Chapter Eight

It was times like this that Sarah cursed the Labyrinth. In some ways it had brutalized her senses, brining such a vibrant world of fantasy to life. It made it hard to determine when she was just having a vivid dream, because the knowledge that such events truly could happen was always lurking in the back of her mind. Her adult brain told her that such strange things could not be, but her childish heart always replied that it had happened before, so why not again?

She was in the center of the hedge maze once more, staring at the dais made of giant stone books where the Wise Man had once sat. He was no longer there, offering strange advice or snoozing. Instead, a jagged fragment of sapphire, mounted onto a twisting silver display, sat in his place. The jewel hissed and blazed with a brilliant radiance, putting Sarah in mind of a blue flame. With a crack like lightning, a fissure split down the precious stone, releasing a specter she had no desire to see.

Jareth.

This was, without a doubt, the Goblin King from long ago, but he was ghostly and insubstantial, looking like the washed and grainy image of an old movie. A wind blew through the small clearing, rusting the tiny hedge-leaves, but he was completely unaffected, not a single flutter of his cloak betraying to the weather conditions.

"How doth the little crocodile

Improve his shining tale,

And pour the waters of the Nile

On every golden scale!" Jareth recited, taking a step toward her.

Sarah stood her ground, rooted to the spot in strange fascination. She knew those words, but from where? "What's going on?" she asked cautiously.

He was behind her now, moving faster than she could comprehend, pressed to her back with one arm snaking around her shoulders while the other banded her waist. Quietly, he leaned down to her ear, and whispered in a wicked rumble:

"How cheerfully he seems to grin,

How neatly spreads his claws,

And welcomes little fishes in,

With gently smiling jaws!"

Sarah tried to shake him off but, for a ghost, he was frighteningly strong. "What's going on?" she repeated sharply, still trying to struggle away from his steel-like hold. The only thing that kept her from outright panicking at this point was her indecision over whether these events were truly happening.

Jareth chuckled, his warm breath sliding across her ear and sensitive shoulder. "He'll be drawn to you, again and again, until you both give in. But don't be fooled, my stubborn Sarah, he's still a crocodile at heart and it will take a good deal of work from you to turn him into a content crocodile."

The words raced around her mind; she had no idea what the Goblin King was talking about, but she was positive that she had heard that poem before. Wasn't it from-

"Alice in Wonderland!" Sarah shouted, bolting upright from a nest of pillows and blankets.

"One of my favorite books," Jareth replied, gently shoving her back down.

Confused and feeling strangely muzzy, she let him pull the blankets back up, and quietly took in her surroundings for the first time. The room was neat and rectangular, with maple paneling creeping along the walls and earth toned, sectional rugs scattered about the floor. Rich chestnut furniture dotted the area, a large desk and armoire taking up a good deal of space. There were two windows on opposite walls, letting in the weak sun through a latticework of silk and velvet drapes. On the wall directly across from her was an old brick fireplace, the sooty iron curtain ensuring that the crackling flames would stay within their grate. And finally was the bed. It was massive, probably bigger than was wise in such a compact room, and heaped with all manner of bedclothes. A textural adventure is what it was; one layer of sheets revealed smooth silk while the next boasted micro-fiber fleecy comfort, another layer turned out to be wool, and beneath that was jersey-knit cotton. With so much on top of her and a fire burning cheerfully nearby, Sarah was having a hard time figuring out why she wasn't simply dying of heat. She almost pulled a few layers off, just on the sheer principle, but a closely hovering Jareth lightly smacked her wrist. As if she were a naughty child or something!

"Where am I?" she finally asked, remembering her abrupt fainting-spell through the haze of her dream. "This isn't my room," she added thickly, wanting to kick herself after realizing how stupid that had sounded.

"No," Jareth agreed, "it's mine." His fingers deftly tucked the sheets around her just a little tighter, his proximity revealing his faint annoyance. "You collapsed on the side of the road, which was exactly what I was afraid would happen. Hopefully next time you won't be so stubborn about accepting a ride home."

"If you were so worried then why didn't you follow me?" she asked snidely, a vague sense of dizziness making her feel snappish.

He ignored her question, carrying on as though she hadn't even spoken. "And you're damn lucky that Ciren found you before too much time had passed."

Sarah pushed the blankets down from her neck, feeling utterly ridiculous at Jareth's fussing. "Who?" she asked, belatedly registering the unfamiliar name.

Jareth sighed, seeming disappointed that his tirade had been interrupted. "Sarah, Doctor Ciren Didymus. Didymus, Sarah Williams," he introduced, drawing her attention to a man she had previously missed in her scan of the room.

He was a tall and lanky sort of fellow, with sharp-looking elbows and a bony frame. His face was angular, but softened by his warm brown eyes (or at least the one she could see, for the left eye was covered by a leather patch), prominent laugh lines, and the bushy graying mustache that twitched above is upper lip. Despite the conspicuous evidence of his advancing age, he still had a full head of somewhat long orangey-auburn hair. And in spite of the extreme size differences, he still put her in mind of the brave little knight she had once known, especially when he bowed his head in greeting with a quietly murmured, "My Lady."

"Didymus is an… acquaintance of mine," Jareth interrupted Sarah's mental stumbling, "visiting from abroad. Rather fortuitous, considering that you've chosen to take ill after all."

"Doctor Didymus," she mumbled to herself, disbelievingly.

"Indeed," the elder man smiled affectionately.

"But you're a valiant knight!" Sarah insisted.

'Ciren' turned to Jareth, the tiniest hint of regret shadowing his clear expression. "Fevers can make even the most stable of us rave with the silliest of ideas," he commented lightly. "As I said to you before, I don't believe she's in any serious condition, but you should keep an eye on her fever nonetheless."

Jareth nodded, then ducked out of the room with a quick, "Excuse me," when a kettle began to whistle from somewhere else in the house, leaving Sarah and Didymus alone.

"I don't know what's going on," Sarah said stiffly, feeling extra defensive due to her prone position, "but I never would have expected you, of all people, to try to fool me."

Didymus sighed heavily, his good eye looking weary. "Regret is an odd emotion because it comes only upon reflection. Regret lacks immediacy, and so its power seldom influences events when it could do some good," he whispered quietly. "I am sorry that you are feeling hurt; it was not meant to be this way."

Clever how he could give her an answer without actually proving he was the Didymus that she knew. But he hadn't denied it, either. "Why are you here?"

He gave a tight, humorless smile, an expression that was very much at odds with his natural levity. "Visiting the boy," he answered, standing to leave. "A bit of advice, my dear Lady?" Didymus paused, his hand resting lightly on the doorknob. "Stay away from him as much as you can."

Jareth relaxed into his seat, keeping an eye on the sleeping Sarah. Didymus had left rather unexpectedly, claiming the need to find himself a hotel for the week, and Sarah had been strangely quiet and sullen for nearly an hour after his departure. Even the loudly purring and cuddle-craving Ludo had been unable to cheer her up, but Jareth chalked that up to the fever; poor health could turn a saint into a veritable dragon, and Sarah was no more immune irritable moods than anybody else. Luckily, she had fallen asleep not too long after that, and Jareth had been left with the disquieting sensation of having no idea what to do.

She looked so fragile now, he thought. Pale and lost in a sea of blankets, like a china-doll wrapped in velvet. He almost wished Didymus hadn't left. Truth be told, Jareth was a lousy nursemaid; he'd seldom had to take care of anyone other than himself. It was strange to know that someone was depending on him, that what he did or didn't do could so easily affect the poor girl. Stranger still was the fact that this tiny feminine creature was being swallowed up the enormity of his bed, and he had absolutely no desire to take advantage of that situation.

"He's a fox, you know," came Sarah's quiet whisper. "Didymus, that is," she clarified.

Jareth studied her for a moment; her eyes were still closed, as if in sleep, but her breathing had turned ragged. "Why do you say that?"

"And Ludo," she continued as though he hadn't spoken, "is really a huge, furry monster."

"Alight," he appeased, wondering if he ought to check her temperature again.

But Sarah didn't seem to hear him. She pinned him with a glassy green stare, eyes bright with fever and something that he couldn't quite name. "And you," a rough cough abruptly cut her off, instantly bringing Jareth to her side, but she held out a hand to stop him. "You're the Goblin King," she said with such a deep conviction he nearly winced.

"So we're back to that again, are we?" he asked quietly, trying to coax her into taking a drink of water.

She seemed affronted by his lack of understanding. "It's the truth," she insisted.

"Perhaps we should discuss this when I'm a little less certain that your having delusions," Jareth suggested softly, wondering yet again what had once happened to her.

Sarah gently grabbed a fistful of his hair, bringing him down close to her. "You look and act just like him," she growled.

Her words flew straight over his head, completely unheard. The second she had dragged him lower, his entire focus had zeroed in on her sweet lips, so close to his own and yet better left untouched for now. "You're killing me, minx," Jareth groaned. How torturous to have her so deeply ensconced within his personal territory, nestled in his bed like she belonged there, and yet be so completely unable to give in to temptation! On most days Jareth considered himself to be a rotten bastard, but even he wouldn't take advantage of a woman who was slightly out of her mind with fever.

She wasn't making it easy, though. Even in sickness she had a strange vitality about her, a spirit that refused to be subdued. And some masochistic part of him couldn't help but remember the bliss of her lips sliding hungrily against his own, the silken feel of her skin, how wonderful it had been to be on top of her, and how much he wanted to try it all again. She was so close, he lamented, and yet so very far.

With deft care, he untangled himself from her. "Rest," he encouraged, "if you still remember any of this when you're well again, then we'll talk." And, with any luck, he would be able to use this time that she was in his care as a way to gain her trust. Although, in his opinion, he should have just earned that considering the fact that he had managed to pull away from her without exploring any of those wonderful curves.

A/N: Didymus to the rescue! You were all expecting it to be Jareth, weren't you? Sorry about the length, I'll see if I can get another chapter out this weekend but I'm just a little busy right now.

Thanks for all the reviews, everyone! You make me feel so special.

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Disclaimer: 'How doth the little crocodile' belongs to Lewis Carroll; Labyrinth belongs to Jim Henson; Didymus's line about regret is a quote from William O'Rourke.