He tugged on his jacket, the one from the day before, not even five feet away. She jabbed him with her elbow once, on accident, trying to get into one of the sleeves. His 'oomph' was given with a glare, and Sarah bit her lip to keep from laughing. Accidents happen, she said, with no absence of mirth.

When he opened the door, Sarah knew her laughter was dead. It was tossing hail, the ground so muddy that it looked like swamp more than earth. She stepped down, intending to follow the stepping stones. Her foot slipped right of the milky rock, burying her foot to the ankle in muck and causing her to flail to try to catch her balance.

Behind her Jareth laughed, deeply and fully in that rich timbre that would usually curl her toes. As he reached out to steady her, she shot him a glare over her shoulder. Her pants were already soaked, she now had mud in her boot, and Jareth was laughing at her.

Had it really been only this morning that she had predicted a good day?

Shaking his head, Jareth swept her quite literally off of her feet. "City boots will do you no good out here, where weather actually happens." His tone was smug. What did he know about Irish weather? A part of her demanded to know. When she needed help kidnapping a child, then she'd ask. And so she pouted, all the way to the cobblestone sidewalk.

When he set her down her slipped his arm through hers. Her warning glare was deflected easily enough. "I'm making sure that you don't slip and fall on that pert little nose of yours, Precious. You could a least thank me for my consideration."

When Sarah narrowed her eyes, about to deliver a scathing retort, he laughed, taking all the pleasure out of her reply. She would cheerfully strangle him after they were home, safe and warm at Miss O'Fallon's fireplace.

They made it three-quarters of the way to the general supplies store when he stopped her, a hand steady on her elbow. She would never know that he had seen Duncan coming their direction, never know that it was as much the claim of his Owl as his own desire that made him swoop down and capture her lips, stopping her chattering all at once.

It was like being tossed into the fire after knowing only ice. It was welcome, so welcome, and it burned at the same time. She sighed, easing into him before she could even think properly. It was no chaste kiss, this, nothing patient or soothing. There was nothing of comfort or careful coercion. This was a kiss a man gave his beloved. This was passion, and it called to her own desires, buried so deep under her shell.

He tilted her head back, the soft, wet length of his hair brushing one cheek. He nipped her lower lip between his teeth, and, while it was so captured, he ran his tongue along it. She shivered, but not from the freezing cold around them. When she mimicked the action, he groaned aloud, pulling her flush against him, burying her face in the hollow of her shoulder where she had placed it before.

Only the heavy pulse of the rain and the occasional clot of hail reminded them that they were not, after all, alone. That there was something outside of the two of them.

"You shattered our dream, Sarah. You spoke. Now, tell me, what was it you wanted from me?"

You know. You know what I want, because you want it too. I can feel that you want me. The realization made her pull away and glare up into his eyes. "How do I know what you feel? How did you get into my dreams?" She backed away, almost tripping over the umbrella she had dropped when he had kissed her. She kicked it out of the way, and it floated on the current created by the sidewalk and the rain. She didn't care that it was probably lost to her now.

"Sarah, I have no magic now--"

"No magic? Just enough to sneak into my private dreams, just enough to seduce me against my will. Just enough to make me feel what you're feeling!"

Jareth looked one direction, then the other. No one was watching, no one was out. It was enough for him. He moved forward, hunter stalking prey. She retreated, but with her head held high and a challenging glare in those deep emerald eyes. They were no longer 'pale jewels', no longer a hint of what would be. No, they were more. She had grown into the promise he had seen in her youthful self.

And she was his.

"If I had magic, would I be walking around in this bloody storm? Would I have allowed that--that… woman to chop off my hair? Would I be mending holes in roofs for dinner when I could be dining, labor-free, on whatever I desired?" He caught her then, as she stumbled backward. It seemed his patience was at an end, for the way he held her shoulders, keeping her as close as he could manage and still see her face.

"Once more, I have done it all for you. And once more, you were ungrateful. You just expected me to bend and bend and bend, to make all of the sacrifices in the world to please you. And I would, Sarah, I would do everything you desired and more. But what would you give me in return? You would accuse me, you would make me a villain, even when I have no power over you. Do you not recall that, Precious One?"

He didn't shake her. His hands, while firm on her shoulders, were not bruising in their possession. He was furious, yes, but more, he was hurt. The child in Sarah wanted to demand more answers, wanted to pout, wanted to insist that he wasn't being fair. But he was, and the adult Sarah knew it. He had done all he could for her, given her everything he could…

"We are bonded, Precious One, tied together. Your life is affixed to mine. I had to do it, to keep you. The glass…" He broke off, clearly displeased at his show of emotion. He eased her under the overhang of a closed shop, and released her, running a hand through his soaking hair in frustration. It was such a human action that Sarah smiled slowly.

Memories, still denied, washed over her, colder and sharper than glass. Oh, glass…

She had been trapped under the weight of the mirror, pinned, with no way out. She could feel herself bleeding, feel her skin growing ever colder. She had reached out to the only light in the darkness, spoke the only name she could recall. His name.

And then she had been warm, and comfortable. She should have known then that something had changed. So, he had bonded their lives together? He had tied their life-spans? Would she live as long as he did? Is that what he meant? Was that why he could walk in her dreams? Was that the reason he made her feel so much?

"I never meant to hurt you, Sarah. This was my last chance. Say it again, and I'll leave you." He stood away from her, out in the rain. He was rigid, his eyes skimming the distance. They were gold, like she recalled. And he felt so… sad. So lost.

She stood, her footsteps silent in the pouring rain around them. "I can't. I mean, I can, but--" she reached out a hand, intending to lay it on his shoulder, to comfort him, or to turn him. He walked forward, further into the rain. Sarah stomped her foot in childish frustration, making water splash around her in a broad circle.

"Damnation woman, I--" He spun, and saw the look on her face. Shock. And laughter. He knelt slowly, his love of games rising, even though he was not sure that she wouldn't, at any moment, send him back to the Underground, more broken and alone than he had been when last she left him. He scooped up half-formed slush in his hand, cupping it with a considering look in his eyes, quicksilver rather than gold now.

Her eyes grew wide. "Wait, you don't want to do that, really… Jareth!" The last was a squeal as she tried to turn and run. The half-hail-half-slush hit her in the middle of the back and she froze in shock.

Here it comes, Jareth thought. But to his surprise, it wasn't anger on her face when she spun towards him. It was laughter, and challenge. She knelt, scooped, and threw all in one practiced motion. It hit him in the shoulder, and Jareth laughed, even as he darted out across the street, into a field frozen over in a late winter storm. She followed.

She ducked behind an old abandoned tool shed, gathering snow as fast as she could. Real flakes had begun falling, intermingled with their larger, harder counterparts. "Your aim was off, Sarah. While your hiding you might want to work on that." His taunt made her smirk, a very new expression for her.

She darted out and hit him in the chest, and was pelted by another snowball in return. She ran for the next line of shelter, a half-chopped and dying tree. Jareth simply stood, out in the middle of the field, leaving himself open for attack.

A great battle ensued, Jareth and Sarah hurling insults as well as make-shift snowballs. She darted from one hiding place to the next until she was breathless from laughter and exercise. Expecting him to remain in the center of the field, Sarah was surprised to feel him tap her on the shoulder. She looked up from her hoard of half-formed snowballs in shock.

He was smiling broadly as he dropped a large snowball down the open front of her jacket. Sarah tackled him, and in an instant they were both covered in slush and water, with snow still falling around them, heavier by the minute. Both knew they should go somewhere warm, that they could very easily get sick. But, lying side by side in rest after the 'great battle', they didn't really care.

"Are you going to say the words, Sarah?"

"Not today."

And as much as Jareth wanted to press her for an answer, he didn't. Not that soon, he told himself. It was enough, for now, to have moments like this, moments he had never known before. Not since he was a child.

He stood and offered her a hand, and together they walked to the general supplies store. They got several confused looks on the way there, and a few more when they actually arrived. Neither truly cared. Too cold, and too tired to walk back, Sarah asked the owned of the store if they had a cab service. Surprisingly enough the owner's son drove the only cab in town, and was more than happy to give them a ride back, at half-fare.

"Canna' have ye both catchin' a frost, now can we? Maeve would kill the lot of us." Had been his rather determined reply.

How had Jareth done it? Obviously the High Council had given him permission to pass, but still, there should have been no way for him to pass the barriers. If this was just a temporary arrangement, his passing into the mortal realm and then out of it, they would have set an sort of timer on the portal to and from the Underground. But if this trip was not timed, if there was no limit to the days and nights Jareth had to woo and win his mortal Queen, how would they measure the length of time needed to hold the veil open?

It was almost too much to comprehend.

He looked around the large manor house, and shivered. There was a fire blazing in the hearth, and his human servants darted this way and that, ignorant of his loss of magic. They would serve him faithfully and fearfully, because he allowed nothing less.

When He had approached Miss O'Fallon this morning at her garden gate she had quite simply turned him away. Told him his kind was not welcome, and that she had sprinkled the entrance with salt. Oh, how he had laughed. Salt could not bind him to or from a place, if it was his wish to enter or leave. But he had left at any rate. If the older woman knew what he was, then it would not be long before she told Sarah.

Not that it mattered, his inner voice snarled. They had been kissing in the middle of the road, uncaring of who saw them! She hadn't been fighting him, If anything, she had been clinging. Something about the sight had roused Duncan, made the chase more challenging, the end result far sweeter. But the rest of him, the part that could still reason normally…

No. All that mattered was the challenge, and the prize. If she responded that way to the Goblin King, the one that had stolen away her brother, forced her through hardships and dangers abound, she would be like fire in his arms. She would be the Sun itself!

He glared out the window into the snow. Soon enough he would figure out the laws of the veils. He was closer now than ever before. Jareth's arrival meant more than he or the High Council had probably realized. If Jareth had come through into the mortal realm, as Duncan had centuries ago, then just as Jareth would be allowed into the Underground again, there was a way for Duncan to do the same.

To return to the Underground, to return to Elyse, was all he wanted. Sarah was but a candle to the light that was his Elyse.

His Elyse, married to another man. Married by the King of the realm himself, Jareth Adaire Danube Galen of the house of Crenalion. Vengeance was long overdue, but it would be sweet. Duncan stood and paced into the library, determined to discover the names that the veil responded to. There was magic in a true name, he knew.

And he had time enough. For a Fey, time was fickle, but it was infinite.

"Did she say it?" Fick asked, eagerly.

"No she didn't say it, fool!" They stirred restlessly, shivering between worlds.

"Is she ever going to say it?" His whining tone was grating on the nerves, and Peck frowned.

"The King of the Fey will make her say it." But as he watched them play in the snow, Peck grew uneasy. The King he knew would have made her bend to his will by now, would demand her compliance. There was only one problem. The King Peck knew would not be romping around in the snow with the dark-haired mortal in the first place.

"Well, time is--"

"Shut up, Fick." Peck shifted restlessly.

"Dounacain will--"

This time Fick was silenced not by a sharp command, but by the quick descent of a large branch. With his loud comrade unconscious, Peck looked to his other companions. They didn't speak, and Peck smiled. Silence at last.

Author's Note:

Hey guys, just wanted to remind you all that I don't have a beta, so please stick with me through the spelling errors and grammatical issues… it's just me over here. Again I wanted to thank my reviewers, reading what you have to say makes my day so much better. I love hearing from all of you.

Hang in there for the next chapter, I usually get them out pretty quickly. Meanwhile I have to dry out Sarah and Jareth before they get pneumonia, and since I can barely spell the word I wouldn't like to have to nurse them through it.

Until next time,

-Chaotic Reverie