Author's Note: Still don't own Jim Henson, though I wish I could share in the genius. And look, it didn't even take me a whole year this time! From here on out the chapters should get longer since I now have a lot of exposition to cover before we can get to THE BIG REVEAL. Many thanks to my reviewers, and now without further ado... Chapter Two.

†-†

The crystal rolled ahead of her, darting down the hallway with a soft, beckoning glimmer. Without quite knowing why, Sarah turned to follow it, leaving Jules, the mirror, and the bathroom behind. On it went, following a trail out of the door of their room and down the hall, toward the elevator. This is insane. You can't seriously be following crystals thrown by lunatic supernatural beings down hallways because they're shiny, Sarah, you have more sense than that.

But something compelled her, pulling at the back of her being, overriding every sensible instinct she possessed. Even as she scolded herself, something drew her onward with swift footsteps, darting after it lest it escape her line of sight. To the elevator she darted, past others in the hall whose faces seemed to fade until every other soul in the building was little more than a ghost. Blinking, she passed straight through a girl with her nose in a spiral notebook, as though she were made of little more than fog. Then another, and another, faded, slowly emptying a dormitory that was crowded on a Friday night before exams into negative space.

The lights above her flickered, dimming slowly, until the only light in the hall emanated from the crystal as it rolled into the elevator, the door sliding open to greet her as Sarah chased it. No sooner had she bent to pick it up than it vanished in her fingertips, replaced by the distinct feeling of hands on her shoulders. "Hello, Sarah." The voice was a soft drawl in her ear that sent a shiver all the way down her spine. She could feel him behind her now, the warmth of a body that covered her from head to toe. Turning her head slightly, she could see him, the edge of his face beside hers as he bent. "Isn't this better?"

"Let go of me!" Jerking against his hold, she found that he had vanished, gone before she could think to slam an elbow back into his features in self-defense. As if he had the right to touch her… as if he had the right to make her turn colors. Brushing herself off furiously, Sarah nearly jumped at the noise of the elevator door sliding open before her.

The hallway ahead was nearly dark, mist climbing in the corners and along the walls, forming a tunnel through which another crystal rolled, in a neat, perfect line. The light that emanated from it was faint, silvered, the surface mirroring the walls around it in a swirl of clear smoke. There it was again, that tug at the back of her, pulling Sarah forward against her way, one foot after another as she darted after it. It felt as though an invisible hand had taken hold of her and yanked her forward, fingers around her spine. Without quite knowing why, she had to follow. She had to know what that crystal held, what lay at the other side of the doors which opened as she arrived at them, leading her out into the courtyard and the night air which closed over her like a cool blanket.

The lights which illuminated it flickered once, twice, a third time, and went out, plunging the place into darkness and starlight. The crystal bounced and then slid up into the air, soaring above her. Unconsciously, Sarah followed it with her gaze, looking upward. Outlined against the waxing shape of the moon was a familiar pale figure, rendered as though he were carved in ice by its silver glow, reaching one gloved hand out to catch it. From above, he offered her a wicked smile. "Sarah. Do you like the stage I've found for you?" Throwing his arm wide, he slid the crystal down along his arm to rest on his shoulder, and then back down again. "I believe I have something that belongs to you."

The crystal cut through the air as he tossed it upward, and as he caught it arcing down, it shifted, forming a figure – one which struggled helplessly against Jareth's hold, a long strip of cloth tied around his head to form a gag. Lifting his head, he showed wide, frightened eyes behind the frames of his glasses, muffled noises that might have been screaming or might have been her name as he reached a hand out to her, pleading.

Rage settled over Sarah, forming an icy mantle across her shoulders. "Kyle! Let him go! How dare you!" Turning, she ran back to the doors, yanking fruitlessly as she discovered that the way back was sealed shut. "What gives you the right? YOU HAVE NO POWER OVER ME!"

"Over you, Sarah? Of course not." Lifting the boy like a limp rag doll, he held the struggling young man out over the edge of the roof, the smirk on his face suddenly bearing a razor's edge. It was a wolf's smile, a baring of teeth and vicious intent. "Over him, on the other hand? I most certainly do."

"Let him go!" There were tears forming in Sarah's eyes now, but there was pride in the set of her jaw as she glared up at him. "I demand that you let him go. Right now. He's mine, you can't have him."

The smirk did not waver as Jareth lifted him higher. "Now, now, Sarah, that's no way to talk to a man holding your lover's life in his hands. Play nicely and I might just give you what you want. Come on now, don't you want to bargain?"

Sarah spat on the ground before her. "I'm not giving you anything. Let him go!"

Eyeing Kyle, he spent a moment appearing to consider. "She wants me to let you go. What do you think, Kyle?" The boy nodded vigorously, grasping at a last scrap of hope. Looking down at her, he arched one sculpted brow and let out a low, icy laugh. "Very well. Anything for you, Sarah." Still laughing, he let go.

"NO! KYLE! Oh God, Kyle!"

With a sharp snap, he hit the pavement below.

†-†

"KYLE! KYLE, OPEN THIS DOOR BEFORE I HAVE TO START BREAKING LAWS AND HACKING INTO ELECTRONIC LOCKS! KYLE WILLOUGHBY PIERCE! OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW!"

Jules was still pounding furiously on the surface of the door when it was yanked suddenly inward, resulting in a disparity of motion which caused her to nearly topple into the young man standing on the other side, a sleepy expression on his face, curls mussed in such a way that he had either been asleep or experimenting with the forces involved in roller coasters. Considering that this would have been nearly impossible to fit into his dorm room and she would, naturally, have demanded to be involved, Jules decided that he must have been asleep.

"What are you doing here, Jules?" He stifled a yawn with one hand. "It's one in the morning."

"Wrong." Reaching out, she grabbed hold of his arm and started dragging him down the hallway, ignoring his yelp of protest. "It's 'Your Girlfriend Is Down At the Campus Infirmary Unconscious O'Clock' and you're coming with me if you want to live."

"What? Sarah? What happened to Sarah?"

"The hallucination in our mirror started talking to her and then she passed out on the bathroom floor. And no, don't even – I've been through all the versions of this where I'm insane already." At last she let go of him and continued at a swift pace to the elevator, rolling her eyes at the skeptical expression on Kyle's face. "We both saw him, some… blonde guy who could probably ease up on the glitter, and then she just passed out. I had to get the RA to help me carry her, I don't know if they'll send her to the hospital but we have about five minutes to sprint. Any questions, class?"

"So you're telling me." He adjusted his glasses as the floors whirred past them. "That Sarah's having some kind of psychotic break? I didn't think she was that worried about our Theater test!"

"Idiot." Swatting him across the back of the head, Jules made an exasperated noise. "I don't know what he was but there was definitely some kind of supernatural craziness going on. I'm not sure if ghosts are that good with eyeliner though, unless he was the spirit of Ziggy Stardust."

Kyle ducked, staring at her. "You finally lost it, didn't you? What did you do, mainline caffeine again? I remember when they had to lock you up with the campus police, you know, Jules."

"We don't have time for this!" Jules threw her hands up, dark eyes fixed on his face as she tried to figure out how to convince him. Under normal circumstances, she would not believe men who popped up in mirrors Phantom of the Opera style were real either, but unless there was something really interesting in their coffee supply, it had been real. Sarah refusing to wake up was certainly real. "Look, believe whatever you want, science boy, but the fact is, Sarah's still doing her impression of Sleeping Beauty. C'mon."

She grabbed his collar, ignoring his protests that he needed that throat for breathing, and hauled him off down the hill as fast as she possibly could. Strange things were afoot at the Circle K, and she intended to get to the bottom of it.

†-†

"Begging your pardon, your Majesty –"

Without looking up, Jareth snapped, "What is it, Hogweed? Longing for the Bog again so soon? I'm touched by your dedication to such a terrible fate, truly I am." Lifting his head, he shifted from his position, sprawled sideways across the shape of his throne, boots striking the stone floor with a sharp snap.

It was only when he faced the throne room that the notion that something might be wrong crept up on him, so suddenly that he did not have time to duck as awareness clocked him across the back of the head in brutal fashion. It was quiet in the hall. In a kingdom populated entirely by goblins and figments of the imagination, silence was even rarer than unicorns (of which they had three, decreased from four after one became despondent and departed for the kingdom of elves instead), and even more improbable. Nothing was quite impossible in the Labyrinth, but blessed peace, for which Jareth had spent centuries hoping, had never once fallen.

Not a single goblin cawed with raucous laughter. There was no odd construction as they continued their pursuit of Angry Beds, for which they had attempted to use actual beds before Jareth had threatened to lock them all in an oubliette, no birds running underfoot, no gambling. Not a single creature engaged in wild drinking, not one hint of debauchery. The place felt almost clean. He had been so busy embracing the sudden time to think that he had not thought to realize that if he could hear himself think in his own realm, something was most certainly wrong. Even more wrong than the face of the subject currently standing before him, which was really more of a minor tragedy than a full-blown emergency. He did have two eyes and was almost symmetrical.

Hoggle cowered before him in much the way any man (or man-like creature) facing an eternity of never having a single friend come within three leagues of him might, head lowered, gaze fixed firmly on the floor as he wrung his hands. "I was told, please don't tip me into the Bog for this, your Excellency, I'm only doing as I was said to, and she's so very good at telling people to do, Her Highness is… I was told that you ought to come to the west wing of the castle, sir, because she's that particular about it, and to tell you…" He choked momentarily on his words. "To – to tell you, sir, that… I'm to help find a tailor… who'll have your pants taken out for you, on account of them being too tight."

There was only one person in all the worlds who was so impertinent, so infuriating, that she would storm into his castle, invent a wing of it for herself to stay in, and have the nerve to critique his wardrobe without facing dire consequences. Jareth sighed, gaze swiveling heavenward. "Tell my sister that I do not come when called, Hoghead, and that she can either let me kill the tailor or get rid of him at once."

"But – but she said…"

"HOGWART! Do not make me tip you in the Bog." Eyes flashing, he advanced on the pathetic creature, pointing his crop downward to settle it just under the thing's chin. "You will relay my message in exactly those words, and then you will cease to take orders from that infernal woman, or I will personally make the Bog of Eternal Stench seem like an act of mercy. Do I make myself clear?" Swallowing, Hoggle nodded, and bolted from the room.

Dragging a hand through the shock of his hair, Jareth cursed that he was not an only child. Aovana's presence could only mean a sharp uptick in his usual expectation of mind-splitting headaches, quite a lot of convincing the Labryrinth that no, she did not have good ideas and that anyone who listened to her whole-heartedly should be immediately shot, and no doubt the horrifying prospect of keeping her out of his wardrobe. The one thing that could be said for the Queen of the Brownies was that she was not their mother. Considering that their mother had a habit of sacrificing virgins whenever she was feeling a bit peaky, this was not much of a recommendation.

Plucking a crystal from the air, he let it rise into the air and eyed the world through it, gaze narrow. There was nothing worse than a family visit, except possibly for a reunion. Luckily, they weren't due for one of those for another millennium. What he saw on the other side provoked a deep scowl. Whatever her infernal obsession was with the color pink, he would like to find whoever had suggested to her that magenta went well with anything and strangle them for the mere suggestion. It was on everything. It looked as though a pixie had vomited on his furnishings.

Sliding the dark shape of a cloak around him, Jareth sighed. He was going to have to get rid of her, immediately, and that meant…

…that meant he would have to talk to her.