A/N:

Well, I might as well admit it - I'm in a real sht mood right now, so this might not be the best time to write. But hey, you know - what the heck. Hopefully this chapter won't be a mistake : )

Of course, I ALWAYS find writing about Jareth a bit on the therapeutic side....

Oh yes, one last note. I've had people ask whether or not this will be a Jareth/Sarah fic. wicked evil grin Only time, dear readers, will tell. The author, most definitely, will not.

Chapter 8 - Rome

Jareth sat perched over the railing that circled the loft in his library. While many of his new companions might not recognize his current attire, Sarah most certainly would. Upon his muscular body, he wore an open throated poet shirt, complete with foamy white lace trimming at the neck and wrists. As was his custom, tight black leather pants hugged his well muscled thighs. Shiny black boots swept up his calves ending right below the knee. Jareth both looked and felt magnificent. Cupped in one gloved hand, he cradled a crystal. His gaze was so intent upon the tiny figure incased inside, he almost didn't hear the light knock upon the door.

Without waiting for an answer, Malcolm stepped into the room, a silver platter balanced precariously in one hand. Seeing his master's feet dangling above his head, the servant moved deftly to the nearby desk. With the ease of a lifetime manservant, he began setting out the accoutrements for tea - the silver pitcher, a tiny cup made of bone china so fine and delicate one could almost see through it, a bowl of sugar cubes, and a miniature pitcher of cream. Once everything was perfectly placed and the tea ready to pour, only then did Malcolm turn to his master.

"Your tea, Sir."

Jareth sighed regretfully, gazing one last time into the crystal. With a deft movement of his hands, the tiny orb was tossed into the air only to disappear before it could hit the ground. Within the blink of an eye, Jareth was standing behind Malcolm, his hands folded neatly.

Turning, Malcolm bent to the pitcher. "Let me pour for you Sir," he said cheerfully, doing just that.

Jareth had already turned away, moving to stand next to an open window. The afternoon sun poured through, bathing him in yellow light.

Malcolm opened his mouth to speak then paused, considering. "Forgive me if I sound presumptuous, Sir, but I must say, vengeance seems to be doing you well. Begging your pardon, but I have never seen you so content. You look like a magnificent feline exalting over it's prey."

For a moment, Jareth only stood there, allowing the sun to warm his body through. When he turned, an irrepressible grin lit his face. However, there was no pleasure in that smile. No human joy or emotion. Only a cold, alien satisfaction. Folding his hands behind his back, he walked towards the desk. Accepting the cup of tea, he sniffed delicately at the brew before taking a tiny sip.

"Gracious, Malcolm. I didn't realize you could be so poetic." Jareth managed to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, managing just barely. "But you're wrong on one account. It's not vengeance, my dear fellow. Revenge is always so emotional. So heated and irrational. This is nothing more than punishment, pure and simple. She has earned her torment. I am merely giving her the justice she sorely deserved ten years ago. I feel no malice, no ill will towards my dear darling Sarah. Still, if in the process of her chastisement, I take a certain pleasure in the process, I fail to see how that in any way makes me cruel. Wouldn't you agree, Malcolm?"

"It is as you say, Sir. Forgive me if I have misspoken." The servant inclined his head a bare half inch. His icy eyes shone with dark enjoyment. "Will there be anything else?"

Setting down the teacup, Jareth deftly plucked another crystal from thin air. Deep inside its depth, the tiny figure of Sarah reappeared. He peered inside, unable to control the smile from spreading across his lips, giving him a wild, feral look. Everything was going perfectly as planned. Every step of the way, Sarah had unwittingly done his bidding, following his every silent beck and call. Already, the web he had so deftly woven around her was closing. Like the excellent hunter Jareth was, his prey had no idea the web was even there. The trap was set. The punishment laid.

Even his slight miscalculation this morning had turned to his advantage. Although he had never intended on touching her, the sight of Sarah drowsy and tumbled had left him off balance. For a moment, Jareth himself wondered if he might actually kiss her. Of course, that would have spoiled everything. Luckily enough for him, the spoiled chit had turned him away. What a pity. Let the girl imagine what his motives might have been. Let her suppose and fret over it.

Sarah would pay for her transgressions in spades. He would break her, he never doubted that. He would break her spirit and love every last moment of her torment. And if that made him cruel... Well, the King of the Underground could stand a little cruelty.

XX

For a long time, Sarah sat agonizing over her laptop. She felt that she almost had to tell Silas something about where she was going. The likely hood that he would call the hotel looking for her was remote. Yet what if he did? Knowing Silas, he would send out an international APB, filing some kind of mega lost persons report. The thought made her smile, but the honest reality was that he would be worried. Sarah didn't want that. Even if she couldn't tell him everything, she had to at least tell him something about her whereabouts.

With a hearty sigh, Sarah began typing:

Silas,

You're never going to believe this, but I've made some new friends here in Monaco. On a lark, I've decided to go with them on a quick side trip to Rome. I'm not sure where I'm staying when we get there, but if I'll let you know when I found out what hotel.

As always,

S.

"Well, that's good enough for that," she smiled ruefully. Sarah knew she should write Toby too, but simply didn't have the energy. Not that he would ever look for her. Since she moved out of state to the University, she had lost touch with her younger brother. Besides, Toby was still a teenager. The last thing he would ever think of was keeping track of his adult sister.

Sarah sighed. If she dropped off of the face of the planet (or perhaps fell into the Underground), the only person who would take notice was Silas. The thought was a little too disheartening for the moment, so she pushed it away.

Looking around her bare hotel room, she began to pack away her laptop. She glanced at the clock on her table. Damn, she silently cursed. It was almost 4:00. The car would be here any minute now to take her to the private airport where Jareth's plane awaited. At least she didn't have to worry with a lot of bags and luggage. The only thing His Royalness allowed her to bring was her laptop.

Her cheeks still burned crimson when she remembered Jareth's last few instructions before sending her back to the hotel.

"Don't bother packing anything, my dear," he had murmured. "I'll provide all of the necessities once you arrive." He had raised his eyebrows, assessing her up and down. Sarah glared, uncomfortable under the scrutiny. "It would seem that an entire new wardrobe would be appropriate, wouldn't you agree? We can't have you prancing around Society in a lab coat, can we?"

Clenching her jaw, Sarah still had to bite back the angry words that threatened to spill out. Even now, several hours after the incident, it still pissed her off. With no other outlet in sight, she shoved her laptop into its bag a little bit harder than she intended. Zipping it ferociously shut, she stalked towards the door, slamming it shut behind her. The resulting slam seemed to help her mood a bit. Feeling marginally better, she walked outside to the awaiting car.

What she could not know was that two faraway eyes followed her every movement. She couldn't feel the hidden gaze, observing her private moments alone. She would never know how those hidden eyes mocked her angry show of temper. How they enjoyed every single moment of her discomfort.

But perhaps, things were better that way....

XX

On the bright side, the city of Rome proved to be a historian's heaven. There's layers of the stuff - Etruscan tombs, Republican meeting rooms, imperial temples, early Christian churches, medieval bell towers, Renaissance palaces and baroque basilicas. Rome is nothing short of a phenomenal blend of history, legend and monuments that coexist within a thriving, modern city.

Hopefully, Jareth would let Sarah out long enough to at least see part of it.

From the moment she arrived on Italian soil, she had been bustled from one place to another. After a lengthy ride through the city, she finally reached Jareth's so-called "apartment". Looking at the palatial, multi-level townhouse that she would be spending the next few weeks in, suddenly Sarah didn't feel so bad. The home was situated in an extremely fashionable district of downtown Rome, blocks away from the central, high-end shops. The apartment itself was exquisite. Marble floors, columned walls, fresco ceilings. And the art. It was almost like stepping into a gallery. Every wall was covered by a painting with styles ranging from a Rembrandt etching to a Raphael Madonna. Surely they couldn't all be genuine. Not even Jareth could accumulate such masterpieces.

Sarah shook her head in annoyance. You had to wonder. Did he just go out of his way to look rich, or was it simply to annoy normal people like herself?

Regardless, Sarah's mood brightened considerably when she saw her bedroom. The room was simply amazing. Heavy yards of fabric was pinned to the ceiling, allowed to cascade down in long waves. The effect was almost tent-like, giving the room a strange exotic feeling. Crescent moons, long plumed birds and other Arabian shapes were carved into the wood of the furniture that was situated around the room - a writing desk, an armoire, and a massive oak bed draped with curtains made of similar fabric. In the center of the floor was a thick Persian rug.

Sarah closed her eyes, conjuring up a memory of her tidy, organized home. She sighed involuntarily. "Yes, well this will have to do, I suppose." She murmured to no one in particular.

Before Sarah could move any further into the room, a high pitched voice cleared their throat from behind. Sarah's eyes widened in surprise. She turned to see a middle aged maid wearing a severe black dress with a white apron and hood. It wasn't the maid, however, that made Sarah's mouth gape open. In the servant's arms was a stack of white boxes. Behind the maid was a line of servants, each laden down with similar packages.

The woman spoke in Italian. "If Madame will move, please? These packages arrived for you."

Sarah moved back out of the way, allowing the procession access. As the packages were set down, a flock of maids began opening boxes, placing their contents in the armoire and closet. Sarah gritted her teeth. Apparently her new wardrobe had arrived.

Before she would have thought possible, everything was packed away. This task completed, the maids turned to leave as suddenly as they had entered. Sarah tried to speak to them, but they ignored her. Finally, the middle aged woman she had seen when the door first opened stopped.

"My name is Mia, Signora. The master has instructed me to be your hand servant. He also left instructions for you." She handed Sarah a discrete white envelope. "If you have need of me, simply call."

Sarah turned the envelope over in her hands. "Yeah, Mia. I have something I need you to do for me. Why don't you tell your Master to kiss..." Sarah's voice tapered off. Mia had already gone, shutting the door behind her. "Oh now, that's service for you." With an irritated sigh, she tore open the envelope. A card covered in Jareth's tight scrawl was inside.

Sarah,

I regret to inform you that my leave-taking was slightly delayed. Do be a good girl and try on the things I provided for you. Tomorrow morning, your servant Mia will hand you your invitation to the private exhibition at the Anitquarium Romanum. I've arranged for you to meet our prey.

J.

"How lovely." Sarah muttered through gritted teeth. Without even thinking about it, she tore the card in half, tossing it over her shoulder. "This day is just getting better by the moment."

Because there wasn't much else to do at the moment, Sarah walked towards the armoire with the resignation of a prisoner walking towards the guillotine. She flipped through drawer after drawer, browsing through the walk in closet, a look of dawning horror on her face. There were dresses of every cut and color. Shoes, jewelry, accessories. And even worse - lingerie. Horrible, french silky stuff that not even Victoria's Secret would handle. Just touching the flimsy fabrics made Sarah blush outrageously. What made the whole thing so terrible was that everything fit perfect. Even down to the satin g-string.

It all fit perfectly.

Even the god damn shoes.

Jareth had said he would provide for everything, but this was too bloody much. By the costly look of the clothing, this was all obviously custom made. Even the lingerie - hated though it was - probably cost more than she made in a year.

Sarah swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly run dry.

How did he know so much about her? A sense of terror raced down her spine. Nothing Jareth had done or said should make her feel so threatened. There was absolutely no indication that he wanted her. Quite the opposite, in fact.

"I mean, for heaven's sake, he's brought me here to help him find a bloody wife."

But if he had no designs on her, why on God's green earth would he know so much about her?

For a moment, Sarah's hand hovered over the silken fabric of a dress. The cut was beautiful. It would look quite becoming on her if she ever had the gumption to wear something so low cut.

She closed her eyes, remembering yesterday morning when Jareth appeared in her bedroom. She remembered that awful look in his eyes, that moment when she was afraid he meant to touch her.

Sarah's fist clenched.

Why would Jareth know so much about her? She could think of only one viable option -

To piss her off.