Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Labyrinth, or Sarah, or Jareth, or even a Bowie doll. I own only a myriad of useless fan parts, a boomerang screwdriver, and Ziggy. ...Alright, I don't really own Ziggy. A girl can wish, though.... DREAM! A girl can dream, I meant. *ahem*

Also, let's give a nice big squeezy-hug to the lovely Beta, Lov2catnap! Trust me, you owe her.

Chapter Seven

"Say it, precious thing," Jareth said, demanded, begged, his voice as heavy and hungry as his mismatched, desire darkened eyes as he hovered atop me. My hands shivered as they ran across his vaguely iridescent, meltingly hot skin. His muscles fluttered under my fingertips.

"You have power over me, you always had power over me, I want you to have power over me -" I whispered, panted, groaned, as he growled into my throat and pressed against me, his fever-hot body firm against mine. His mouth seared along my neck, my jaw, slowly arcing upwards as he dragged his moist lips and tongue over my skin. Heavy breathing sounded in my ear as he reached it, his sharp teeth tugging at the sensitive flesh- I moaned, winding my fingers in his hair, my nails scraping his scalp-

He shuddered. A devastatingly predetorial sound rumbled through his body, rough but attractive, like raw silk, against my ear. Jareth turned his head, his mouth latching onto mine, devouring me -

I writhed under him, desperately wanting, needing friction. His knee slid between thighs and I gladly parted, wrapping my legs around his hips. I arched under him, tensing -

He moved against me, his tongue in time with his hips, as scorching flames erupted under my skin.

"Yes, mine, always wanted you to be mine," he murmured against my mouth. I inhaled his words, licking at the sweet wine taste they left as I molded myself to him. His mouth pressed along my jaw, kissing down my neck, licking at my pulse point, nipping at the hollow, as he trailed down to my chest. I watched as his lust-black eyes looked up at me, baring his sharp canines in a wicked smile, before his lips closed around the tip of my breast.

Throwing my head back as his name ripped from my throat, a frantic cry, I clutched at -

My blankets, which were in a furious tangle, imprisoning my legs. I whipped my head around, panting, and realized I was alone, in my room, and hotter than hell.

Damn that man! How dare he get me all worked up like that and then let me wake up!? The fact that it had been a conjuration of my own hormone-drenched, perverted mind was of no consequence.

I wrestled myself free of my covers and roughly wiped the sweat off my brow, scratching myself a little. I glowered.

"Stupid, stupid, Sarah. So much for DMV lines."

Grumbling, I stomped off to the bathroom and flipped the water to 'absurdly frigid', intending to plant myself in a freezing cold shower until my body behaved like a normal adult and quit lusting after Goblin Kings with baby snatching problems. As I tried to peel my sweat-soaked, sticky shirt off of me, however, I was hit by truly horrid suspicion.

Racing back to my bedroom, I ripped back the blankets, suddenly sure they would be covered in glitter, and possibly bearing a few strands of blonde hair - Oh, god, what if he's in here now -

They were bare.

I sighed in relief. That would have been one almighty mess.

But… it would have been fun…

Shaking my head free of the remembered snatches of my dream, I walked myself back into the bathroom and continued with my cold shower plan.

***

Lady Sarah was Crabby.

Dizz had come to this decision only after a Very Long Time of hiding in her closet and watching her clean and wrestle the Important Plastic Devil-Contraption, which was being extremely stubborn, even though she had threatened to throw it out the window more than once. Dizz admired it's persistence - had Lady Sarah told him that, he would have done whatever it was she wanted the Devil-Contraption to do real quick.

He thought about trying to cheer her up, but on several occasions, she had started cursing all things magic, including the Fraggen Thieving Buggers That Started This Whole Mess, which sounded suspiciously like the term King sometimes used to describe the Goblins, and Dizz had decided it was probably better to just keep hiding. Usually, when King was in this sort of mood, a spike in bogging frequency occurred - and while he wasn't entirely sure Lady Sarah would send him to the bog, as she had never done it before, he was fairly certain he didn't want to find out. Besides, the only thing he could think of to cheer her up was to let her use his Special Drinker, and he was really attached to it…

But, he didn't like Lady Sarah to be Not Happy…

Suddenly, Dizz had an idea so brilliant that it literally knocked the little goblin off his feet, and he had a hard time not whooping in excitement.

***

I had come to the realization that the universe was against me.

After thawing myself back out after my shower, I realized that I wasn't hot just because of that blasted dream.

It was roughly ninety-five degrees in my apartment.

And the air would not turn off.

Goblin Fallout, Part Two.

Now, in a rational, non-magical world, the logical solution to a malfunctioning air conditioner would be to open a window.

Unfortunately, there was a blizzard raging outside that had popped up out of nowhere.

Goblin Fallout, Part Three.

I was afraid to see if everyone was having this problem or if only I was affected, because I was sure they would immediately sense my guilt and grab their torches and pitchforks. I wasn't well-liked in the building anyways - I could only imagine the painful chaos that would ensue if anyone found out I was the cause of the late-winter indoor heat-wave.

So, instead, I made myself busy, attempting to put together a large fan that had been sitting in my coat closet since summer.

I probably would have had better luck trying to rig my toaster to send me to the moon; after several hours of fruitless toil I had only a heap of vaguely fan-esque white plastic, a dozen small cuts, a bent screwdriver, and very little patience to show for my efforts. Domino had long since taken to hiding under my bed with a smelly old shoe he had wrested from a goblin, a rawhide bone, and one of my pillows, apparently operating under the assumption that it would be cooler in the shade, and less noisy out of sight. He had growled playfully for a few minutes, and then promptly fallen asleep.

His snores mocked me.

Taking a deep breath, I told myself calmly that I was a competent adult, fully capable of putting a damn fan together, and I could do it without crying, throwing a temper tantrum, or making the goblins do it. After all, I had hooked up both my VCR and my DVD player, hadn't I? And each had a perfectly functional clock. I could totally do this.

Reassured in my self-worth, I picked up my boomerang-screwdriver and began dutifully tightening a screw into a junction that I thought seemed like a good place for a screw.

Apparently, the screw disagreed.

The little piece of metal abruptly snapped, the head of it flying off to some unknown corner of my apartment, while the rest of it lay immovably lodged in my 'fan'.

"GAH! Bog-dammit! Your mother is a fraggin aardvark, you know that?" I snarled at the accursed plastic contraption, chucking my screwdriver in the direction of the kitchen - and hoping it wouldn't fly back at me - as I wondered why metal seemed so malleable around me.

"Really, Sarah, is it so difficult to ask for assistance?" chided a tingle-inducing, melodic voice behind me, and I started violently, whacking my hand on the blasted devil-thing before me. I cursed inventively and spun around, giving the new occupant of my couch my best scowly glare.

"Seeing as my current predicament is a direct result of you and your subjects' visit, I kinda preferred to do it myself, thanks very much," I snapped, shaking my hand in an effort to lessen the stinging. "If you and your damn kingdom had stayed out of my apartment, I wouldn't be roasting alive in the middle of a freak blizzard."

Jareth adopted a mildly wounded expression, and I rolled my eyes, opting to inspect my new cut rather than subject myself to his glittery appearance.

I froze.

Glitter.

"I can't possibly-" Jareth began, lounging more extensively on my couch, but stopped abruptly as I whirled and leveled an accusing finger at him.

"You!" I snarled, and something that seemed delightfully close to abject terror flitted across his sharp, regal features. "You left glitter everywhere!"

He arched an eyebrow in a perfectly executed gesture of innocence. I briefly wished I had a camera ready.

"I?" he questioned. I gave him a flat look, and swatted at his legs. A small dusting of glitter wafted from the impact. I glared at the offending substance as though I could vaporize it by mere intimidation.

He peered at the incriminating evidence. "Ah," he conceded.

"Yeah," I said shortly, and crossed my arms irritably. "You know, it took Ziggy and I hours to clean this place up. There was glitter in my coffee. It's sealed! How the heck did you manage to -"

"Pardon, my dear, but did you say Ziggy?" His Sparkliness interjected, clearly shocked. Drawing from a rather extensive well of experience, I knew that cleaning ranked quite highly among the goblin's list of Not Fun Things. I grinned smugly.

"Yup. He volunteered." I may have let just a little bit of triumph slip into my tone.

"A goblin volunteered to clean?" he repeated, then glanced around my apartment. He cocked his head slightly. "Well, actually, I suppose that explains your home's condition," he allowed.

I gaped at him in outrage.

"Compared to the condition your entire kingdom's population left it in, this is immaculate," I retorted, and poked a finger at his legs. "And don't think I don't remember the condition of your castle, mister," I said, and that look I'd noticed yesterday danced in his eyes, before he covered it up with a smirk.

"Sarah, you were in my castle hardly half an hour. You mean to tell me you still remember what it looks like a decade later?" he said, his voice tinged with arrogant amusement. I felt my face flush.

"Well, such a disastrous mess tends to leave an impression," I snapped. After all, it wasn't like mentally I retraced my steps through his castle, or daydreamed about the Escher room, or had naughty dreams featuring his bedroom, or anything…

Jareth cocked an eyebrow in a self-satisfied, knowing manner. I flushed deeper.

"Anyways," I said sharply, spinning on my knees back to the jumbled plastic mess masquerading as fan parts, and suppressed a wince as I felt the carpet abrade my skin. "I suggest you make a royal decree, forbidding anyone, or anything, from the Labyrinth, to come within twenty feet of me for the next week. Or else you may wind up missing a few subjects," I informed him, doing my absolute best not to imagine what sort of look he had on his face right now, and distracted myself by picking up a rather suspicious looking fan piece and trying to figure out where on earth it was supposed to fit. Unfortunately, my brain was being extremely uncooperative, and I found myself doing exactly that as he paused, probably tapping a finger thoughtfully against his lips, or smirking, or smiling in that 'I-just-won-and-we-both-know-it' manner of his -

Or maybe his eyes were dark and hungry, his sharp teeth bared in a wicked grin -

The piece of plastic I'd been clenching in my hand suddenly broke with a loud snap, and I added another cut or two to my already extensive collection.

"Bog-dammit!" I hissed, dropping the worthless piece of obviously ill made junk and inspecting my hand.

I heard Jareth sigh from behind me, and I shot him a glare over my shoulder as he swung his legs off the couch, leaning toward me.

"Sarah, Princess, this is really quite unnecessary," he told me in a 'are-you-honestly-this-stubborn?' tone, and gently took my abused hands in his gloved ones. Tingles shot through my arms at the contact, and I suddenly had to concentrate very hard on things like breathing and containing my drool at the realization that I was less than a foot away from Jareth, King Sexy-Pants. He smelled like the sharp night air of mid-winter and something vaguely spicy, like raw cinnamon. His fingers, warm even through the leather, ran gently over my palms, leaving faint pinpricks in their wake -

I wrenched my hands away, eyes wide and horrified.

"No! You can't do magic!" I cried, and looked around in a panic, half-expecting the building to suddenly collapse around me.

"What?" he frowned, looking mildly affronted. "What are you raving about, Sarah?" he demanded, and I puffed out a breath in rushed exasperation.

"You!" I said, waving a hand at him irritably. "You're stuffed with magic! You're lying around, probably leaking it into my apartment just by being here, and I certainly can't afford for you to actually be using magic - next thing you know the windows will suddenly be made of saran wrap or something -" I eyed the windows, wishing I hadn't mentioned it - what if I was giving them ideas? - until Jareth's fingers firmly gripped my chin and turned my face back to his.

"Sarah," he said carefully, "how long have you been working on that fan?" he asked, as though I were some poor woman suffering delusions and a severe case of cabin fever. I scowled.

"Since your goblins caused a magical fallout and I've been sweating my ass off in the middle of February!" I growled, and jerked my chin out of his grasp, maybe pouting just a little.

The corners of his mouth pulled down slightly in confusion, and he gave me an appraising look.

"What is this 'magical fallout' business?" he asked, and I arched an eyebrow at him.

"What do you mean, 'what is it'? It's the result of your stupid magical creatures and crap mucking around with the logic and order of things. Everywhere those goblins go, chaos follows like a friggin' pet," I snapped. Jareth pondered this for a moment, tapping a finger on his lips - it looked just like I imagined - and then looked around my sweltering apartment, as though just now noticing the heat.

"So you mean to say that you think this," he waved his hand, gesturing at the little slice of Sahara that was my apartment, "is magic's fault?"

I glowered a little more at him. "I know it's magic's fault. It's been happening for ten years, now; I'm not that slow on the uptake."

He gave me an oblique look, and I rolled my eyes.

"Look, humans live off of machines and gears and gizmos and hardware, all of which relies on set patterns and processes and precision. Goblins show up, with all their illogical, irrational reasoning and their impossible existence, and it throws off the balance of things on this side. They don't do it on purpose, I don't think, it's just because of what they are. Doesn't mean it isn't their fault, but it isn't intentional," I explained, and glanced around my apartment, remembering the overwhelming number of logic-sabotaging beings that had recently inhabited it. "It usually isn't so bad, but when you decided to go and dump the entire Labyrinth in here, it was bound to have side effects," I said, with only the barest trace of hostile accusation.

Jareth snorted. "I hardly decided to 'dump the entire Labyrinth in here', Princess," he told me shortly, and reclined back into my couch, stretching in a distinctly feline manner, making himself comfortable. I tried not to notice that his current position was the perfect angle to draw attention to the more noteworthy portions of his outfit. Like his pants.

I glanced at his face and felt quite certain he was well aware of the fact.

"Actually," he continued, "I had to track them down, and drag them all back. It's rather dangerous for my subjects to be wandering off like that. Therefore, I suppose that since it seems to be in both of our best interests, a formal decree is indeed in order," he said, and even though he acknowledged that the idea had already been introduced, he still managed to make it sound like he'd thought it up.

"Though, I can't say I wouldn't mind being rid of several goblins… in fact, there are quite a few I wouldn't object to losing," he added as he gazed thoughtfully off into the distance, and glanced at me. "How serious were you in your earlier threat?"

I snorted. "Oh no, don't even think about pawning off your more irritating minions on me, pal," I said, and hauled myself up off my floor, determinedly not looking at him or his flamboyantly displayed assets. I thought I heard him swear under his breath as I passed him on the way to the kitchen, and I grinned a little. I raised my voice and called over my shoulder to him as I walked.

"Would you like something to drink? I'm dying of thir-"

My offer was interrupted as a bout of ferocious, maniacal barking erupted from my room, and my bed thumped violently as Domino hurled himself out from under it, racing toward the living room and its occupant.

I lunged after him, seizing him by the hips and rolling the both of us through a rather painful collection of fan parts.

"Mr. Puppy!" I shouted, and Domino immediately stopped struggling, though a growl still bubbled warningly in his throat. I looked at Jareth and was unsurprised to see him crouching in an obviously defensive position on my couch, glaring at my puppy.

I doubted round two would end in Mr. Puppy's favor.

Sighing, I released him and started climbing gingerly to my feet. "Come on, puppy. Let's get you a bone, and then you're going to sit like a good boy and not try to intimidate Mamma's guests," I told him, and patted my leg. As I started toward the kitchen I glanced at Domino, who had righted himself into an aggressive stance, and was ignoring me in favor of baring his teeth at Jareth.

I rolled my eyes and turned to Jareth to apologize, and felt the words die in my throat at the Goblin King's expression.

Jareth was baring his teeth at Domino.

I snorted.

"Oh, good grief, boys, can't you play nice for five minutes?" I chastised, and turned my back on them, walking into my poor, still wobbly-fanned kitchen. "Did you want that bone or not, Mr. Puppy?" I called over my shoulder, and heard my dog's claws scrabbling on the tile floor as he raced to receive his treat. I held it above his head as he sat and begged, tail whipping about impatiently.

"Now, you only get this if you promise to be good, okay?" I said, and he whined in what I decided to take as an agreement. I tossed it up in the air, and he leapt up, catching it and taking off into my bedroom before I could change my mind and take it back. Shaking my head at him, I grabbed two Gatorades from the fridge (which still had a broken light bulb - I planned to wait a week or so before replacing that) and returned to the Goblin King on my couch.

He was now stretched lengthwise along my sofa, facing so that he had a clear view into my room, where Domino's eyes shone menacingly from under my bed and vaguely ominous crunching could be heard. I rolled my eyes again and tapped on Jareth's feet, which he obligingly moved. I handed him a Gatorade as I sat, which he took and regarded dubiously.

"I don't think my dog likes you very much, Jareth. Maybe you should bring him a bribe next time," I suggested, and took a sip of orange-flavored heaven. Jareth scowled, and opened his own drink.

"I am a king. I do not bribe," he informed me, and carefully sniffed the sports drink. I tried not to smile as he gingerly sipped at it, and tilted his head, as though savoring a fine wine. After a moment, he seemed to deem it sufficient to his tastes, and took a rather large gulp.

"Right, yeah, unless you count bribing young girls with their dreams to forget their baby brothers," I said, though it held less animosity than it may have previously. Since he wasn't being overtly mean, it seemed childish of me to hold a grudge…

"I would hardly consider that a bribe, Princess," he protested, and I thought I detected a pleased undertone in his voice. "More of an even exchange," he corrected, and I snorted.

"I would hardly consider that even," I said, imitating his clipped accent. He smirked at me.

"Given the complexity of your dreams at the time, precious thing, it was far more even than you think," he said, and I was hit by the uncomfortable realization that I was talking to the one person who, at one point at least, had known all of my needs, hopes, and desires. It was slightly unsettling.

I took a long pull of my Gatorade, and looked anywhere but at him.

"I suppose I ought to return and forbid my subjects from bothering you for a bit, before they appear en masse again," Jareth said after several moments of painfully awkward silence, and I gratefully grasped at the excuse.

"Yes, well, it was nice of you to stop by," I babbled, the hostess training Karen had managed to beat into my skull taking over, and I hurriedly set my drink down to stand and escort him out, as though he would be using the door. Before I could get up, though, my hand was covered by a leather-clad one and blonde wisps of his hair brushed against my cheek, tickling lightly.

"Until next time, precious thing," he said in a low murmur, his voice vibrating against my ear as his lips brushed along my ear lobe, and a hot shiver raced through me as I inhaled his magic-and-winter scent -

And then I was sitting alone on my couch, breathing far heavier than the situation warranted, and wondering if I could bottle that smell.

***

There, Jareth thought to himself in a satisfied manner, peering at pleasingly dazed Sarah, via his ever-useful crystals. That encounter had gone far better than the last. Not only had he managed to paint himself in a better, more accessible light to his dear mortal, but he had drawn her out of that foul mood. It had been terribly distressing to see her so put out.

Unfortunately, he had tasked himself with the unpleasant duty of giving his subjects what would likely be an ill-received Command, but even so, he felt all in all quite good about the whole affair.

Tossing the bauble in the air and deftly catching it, Jareth decided he felt like singing. Possibly even dancing, depending on just how ill his goblins received their new, albeit temporary, restriction. He started toward his throne room, a slight spring in his step, humming and mentally choreographing a new number.

***

Subsequent to Jareth's departure, I had lazed around daydreaming for a little while, before I realized that I was acting like a foolish, love-struck, teenaged sap again, and went to take Domino on a walk, hoping that perhaps wandering around in a blizzard for a bit would snap me out of being stupid.

It was then I noticed I was dressed in ratty old gym shorts and a shapeless, fraying, decrepit tee-shirt that may have once belonged to Buddha, or some other long-dead, pleasantly-rotund deity with a habit of leaving their shirts around.

And Jareth had seen me like this.

After groaning and banging my head a few times - on a conveniently placed doorframe - at the unfairness of it all, I wriggled into my marshmallow-esque snowsuit, and took my puppy on what had probably been our shortest walk all winter. I waddled back up the stairs, hoping that Jareth wouldn't pop up while I was dressed like the Michelin Man's love-child, only to enter my apartment and discover that the lying, cheating, glitter-infested, snake of a Whatever-He-Was's royal decree of Temporary-Banishment-From-Lady-Sarah's-For-Your-Own-Well-Being to the goblins hadn't been quite as royal-decree-ish as he'd implied.

Because they were dancing in my living room.

"DANSE MAGIC PANTS-"

"SLAP A BABY!"

"JUMP MAGIC JUMP-"

"No!" I cried, dropping Domino's leash and throwing my arms out. "No magic jump!"

My poor, poor living room was again swarming with goblins, most of which seemed to be doing some sort of line dance that involved slapping each other at regular intervals and then tossing the goblin next to them across the room with surprising velocity.

My plea went unnoticed and several goblins soared across the short span of my apartment, crashing into walls, tables, and my couch with more or less equal disregard for the laws of physics, common sense, and pain. One such airborne fellow happened to be flung on a course that propelled him straight into me.

The impact toppled me backwards over Domino's back, and the three of us collapsed into a tangled, furry, barking mess, and I noticed with detached disappointment that my padded snowsuit did very little to soften my landing. Something circular and extremely unforgiving rammed itself into my jaw, and stars blossomed along the edges of my vision. I groaned and went quite still, finding that I could better appreciate the exquisite detail of the flaring agony in my face if I wasn't concerned with things like coherent thought or self-defense.

A sharp, pointy little face with a familiar mug on it's head popped into my line of sight, and grinned down at me from atop my chest.

"Lady Sarah!" he squeaked. "You wants to Magic Jump?!"

"No, thanks, I'm fine," I said, but my suddenly uncooperative jaw mangled the words, and it came out more like "Numhanns, buffemmmne."

"JUMP MAGIC JUMP-"

"Lady Sarah Dancing?"

"MAGIC JUMP LADY SARAH-"

I looked up in horror as I was charged by a bunch of confused goblins. Gimp was leading the attack, and I had a sudden certainty that I was going to get kicked in the face with a teapot-

"Wait! Guys, it's alright-"

But it was too late, I was already besieged. The next few minutes were a befuddled jumble of goblins, acrylic polyester, and slobber, and for the most part I was unsure if they were trying to 'jump' me or bury me.

In a last desperate attempt, I gave an almighty heave and lunged for the T.V. remote, mashing the 'On' button despite its recent tendency to ignore my remote commands and flip to the adult channels, hoping that the bright colors and loud noises would interrupt the goblin's destructive merriment.

My plan worked, as a painfully vivid cartoon starfish flew at an equally obnoxious sponge in the new generation's version of an epic martial arts battle.

"OOOooooohhhhh," the goblins chorused, and I thanked whatever god might be intermittently listening for their short attention spans.

I extracted myself from the goblin heap - I always seemed to wind up at the bottom of those, regardless of my starting position - and rubbed at my jaw tenderly, hoping without much optimism that the inevitable bruise would be small.

"Alright, you guys stay here, and I'll go get you some cookies," I said wearily, hauling myself noisily to my feet and wobbling to the kitchen.

"H'okay, Lady Sarah," they agreed. I grabbed a bag of the mish-mashed snacks I'd been able to salvage from their last visit, and quickly distributed them before retreating to my room, where I immediately discarded the snowsuit in a cacophony of synthetic swishing and dressed in something a little more flattering than my 'college grunge' apparel.

Running a brush through my hair with perhaps a bit more force than absolutely necessary, I quickly outlined a speech in my head, peppering it with sharp, aerodynamic comments specifically designed to pop inflated egos with precision and speed, and prepared to demand that the stupid-haired, outrageously dressed (honestly, who did he think he was, wearing boots like that?) King of the Goblins get his sparkly self up here right now, when I was distracted by a distinctly familiar squawking from the adjacent room.

"Woo woo woo, no wonder the little beasts are so comfortable here! It's more of a pigsty than the Labyrinth!" trilled a high pitched, vaguely accented voice. I skidded into my living room and saw that, indeed, it was now host to a wrinkly, befuzzled old man with impressive eyebrows and a talking, feathered hat, in addition to my regular gaggle of goblins.

"Would you be quiet? You know very well what the goblins did to her home," the Wise Man told his Hat irritably. The bird sniffed and tossed it's red-plumed head.

"Well, anyone who can tolerate a home like this has obviously been hanging around Jareth too long," it said shortly, and gave me a pointed look.

I frowned. "Now, hold on a minute, I've hardly even seen Jareth in the past decade," except for the past few days, anyhow - I hesitated, trying very hard not to remember the way he smelled, or the pleasant jitters the memory would initiate, or the feeling of his teeth on my -

"And certainly not enough to be picking up his lousy cleaning habits." I forced myself to concentrate on the present.

The Hat scoffed. "Likely. I suppose you noticed that pause there?" it asked the Wise Man, who blinked slowly at it.

"Perhaps, my annoying accessory, it is not that she lies, but that the truth is not as she would tell it," he said.

"Oh, yes, that makes much more sense," it warbled sarcastically.

I glared at it. "Wait a minute, I'm telling the truth! Really, I haven't-" I bit my tongue. This was pointless. Why was I arguing with that thing? "Never mind, think what you want. Why are you here?"

"Ah! See, you see there, she didn't even offer us tea before business talk. Very rude; definitely too much time with Jareth." The bird glared self-righteously at me. I glared back.

"Will you please be quiet?! We have a purpose for this visit," the Wise Man pleaded.

"Pardon me for expecting hospitality, then. Sorry," the Hat said indignantly.

"Don't apologize, just be quiet."

"Fine."

"Thank you," he said, and looked back at me and opened his mouth to speak.

"I'll be quiet. I won't intrude on your important conversation."

Glaring, he rolled his eyes up to his Hat and cleared his throat.

"Are you done?"

"Yes."

"Good."

"Sorry."

The Wise Man closed his eyes, and I could practically see him counting to ten. I hid a grin. They hadn't changed a bit in ten years.

"Now, then, Young Lady,-"

"But it's not like I wasn't right."

"I'll trade you in for a bowler! I swear I will!" he snapped, but the Hat just snorted.

"You'd never find another hat to fit your head. And no hat shop would take me."

"Quite right there," he grumbled. Swallowing a smirk, I tilted my head. As amusing as it was to watch the two of them, I sincerely wanted to get to the crux of the conversation before the only one with anything to really say fell asleep. Or my windows turned to saran wrap, whichever came first.

"So, you're here because…?" I interrupted, and the Wise Man cast one last dark look at his Hat before turning back to me.

"Young Lady, it has come to my attention -"

"Our attention."

"… Yes. Our attention," Growled the old man, "that you have become a weaver of tales."

I cocked an eyebrow in surprise.

"Yes, actually, I'm a children's author. I didn't realize anyone in the Labyrinth knew, except for the goblins," I said. The Hat straightened in triumph.

"Hah! So you admit it!" it crowed. I frowned in confusion.

"Admit what?"

"That you have been stea- KAWAGH!" it squawked as it's wearer tried to bat it into silence.

"Bowler hat! I swear it," he threatened.

"Alright! Fine! I'll stay out of it."

"Good!"

"Fine!"

"Alright!"

The poor Wise Man huffed for a few moments, glaring warily at the Hat as it determinedly looked around with an indifferent air.

"Now, then. It has come to our attention," he paused, throwing a challenging glance at his Hat, "that you have been using the residents of the Labyrinth as subjects in your stories."

I paused, regarding the two cautiously. "Yes, I have…"

"And that you have led people to believe that these tales are fictitious, and creations of your own mind."

I narrowed my eyes, a feeling of unease settling in my stomach.

"Yes, but if I told people my inspiration came from the goblins that routinely invade my home, they'd lock me up in a loony bin," I said defensively.

"Ah, but, Young Lady, sometimes the perception of insanity is really just a realized fiction," he said wisely. I blinked.

"Uhm, yeah, but… they'd still lock me up," I said, relatively sure I hadn't understood him and that it would be futile to try. "Fiction is the only safe way to write about it."

"Yes, but although your deception is accepted, it is a deception nonetheless. And compensations must be made."

I blinked again. "Compensations? For what?"

"For using us in your stupid little books, that's what. Degrading, is what it is," the Hat pitched in. The Wise Man sighed in defeat.

"Also, you have recently engaged in a wider method of distribution, involving a magic colored box of some sorts. It seems reasonable that additional reparations should be awarded."

"So, what, you mean, like… pay you royalties?" I asked incredulously. I had a sudden vision of Ziggy trying to tell all his goblin friends about royalties, and I could have slapped myself. I knew no good would come of trying to teach goblins the monetary system… "What good would my money do you? And I haven't even used you, you overgrown, feathered witch hat," I snapped, relishing in it's outrage as it spluttered affrontedly.

"Be that as it may," the Wise Man said loudly, prodding his Hat into silence, "By your own laws, payment to the aggrieved is due. I believe they are open to suggestions…" he said, his voice trailing off, and I recognized the sleepy look that settled on his features just before his eyes drooped shut and he fell asleep standing up.

"Well, I guess that's it for now. Contribution, please," said the Hat, and the small wooden box at the Wise Man's side rattled insistently.

"Oh no, not this time, pal," I said, and leaned forward, poking the Wise Man squarely on the nose. He jolted, stuttering awake in mid-snore, and blinked a few times.

"Oh! Young Lady! Have you settled you debt?" he asked pleasantly.

I frowned. "No, I haven't, and I'm not going to until you answer a couple of my quest-"

My voice was suddenly lost amid a horrid screeching as the volume on my television quite abruptly reached its limit, and the goblins that had been riveted to it panicked.

I tried to yell for everyone to calm down, but somehow the words got confused on the way to my mouth, and ended up sounding entirely different.

"…were all hyped up on the punch that was being served backstage and I would have been able to pull off your little 'story hour' just fine it I hadn't been forced to treat them like pretty little extras for the first half. Not to mention…" I heard myself shrieking, and the little sliver way down inside that still wondered why these things happened to me spontaneously combusted.

My newly acquired TiVo was again playing that awful news blip of me tearing into Jeff's hide. I distractedly wondered if it had bothered to record anything else.

Just as my televised voice grew completely unbearable and I began to think that I would never escape that blasted segment, the din was silenced by Tooka ramming part of my fan through the set.

I just looked at him, unsure whether to be outraged or grateful.

"Don't worry, Lady Sarah. Tooka takes care of bad man. No need to be angry no more," he assured me with a smile, his large, brightly colored beak clicking in self-satisfaction.

I sighed and patted Tooka on the head, turning back to the Wise Man.

"Look, I just want to-" I began, but found myself stopped short again as everyone in the room simultaneously went rigid.

"Uh-oh," said Dizz.

"What, what is it?" I asked, worried.

"Summons," Gimp answered, and with that the goblins instantly disappeared.

I glared around at my newly destroyed living room.

"Oh, sure, now his stupid decree takes effect," I growled, and went in search of my vacuum.

***

Dizz decided he really must be the Smartest Goblin Ever. Not only had he figured out how to get rid of Lady Sarah's Grumps, but he had gotten a whole bunch of goblins to pay attention and agree with him, which was quite a feat since all goblins knew that arguing was a lot more fun that agreeing. He was quite proud of himself for getting all the Bestest Goblin Dancers to do the Bestest Goblin Dance in her Tiny Chair Room.

And it had worked! Not only had she rushed to join in, but she had even invited the Sleepy Bearded Man and the Fun To Poke Hat, who were always a welcome addition to goblin parties.

"Slapping baby, making free! Jump magic jump…"

He did a few steps of the Dance, mainly the hip-wiggle jump-jump parts, as he chased a couple of chickens. Nobody, no matter how bad they had The Grumps, had ever Grumped after doing The Bestest Goblin Dance. Even King liked doing it - it was too bad King wasn't around when Dizz had his Great Idea; it would have been much more fun being thrown around by King… but no matter, it had been A Lotta Fun anyways.

Dizz was a little sad that now he had to stay away from Lady Sarah's Tiny Castle, but he supposed it was alright, since now she could do the Bestest Goblin Dance whenever she got lonely or bored.

Dizz smiled. Definitely, the Smartest Goblin Ever.

Author's Note: Whew! Good heavens, has it really been this long?! ...*sigh* I apologize, kittens, and I would promise not to do it again, but I don't want to be a liar and alazy author. I'll do my best to update in a timely manner, this time.

Now, onto more pertinent notes.

OH EM GEE, THERE WAS SMUT. Well, really, we all knew Sarah was going to have a couple interesting dreams after the last chapter. Don't go fooling yourselves. :3 And no, there was no Jeff this chapter. You didn't miss it. Don't worry, we'll be getting back to Blue Eyes in the next one!

TO MY REVIEWERS: Thank you all sooooooo sososososososo much! I ADORE you all! Let's all boogie down.

Lov2catnap: I luvers you! *huggle*

Natsuko37: Well, he certainly has better hair for the villain role than Jareth. Honestly, blonde and poofy, vs. black and shiny? Obviously more sinister… :) Thank you!

WolfxAngel: Hum. Will a mental jumping suffice?

TrashedXandXScattered: I tried to make him, but unfortunately Jareth was throwing a hissy fit and was uncooperative. Perhaps if I give him a cookie next time he'll be more susceptible to suggestions, haha.

Tinkluvr16: Oh, sorry, darling! Though, he *is* naked up there. Does that make up for it?

Canadian Chica: Thank you, me dear! I consider the comparison to be of the highest caliber.

Princesspunkinpatch: Happy to please! Thank you, darling!

Insanity fairy: Thank you for your feedback! I'm glad you liked it!

.: Haha, I don't know about the rapid updates, but there's no way I could stop in the middle of this one!

Charm Shadow: Hehee, she may be a bit pervy. :3

Camcalli: Thank you, darling! :) I love writing the goblins - they're my favorite part, haha (well, perhaps second to the gratuitous bum references, but that's no surprise).

Ferlinda The Dreamweaver: Thank you, luv! I'm glad you like their bantering, it's oodles of fun to write!

Foyer Idol: If you happen to read this, I love you. In a strictly platonic, I'd-only-hit-that-because-your-an-alien way. Also, Butler says he has some fresh baked raspberry pastries in his duffel bag, there, and he'd get them for you, but his ropes are adequately tied this time.

Centrifuga: Thank you for your reviews! And of course, feel free to do the Happy-Jareth-Dance whenever you feel the urge. :)

Cybernetic Mango: Thank you, my dear! (Glad you enjoyed it. And by the by, I love your name!)