Thank you, readers, for the reviews and all the watches! I was astounded by the number of people who took my previous A/N seriously and either favorited or watched the story if they were even on the rope for what was going to happen next... Thanks, and I'll remember the attentiveness of my readers for future chapters. Oh, believe me, I wanted to write so much more for this chapter and, if it's any hope to readers eager for some more interaction and interesting moments between our favorite wicked king and clever young woman. I have two more chapters I am messing around with currently, one with a tame rating and one not so tame... I'm not sure when they will be posted or how late into the story they will be... I want to wrap this story up around Chapter 20 if possible, but last time I set a limit on my stories, one turned out to be 60+ chapters! I've bored you long enough and, now, onward...

But oh, now, my world is at your feet. I was lost and I was found,
But I was alive and now I've drowned.

Missy Higgins, "They Weren't There"

You have so many tough lessons to learn, even if it kills me to have to teach you.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

The pain in her back hadn't gone away by the time Sarah's alarm clock rang pitifully, it's humming and screeching reminding her she needed a new one. It didn't do to have dropped the thing so many times in her fumbles on the nightstand to hit the snooze after all these years. Sarah didn't wake up to the sound, though. She was already awake, had been awake all night. Even in her exhaustion from the pains in her body and the thoughts in her mind, Sarah had not been able to fall asleep. Oh, she had tried. She knew she had tried and was pretty sure he knew she had tried, as well. As soon as her eyelids felt too heavy, Sarah had noticed the extra, new pillow Jareth had summoned for himself and had to move it off the bed. It now sat under the nightstand, rejected and ignored. She had lingered over the fact her lip was now healed and, tentatively, had bit the spot again. The skin refused to break and it was only after nearly a half hour of semi-conscious chewing that she had tasted blood. It reassured her, in a strange way, that she had control over herself: she didn't want to be reminded of the usual sensations she had felt, not just in her lips, just a handful of hours ago.

Why had he come? What had happened that would have prompted such a visit? There was really no excuse, no reason for him to pop back into her life. Yes, there had been dreams. Dreams in her sleep, dreams during class, moments where she had flown out of her world and back to Jareth's. But never had she purposely tried to summon him into her thoughts. He usually appeared out of a shadow, a shape out of the corner of her eye, never approaching but always watching as she wandered through her memories of the Labyrinth. Very few times over the years had seen his face in her mind's eye, even fewer times when he had spoken. She could hardly remember the seconds his hand had brushed over hers once in a nightmare she had been having, and remembered that, after waking up, she had washed her hands numerous times before sitting up with a hot cup of tea the rest of the night.

She had listened to a song the other week in one of her music classes about a witch king who stole children's souls, a German leid that was far too dark for her liking. Sarah had read a chapter of a book in one of her literature classes about a strange man who was not a villain yet not innocent in the darker dealings of numerous worlds; the description of that character had been a little too close to someone else she had encountered years ago. She had even watched a television show modeling the latest fashions coming from Europe. Laughing with Amber that tights on men were never going to be accepted as more than stage costumes, Sarah then bit her tongue once she saw that leather vests and plunging necklines were the latest craze, as well. Reassured that, living in the upper half of the midwest, where not only were many people conservative in every way in life (especially dress), but that wearing such clothing would determine certain frostbite and hypothermia nine out of twelve months of the year, Sarah turned the channel and dismissed the thoughts.

Sarah tried to get up from her bed and found that, even though she could sit up, moving her legs was murder on her spine. Balancing her weight on her hand, propped up on the bed stand, she shuffled her feet and found the pain went from a roaring wave to a dull throb within moments. Perhaps she had just been immobile for too long? Well, the bathroom was only a few steps away, as was the kitchen, and if Sarah left now, she would be able to make it to class in time while taking the small steps she now used to make it to her bedroom door. Her backpack was another matter, however. If lifting her shirt hem above her chest caused extreme agony, who was she going to sling a bag full of books over her shoulder? It took Sarah nearly five minutes just to get undressed.

How had Jareth come back? How had she let him back into her life? How had he been able to affect her so much in such a short period of time? So many questions rolled through Sarah's head... Images floated on the river of fear and memory, the flow quickening as though a dam had burst in her mind. Wisps of blond hair streaked with blue. Grey tights that looked so soft, untouchable. Black riding crop. Leather.

Sarah was surprised at her own ravished, startled expression as she glanced into the mirror before stepping in the shower. She looked as tired as she felt, looked as though she had seen a ghost. Sarah noticed, as she always did, that she was too skinny; it wasn't enough to live on popcorn and apple juice, which is all she was usually able to afford. Her breasts weren't as full as other girl's, her hips not as wide. Sarah never meant to notice how many of her peers flaunted their feminine curves and subtle sex appeal, but did anyway. It was rather unnerving to enter a lesson or sit in a classroom along with other girls who were so obviously trying to give themselves away to the next man to buy them a drink. Sarah knew not all women were like that, but most women she knew were exactly like that. At least Amber was more like Sarah than not. Living together never would have worked if there were men over every other night.

Running her hands along her arms, one up across her neck and the other down to her thigh, Sarah sighed. It wouldn't do to consistently be unhappy with herself. After all those failed auditions, Sarah had wondered if it had been more than just her acting or inexperience that had prevented her from landing those roles. Perhaps it had been her body? Perhaps living off what little she ate now was better than being able to eat whatever and how much she wanted? Maybe the directors had taken one look at her scrawny body, pale skin, and wide eyes, checking her off their list as they noticed everything imperfection by imperfection. Sure, there had been the casting-couch offers, the rudest and crudest of directors and artistic designers trying to convince her they could at least land her a role in the chorus or get a recommendation in exchange for a quick lay. Sarah didn't consider those offers as valid proof she was beautiful. She didn't consider those offers anything more than lies. Besides, if she was going to get a role based on how well she did in bed, Sarah knew she would be even worse off in her talent than if she just accepted her audition on the stage. What did she know of matters such as those of the more intimate nature? And, why now, as the water ran, was she thinking of such things?

There was a pounding at the door and Sarah grasped the counter top with a tight grip, knuckles turning white as skin stretched painfully over bone. All her muscles froze and made way for her stomach, which flew into her throat before tightening to the point she thought she was going to vomit. However, before Sarah's reaction could go much further, she remembered that if Jareth wanted in, he wouldn't be knocking on the door. He would just materialize right there in front of her if he wanted to. Surely it was Amber...

"Are you done in the shower yet? I forgot I had a lab on campus this morning and I'm going to run late if I don't get a shower soon!"

"N- no problem!" Sarah called out, voice a little too sharp. Sighing deep and feeling everything go back to normal, including the pain in her back, she climbed into the shower on shaky legs. Sarah leaned her forehead against the cool wall as the hot water scaled her back, burning her skin but unraveling her tight muscles. Through eyes narrowed by exhaustion and pain, she saw the blue tiles swim around her and suddenly couldn't find the soap bar she had been reaching for. A grey curtain rolled over her eyes and all she knew was darkness.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

"Sarah, what am I going to do with you?"

Amber leaned against the door frame to Sarah's room as she watched her friend lay down upon her bed with hesitant motions. Dressed in purple silk pajamas, something Amber didn't know Sarah owned, the dark haired girl attempted a grin.

"Don't you dare tell me you're fine," Amber said as Sarah opened her mouth to speak. "I still have half a mind to call the hospital and let them know I'm taking you in. If you weren't feeling well, why didn't you just tell me?"

Sarah sighed. There was no arguing with Amber when it came to health, her mother and sister being some of the best nurses the city had ever seen. Her friend knew when it was time to leave well enough alone and when it was better to just haul Sarah into the car by her hair if need be and bring her to the doctor. Amber had already told her six times between the time Sarah regained consciousness and now that she was lucky she hadn't suffered a concussion.

"I think it was the pain in my back," came the explanation. "It was so bad I couldn't focus and I think the shock of the water did me in."

"Watch your feet next time," Amber retorted, angry out of concern. "If you trip like this again, I'm getting a third house mate just so I can keep you under observation, for heaven's sake. You scared the hell out of me twice in less than a day."

"I'm sorry."

It was all Sarah could think of to say and Amber, as expected, softened her glare. Although she was sweet and innocent most of the time, Amber had quite a temper on her when she was nervous. She hated making people feel badly and Sarah assumed she looked pretty bad. When she had fallen in the shower, she had hit her left shoulder on the way down, not to mention the bump on her head from hitting the soap. Who knew soap could cause so much pain? In a moment of childishness, Sarah recalled that the soap had been her favorite scent, too. Betrayal in the most personal of ways. The thought of feeling sad over such a small detail pertaining to her injuries almost made Sarah laugh. Laughter wouldn't be the best choice in the situation she was still in, though.

"Now, promise me you won't go to class! Not only would it have been impossible for you to carry your books with a bad back and now a bad shoulder, but if you pass out in class, I'm not going to be there."

Amber's glare came back when Sarah didn't answer fast enough.

"No problem... The most I'll do is limp to the music building for some practice. I'll talk with my professors tomorrow..."

The dejected tone in Sarah's voice made Amber pity her friend just for a moment.

Everyone knows you shouldn't pity someone. It's not proper, it's not right. It's not respectful. But sometimes pity overrides both what is socially acceptable and respectable. Amber was never above breaking rules. It had been a violation of rules when she had tried the doorknob at the bathroom after Sarah's shower had taken way too long. First, Amber had thought, while leaning against the kitchen counter impatiently with a bowl of cereal, that Sarah was a little over her usual shower time. Then, it became the longest shower Amber had ever known Sarah to take. Only after Amber realized Sarah could have gotten into trouble because of her back was when she broke the First Rule of the Bathroom: Thou Shalt Not Touch The Door Handle While Water Is Running. It had been unusual for the door not to be locked: Sarah locked the door even when she went in to brush her teeth. Amber had always wondered why Sarah was so self conscious about herself until she had heard the stories about offers made by perverts in theater director's clothing. Walking in and seeing Sarah's pale, wet body under the jets of water coming down had been terrifying not only because there was a person helpless on her bathroom floor but because it had been the first time she saw Sarah in anything less than a tank and shorts. She didn't understand, although she hadn't meant to notice, why Sarah was upset with her body when there wasn't anything to be upset about... Some girls were just over critical of themselves and Amber was sure the rejections from the stage hadn't helped. Maybe that was why Sarah had gone into music: you could hide under the black gowns and within ensembles without effort.

"I'm sorry, too," Amber said, feeling embarrassed recalling those terrifying moments where she had turned off the water and put the fluffy blue towel over Sarah's wet self, afraid her friend had broken something or was drowning. "I didn't want to, well, just walk in, but... yeah," she finished lamely.

"It's okay, you did what you had to do. And if you hadn't decided to check on me, who knows if I would still be in there?"

The girls matched smiles as Amber mumbled something about Sarah coming back to the present.

"If you hadn't come back so quickly, it would be off to the hospital for you! You seem less confused, less disoriented than before," Amber said moments before her phone beeped much in the same manner as Sarah's alarm clock had earlier, only less wheezy. Taking it out of her pocket, she muttered a swear.

"Well, it's off to class. If you need a thing, and I mean even if it means getting to the kitchen, call me and I'll come right over!"

"I'm sorry you didn't get your shower."

"I'm just glad I still have a housemate! Sorry that I'm not hugging you goodbye, I just don't want to mess up your back, seeing as you're probably even more tender than before now that I had to move you from the shower. Want another painkiller?"

"I don't feel a thing," Sarah lied through her teeth as the pain radiated from her old injuries to the new and then back again like some weird transit system. Amber raised an eyebrow.

"Either way, call me if you need something and I'll see you after my classes! Be careful!"

With that, Amber was out the door in a flurry of blond curls and Sarah could hear the doors slam shut behind her after the familiar grunt of the all too common heavy backpack being lifted from the floor. She could hear the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen, the ticking of the clock in the dining room, and wondered, if Sarah held her breath, if she could hear the sound of her own muscles and bones crying out. God, she was sore. Sarah ran her hands along the length of her stomach, down her sides, feeling the silk smooth out under her fingers. It was nice of Amber to lend her such nice pajamas; Sarah didn't remember too much between the time she was shaken awake by Amber's panicking voice and when she fully realized she was in her room, safe for the moment. If she could ignore the pain, the rest of it wasn't too bad. At home in pajamas, nothing to do all day except sleep and figure out a way to explain to her professors what had all happened without sounding impaired and unable to take care of herself.

And contemplate what had happened during the time she had lost in the shower.

When Amber had mentioned it was lucky Sarah had forgot to lock the door, it was the first clue that what Sarah had dreamed of in her unconscious state had actually happened. Sarah never forgot to lock the door. When Amber had she was happy Sarah had come "back to the present", instead of saying "regained consciousness," that was the second reason why it was nearly impossible to deny the conversation that had taken place. The last clue, and all she needed to confirm she had indeed visited the Underground, was the little leather bound book in blue resting on her bed table. He had promised it would be there upon her return, and it was, sitting right next to the clock.

The clock.

"It really is time to buy a new-" Sarah started, assuming the darn thing had finally up and died on her, flashing as though the power had gone out and needed to be reset. But the hour, that number... it was impossible.

"13:00, --:--, 13:00, --:--"

Sarah's thoughts slipped away much like her hand as it drew back from the clock. Tentatively, hesitantly, distracted by recent memory...

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

It was wet, very wet. There was no water around her, though, for which reason Sarah couldn't understand. And dark, even though florescent lights had flooded the room just moments earlier. She didn't even know if she was still in a room, unable to see a thing around her. It reminded her of that dark dungeon she had once been in, that place where you put people to forget about them...

"My dearest Sarah," said the voice she had heard so many times in moments like these, "I wouldn't forget about you. I should know. I've tried very hard these past years to forget the girl who outsmarted my labyrinth and denied the most tempting of offers."

Sarah put her hands over her hears and closed her eyes, only able to tell one darkness from another with the motion of eyelids. She was chilled and, if she would only admit it to herself, a little bit afraid.

"Oh, foolish girl," the voice commented, traces of cruel laughter mixed between words, "You know as well as I do that to block the voice of your king will never work."

"Where am I?"

Sarah heard her voice, resolute if not a bit weak, echoing off unseen walls.

"Actually, the question would be were you were, not where you are now."

Opening her eyes, Sarah saw.

It wasn't darkness, but it could hardly be considered lit. There was a stone floor, very cold under her legs as she knelt in the circular room. Tapestries were torn, hardly hanging off walls, torches unlit and practically too covered in dust and cobwebs to light properly anyway. Large windows showed the tops of spindly trees, bare branches overgrown to the point that the birds circling the barren landscape wouldn't rest upon them. It was twilight, orange fading into purple, stars thrust into their nightly performance of entertaining the gazers coming out this hour to tell their fortunes. This room wasn't familiar, not without the hordes of minions it would usually hold, not without-

Upon the golden throne, purple silk flowing onto the floor, sat the Goblin King. A booted foot was thrown up over the edge, slender ankle hooked. Nonchalant, Jareth was dressed in the most vicious shade of red, leather riding crop tapping against the muscular thigh trapped within the grey tights. His look was one of amusement, but hardly concealing his smirk as Sarah realized why she was wet and cold.

"Bring me back, now! I was in the shower, I was going to class, I-"

"-know where you were," Jareth stated, continuing the tapping of the crop. "I hope you don't mind. I doubted you would give me another moment of your waking hours, so I decided to just take all other hours instead. So easy, so rewarding... I took some liberties, such as making sure you don't drown while you're visiting with me, and I will give you a little more warning before I throw you into such a swoon as to make you collapse. Really, locked doors can only be trouble."

Sarah was livid and embarrassed as she followed his gaze to the blue towel that had miraculously appeared beside her as she knelt in the center of the room. Sparing what little was left of her modesty as she took her hands away from her body to grab the towel, Sarah could feel Jareth's grin grow wider. Wrapping the cloth, familiar from all the times she had washed, folded, and used it, around her slim, still damp body, Sarah stood and faced the returning menace in her life.

"See, not so bad."

"Who said it wasn't so bad?"

The tension grew between the king and the young woman, Jareth pausing in his tapping of the crop to rest his head in a gloved hand. His grin turned into a full smile, all his pointed teeth bared almost in a threat for her to say another word, a taunt to continue.

"At least, in this world, there is no physical pain."

"You're being a pain in the-"

"Your manners are lacking, but at least you can move without flinching; for that I am pleased," Jareth interrupted before Sarah could finish her retort.

"I doubt your concern for me could-"

Sarah realized she didn't know how to finish the sarcastic and cruel comment she was planning. The words had escaped her head. Standing there, gaping like a fish and not looking any drier than one, Sarah became embarrassed yet again. She had expected him to stop her mid-sentence once again.

"Where are your goblins? Why do you live in such filth? For a king, you might have a better throne room."

"Oh, my dear Sarah..."

"Will you stop calling me that? Stop it!"

"I'll never stop calling you that," was the response as Sarah realized she was talking to an empty throne and his voice was right in her ear. Turning to look at him, tempted to attempt a slap, she found herself looking straight at his twisted lips, whispers away from her face.

"Send me back."

"I thought you wanted an answer to your questions?"

"I do, but I would also like to be dry and dressed right now and I don't see that happening any more than getting a straight answer from you!"

"Would a crooked answer suffice?"

"Never."

Jareth circled the woman, who found herself shaking more and more. The sun had completely gone down, the stars in their glittering choreography, shedding no warmth. It was getting colder, and it was nearly completely dark. She could see outlines, now, shapes and hints of shapes as the Goblin King continued to speak.

"This world is fading, Sarah. The Underground you knew from that silly play you read, that foolish notion in your mind... none of it is true. It was an adaptation, a young girl's fantasy, an unreliable account of the true Underground and the true Goblin King. As you grew up, as things changed, your visions of the Underground changed, too. Oh, they were hidden away, deep down inside, too deep down to realize you still had them except in the rarest of dreams, but they were still there just the same. You stopped imagining that an entire kingdom could consist of goblins, innocent and guileless and all together too adorable to cause much harm, even with intent to do so. You stopped creating, stopped nurturing those thoughts, that special creativity that led you here in the first place. You lost your faith that what you read could come true if you only tried hard enough. Sarah, you grew up."

He stopped in front her, boots tapping on the stone much like the crop had been tapping earlier. She could feel his breath on her cheek, water dripping and drying, leaving her skin warm where his words had been. Every syllable was magic, every pause heady like a sort of wine pouring from a bottle to a glass, bringing new fragrances with every meaning within his words. He was too close, once again, but Sarah couldn't find her feet as fast as her cynicism.

"Planning on throwing another snake at me, turning it into a scarf? Just to scare me?"

"Why, not unless you want it that way."

Snapping his fingers, he held out his hand. In the dim light coming from the rising moon, filtered through the clumped and broken branches of trees, Sarah could see a dull shine coming from a side of the object. Then Jareth placed the item on her shoulder, none too gently. As whatever the object was began to topple from her shoulder, Sarah could feel legs, spindly legs, and antennae. The rough texture of the exoskeleton and unfamiliar touch of something so quick and hard frightened Sarah. She screamed as she realized it was a cockroach, a large cockroach the size of her palm. The towel fell on top of the insect as both tumbled to the ground.

"Damn you!"

Sarah, trying to compose herself enough that she wouldn't burst into tears for fear of wrapping the towel around her only to find the cockroach tangled in the fibers, glared a glare she knew Jareth could see even through the darkness. She was afraid of the stupid things, even though she knew they couldn't hurt her. As she bent down to pick up the blanket, she felt a sleek warmth cover her from the shoulders to the knees. Sarah realized it was the purple silk from the throne and that Jareth, face awash in celestial light, was looking at her with an intensity that made her tongue stick to the roof of her mouth.

"Do you want to learn the true story of the Goblin King, the real Underground?"

"I want you to send me back, just send me back!"

The tears running down her face came through to her voice. A finger gloved in soft leather swept away the tear that threatened to fall from her chin as Jareth pulled her face up to meet his. Sarah could feel his hair on her face as he tilted her head to whisper in her ear.

"I will send you back with a gift, and you will take it. It will be waiting," he said as he could feel her protesting before he had finished. "I will see you on the thirteenth hour three days from now. You will tell me what you think of your future kingdom."

Sarah felt Jareth's lips against her ear before he looked her in the eyes and pushed her backwards as forcefully as he could. She felt her body fly backwards, felt the silk ripple, and heard the rush of air as the stone floor came closer and closer.