Disclaimer: Any and all characters, places, phrases and people that are in the movie are not mine – and they never were. All that is are the bits from the film that you did not see. Does that make sense?

Review Responses:

To Everyone: Oh, holy cow, I'm in a hurry this morning, and have yet to reply to you! And it's been so long! GAH! I swear, I will still reply. Don't be hatin'.

But, until I do reply, I just want to say, before you all murder me, thank you so much for all your support towards this fic! I can't express my gratitude enough! Thank you so much for all the love you show me, this fic, and, of course, my OC, Wren - who has had to fight to gain any dignity within this fandom, I must say. Again, thank you.

And I will respond, I swear - I just couldn't keep you all waiting for this a minute longer!

Song Recommendations:

Devil's Got a New Disguise by Aerosmith – sweet can be deceiving, can't it?

Telling Lies by David Bowie – must I really explain this further?

Rain, Tax (It's Inevitable) by Celine Dion – deep down, I think you all know it IS inevitable.

A/N: Can you all forgive me for staying away for so long? In my defense, there were reasons as to why I haven't been updating this fic in so long – one of which would be that I wrote a one-shot that took forever. Still… don't kill me, please. I love you all.

"Wren…?" came a voice from behind me that was simultaneously pleased and confused.

Instantly, as I flushed bright red in the face, Jareth and I tumbled off his throne. Well, to be fair, he wouldn't have tumbled had he not moved catch me. Really, he ought to know better than to try and stop me from falling, because I almost always end up pulling him with me. Jareth had attempted to stand upright, I had all but rolled off his lap, he tried to prevent me from landing on my rump, and we both somehow managed to end up in a heap on the floor.

I quickly stood – quicker than Jareth, as I'm much more accustomed to having to get up after falling (really, did he ever fall before I came along?) – and took a step away from him. I wasn't trying to be rude, but I was terribly embarrassed. My head instantly turned down and my eyes glued themselves to my feet.

There were two specific reasons why I was embarrassed…

Let me back up a bit, first.

Ever since Jareth and I celebrated our anniversary of meeting one another, I had been in a constant state of blissful elatedness. That evening, when Jareth "walked me home", also known as simply taking me straight to the front door of my house instead of directly to my bedroom (a necessary show for the sake of my parents), he had left me with a goodbye kiss that left me rather disoriented. Coming in the door, I could hardly walk, was blushing like crazy, and smiling more than what I thought my mouth was capable.

Suffice to say, my parents thought I was drunk. Yeah, forget that I don't drink, and that they know I don't drink, my behavior was still questionable.

It was difficult to explain things to them, at that time. Coherent speech in general had been rather difficult. But, I did finally manage to let my Mom and Dad know that I'd spent the day with Jareth, for it was the year mark of when we met.

"You have most definitely not been dating that man for a year," Dad pointed out, a film of skepticism coating his words. I knew what he meant. Had we been dating for a whole year, it would mean that there had been a good six months of time in which I'd not even breathed a word to them about Jareth… and that included my week long vacation. I swear, I could see the implications in his eyes.

I shook my head, "No, Dad, we haven't – but I knew Jareth quite awhile before we started dating," I didn't bother pointing out the exact amount of time, "And it was a year ago that we met."

Mom seemed to be more interested in this than Dad was. She had the same look on her face that she gets when watching a romantic comedy. "So why did you celebrate the year of meeting one another, and not since you started dating?"

There were no implications in my Mother's words, but they were thickly laced with the understanding that she had a pretty good idea of why, and only wanted to hear me say it so she could swoon. My Dad, even though he was accustomed to my boyfriend, was still an overprotective father. My Mom, on the other hand, had utterly adored Jareth ever since he'd danced with her out in our backyard, at Thanksgiving.

I smiled at her and couldn't help but flush pink, "Because, he says, the day that I came into his life is far more important. Had we not met, we definitely couldn't have begun dating, so that had been the start of… everything." Quick save. I had almost said 'the start of our lives together', but a glance at my Dad had prompted me to think of an alternative.

My Mom was almost in tears over how romantic that was, and her attitude was contagious enough that my Dad managed to seem happy for me and sent me off to bed with a quick hug. Not that I would have even noticed had he chosen to yell and scream at me or anything – I was still flying high after my evening.

And the next day went about with much of the same reaction on my part. I was in a constant haze of bliss. I floated everywhere, smiling at the smallest of things, and became desperate to spend as much time with Jareth as possible.

You see, I don't think that even Jareth could have predicted the results that would occur when he gave me the crystal of my dreams – the crystal that had shown me, plainly, that I was in love with him. I hadn't thought there would be much of a change. After all, what was a word like 'love', anyhow? Did it really change anything? After I had realized that I loved him, I figured that no, nothing had changed besides my knowledge of the fact.

But… apparently I was wrong.

I now wanted to spend all my time with him. When I was with him, I had the hardest time keeping my eyes off of him. My fingers sought every opportunity to touch his. It became such a frequent occurrence, to entwine my fingers with his, that sometimes Jareth would even slip off one of his gloves – the sensation from which nearly sent my hear pounding through the roof.

And so, it was with these new thoughts in my head that when lunchtime rolled around that Friday, I went to spend it with him.

He had just dismissed some goblins from the throne room – they appeared to be some guards, from the looks of them – when I arrived, and he was still sitting on his throne, leaning back with his eyes briefly closed. It looked like he'd had some kind of meeting with them, which was, as I well knew, something that tended to stress him out regardless of how much he liked them.

The goblins that were leaving the throne room waved and happily greeted me as they passed, and I couldn't help but smile. The commotion drew Jareth's attention and I looked up in time to see him open his eyes curiously and then smile. His face lit up, his stress seeming to vanish for the time being, and he stood and walked to greet me, his arms open in an invitation I could not pass up.

Gripping the brown paper lunch bag tightly, I skipped across the room and into his arms.

For the life of me, I wasn't sure if Jareth noticed a difference in my behavior. Oh, well, I'm sure he noticed – heck, I suddenly started skipping on a regular basis, how could he not? – but I supposed what I really wondered was if he had any clue as to what had brought about this rather drastic change in my mannerisms.

Regardless of the answer, if he noticed, knew or whatever, he certainly didn't complain.

He swirled me around once before seating himself on his throne with me sitting across his lap. "My dearling," he said in a delighted voice, one of his hands playing with the ends of my hair, "I am surprised to see you so early. What brings you to me?"

I smiled at him, going quite pink, and lifted up my bag, shaking it a little. "Lunch time," I said, "I had the time and I wanted to come see you."

His head tilted to the side just a little and he smiled at me. I couldn't help but notice how his eyes traced my face with a hint of curiosity behind them.

My face, and blush, fell with concern, "Am I disturbing you? I know I've been around quite a lot lately and all that…"

"My dearling, I never mind you coming to visit," he reassured me smoothly as his eyes dropped to my bag, "What are we having for lunch?"

A pang of guilt stabbed me briefly. Coming had been, more or less, an impulsive and unplanned thing. I'd grabbed up my bag to go to find a quiet place to eat lunch, and had suddenly thought about going to see Jareth, instead.

In short, I had lunch for one, not two.

And, as that thought occurred to me, I decided that it sounded flatly selfish to even think such a thought, and I wasn't going to let it bother me. I would share anything with Jareth, regardless of how plain it was, how ridiculous it seemed, or how little I had. I wasn't going to let it bother me.

Unfortunately, though, in my moment of hesitation, Jareth had plucked the bag from my hands and was removing the contents for his inspection. I flushed as he hefted the clear sandwich bag containing a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It seemed so… so… unworthy.

I was babbling before I could stop myself, "Oh, I know it's cheap and a plain sort of lunch. I'm real sorry about that, but you know I came here on a whim – though I think you guessed that much. Still, I mean, you know me, I wouldn't eat it if it wasn't at least a little appealing, so I think you might like it…"

He shook his head a little absently as he removed his gloves (to my surprise), "No, you needn't worry – I had not been expecting you, and took my noon meal almost an hour ago." The confusion on my face was plain, and he caught it right away, "The 'we' was a courtesy, my sweet, nothing more. Had I known you would be here, I most surely would have arranged for a tray to compliment what you, yourself, brought."

"But, then," I motioned to his actions of retrieving the contents of my bag, "What's with this? You don't have to-" I made to reach out and take the bag – or at least the pitiful sandwich – back, but he quickly snatched the items up in his long fingers and held them out of my reach, a mischievous grin on his lips.

"I may not be hungry," his finger tips crinkled the bag slightly, "But what would possibly make you think that I am not interested?"

My hand, which had still been outstretched, fell. "Interested in what?" I asked, completely bewildered.

"In lunch," he said, as if the answer was obvious, "And in you… always in you…" he balanced the bag in one hand and pulled out a crystal with the other which, with a snap of his fingers, became a small, flat tray which he rested across my lap. My hand reached out to try to assist him but each time he shooed my hands away. I was helpless to watch.

Deftly, Jareth removed the contents of my lunch bag and set then out on the tray: peanut butter and jelly sandwich, red apple slices, and a snack bag of Wheat Thins. Each of them, except perhaps the apple, seemed so very out of place in the presence of the Goblin King. He considered the food before us on the tray and began to start with the sandwich. His long, slender fingers nimbly dissected the sandwich into small, bite-sized pieces.

I still felt rather clueless as to what the heck he was up to, or why he had decided to mutilate my poor sandwich, pitiful though it may be. I opened my mouth to protest, but the instant that my lips parted, long fingers popped a piece between them. My eyes went wide and Jareth gave me a very innocent face. Each time I moved to say something, some other small bit of food was fed to me. When I reached out my hands to do anything, they were shooed away. And, all the while, Jareth watched me, talking idly about his day and things that were going on. It was so innocent that I found it terribly hard to be upset with him.

As he fed me, I couldn't help but begin to notice when his fingers began to linger. It's hard to explain… he would lift a bit of apple to my mouth and I'd accept it, and his finger tips would rest a moment on my lips. Then they began to drag at them slightly. Was this on purpose? Or was he just not paying attention as he spoke to me? I didn't know, and his face, innocent as ever, didn't give me any clue.

Well, I thought, if he wants to play it like that, to tease me with my own lunch, and refuse to let me do anything with my hands at all, then fine. It may be his game, but two could certainly play it.

The innocent look was banished by shock when I overshot an apple slice, my lips sliding over the tip of his finger, slowly. He blinked and his voice faltered. I gave him my own innocent look.

A wicked gleam entered his eyes as he offered me another bit of sandwich – the last bit, actually. I nipped gently at the end of his thumb as I took it from him. I turned my eyes to the tray and felt somewhat saddened that it was gone. Surprised, too – it seemed to have gone quicker when it was Jareth feeding me, rather than myself.

I chewed slowly, wiping the corners of my mouth with my fingers as I did so. I swallowed and started to say something, but again, I was cut off.

"You know, I believe I have changed my mind," he said in an amused whisper, "I think I would like to try some…"

I looked at the empty tray, confused. The food was gone and, as I looked, the tray vanished. "What are you talking about – mmpf!"

Jareth's mouth was on mine before I could say another word.

I melted. His lips, so warm and inviting, were all that was needed to disconnect my brain from my body. My thoughts were gone and I was floating, but my arms were suddenly around his neck, my hands in his hair. Distantly, I noted that he was holding me close, his hands tracing my spine and shoulder blades.

He pulled away once, just a few inches, but his hold on me did not budge. I was breathless as he rubbed his nose against mine, and then kissed me again, this time slower and softer.

It was about this point when we were discovered. Jareth had neglected to mention that he'd been expecting guests, and that one said guest was notorious for arriving early.

So, now, back to the two specific reasons why I was embarrassed. First of all, I had been caught making out with my boyfriend in a rather embarrassing place – his throne room, on his throne, no less. Second… well, there are certain people that have caught Jareth and I kissing before, and people that I don't mind. Jareth's goblins, for example, are some that I don't mind walking in on us, I guess because regardless of the situation, they seem to like me, and are always happy to see their king smile. And there are others that wouldn't bother me, like Orla. Oh, sure, that would be a little embarrassing, but her face would amuse me to no end, I'm sure.

But on the flip side, there are at least a handful of people that make me want to hide when I think about them finding me and Jareth together. Most of these people are Jareth's formal acquaintances of the Underground, including his friends.

And so, when Myanya of Milburga came through the stone archway into Jareth's throne room and recognized me while I sat, happily, kissing the King on his throne, I was mortified. Falling off the throne had been minor in comparison, though it certainly didn't make the situation any better.

"Wren?" she asked again, the delight now crystal clear in her tone, "Is that you?"

I was beyond speech. This was a royal thing – Myanya arriving – and I had just barged in, mussed up the King's hair, and made him late. Or something. My brain was whirling and I was having difficulty putting rational thoughts together.

Thank goodness that Jareth was better at handling awkward situations than I was. On his feet, calm and collected as ever, he quickly slipped his gloves back on and moved to greet his friend.

"Myanya," he said, courteously, "Welcome! You are early, I was not expecting you for another hour at the least…"

I looked up to see Myanya now facing Jareth, but still flicking the occasional glance at me, "I apologize. I was too pleased with the idea of coming to see you, I was unable to wait any longer. It has been nearly a century since I had been able to come here for a decent visit!"

I gave a silent prayer of thanks that she hadn't pointed out the fact that it was so danged obvious that Jareth hadn't been expecting her, seeing as how she'd walked in on him sucking his girlfriend's face off.

"And Wren," Jareth said, his voice taking on a softer, if still diplomatic, tone, "You remember Myanya, Countess of Milburga, do you not?"

I could not move, and I think Jareth understood that. His hands carefully reached into my line of sight (I was still staring at my toes in humiliation), taking my hands so I had to look up into his face. His face was a little pink in hue, and it made me feel a little better. I wasn't the only one to be embarrassed.

I swallowed and faced Myanya, "Yes, of course I remember…"

"If you did not," she said while approaching me, her arms open to embrace me, "I would be simply devastated! I am delighted to have you here when I arrived, Wren," she enfolded me in a hug (I was stunned, to say the least, only having met her less than a handful of times) that was both firm in purpose and light to the touch. Delicate was the best word to describe her.

She was as beautiful as ever. Her dark wavy hair had been pinned up in curls and wrapped with exquisitely refined lace that hung down behind her. A few curls spiraled around her pale and slightly pink features. She wore a dress of a deep rose color that was accented with the same fine lace, and across her shoulders she wore a pale cream traveling cloak. So elegant, so regal, and ever the lady.

I hugged her back, trying to be as graceful as she was. I think I failed, but she was gracious not to notice.

Pulling back, she looked at me and said, in her soft and musical voice, "What brings you here today, Wren?"

"Oh, well," I motioned to Jareth, "I just stopped by for lunch…"

Her eyes widened every so slightly and she turned them to Jareth. "Lunch?" she asked, innocently. Jareth paled just a little (I know, it doesn't seem possible for him to get paler, right?) and I think I saw his chest sink inward. It took a few minutes to connect the dots on the joke – when I did, I winced.

"Wren brought her lunch," he said very quickly.

Myanya giggled, her voice like tinkling bells, and reached up to smack Jareth playfully on the cheek, "Oh, Jareth, I know as much. I adore watching you blush so, please do not mind my fun." The last of her comment seemed to be directed more to me than it was to Jareth.

He was more than happy to change subjects. "Mya," he said, looking around, "Is Dyer to be joining you?"

She shook her head, "I am afraid not. Pressing matters elsewhere demanded his attention, so he entrusted the new trade agreement to me. We are pleased with how things are, and it only really needs to be renewed and signed," she produced a scroll with a seal on it from a pocked in her cloak, "And this gives me Dyer's rights of signature for this treaty, if you are willing to accept it."

Jareth nodded, took the scroll and vanished it, "Of course I am, but you misunderstand me. I was referring more to your escort than anything else. Last I knew, Dyer was not very pleased at leaving you to travel alone."

It was Myanya's turn to blush, her pale and slightly pointed ears turning a deep rose pink at the tips. She turned her head downward slightly, "Oh, he still feels that way, perhaps even more than he did formerly. But he is not so worried for me – I secured an escort who is more than adequate. My brother joins me in my husband's stead."

My ears perked up at mention of Tillan.

"Ah," Jareth began, smiling, "I am glad to have him. But again…" he looked around, "Where is he?"

Myanya grinned, showing off her pearly teeth, "He arrived with me but left for a short while to attend to some business of his own, Aboveground actually," she looked at me, "Tillan will be very pleased to know you are here, Wren."

"Oh," I suddenly thought of the time and glanced at my watch, "Actually, I can't stay, I need to get back to work…"

Myanya nodded, "Perhaps you will join us later, then?"

Jareth cleared his throat, "Wren, we will be dining tonight – very informally, of course – and you are more than welcome to join us after work."

I smiled, "I'd like that – I'll be a bit, though, because I have to go take care of some stuff after work today." I had to go see Ms. Flemming about getting my scheduled fixed. I figured that, when that was over, I would be looking for a nice escape Underground.

"Until then, Wren," Myanya said, inclining her head to me and striding from the room.

The moment she was gone, I whirled on Jareth, wanting to say something snarky, wanting some way to expel my frustration and embarrassment, but was unable to do so. He was watching me with the most uncharacteristic look on his face – like a young teenager who, though they had just been caught doing something they shouldn't have been, was completely unashamed. A slightly lopsided and somewhat lazy smile made me lose my train of thought, and before I could think of something else to say, he spoke.

"Must you leave so soon?" he asked in a lighthearted tone that matched his face.

My heart melted and whatever I had thought to say just evaporated.

"Yeah," I said, lamely, "Hafta get back to work and all that… but I'll see you again tonight."

"You are no fun, Wren," he said, scooping me up in his arms and kissing me soundly one last time before I went back to work.

Five o'clock couldn't have come sooner, I tell you. Now, not only was I anxious to get my appointment with Ms. Flemming over and done with, but I was also dying to go to dinner – and see Jareth again.

Good gracious, I was so in love with that man. Fae. Whatever.

As soon as my shift was done, I grabbed up my stuff and hurried as fast as I could to her office. I waved to Janice, the secretary, as I passed. She couldn't say anything because she was on a call and writing something down as she did so, but she did manage to spare a hand to wave to me quickly in greeting.

I almost didn't recognize Ms. Flemming's office door, because the name tag was back, but I didn't really look at it. Her door was open anyway, and I heard her talking on the phone with someone inside. I peeked my head in, hoping she remembered, and silently berated myself for not calling to double check that everything would be ready when I came.

Frankly, I wasn't sure why I needed to meet with her again at all. I never had needed to do it before with my usual counselor. Perhaps she was just a thorough person. It was probably a precautionary thing.

She was wearing a red business suit this time with her short, dark hair gelled and curled to perfection, as if anything less was completely unacceptable. She looked slightly irritated, and was tapping her manicured nails on her keyboard tray, noisily.

"Honestly, kid," she was saying, "When have I led you wrong? All I'm asking is that you check them for me. That's it, just check and, well, if there's a call in regards to Saturday night, you can take care of it. You'll thank me later, alright?" she looked up, spotted me, and quickly smiled and sat up in her chair, "I'm sorry, I have an appointment that's here, and I'll talk to you later. Bye," she hung up the receiver quickly and then faced me with her full smile, "Hello Wren, I'm glad you made it on time!"

I smiled back, "So am I. Erm," I looked at the phone, "Did I interrupt something important?"

She shook her head and waved a hand dismissively, "No, just asking a few favors from members of my family before I leave on vacation. I apologize for that taking up time-"

"No time at all," I said, quickly.

She nodded and turned to her computer, her immaculate nails clicking the keys loudly, making it sound to be much more furious an action than it truly was. After a brief run down on my account, making sure my balance was back to where I'd left it and the class I had originally planned to take was back on my schedule, I thought of a strange question.

"Did you ever find out who screwed up my account?" I asked while she made a few notes in the system.

Her eyes flashed away from the monitor to meet mine for just an instant before her face went a little pink. "I was hoping you wouldn't ask that," she muttered absently.

I tilted my head to the side, "Why?"

She finished making her note, then removed her glasses and faced me, looking very sheepish.

"Because," she said, her cheeks burning, "It's a very stupid thing – I swear, you won't believe it – and when all is said and done… I'm the one who owes you an apology."

I snorted, "You? You're kidding. Seriously, what's the deal?"

She sighed and hid her face briefly behind one hand. "I am serious – I'm so sorry."

Her tone made me worry, as though she'd really committed a grievous sin against me. My words came out somewhat breathy as I asked, "What did you do?"

Ms. Flemming laughed suddenly, "It's just so dumb," she sighed, "Your IRN number is only a few digits off from a student I recently received – who happens to be in the Nursing program the College offers. I… I just pulled up the IRN from my files, didn't bother to check the name, my fingers slipped and there was your account."

With a sigh, she stood and moved to stand by her filing cabinet. "It was my fault, Wren," she said, her voice completely serious. "I'm so very sorry for the trouble I caused you."

I heaved a sigh of relief and leaned back in the chair, looking at the ceiling. I doubted Ms. Flemming would understand how good I felt, knowing that there was a logical and understandable explanation behind the problem. The idea that someone had just scheduled me for a random class was… unnerving. It made me feel like my account wasn't safe – but that wasn't the case. I knew full well that I had gotten numbers wrong a time or two in my job. It was a natural thing to happen, even if a little odd that two IRN's could be so similar.

"I'm relieved," I said with a slight laugh, "And I'm glad you could fix it. No harm, no foul. Don't feel bad about it."

She smiled at me and opened up a drawer in her filing cabinet. "Actually," she said, "I have a way to make it up to you…"

"No, that's not necessary-"

"Oh, don't think of it as a gift or anything," she rifled through the cabinet, retrieving an envelope, "You would actually be doing me a favor."

She handed me the envelope. I opened it, pulling out from within two thin slips of stiff paper that I eyed warily. "What kind of favor?" I asked.

She shrugged, "I got these tickets from a friend before I realized that I'd be out of town this weekend. Concert tickets," she clarified when I still looked puzzled, "and I don't want to see them go to waste."

I turned the slips around so I could read them properly. Two tickets to a private showing of a group called Siren Song. "I've heard of this group," I said, trying to recall where I'd heard the name fairly recently, "Are they any good?"

She shrugged, "You'll have to tell me. From what I hear, they're not exactly my style, but they got somewhat dumped in my lap so I didn't want them to go to waste." She smiled, "You can take your sweetie. You're still with him, right?"

I blushed, "Yes… yes I am." I tried, but I couldn't hide the gleeful smile from my face.

Ms. Flemming gave a faint smile in return, "Just don't waste them, okay? I mean that – I want you to go and enjoy the show – I guess it's at some sort of smaller club or something, not a major venue, and they're a new group, but they're really good, from what I've been told. My friend is crazy about them."

"So why didn't your friend want to keep them?"

She shrugged again, "Date cancelled, I think, but I'm not all that sure as to the reasons why. Anyhow, promise me you'll go and have a good time? Saturday night, seven thirty to nine or so…"

I hefted the tickets in my hands. They seemed almost heavy, though I wasn't sure why. They were just cardstock, nothing special, but there was just something so ominous about accepting them – I assumed it was because I flatly didn't now Ms. Flemming very well at all. Heck, I didn't even know her first name. But, at the same time, I understood what she meant about wanting them to be enjoyed – I felt the same way. It was too much of a good opportunity to just throw away and let it go to waste.

A new band, a trendy club – for all I knew, this one night could change my entire life. Why would I want to pass that up?

I smiled at her, "I promise, I'll make sure these get used, and used well."

Her face turned serious, and she almost lunged for the small pad of post-it notes on her desk, "I'm serious, Wren," she said, scribbling on her pad, "I made a promise, too, with those tickets, okay? If you can't use one or both, call my phone and leave me a message, and I'll find someone else to take care of it. Here is my number," she handed the sticky note to me.

I took it with a shrug, placing it and the tickets into the envelope, "Sure, I'll call if I can't use them."

She sighed with relief, "Oh, thank you. That was the last thing I needed to take care of before I left."

I stood and started to move towards the door, "Big vacation? Sounds like fun."

She smiled, genuinely smiled, "I've been waiting for this trip for a long time. Took me forever to set it up, to get everything timed just right," she eyed me sadly, "Well, almost right. It's as right as it will ever get, I suppose. Serves me right for waiting so long…"

She noticed the strange expression that must have been on my face and smiled, "Travel when you're young, Wren. Do it before you get old and tied down with life."

"Ah," I nodded in understanding. I had an aunt who always told me the same thing, whenever I saw her. "I'll do that too. So, everything worked out and ready to go – where are you going that's so big, anyway? I'm really curious, now."

Her eyes went huge and she swallowed nervously, "Down under!" her voice came out high pitched.

"Whoa," I breathed, "Australia! That is big! I would be nervous, too – what's the flight time, twelve hours or something?"

She shrugged, "Something like that."

There was a slightly awkward pause between us, and I realized that hey, I didn't know her well, and dang, my curiosity was just probing farther and farther into what would generally be considered to be 'friends-only' territory. I cleared my throat.

"Well, have fun and travel safe there," I said, extending my hand to her.

She shook it, her hand trembling slightly, "Thanks… I appreciate the well wishes."

I hurried out of the office, thanking her again for the assistance and the awesome tickets, and skipped away, thinking only of Jareth and dinner. I couldn't wait.

Life was against me. Of course, it only turns against me when I'm terribly excited over something – like getting free super-awesome concert tickets. Before I could just go to dinner, I had to drive home and put my things away, let my parents know I was heading out with Jareth (only so they wouldn't worry if it was a long time before I emerged from my room, or something like that – I was lucky enough as it was that they'd never come into my room when I'd disappeared for hours on end), and then leave.

But, like I said, life was out to get me. Traffic was a bear – to put it lightly. Three traffic accidents on the surface streets made the freeway come almost to a screeching halt – and that was usually my quickest way home. I had to take a long detour through winding side streets to get to a major road that wasn't blocked, and even then, I came within a foot of hitting a biker who had swerved in front of me while I had driven through a residential area.

Grand total, it was an hour and a half before I got home. I was furious – the only thing that kept me sane was the thought of seeing Jareth again, relatively soon. I pulled in the driveway, ran inside my house, gave my parents a perfunctory greeting, and hurried to my room.

Had the paper not been stiff enough to make a noise when my purse landed on it, I don't think I would have noticed it at all.

As it was, though, the crackle of stiff parchment got my attention almost as well as glitter did (nowadays, at least). I yanked it from beneath my bag and examined it, carefully. I frowned, seeing that it was a note from Jareth.

Dearling,

It is with sincerest apologies that I inform you that dinner tonight has been, regrettably, cancelled. I am so sorry.

I will come visit you later tonight, if you would like.

Until then,

Jareth

Talk about popping my bubble. Not only was dinner cancelled, but I now had to wait several hours before seeing Jareth again. I'd been looking forward to dinner with Jareth and his friends – it was always interesting with Tillan around.

My frown deepend as I reread the note. Why was dinner cancelled? What, did Myanya just decided she didn't feel like eating? Did the kitchen goblins go on strike? What the heck? Jareth knew I was inherently curious about everything, so what was with the lack of an explanation?

Feeling low, I crawled onto my bed, sniffling and crying just a little bit, and went to sleep.

The faint scent of leather woke me. There was a glove on my shoulder that shook me gently, prodding me into consciousness. Groggily, I pushed myself off the pillow and looked around. Jareth was sitting beside me on the bed, his face light and neutral – that is, until he saw mine.

Apparently, I'd cried a little more than I'd remembered. Not enough to make me all gooey with snot or anything, but just enough to make my eyes puffy. Jareth noticed it right away, and his face fell to concern.

"Wren," he said, worried, "What has happened? What is wrong? Are you well?"

My spiteful side took over and, before I was really aware of it, I had taken hold of one of my sham pillows and thumped him over the head with it. Then, feeling vindicated, I flopped back down on my bed and curled up with my fleece blanket, watching his reaction.

He was shocked, to say the least. He ran a hand through his hair and gave me an incredulous look… but it quickly softened and he resigned himself to a sigh. "I asked for that, I know."

"Dang straight you did," I said, my voice thick from sleep.

"I am sorry for the cancellation, Wren."

I frowned and looked away, "But you can't even tell me why? You know I was looking forward to seeing you and your friends at dinner. Made me happy all day, just thinking about it. Then on the way home I go through utter crap, just to find a 'so sorry' note on my bed that doesn't even tell me why?"

He sighed again and rubbed my arm, gently, "The best thing I could do was apologize, Wren. A long boring explanation about how I had to quiet problems on the outsides of my Labyrinth, due to some creatures entering it without my permission – would you really have enjoyed reading that?"

I huffed a frustrated sigh, "No, but it would have been better than the feeling that my invitation was simply revoked."

He pulled me up and into his arms. I sighed against his chest while he stroked my hair. Sometimes it seemed that no matter how angry or upset I was, things were better when I was in his arms – even when it was him I was angry at.

"Truly, my Wren," he said softly, "I am sorry. I do not think that I can fully express that. Words are all I have that would be of meaning, and yet they are not quite enough."

I sat silently for a moment, and my brain thought of the tickets I'd acquired earlier that day. "I have a way you could make it up to me, if you're interested."

He laughed lightly, "Anything, my dearling."

I pulled away and scrambled for my bag, retrieving the envelope and the tickets held within. I held them out to him, excitedly. "I got these today!"

Jareth snatched the envelope from me and peered inside. "Stiff rectangles of paper?"

I blinked and shook my head slowly. "No… Concert tickets. They're for Saturday night – want to go with me?"

"Of course."

I squealed and threw myself at his midsection, succeeding in knocking us both off the bed to land in a pile on the floor.

I was humming loudly and dancing around my room to the Adam F Remix of David Bowie's Telling Lies. It's much bouncier than the original, and is, for whatever reason, one of my favorite songs. But, that's really beside the point.

I was killing time. It was Saturday afternoon, I was going to an exciting concert at a posh club with the hottest boyfriend any girl could ask for, and in just under four hours. I was basically dressed, my hair done, I was all ready… but I was way early – the result of being overexcited about going. So, it was now up to me to kill time until Jareth arrived to go with me.

And, being the ultimate dork that I am, this consisted of listening to David Bowie songs and dancing around my room.

Naturally, I didn't expect for anyone to burst in on me.

"How did you – oh."

"Eeeyaah!" I hollered, whirling around and facing the intruder.

Orla stood in my door way, her golden hair looking a little windblown and her cheeks a little red from, I assumed, the heat outside. She was giving me a very perplexed look.

"Don't you EVER knock??" I hissed at her, furiously, my face crimson.

She blinked, nonplussed. "Were you dancing around your room?"

I glared at her, evilly, "And what's it to you? This is my room, the house I live in, my music and my stereo. Go away."

She shook her head, "No, I came here for a purpose – you distracted me."

I rolled my eyes, "Oh, well, pardon me. Next time I'll think to ask ahead if my dancing might interfere with your thought processes."

She ignored my snide remark. "How did you get Siren Song tickets?"

I smiled tightly, "I got them from a friend. Why?"

She gave me a sheepish look, "I… I heard from Mom and…I wondered if you needed someone to go with you."

I gave her a slow look, "I have a boyfriend, thank you."

"So Jareth will be taking you?"

"Yes, he will – is there a point to this interrogation, Orla?" I sighed, impatiently.

I watched as my sister gave me a highly immature pouty face. "I've been dying to see Ayden Florie, I wanted to see him so badly…"

"Who's Hayden Ferry?"

Her face went completely serious. For once, I could see a sort of resemblance between Orla and me – I recognized that face. It was the same face I made when someone didn't know who David Bowie was. She frowned, "Ayden Florie," she clarified, "He's the lead guitarist and main vocals for Siren Song. He's… oh, Wren, he's gorgeous!"

I twisted my face and gave her a suspicious look, "From what I gather of them, they're not a very big group… and aren't they a little soft for your taste? Why do you like them?"

She snorted, "Did you not just hear me? Ayden's gorgeous!"

I rolled my eyes and turned away from her, "Orla… do you ever think about anything besides nice looking men?"

Bad thing to say. No, it didn't offend Orla, as it might have a normal person, but it instead seemed to open what she would consider the gate to a girly conversation with her little sister. She looked delighted and hurried to enter into my room.

Briefly, she looked around for a place to sit, and started to squat on my beanbag chair.

"Oh, no you don't!" I all but shouted, snatching her by the wrist and flinging her on to my bed, instead. I wasn't about to let her sit there. That spot was reserved.

Orla fell face down on my comforter and sat up looking ridiculously miffed. "What the heck was that??" she sputtered.

I sniffed, "My beanbag chair."

She glowered at me but seemed to want to change the subject away from my strange possessiveness. "As I was going to say," she enunciated while sitting up and brushing her hair out of her eyes, "You are one to talk, Wren. You have a gorgeous hottie for a boyfriend, if you haven't noticed, so who are you to lecture me on men?"

I glared at her, "I didn't pick Jareth, thank you very much, he picked me. I admit, I had a crush on him, but I wasn't out to get him. You on the other hand… it's like you're on a man hunt - it's all you think about!"

She scoffed. Hmm. Perhaps my words were irritating her, after all. "I am not on a man hunt, and I think about plenty of other things!"

I leaned towards her, "Oh, really? Tell me, Orla, what was the last book you read?"

"I don't have a lot of time to read, Wren," she countered quickly.

"Oh, bah! I read any time I have a spare moment. Before I go to bed, on Sunday afternoons, or even when I'm at work."

"I'm a masseuse," she said, her cheeks going pink, "I work in a massage parlor. How would that work, Wren? Would I just lay the book on their back while I rub their shoulders?"

"When you're on break, you ninny!" I hissed at her, starting to laugh a little. "Dude, Orla, rather than go chase boys until you break your neck in those three inch heels you always wear, why not go read a book for a change?"

She stood up in a dramatic huff, "I didn't come here to fight with you."

I sighed, "Then you shouldn't have come," I couldn't deny the slight sadness in my voice, "Because we always fight, you and I."

Orla didn't say anything to that, she just walked out. Whatever.

After a row, I always get moody. Sorry, Bowie, but I just couldn't listen to music after Orla left. I was feeling rather sad, and, subsequently, I was angry. Orla had put a cloud over my evening. She'd tainted it. And, as cruel as my final words to her had been, they were true – she and I always fight, and if she had just not come, it wouldn't have tainted my evening.

I morosely sat on my bed, at first, waiting for Jareth to come. At that point, I wasn't merely looking forward to seeing him because I missed him, but also I was seeking the comfort that would come with his arms. It wasn't more than five minutes before I realized that if I was really feeling that lousy, I could go see him.

With a smile, I counted my crystals.

Do you know that feeling you get when you've reached the landing on the stairs sooner than you were expecting? That abrupt jolt when your foot starts to step up and there isn't anything there, so your foot kinda falls and, if you're like me, you stagger forward? Or, frankly, any feeling where your body is expecting movement and the movement doesn't happen? This was worse. There was this horrible sort of lurch and it made me nauseated. I swayed and lay back on my bed so I wouldn't fall over. I was so accustomed to the familiar swirl of going Underground that when nothing happened, my body reacted almost violently.

Or… had it started to happen? Was that why it felt so strange? Had I begun to go Underground and then been sent back when I was halfway there?

The more I thought about it, the more I was sure that I had been magically rerouted, so to speak; sent halfway to Jareth's castle and then redirected to my room again. The feeling was sickening.

It had to be a mistake. Maybe because I had been sitting down. Yes, I said to myself, that was it. Stand up and try again.

The second count had me on my hands and knees, my stomach churning as if I had the flu. My eyes watered and my forehead had broken out with a sheen of sweat. Trembling, I fumbled my way up onto my bed where I curled up in the fetal position and waited for Jareth. There was a glitch with my ring, and I wasn't about to try magical transportation on my own, again, until it was fixed.

I didn't have very long to wait, thank goodness. I think he must have noticed that I had tried to come and failed, for five minutes after the fact, he appeared before me looking agitated, but worried for me.

"Wren…" he looked at me, an odd look on his face. He seemed like he didn't know what to say.

Remaining in my position on the bed, I held my hand out to him, displaying the ring, "It's not working, something's gone wrong."

Hesitantly, he sat beside me on the bed and reached out a hand to pat me on my hip. "Are you alright? That… I am sorry, I did not realize…"

"I feel sick to my stomach, but I'm okay," I sighed, placing my hand on his, "But… wait, what didn't you realize?"

He heaved a strained sigh, one that I was not accustomed to hearing come from him. "I did not realize that you would try to come, tonight."

I froze and sat up, feeling… shocked. "You knew? You knew I wouldn't be able to come to you? It was… deliberate?" There was an ache in my chest, like I'd been stabbed. If given the choice between the two, I think I would have much rather felt the nausea again.

He raised a hand to try and forestall my panic and/or furious comments, "It was a preventative measure, I was thinking of your best interest-"

"Best interest?" I was fuming, now, "I was on my hands and knees, trying by best to keep from puking my guts out! Tell me, how is that in my best interest?"

He turned away from me and balled his fists at his thighs, "I had more… unexpected guests, Wren. Trust me when I tell you that you would not want to meet them, and that the only reason why they are still in my castle at this very moment is because tradition demands I show them courtesy."

I didn't give a crap. He could have just as easily have caught my arm once I was actually there and taken me right back home, no dry heaving necessary.

I sat there, silently watching his face, which was still staring at the wall and not at me. Just like I had had the sinking feeling of being rerouted – which I then knew was true – I had the feeling that Jareth knew that banning me was unnecessary. He knew it, I could see it in his eyes, and it hurt me even more.

But, even so, I was willing to try and get past it. I was willing to still go to the concert…

Oh, but if he had special guests that he did not want or trust in his castle, he wouldn't be able to go, would he? I was human, not born yesterday. I looked at his appearance. Formal vest and frilled shirt, ornately woven breeches, fine gloves, shiny boots. He was dressed for guests in his castle, not for going with me to an Aboveground concert. I felt highly stupid.

"You can't go, can you?"

His head drooped, "I cannot."

I stood and faced him formally, too irritated at him to show much emotion on the issue and also not willing to cry over this tonight. "Then you had better get back. You don't want to leave your guests unsupervised."

"You do not know how true that statement is," he stood and faced me, looking very awkward and highly distressed. "Please forgive me, Wren. I have been beyond rude to you in the last few days, and that never has been my intention. I…"

My expression softened, a small wave of guilt pouring over me as I saw the pain in his features. "Go," I whispered, "You need to get back. I'll be alright."

He smiled, sadly. With a touch to my ring, he sighed, "I will trust you not to come – I swear that I will explain to you why, someday – but… it will not make you ill again. I swear it."

With a swift touch to his cheek I thanked him softly and stepped back as he vanished. Then, I sighed heavily. I'd burned a bridge with Orla tonight and, spare ticket or no, she wouldn't answer my call; I knew her well enough to know that. I swiped up my cell phone and pulled out the envelope with the Siren Song tickets, retrieving the post it note that was stuck inside.

I was almost certain that I could probably find someone to come with me… but now, I'd rather be alone, so I had a ticket to dispose of.

I punched the number in and hit 'send'. After a minute, I heard it go directly to voice mail. There was no recorded message, just an aloof female voice that asked me to leave a message at the tone.

"Hello Ms. Flemming, this is Wren from the college," I felt the exasperation in my voice. There was nothing I could do to hide it. "I'm sorry, but my date cancelled on me and… well, I can't get anyone else to go with me, so late in the game. I'm… well, I'm going to head on down to the shopping area near the club and I'll have the spare ticket with me, so if you know of someone who would like it, tell them to look for me… erm…" I looked around my room, then down at the frilly blue skirt and blouse set that I'd chosen to wear. "I'll be the short one in the blue dress. But please call me and let me know so I will know to look for them, too. Thanks."

The strip mall was crowded and I was getting annoyed. Why had I chosen to come kill time there? The concert venue was just down the street, and I was early – I hadn't wanted to stay at home – so I made my way through the shops, looking at nothing in particular, while fighting the crowds. How was it possible for so many people to be in one place? It was nuts! Seriously.

Twenty minutes there, and about twenty minutes left to go, I gave up on trying to maneuver the shops. I wasn't ready to head into the concert just yet, still holding onto the idea that perhaps Ms. Flemming would send someone for the extra ticket I had, so I seated myself on a bench and waited. It was warm, but the bench beneath me felt cool through the fabric of my dress. I absently toyed with the ruffled skirt. I liked this dress very much, one of my favorites. I had been looking forward to wearing it with Jareth, because I knew he liked that shade of blue on me. Now it was rather pitiful seeming, and I began to wish that I had worn jeans instead, even if it wasn't the most appropriate attire for the concert.

Someone seated themselves on the other end of the bench and I, as I usually do in such a situation, carefully scooted farther from them, but didn't look up. I fidgeted with my bag clasp and looked at my watch again. Fifteen minutes to go. Five more minutes, and I would head down to the venue.

"So, what's a pretty lady like you doing out alone tonight?" said a deeper set voice from beside me. I winced and stiffened – the person was now talking to me. My night was about to get worse, I could feel it.

"Shopping," I said, now determined not to make eye contact, "And waiting for my boyfriend to come. He's going to meet me here any minute…"

"Oh," the voice lightened, sounding terribly disappointed. "You waiting for Jareth?"

I started and looked up sharply at the person next to me. I gasped and clutched my purse to my chest in sheer shock. I started to say something, but whatever that something had been died the instant that I recognized the face of the person who had seated himself beside me.

"T.J.!" the name burst from my lips, my voice terribly high pitched, "You scared the crap out of me!"

He was wearing jeans and a buttoned down shirt with his slightly curly hair tumbling about his ears as usual, though it seemed to be styled, as though he had used gel or something. There was something else about his presence that seemed to be missing, but at the moment, I wasn't really concerned about it. I was currently still trying to calm my heartbeat.

T.J. grinned at me and nudged my arm, "Hey, calm down. Who did you think I was, anyway?"

I scoffed, "Oh, I don't know, how about some pervert out on a Saturday night, looking for a cheap thrill?"

He laughed and looked at me, "But what have you to worry about? You said Jareth was coming, anyway, right? He's a big guy – well, tall, at least – and I'm sure he could scare off any pervs out to harass you."

"I just said that," I said, then swallowed, my voice wavering every so slightly, "Because I thought you were… someone else."

He raised his eyebrows at me, "So you're not out tonight with Jareth?"

I shook my head, "No, I'm not. He couldn't make it, so I'm here on my own."

T.J. gave me an exaggerated wicked sort of smile, "Well, he's nuts to let you out of his sight. You never know when you'll run into a wild man, out to steal you away."

"Ha-ha," I said, dryly, shoving his arm. "Why are you out here, anyway?"

He pulled a face and raised an eyebrow, as if the answer were obvious, "The Siren Song concert is tonight, right?"

My mouth fell. That's where I had heard the name before! T.J. had asked me to go to this concert! Oh, gosh… and now I was there, when I told him I wouldn't go, and Jareth couldn't be here with me… this wasn't going well.

I went bright red, "Oh, dear me… I forgot you had tickets to it, too! I…"

"Well, I did," he said, interrupting me, "But I'm here actually looking for a scalper, now."

I frowned, "What happened to your tickets?"

He shrugged, "Plans had come up for me, and I knew I wouldn't be able to make it tonight, so I passed them off, but then my plans got cancelled. I had wanted to see the show, so I came down here to see if someone had a spare, willing to sell it off or something."

I looked at my watch – it was time to head down to the venue for the show, and no one else had shown for it… I looked back at T.J., "Ironically, I now have a spare… would you like it?"

His face brightened, but it faded as he regarded the expression that must have been on my own face. "Well, don't be so morose about it… if you don't want me to have it, I won't take it – seriously, I'll survive."

I shook my head, "No, T.J., please – I promised the lady who pawned them off on me that I would make sure they got used, and…" what else could I say? I felt so utterly pathetic. Seriously. I had turned him down for this same concert, and now I was asking him to go? "… I think it'd be a real shame to see it go to waste. Please?"

His smile softened and as he looked forward, he still kept his eyes on me in a sideways glance, "Well, only because you asked so nicely…" he stood and held a hand to me, "Shall we?"

I took his hand and did my best to smile, trying my hardest to ignore the guilty, sinking feeling in my stomach.

The venue was not what I thought it would be, nor was Siren Song. I don't know… because T.J. liked their music, I assumed that they would be more of a rock band or something, because that seemed like his style of music. I was nearly stunned to see that they were more of a modern cross of jazz and soft rock. They were on a small dias to serve as a stage in a large room, but it was all much smaller than I figured it would be. This seemed like a private lounge, not a big hall for a large band. Idly, I wondered where the heck Orla had heard of the group…

We sat beside each other at a small table – meant to be just for drinks, I assumed – facing the dias, about three tables from the front – good seats, I noted. The place was very nice, and I liked the softer feel of the atmosphere. When the show began, it picked up more than I had figured it would, and it was good music. Against my better judgement, I enjoyed their music.

I did my best to focus on the show, and not on my companion, and not on the chewing feeling in my gut that made me feel like I was cheating on my boyfriend.

"How did you get into them?" I asked T.J., as we ate. He had insisted on taking me down the street to a burger place in exchange for me giving him my spare ticket. I had protested terribly, insisting that I had gotten the tickets for free anyhow, so it was no big deal, but he reasoned that we were both hungry anyway, so we might as well go eat together so we could talk more about the show. He was good at coercion – I eventually caved.

He chewed on a fry. "I always seem to find the odd," he said, after he had swallowed, "You have to admit they're not your typical mainstream sort of group."

I nodded and picked some more at my salad, "Very true. Of course, I'm used to listening to David Bowie's stuff, so I'm used to things that break the mold."

T.J. nodded with a smile on his face. "I heard them on an odd radio station about a year ago and had to find more of their stuff. I thought it was awesome that they incorporate myth and legends in their lyrics."

"You're into myths and such?"

He shrugged, "Anything along those lines. I love anything out-of-this-world."

I grinned and sipped at my soda, "I know how that goes. I blame Disney – they got me addicted to fairies and magical things a long time ago."

He waved a hand at me and scoffed, "Disney? Oh, that's just watered down!"

I glared, "Watered down? They're classics!"

T.J. started laughing, "Classics? Ha! They're far from the truth!"

With my own personal joke I snickered, "And what would you know about the truth of magical things?"

He sobered and sighed, "I told you, I find odd things. I've always been drawn to magic things," he slurped down some of his soft drink, "Even my, well…" he touched his left ear briefly then shrugged, "Well, the stud I usually wear in my ear has a moonstone in it."

I grinned then looked at his ear again. I'd forgotten – T.J. had worn an earring the first time I'd seen him. Now, it wasn't that he was wearing a different one, he didn't have one at all. I frowned, "Why did you take it out?"

He focused his attention to his basket of fries, "Eh, just… ah, you know… kinda childish and all that…"

I tilted my head to the side, "You didn't… you didn't do it for… for me, did you?"

"No, of course not!" he said quickly – too quickly, if you ask me. "I just think I'm done with that phase, and I look better without it."

"Suuure," I said, skeptically. "What about your moonstone, then?"

He shrugged, seeming to be glad that I was dropping that subject, "I haven't felt the need to wear it lately, anyhow."

"Do you really feel that drawn to magic things?" I asked, "That you felt the need to wear a moonstone?"

He laughed, "It's not like that, exactly… I just always liked the 'different' and 'odd', you know? Even when I was little… Now, I'm sure that lots of little boys like monsters and stuff, but I was just obsessed with them. It drove my sister crazy."

"How so?"

"Well…" he looked embarrassed, "I drew doodles of little monsters all over her bedroom wall when I was five. And it wasn't the first time I'd done it, nor was it the last."

I snorted into my glass as I brought the straw to my lips again, "Oh my word, T.J…. my mother would have murdered me for less than that! Probably did, for all I know. I don't really recall ever doing it, but I easily could have…"

He shook his head, "Well, my parents were mad, sure, but no one was more upset than my sister. I still don't know what she had against them – even my mother admitted they were cute."

I poked my salad a few more times. "I'm sure they were cute. I'm rather fond of small little monsters." I watched my salad, thinking.

"Hey," T.J. said, pulling me from my thoughts. His face was concerned. "Everything okay? You've seemed really distracted."

I sighed, unsure of what to say. But, did it really matter what I said to him, now? I had already spent the evening with him on what most people would consider to be a date. I already felt guilty – it couldn't make me feel any worse.

"Things just haven't felt right, lately. Earlier this week was my… my year mark of meeting Jareth…"

T.J. pulled a neutrally interested face. I could tell he was doing his best to keep it neutral. "Did he forget it?"

I smiled a little, "No, I did, actually."

His neutrality slipped, "You?"

I nodded, "Yes, me. Jareth was the one who remembered – and it was a really nice evening. Since then, though… I mean, just within the last few days, something's just off. I don't like that feeling."

He didn't say anything for a long time. I looked up and met his eyes – he wanted to say something, but seemed unsure. I watched him debate over it for a good three minutes before he seemed to get the courage to say it.

"Would you totally beat the crap out of me if I said that hearing about rocky times between you two didn't make me entirely unhappy?" his voice was low and his face half-way serious.

"Yes," I said, defiantly, "I would beat the crap out of you. If you said it, that is." When the awkward silence settled between us again, I forced it away and spoke up again. I wasn't going to let this get out of hand or remain in obscurity.

"T.J.," I said, firmly, "I am with Jareth, so please don't do… I like to talk with you and all, but this can't…"

He held up a hand, "Whoa, okay, okay, I know!" he laughed and pulled a mockingly chivalrous face, "Dear lady, forgive me for my grievances against thee, and allow me to make it up to you by… uh…" he looked around the table, "…doodling you a little monster." He snatched up a spare napkin and withdrew a pen from his pocket.

I rolled my eyes, and laughed despite my ire. "Fine! No need to go all Renaissance on me here…" I watched him scribble on the napkin. The more I watched, I realized that he wasn't just scribbling – he really was drawing me a monster, and he was quite good at it. "Whoa, where did you learn to draw like that?"

"Practice," he said absently. He was quiet for a second, then he gave me a look, "While I'm doing this… can I confess something to you?"

I eyed him, warily, "It won't earn you another doodle with me, will it?"

He shook his head, "No… I don't think so… I just wanted to confess that…well, I know where you got the Siren Song tickets from."

I blinked, "You do?"

He smiled, "You got them from the same person I gave mine to…"

"Ah, shoot!" I breathed, covering my now red face with one of my hands, "You're friends with Ms. Flemming, aren't you?"

"Yep, you could say that," he said before finishing off the doodle with a dramatic flourish and handing me the napkin, "For you, my lady!"

It was hysterical! A little squatty monster with buggy eyes and bat-like ears, sitting down and wearing oversized boots with the laces all undone. The scrawly smile was awesome – it reminded me, vaguely, of Squyshee. "I've got a friend who'll love to see this," I said, "Apology accepted."

T.J. laughed and snatched up another napkin to doodle on while we talked, his burger finished and his fries almost gone. I still had about half a salad left. "That one – with the boots – is a favorite of mine to draw. I've done him a couple of times before."

I looked at the drawing again. "Very cute, indeed. I wouldn't have taken you for an artist."

"I'm not," he said as he doodled, "I just doodle little monsters. I can't really draw much of anything else, nor can I work with any other medium. Besides, it's just a hobby of mine, nothing really special."

I watched him draw for a second, "What are you drawing now?" It was hard to make out, upside down.

"I don't know," he said, "Just a trinket or something. I can never decide what to make of it, but I like how it looks. See?"

He held the napkin to me, and I paled. T.J. frowned at my expression, and looked like he was going to say something, but I snatched the napkin from him and eyed it carefully, a rotten feeling spreading through my stomach.

"T.J.," I said, looking up at him, again, "Where did you see this?"

He frowned, "I made it up, Wren…"

"You did not," I all but growled, holding the napkin up to him, "Where did you see this? You… you had to have seen this before. Where?"

"Nowhere," he insisted, getting upset, "Wren, what's the deal? I swear, it's just a doodle!"

"It can't be," I whispered, looking at the drawing again. I stared, and as I did, I could feel the blood drain from my face.

How could T.J. have drawn this? It was impossible. Impossible! I had never even drawn it – not in that much detail, anyway. And the only time T.J. had met Jareth, he had been wearing his Aboveground clothes, so T.J. would never have seen… And yet, there it was.

Drawn with the most exact detail, as if I were looking at a black and white photograph of the thing itself, was Jareth's pendant, in ink, on the napkin.

An absolute terror spread through me. Things I had never thought of, things I had never wanted to think of, now began to form in my mind. It was like puzzle pieces, all fitting together, only I hadn't known that there had been a puzzle to solve, or even, as the case was, what the end picture would be. Everything began to click, and the end picture sat before my mind's eye, making me cold inside. It didn't seem possible, but then again, many things in my life that seemed impossible had turned into reality.

Slowly, shaking all over, I drew my eyes from the pen doodle to T.J.'s very confused face. There was one thing, one last piece. Without it, the rest was all just crazy coincidences that really had no tie together at all. It was the one thing that I had never asked him, never even thought to ask. How could I have missed this? How could I never have asked.

"What's wrong, Wren?" he asked me, his blue eyes round with concern.

"T.J.," I said, my voice quavering beyond my control, "What is your name?"

He laughed, looking puzzled. "Uh, that would be 'T.J.'-"

"No," I cut him off, softly, "What is your full name?"

He didn't understand, he couldn't, and I couldn't tell him the truth to make him. A few words were all that stood between me and my deepest fears – the kind of fears that you don't even know exist until they come upon you, like a car accident, plane crash, or deadly disease. A few words were enough to burn bridges, start a war, seal someone's fate… And T.J. would not understand, because this was not something he knew to fear, as I now did.

He gave me a faint, and still confused, smile as he spoke the words that brought my world crumbling down around me.

"Tobias Jerome Williams… why?"