Chapter 15

Bold Lara

Jareth could hardly believe what he had just witnessed. He was sitting on the great window ledge in his bedchamber as he had done so many times before, gazing out over his domain. His hands were resting in his lap, curled loosely around a hazy crystal that had only moments before been awash with a wild cacophony of images that left his pulse racing. So then...The Balthasar had returned. Initially, the sight of his old enemy struck a fierce anger through the heart of the king. Anger...and a terrible foreboding. If The Balthasar had been able to return, what could that mean for the future? What could it mean for HIM? Annoyingly, such troubles and questions raised by The Balthasar's return where not (as they should have been) the primary occupants of his mind. No, much to the king's chagrin, when from his window he had heard the terrible roar of the great red dragon that filled his crystal's images...when he had seen the tower of flame that erupted from its fearsome jaws rising high above the forest beyond the Field of Forgotten Dreams, he found that all the worry that should have been reserved for his own self preservation had been highjacked. Commandeered. Replaced by a sudden, near-paralyzing...dare he say...concern? For her? Before he had known what he was doing, Jareth found that he had run to the window and planted one foot on the ledge, preparing to launch himself out into empty space and summon wings that could carry him to the scene of action.

The Labyrinth stopped him from doing just that.

No, she told him, that single word filling his head and muffling his thoughts like a great hum of electricity. Jareth froze. The Labyrinth had spoken to him audibly only once before, and the effect had been chill inducing...paralyzing, just as it was now. Her voice, low, richly accented, and beautiful tended to leave one feeling haunted...or perhaps hunted, as one trapped under the eye of a patient lioness. Even now, the memory made him tremble.

"What do you mean, no?!" he demanded, forcing the words through a haze of apprehensive wonder.

Watch, she commanded.

Jareth was powerless to refuse. He stood rooted to the stone, his mind slamming back into action in a dizzying whirl of confusion and exhilaration. Obediently, he had looked into the crystal once more.

Lara Tyler was on her knees in the grass near the crumbling edge of the Amnesias Chasm, staring up at the impossible form of her latest foe. She was shaken, disheveled, and in obvious pain, but there was determination in her eyes and her expression was steady. She was talking to the dragon. Jareth's heart pounded so loudly in his ears that he could hardly hear his own thoughts let alone the girl's words. She looked unafraid, but when the dragon roared in her face, his great maw coming so dangerously close to engulfing the girl, Jareth found himself again reaching for the magic that would transport him there, to her, that would place him directly between her and his old enemy. The Balthasar was his to fight, not Lara's. Challenge or no Challenge, Labyrinth or no Labyrinth, she would not die. He would not allow her to die.

Just as he was on the verge of vanishing, the crystal showed him an image that froze him in place. The Balthasar had shifted again. Into a mouse. It all happened so fast. In the merest of moments, the girl and her own dragon had subdued the monster, stripped him of his power, and disposed of a most dangerous dark artifact. She had collected her sword, she had reunited with her goblin (yes, her goblin, for Jareth was quite certain that Clutch was just as useless to him now as that old dwarf had been all those years ago) and she was walking on her way again. On her way to find him. Jareth wished his heart wouldn't flutter so at the idea, but it seemed that it could not be helped. There was an admiration that glowed there now, an admiration for this grave and unusual girl that had been waxing and threatening ever since she'd first confronted him in the darkened children's bedroom back in her own world.

"May I go to her now?" he asked. Only silence answered him, so without further hesitation he summoned his wings.

Upon reaching the forest, Jareth, retaining his owl form, landed in a large oak tree near the girl and her strange companions, though not so near to suffer detection by any of them. His talons curled gracefully around a gnarled branch as he allowed his enhanced senses to absorb the girl's form and motion, enjoying a level of visual intimacy that simply could not be achieved with human eyes. He caught himself lingering on her small details, the unimportant things...like the shape of her hands and the whisper of gentleness in them...the warm mahogany darkness of her hair...the rumor of future smile lines at the corners of her lips. The girl was faithfully following her dragon guide, carrying useless little Clutch on her back like a child. Jareth realized to some amusement that she was busy teaching the wee devil to sing with her.

"Do it again!" the goblin crowed. "Let's do it again!"

"Alright, alright..." Lara sighed through a smile. "We'll take the chorus from the top one more time, okay?"

"Yup!"

"Two, three, four! And I would walk five hundred miles

And I would walk five hundred more

Just to be the one who walks a thousand miles

to fall down at your door!"

The voices of girl and goblin blended pleasantly in an almost infectiously uplifting melody. Jareth might have smiled if his owl's beak could permit it. So then, Young Lara had discovered the secret to tolerating goblins. Say what you like about the little monsters, he mused as he proceeded to glide soundlessly from branch to branch in pursuit of the unusual trio, but given the proper instruction goblins could be particularly good harmonizers.

"Another!" Clutch cried when the song had run its course. "Sing another!"

"Oh, must you?" Bartimeo II groaned from his position in the lead. "Must you really?"

"Hey!" the girl protested, chuckling lightly. "You just be glad it's not The Laughing Gnome, okay?"

The dragon merely snorted blue sparks and shook his head in irritation.

"One more! Please, Miss?" the goblin begged.

"Alright... Here's a nice one. It's very gentle, it's called Seven."

She began to sing again, and a secret smile formed in the Goblin King's heart. She certainly had a soft spot for that Bowie, didn't she? Jareth could hardly blame her. He had once found one of Bowie's records in the old dump outside his castle, many years ago now. He remembered the moment clearly. From time to time, the king liked to go wandering through that field of lost things, exploring, examining, and sometimes collecting the forgotten dreams or memories of others. The record had been peaking out of the top of a pile of extravagant looking clothing. He knew what a record was and while he was admittedly fascinated by human obsession and propensity for music (for which he shared a certain passion), such a thing would normally have escaped his notice...but the image on the faded cardboard cover forced him to do a double take. After a moment of bewilderment he had picked it up, stared at it, wondered at it. The face that hovered there upon a patterned field of blue and green looked remarkably like...well...his own. Aside from a difference in the shade and cut of his hair and the slant of his eyebrows, he might have been staring into a mirror when looking at the image on the battered cover—he might have been able to imagine that the face thereupon was his. That this record was his creation. That he, Jareth, was not a king of goblins...but just a simple musician from that world above. One who could be seen...one who could be loved...one who could be believed in. How wonderful it would be...to create, and to be adored by creatures of intelligence for his creations. Goblins, though enthusiastic about anything and everything the king said or did, made for very poor audiences. Their attention spans were too short, their tastes too crude and simple. They never understood.

What must it be like to be you? Jareth remembered musing as he gazed at the record in his hands. He studied the face, the angular features...the focused intensity of expression. Even the eyes had a certain abnormality to them, as Jareth's did. The king could not help but wonder if perhaps he shared distant blood with this human Rock Star. It wasn't entirely outside the realm of possibility...somewhere in the ever-stretching chain of time, there could have been a connection.

Jareth's curiosity compelled him to seek out a broken turntable nearby. He repaired it easily with a bit of simple magic and took it and the record back to his castle. How clearly he remembered listening to the music for the first time. It was unlike anything he had ever heard before, alien and exciting, bold...and yet vulnerable. Jareth had adored it immediately, recognizing familiar elements of isolation, uncertainty, and longing in the voice and lyrics of this strange young musician. There was something exceedingly special about that Bowie, and Jareth couldn't help but wonder if he had stumbled across a kindred spirit in this odd discovery. After that first encounter he had begun collecting and listening to as many of the man's records as he could find. Jareth found himself able to mimic his vocal style quite nicely, and thus, began modeling much of his own music after the fashion of David Bowie.

"I've got seven days to live my life

Or seven ways to die."

How sweet and strange that Lara would be so partial to such music as well...

"One more!" The goblin cried as Lara's song ended, even before the girl's voice had fully faded from the air.

"Okay, okay... But this'll have to be the last one for sure, we're driving poor Bartimeo crazy! Let's see..." After a moment's pondering, she said, "Shall I sing one for our Goblin King?"

He felt his heart jump a little in his feathered chest. A song for him? He didn't know what to think of that... But upon hearing the lyrics, he had to stifle a soft screech of laughter. Typical Lara...

"With your long blond hair and your eyes of blue

The only thing I ever got from you was

Sorrow... Sorrow!

You're acting funny..."

More Bowie. Not an original, but one he had covered and improved. Sorrow indeed... Well. Could not it also describe young Lara rather well? The darkness of her hair being the only exception? He couldn't resist. He dematerialized and reappeared just behind her in human form, harmonizing easily with her on the next verse.

"You never do what you know you oughtta

Something tells me you're the Devil's daughter.

Sorrow—"

"Wah!" Lara's gentle mezzo-soprano crescendoed in a startled yell, thoroughly interrupting Jareth and forcing him to duck for his life as she slashed her blade violently through the air. Fortunately, the girl was quick to recognize him and rather than persisting in her assault (to Jareth's secret relief), she ceased it, allowing the surprise in her eyes to linger for the barest moment before her expression shifted to one of almost forced scorn.

"Must you always sneak up on me like that?" she demanded.

Jareth straightened up and readjusted his vest with a sharp tug, pursing his lips haughtily. "Must YOU always try to hit me with things?! Honestly, the abuse you do me has me questioning the health of our relationship..."

"Relationship?" the girl scoffed, drawing herself up to as proud a height as she could manage, an admirable if ineffective gesture, considering she was head and shoulders shorter than he. "What could you possibly mean by that? This clash of opposing virtues? This adversarial discord? This battle of wits and wills between the forces of good and evil?" She dropped the aristocratic façade then, and allowed her voice to reclaim its accustomed tones of flat skepticism. "You stole my niece and nephew. It's only natural if I want to kick your arse."

Jareth chuckled. "And they say eloquence amidst youth is dying out. You have a goblin on your back, did you know?"

"My goblin, now," she said, reaching back to give the little beast a reassuring pat on his helmeted head. "He's deserted to my team."

"Is that so?" The king narrowed his eyes at little Clutch, who quailed pathetically under his gaze.

"M-M-Majesty! I-I-I—"

"Clutch. You are a traitor. Do you remember what I do to traitors?"

The goblin looked as if he was about to faint, be sick, or perhaps die of fright altogether, but instead he dove from the girl's back and fled for cover, shrieking maniacally all the way.

"Aw, Clutch, come back!" Lara called after him. When no reply came, the girl sighed and returned her attention to Jareth (where it belonged.) "He thinks you're going to throw him in the Bog of... What was it again?"

"Eternal Stench," he answered. "And yes, I am. It's a fitting punishment for a deserter, don't you think?"

"You wouldn't!"

The king only smirked and looked to her dragon companion. "Bartimeo... Fancy seeing you here. How's the wishing business?"

"You always were one for a quip, Your Majesty..." the dragon said, inclining his head respectfully. "But it is an honor to see you, nevertheless."

Jareth smiled in earnest then. He had always bourn a sort of fondness for the dragon...something that he extended to few enough beings in Creation. "Save your reverence," he said. "I still fully intend to reprimand you for helping this girl. For now, however, I would like to address the Champion in private."

"Of course, Your Majesty. I'll go find Clutch. We'll catch up with you soon, Lara."

"Wait a minute!" the girl protested. "You can't leave!" But the dragon had already taken flight, leaving her alone with the king. "Treacherous little—"

"Well, Lara Mine... Alone at last." He grinned.

She scowled. "Here to rob me of more time, are you? Or perhaps you want to drop me in another Oubliette? I have to say, I won't settle easily for either."

Why are you here, Jareth? his conscience needled him. Why are you really here? "Actually, I came to congratulate and, I suppose, to thank you."

The girl had not been expecting that. She blinked in astonishment, but was quick to recover her usual coarseness of manner. "I... Well. Whatever you have to say, say it. But I hope you can keep up with me while doing so. Time is ticking, you know."

"Of course..." Acting as a gentleman ought, he gestured for her to lead the way.

Careful to avoid his gaze, the girl picked up a brisk walk, her strides surprisingly long for one so small as she. "How are the children? I warn you, if you're treating them badly..."

"The children, Lara, are delightful," the king said, keeping an easy, unhurried pace with his opponent, despite the deliberate swiftness of her movements. "They are a true testament to the quality of the family to which they belong. I have seen to it that they are content and cared for. Never fear."

"Ah. Well...that's fine, then. You'd better be true to your word, that's all I have to say."

"You have my word. The children are safe."

She tried to look skeptical, but somehow failed...and Jareth got the feeling that his words had soothed her somewhat. Funny little Lara... It seemed that she had no idea how to deal with him. There was something in the way her eyes caught and snatched at him, like those of an inquisitive bird struggling between a powerful curiosity and the natural urge to take flight and be away.

She cleared her throat before speaking again. "Did I actually hear you say something about thanking me?"

"You did. You and your dragon friend have rid my kingdom of a terrible threat, and such a feat cannot go unacknowledged."

"My, my...so you were watching after all. Things got a bit exciting there for a minute, didn't they? I thought I was about to make St. Peter's acquaintance... Where were you?" She meant to sound sarcastic, Jareth knew, but she failed to conceal a shocking tinge of something like disappointment behind her voice, and it cut him right to the quick. "He must have been just as dangerous as those...other creatures," she continued, growing more sober still, "and Bartimeo said that he's always been a terrible threat to your kingdom. What happened to the whole knight-in-glittering-ballet-tights thing? Why didn't you burst on the scene this time?"

Her words were like hammer blows. He felt the horrid urge to apologize profusely, a thousand beg-pardons and pleas for forgiveness flying to the tip of his tongue, but he caught himself. She wasn't his dependent. He owed her nothing. How could he keep forgetting such a simple yet oh so important fact? He owed her absolutely nothing...and yet he felt like he'd let her down. Angry with himself for this, he replied with a coldness that shocked even him, "I was unaware that it was a duty of mine to act as your sworn protector!"

He regretted it immediately.

The girl stopped, suddenly rigid, and shot him a wild glare laced as much with scarlet embarrassment as it was with fire. "Piss off, Goblin King."

Jareth took the insult like a slap to the face. Piss off? How dare she?! How dare she talk to him like that?! Well, if the vulgar little viper wanted him to piss off, he was only too happy to oblige! But not before he hurled some biting insult in her direction, and perhaps he might summon some hellish new challenge for her to cripple through... He took a breath to do just that, but before he could utter even a syllable, a sudden cry of alarm tore from his lips as the the earth dropped out from under his feet and he plummeted into darkness. His fall ceased just as soon as it had started, but it didn't take half a heartbeat for Jareth to understand what had happened.

"Dammit!" he cursed aloud, his voice echoing up from the depths of an Oubliette entrance, startling the Helping Hands that held him aloft into perfect silence. There had been no trap door here before! The Labyrinth must have rearranged. But without telling him?

You did that on purpose! he mentally accosted the Labyrinth. Why?!

I am helping you, she replied, almost shocking him yet again with her words.

What?!

Her only response was the impression of amusement, and Jareth felt his ears turning red in a flush of embarrassment. A shadow from above caught his attention and he looked up into the face of Lara Tyler outlined in a circle of light. Even from here, he could see that her eyes were wide, though whether this was in surprise or satisfied amusement, the king could not be sure.

"Well, I hope you're happy, Lara Mine..." he grumbled.

A ridiculous grin spread across the girl's features, and when she spoke she did so in a voice deepened in a theatrical and weirdly masculine impersonation, but of whom, Jareth could not say.

"Put the lotion in the basket."

"What?!"

She burst out laughing then, triggering yet more confusion for poor Jareth. Laughter unprompted was already a foreign concept to him thanks to the goblins' inability to grasp a good punchline...but something about Lara's musically feminine laughter seemed to strike a different chord in the king altogether.

"Take me up," he barked to the Helping Hands. They obeyed without a word. The girl was still smiling as the Hands raised him toward her, and she startled him further still by offering her hand in assistance as he came level with the edge of the trap door. Flustered, Jareth ignored her gesture and brushed past her, avoiding her gaze as he busied himself with tidying his appearance yet again, a scowl settling itself firmly upon his features.

"Are you alright?" the girl asked, voice laced with mirth.

Jareth's soul was screaming, but he answered her as casually as he could, though he still couldn't bring himself to look at her. "Oh yes, never better! Nothing like a quick plunge into darkness to brighten one's spirits..."

"Tell me about it," the girl said sarcastically. "Maybe you'll think twice before dropping somebody down another trap door, eh?"

The king's ears burned in frustration. This was ridiculous. If all he was going to accomplish was making himself look a fool in front of this brat of a girl, perhaps it would be best if he just left... "If you're sufficiently satisfied by my misfortunes, I think I'll just piss off now," he snapped.

"Your Majesty, wait…"

Against his will, Jareth turned to face the girl and something in her expression snared his attention.

"Don't go just yet, I..." She paused and bit her lip, seeming to struggle internally. "I'm sorry for what I said. You aren't my protector, and it wasn't my intention to imply such a thing. I just thought...I don't know what I thought. I wanted all this to be easy, I guess." She went so far as to offer a half-smile. "It's your own fault you know... You shouldn't have rescued me before. It's made me spoiled and lazy."

Is she growing wiser? The Labyrinth was intended to have such an effect, but...he'd never known a runner to speak to him in such a way. So openly. Cordially...almost as might a friend. Why had her anger dissolved so easily? Jareth thought briefly about what the Labyrinth had said about helping him, and for the first time, he felt that perhaps she had. Perhaps his little tumble down the trap door had helped to soften Lara's countenance toward him. Perhaps she found such clumsiness humanizing. How strange. Stranger still, he found his own irritation dissipating, replacing itself with the sudden ridiculous urge to reach for the girl's hand, but he thought better of it. Instead, he sought levity.

"Spoiled you may be, Lara..." he said. "Terribly so. But lazy? No. And if it's any consolation, I had faith that you would be more than his match." It really was more than half true...

The girl arched a dark eyebrow. "Oh? And do you have faith in me now? Faith that I'll beat your Labyrinth?"

An involuntary and not-so-intimidating chuckle escaped him and he raised his gloved hands defensively. "Hold on, that I did NOT say..."

Oh, how she was looking at him, more openly than she ever had before, and the thoughtful smile that played at the corners of her eyes made him wonder what she saw.

He furrowed his brow. "What?"

"I learned something about you earlier, that's all."

"Oh, really?" The king placed his hands on his hips and tilted his head, eyeing her devilishly. "And what might that be, pet?"

Now she smiled fully. "Your name."

That was the last thing he had been expecting, and he found himself momentarily at a loss for words. Why would something so simple as a name seem to delight her so?

"It's a fantastic name," she continued. "I like it. Mind you, it's the only thing I like about you."

A smile of his own began to plague his lips. "Say it?"

"Say what?"

"My name, fool girl."

"No," she said simply. "Not yet."

"Why not?"

"Because, I don't want to make a habit of doing what you want me to. Besides, I might need it later."

"Whatever for?"

"I'm not sure, yet... But I'll have it when I do need it. I know the power beings like you see behind names, you see. Don't think I haven't noticed just how often you say mine."

That gave him pause. How often did he say her name? He wasn't fully aware. Her name was just so easy to say. It rolled off the tongue every bit as easily as Sarah's. There was that similarity too... Just a shift of consonants and enunciations and where was the difference?

Lara was watching him. He had to recover. "Ah, you have seen through my clever plot... I was attempting to bewitch you, you know."

"Bewitch me?!"

"Oh yes. It's an old Faery trick, you see... Soon you will be helpless and hopeless against my devilish charms. Come now...don't you feel enchanted yet?"

"Not at all."

"Well, drat. It was worth a try."

She clicked her tongue dismissively and shook her head, though the smile remained behind her eyes.

They walked in silence for a time. A silence that Jareth desperately wanted to fill with words, though he couldn't have said why. Come on, Jareth. Speak. Ask her something. Tell her something. Speak. "You..." he cleared his throat. "You're being very accommodating with me, L...Miss Tyler. Why this change of face? Are you quite well?"

She cast him a sideways glance. "What? Would you rather I shout abuse at you?"

Now for a clever quip. Go on. Say something rakish, Jareth. Instead, his reply was dull as ditchwater. "I find this...an improvement."

Turned out it wasn't the wrong thing to say, for when she spoke, her voice seemed soft...almost gentle, even. "Even I can manage a little civility from time to time, Your Majesty."

He studied her profile for a moment, a rising question on his mind. Dare he? Dare he try? He wondered... He thought he might. Just an experiment. In one fluid motion, he summoned a crystal to hand.

"Here," he said, holding it out for her to take.

She stopped, arched an eyebrow at the crystal, and sighed impatiently. "Not again..."

"It's nothing to harm you, I swear... It's just a present. No strings attached. Take it as a token of my gratitude and goodwill. A reward for defeating the Balthasar. It is only a small thing, after all...a humble offering."

After a moment's hesitation and half to his surprise, she held out her hand. As soon as the crystal touched her outstretched fingers, it transformed, shifting from polished smoothness to the delicately soft flesh of a fruit.

"A peach?" the girl asked.

"You must be famished after all these long hours," Jareth said. "After all you've endured."

Smiling, she raised the thing to her nose and inhaled. Jareth's heart skipped a beat or two. Was she going to take a bite? Could it really be so simple? Could she possibly trust him so easily? Good God, she had taken it from his very hand. He almost didn't want her to fall for it. He caught himself resisting the urge to snatch the thing back, to bat it from her hands and say, 'Stop! No! It's a trap, silly girl.' But of course, he did not. Whose side are you on anyway, Jareth?!

The girl opened her eyes and raised them to meet his gaze, and when she did, he couldn't help but marvel at the shifting colors in their depths...pale green against the forest background...almost blue when the light hit them...cold and misty grey when she was angry...the shades of a troubled sea. How could he ever have thought her uncomely?

"I can't eat this," she said bluntly.

The king blinked in surprise. "Not a fan of peaches? Perhaps you would prefer something more exotic. A mango? Or a pomegranate?"

For whatever reason, his question elicited yet another peal of laughter from the girl, and he felt his heart melt just a little.

"A pomegranate? How generous of you..." she said. "But I'm not stupid, Your Majesty. For all I know it could be poisoned. Perhaps you've bewitched it so I might forget myself. Besides, there are stories enough warning about eating the food of Faerieland and other such places. I could end up craving only this magical stuff and be unable to eat anything from my own world. While it might be nice to shed a pound our two, I'm not all that interested in starving to death. Nice try." She tossed the peach back to him and he caught it easily.

Jareth couldn't help but grin. Nothing of what she'd said had any truth to it, of course. They were only rumors spread by Medieval era Abovegrounders to make the magical folk seem all the more untrustworthy...but her superstitions served her well in this instance, something that her predecessor had not been so careful to heed. Had Sarah been such a skeptic, she mightn't have fallen quite so easily... But she hadn't, so she did. If only for a moment...

"Well, Lara Mine..." he purred. "I think you've proven that you're far from stupid." He began to toy with the peach idly, shifting it into crystal again and rolling it back and forth over his hands. The girl's eyes followed his movements closely, and Jareth liked it. He liked the attention, he liked her expression of almost childish wonder, he liked the idea that she could be mesmerized by his skill. Jareth couldn't help himself. After executing a particularly intricate maneuver, he dramatically clapped the crystal flat between his hands. Then, with all the theatrical flare of a stage magician, he held them out toward Lara's face and fanned his fingers mysteriously, showing her his now empty palms. A grin leapt to her lips and Jareth found it terribly endearing how hard she struggled to conceal her delight.

"Show off," she said, before turning and continuing on her journey.

Jareth, smiling broadly now, followed without a word. He wished as he fell into stride alongside her that he could keep this moment, that he could stay in it with her, and that the two of them could continue walking in this peaceable companionship for all the foreseeable future...but it could not continue. Not as such. On the bright side, however, he had made a rather important decision. He had been unsure, initially, if he wanted to subject himself to the possibility of pain again. But now...he knew for certain what he was going to do. He knew what he wanted.

"Lara?" he said gently, stopping once more.

She faced him, a question in her eyes and that trademark half-smile on her lips.

"Thank you," he said, suddenly surprised at how foreign those words felt on his tongue. Did he really say them so rarely?

The girl looked confused. "Whatever for?"

"I've had a question plaguing my mind for some time. You've answered it for me."

She frowned now. "How did I do that? What was the question?"

"I may tell you sometime...but not now."

"That's not fair!"

Jareth gave a clever smirk, remembering oh so clearly how often Lara's predecessor had spoken those very words...and how they had never been the right ones. "Whatever is?"

The girl's only reply was a gentle smile and the king had to battle the urge to sweep her away with him right then and there. Time to go, Jareth... Better to leave now, while there was a tentative peace between them. God knew, if his next endeavor failed, this would probably be the last good note in their relationship.

"I am going to leave you now," he said in a low voice. "But never fear...you will see me again soon. Very soon."

The girl arched a dark, suspicious eyebrow (Always the one on the right...) "Is that a threat?"

"It's a promise."

"Well. Until then, Your Majesty." She then did the last thing he would have expected from her. She curtsied to him...a proper gesture of respect, full of grace and free of mockery, despite her lack of skirts.

After half a stunned moment, Jareth bowed low in return and vanished without another word.

Author's Note: So. Yeah. We got to spend a LOT of time with our Jareth in this one. We got to take a substantial peek at the workings of his mind, enjoy a little stroll through his memories...and yes, we got to learn that he is a Bowie fan. It seems fitting somehow, don't you think? David has been such a beautiful influence on my own life, I just had to write him in. I love Jareth dearly, but I didn't want to banish David behind the curtain of his character...I want him to exist in my Lara's world as himself, as strongly as he exists in our own. Because what kind of world would it be without David Bowie?

Peace be with you, my Readers.

See you soon,

FireDancer