She often wondered if it was too late. Deep down she knew it was foolish to hope that'd he'd still be willing to take her, to hope that he might still feel something for her after all these years. She was a bit ashamed of herself. For all she had thought herself grown, she really had been a child to not see the truth behind the lies. Some would probably say it was all water under the bridge now, but to her, it was a newly discovered river, over which a bridge had yet to be made. Maybe someday, but for now she just kept wondering.

He wondered if she realized it was not too late, he wondered if that even mattered to her. Years had passed for her, but to him, an immortal, it seemed only a moment, albeit, one very drawn out moment. Maybe he should approach her, maybe he should try telling her again, now that she was old enough to really understand. Maybe he should ask again. Maybe he should never have asked at all. All this wandered through his head as he sat pensively on his throne waiting for the sun to rise. As the sun slowly peaked over the horizon he silently damned the fates to hell.

She'd almost made up her mind. Oh, but how would he react to her summoning him? Would he even respond? Would he even hear her? Maybe she should wish herself away… but how would that be conducive to talking with him? She was twenty-five, why couldn't she figure any of this out? Damn it all to hell.

He could see she was troubled by something recently. She spent much of her alone time staring out her window, lost in thought. She ate little, her mind frequently wandering during her meals. When she laid down to sleep she often wept. He'd consoled himself all this time that at least if she was not with him, she was well. But right now, she was not well. Should he go to her? Should he leave her alone? He'd lived for hundreds of years, why couldn't he figure this out?

"Jareth." It slipped through her lips and she hoped more than anything else that he heard her. That he'd come. She was sitting by the window in her apartment's bedroom watching the rainfall when she knew she should be doing that night's dinner dishes. The rain drops on the windowpane reminding her of crystals from a dream long since past. Except, it wasn't a dream, it had been real and it had been dear to her. So she had sat there, thinking about that night as she watched the rain fall down and she had still been sitting there when his name left her lips. A whispered sigh, bitter with hope. She raised her hand to the cool glass and prepared herself to accept the silence as an answer.

"Yes Sarah?" His voice came soft and unexpectedly, still as cultured as she remembered it, a silky drawl with an English accent. Suddenly she was afraid to turn around, afraid that if she did he would disappear. She curled her fingers where they had splayed on the glass into a tight fist, tears threatening to fall anew.

"Is it too late?"

She had said his name and as pathetic as he was he went to her.

"Yes Sarah?" His voice sounded like it always had, he knew it did, he was a king and he would always speak like a king. He wanted to say more, but his dignity came first. She didn't turn to face him, just kept staring out the window, but he could see her face reflected in the glass and he could see that strange look that entered her eyes at his simple response.

"Is it too late?" To say her question surprised him would be an understatement. He was surprised and pleased, and somewhere deep down, he felt victorious. His prize was coming to him at last.

"No Sarah, it's never too late." She released a sigh and her forehead pressed against the window, her eyes closing.

"When did it stop being about Toby?"

"When I knew I loved you." He was honest, blatantly so, no games, no pretenses this time, they hadn't gotten him anywhere the first time.

"When did that happen?"

"So many questions today Sarah, did you actually want something or did it seem like a nice evening to pester me?"

"Jareth…" Her voice tapered off, indignant and he could not help but to chuckle at her.

"When you decided your brother was more important than your toys and your costumes, I decided you were different, interesting worth the time and effort I would put into the game. When you defied me in the tunnel I decided you were a challenge and I wanted to see what you were capable of. When we danced in the ballroom I realized you were beautiful and that you were so innocent it was painful, and when you turned away from me and tore down my illusion at the end of it all I realized I loved you."

"Does your offer stand again?" Was that, hope in her voice? She had straightened again. Her shoulders tense.

"It was never retracted."

She turned to face him now. Tears spilling down her cheeks. "Then claim your power over me."

And he did.

A/N: And that's the end. Fixed Typos. Added details. Probably still have more typos I missed, but such is life. Considering I wrote this as a teenager and am reading it now 14 years later I'm not mad at it.