Domino

Chapter Eight – Play-Doh Oxygen

Jareth flipped her around with her back pressed intimately against his chest before she had time to say 'lust'.

They stayed there but a moment, just breathing – both emitting gruff, uneven heaves. Sarah was appalled at herself when she noticed, and liked, the rough and tumble edge to his.

She steeled herself to step away, and she had just picked up the resolve when… she sighed… he began doing… that thing to her neck, skimming his open mouth right below her jawline. He let his sharp teeth graze occasional spots. Back and forth. Soft and tender, then hard.

"If love be rough with you…" she thought she heard him murmur.

"You be rough with love." He said it loud this time, and her heart started beating faster. It was throwing itself against her ribcage.

Maybe it was excited at the prospect of Jareth as Sarah's – she could barely edge the word out, even mentally – lover.

Or maybe, her eyes hardened, it recognized that it was about to be caged, and was making one last mad dash for freedom.

That's more like it, Sarah agreed. That option fit Jareth's intentions best.

Using great effort, she pushed with both palms on his upper thigh, and with a little resistant noise, he let her go.

Her eyes closed.

Alice had to draw the line somewhere.

Sarah turned around.

And just speaking of Wonderland…

Jareth was lying on a blue blanket, faintly shimmering (it couldn't be helped), one leg pulled up, a pale hand resting on that knee. His golden hear glimmered from the lights of a dozen candles floating above him. Sarah found suddenly that she was outside underneath the stars, alone with a creature looking at her for all the world like she was food. Delicious food. Multi-tiered, decadent, heavily frosted cake even. And he was the starving man.

That smile on his face sent shivers crawling down her spine. It reminded her of jungles, of Vikings, and of things that went bump in the night.

Damn, Sarah thought, as she looked at the steaming meal, wine bottle, and rolling snow-capped mountain scenery surrounding them. He was trying to romance her. The very thought! If he believed that a pretty picnic would purchase her love, he had another thing coming.

"Sit," he gestured to the space across him with long, spindly fingers.

Sarah kept her gaze steady as she strolled across the downy grass and lowered herself to the blanket, making it perfectly clear that she was doing this of her own volition, treating his order as if it were a question. She also noticed that her towel had been replaced by a simple dress that was surprisingly easy to move in.

"This," she admitted, as he poured her a sparkling flute of wine, "is unexpected."

Then again, it was the Goblin King. Fae, as he said.

"You'll find I can be quite cordial."

"Ah," said Sarah, "I see. You kick goblins around out of the kindness of your heart."

She dared a glance at him, only to find his eyes six shades darker in contemptible rage.

He briskly handed her a champagne glass, before looking away and trying to control his patience.

Sarah had an odd urge to test it to its limits.

The concept was tempting.

Nigh, irresistible.

She forked a spear of some green, planty thing, before raising it almost to her lips. "What a fine king you make," she snorted.

In a move that put the lightning to shame, he grabbed the fork she was holding and threw it to the darkness, before standing above her. Gray tendrils in the sky seemed to arch toward his towering figure, and swarm over his white skin like vines. Sparks caught his outline in Sun-like splendor. Mismatched eyes flashed.

"I am the host. You are the gracious guest. And you, my dear, would do well to play your part."

Jareth sat once more. The gray vines and glowing thread retreating back to the heavens.

He offered her a different plate, this time, with some sort of broiled meat on it.

Sarah closed her mouth and blinked the terrified awe from her expression, before composing herself. She arched her eyebrows and arranged a lock of ebony hair in front of her shoulder. "Showoff."

"Hungry?" he asked, cool as a cucumber.

"Yes, please," Sarah answered, "but your majesty?" she couldn't help the teasing tone that invaded her voice on the last two words.

"Yes, sweet?"

"I have no fork."

The barest hint of a smirk rested in the corner of her lips. Jareth's contracted in a tight line.

What a temper!

His fingers circled the air for a moment before presenting their handiwork to Sarah.

"Um, Jareth," she said, glancing at the object, "that's a butcher knife."

His eyes flicked to the knife to confirm its identity. Quickly, he rotated it, and the knife became a harmless fork.

"Freudian slip, perhaps?" he teased.

Sarah took the fork with ample hesitation, as though at any moment it might turn back into a knife and impale her. What she didn't know was that the fork was looking at her with similar apprehensions. It didn't know where her mouth had been. It was a magical fork after all, and smart too, as far as silverware went.

Jareth eyed her over the top of his glass. "The only thing that might possibly bite you here is me."

"I bite back," she warned, promptly plunging her cringing fork into the food.

"I'm counting on it."

They ate and spoke in insults disguised as pleasantries for some time. The fork grew used to its job. And far above them, the stars shifted in their eternal rounds.

Finally, when a polite portion of the food had been consumed, Jareth pulled a crystal from nothingness and presented it to Sarah.

Sarah, being the intelligent learn-from-previous-mistakes girl she was, declined to take it from him.

All a trick, she chanted to herself, so as not to fall into the silky web of his charm.

"A gift," he quoted, the starving man smirk back in its familiar place.

"No," said Sarah. "A gift is tube socks. A gift is a laptop computer. A gift is a new car. That, Jareth, is not a gift."

"Trinkets," he scoffed. "This is much better. You won't ask for a refund, I promise."

Never take candy from a stranger...

"Yes, well," she said, still eyeing it doubtfully, "I'm more worried about surviving actually. I haven't had the best experiences with your gifts."

His grin fell. "Maybe that has something to do with the fact that you deny them."

"Maybe if you presented yourself in a more trustworthy fashion, I wouldn't." Their stares met, charged with the resolve of twin wills, equally stubborn. They certainly kept each other on their toes.

Something clicked, some wheels and cogs cranking together, inside of his eyes that moment. "Trustworthy…" he muttered, before he tossed the crystal up. It sprouted green leaves, and a red bud when it landed in his palm once again, petals slowly unfurling. "It was only a rose."

Sarah eyed the flower doubtfully. "Nothing here seems to be 'only' anything."

You taught me that.

Jareth chuckled deep in his throat. "Too true," he said, before laying the rose on the grass beside the blanket and watching it shoot roots into the ground. Green twirled up and out, until a full-fledged rose bush emerged, blossoms glowing with a rich, pure scarlet hue in the candlelight. "You said you wanted to trust me." He was looking at her now.

She tilted her head, bearing the suspicious demeanor that had never really left in the first place.

"Well then," Jareth held out his hand, "Come."

Sarah ignored his hand, and pushed herself up off the ground by herself. The Goblin King rolled his eyes, before proceeding to pluck the little glass candles from the air. They weren't so much floating in it, Sarah was fascinated to notice, as set into it. It was as if he had carved the nothingness, the atoms of whatever gases swarmed in the atmosphere here, into a dozen shelves, and placed the candles on them. It was like carpentry, but with the sky.

She saw how the air contracted when he took each one out.

And now that she really had a good look, she noticed that the candles weren't candles at all. They were little translucent jars, and as Jareth flipped the lid on each one, the small beam of light contained inside zipped upward toward the heavens. A meteor shower, but in reverse.

"Where are they going?"

"Back to their stars," he answered nonchalantly, as if explaining simple math to a child.

"You can capture starlight?"

He turned, obviously quite pleased by the impressed tone of her voice. "Of course. You see, magic isn't so much about creating something out of nothing, as it is about knowing how to work with what's already there."

Sarah mused on this for a minute. She had never considered that something as exotic as magic could have physics and laws. It was a new concept to wrap her head around. Jareth watched her out of the corner of his eye.

After he had sent the last light home, and vanished any remnants of their picnic, Sarah and Jareth were left alone in the semi-dark, beside the rose bush.

"Shall we?" he asked, extending his hand once more.

Trap, the more logical side of her mind was screaming.

Slowly, with deliberate anticipation, she put her slender fingers in his. He wrapped his hand around hers, and they lurched, through the colors and the mayhem.

When they arrived at their destination, Sarah lurched towards him, ending up against his chest and using his shoulders to scramble and regain balance on slippery rocks.

With more tenderness than she had expected, he righted her, keeping a steady grip on her forearms lest gravity decided to have another go at her mortal form.

"I'm fine," she assured.

God, even here I say it!

"You're welcome." But the inflection in his voice suggested otherwise.

Sarah looked around her now. Immediately, she noted that they were in some sort of cavern or grotto. It was gigantic, a magnificent stone cathedral, and before her feet yawned a small lake. It was filled to the brim with a luminous substance. As it was the stereotype Sarah had attached to all magical objects, she was surprised it didn't glitter.

It simply had a sheen. It was a liquid, seemingly made of white gold. It was lapping just before her toes. The pearly waters sent motes and ripples of white light dancing on the vast dome ceiling.

Sarah's mouth hung open, and she found she could not look away. Not even her iron will allowed that.

"It's quite something, isn't it," mused Jareth. "We call it the Quarry. It's essentially why the Fae may do magic. The Quarry is the source of everything I conjure. The fork you dined with, my crystals, the rose you refused. It's underground, nearly impossible to find for any not of my race, and it is a capital offense bringing any human here." He chanced a glance at her out of the corner of his eye. "But I've never been much for rules."

When she spoke, it was in tones of hushed reverence. "What is it?"

The Goblin King shrugged. "Dreams, imagination, creativity, memory, time… Everything that exists, but cannot be seen."

Before her eyes, the fluid substance transformed, becoming compact and solid. It phased into granules of a shining sand so fine, it looked like silk. The grains packed together into a dune. Sarah took a step closer. How she longed to just dive in.

"You said you wanted to trust me," Jareth said. "Dip your hands in this and you will be my equal. Temporarily, you can command it to do your bidding." He gestured to the a short flight of slimy rock stairs beside him.

Sarah heard his words, but barely recognized their importance. She began to lean.

Fiercely, his hand shot out and caught her, whipping her around. "Should've known it would like you," he huffed. "Everybody likes you."

"Huh?" she said dreamily.

Jareth leaned forward and brushed his lips against her forehead. Her eyes lowered for just a moment, but then she shot to cognizance.

"Did you hear what I said?"

Oh, wasn't he just smug now.

Sarah nodded, immensely surprised at the deed he was doing. Offering up equality on a silver platter? Oh, but payback did sound so sweet. Her mind was whirling with visions of it.

Still, the voice at the back of her mind – trap. She narrowed her eyes.

Jareth simply looked exasperated. "Sarah, not even I could conjure up something like this. I give you my word as a gentleman."

"But you're not a gentleman."

"Mmmm," he pondered, "not entirely. But enough."

Sarah could tell he was keeping something hidden, locking away some closely guarded secret he didn't want her to know. Mismatched eyes were simmering.

She was surprised to find that she believed him, wholeheartedly in fact, or was her reason for turning and walking down the steps based on her desire to touch the white gold stuff.

She was transfixed again when she noticed that it was glowing now, bright as the captured starlight. The substance seemed to change forms rapidly.

Sarah kneeled down to the surface when she reached the bottom ledge, enchanted by its evermoving beauty. She thought she could see things in it now. Colors occasionally, and glimpses of stunning landscapes. It also hummed, ever so slightly, in a lulling melody. It was nearly like a lullaby, but it too transformed, picking up pace and quarter notes to become staccato and cheery, before mellowing again. Sarah stretched out both her palms to the edge of what was now caught somewhere between a liquid and a vapor.

They came closer and closer. She felt her whole body leaning with them, and realized that she was going to fall in.

I wouldn't mind. It couldn't be so bad…

Jareth, however, wrapped strong arms around her torso and halted her tumble.

"Touch it," he whispered, breath hot in her ear. "But only touch. If you fall, it will consume you."

Sarah obediently placed just the palms of her hands to the white gold (now) mist, before drawing them back quickly. Bolts, seemingly of electricity, ricocheted through her body as Jareth pulled her up and away from the Quarry, finally catapulting them back to his throne room, wondering all the while if this had been such a bright idea.

She felt… awake. As if she had been sleeping until now.

Jareth knew this as he looked at her. To mortals, the Quarry became an drug. It was why humans were forbidden. If she wasn't to forget about this entire affair, he would have never dreamed to take her.

Sarah flexed her hands, and noticed that she could feel the air around her like it was clay, or water. She could push it out of the way if she wanted to, or mold it. Or, if her wishes suited, she could simply move through it. The feeling was glorious.

Something was vibrating the ground under her feet, a steady thrumming that was, she speculated, the heart of the Labyrinth. It was so strong and unexpectedly alive.

Everything looked sharper and more vivid, like focusing a camera she wasn't aware was ever unfocused to begin with.

Sarah gasped.

"Don't get too used to it," he reminded.

She smirked, and pushed the malleable air up against him in a wave with the intent to knock him off his feet. Jareth simply flicked the wave out of his way, before sending another blast her way. It hit her square in the chest and propelled her back to the wall. Before she knew it, she was shackled there.

Jareth, with a coolness she hated, strutted to his throne and sat in it, conjuring a goblet and taking smooth sips.

"Lesson one," he said, arrogance brimming from his every pore, "Escape."

Asshole.

"Jareth, I'm gonna…" her voice was suddenly muffled by a piece of fabric gagging her mouth. He laughed as she struggled. She continued cursing his name for a few minutes, before giving up and trying to figure out a way to get unshackled.

She first tried closing her eyes and simply willing the cuffs away. But that didn't work.

Jareth shooks his head in his throne. "Mortals think magic is so easy. You'll have to be more creative than that."

Sarah glared at him. Her first order of business was to get the damn piece of fabric out of her mouth. She had a few choice words for the bastard.

"You know," spoke the bastard, "you look quite lovely in this position. Very agreeable."

She ignored him, and thought harder.

She imagined that she could use light to cut through the metal, much like a welder would. If only she could figure out how he had contained the stars. She opened a hand and focused on gathering the light to her.

It was different, floating to her hand more willingly than even the air, and it was easier to hold. It started to grow hot in her hand. She quickly rolled it over the top of her fingers – much as she'd seen Jareth do with his crystals once – and watched as it infused into the metal. She gathered and rolled more light to it, until little glowing fissures appeared, and the shackle shattered. Immediately, she snatched the gag out of her mouth and worked on unbinding her other wrist and ankles.

The Goblin King clapped his hands. "Impressive. Although you must be banking on your captor being slow as a turtle."

Free at last, she pivoted towards him. Her eyes shot daggers.

"I say again, you mortals think it so easy."

"I did it though," Sarah said. "I passed."

With her foot, Sarah rolled the air around into a sphere and kicked it. It shot straight at Jareth, much faster this time, and since he hadn't noticed her making it, collided with his shoulder. Unfortunately, Sarah was not very experienced, and he was only barely nudged. He appeared shell-shocked.

Sarah smiled.

"Better," he approved. "Much better."

Suddenly, the stones around her started collapsing, falling into a black abyss dark as pitch. They started at the corners of the room and, bypassing Jareth's throne, caved in toward her.

"If you throw me a rope," he called, studying the back of his hand, "I might catch it."

Is he out of his fucking mind?

The hole grew bigger, and her solid donut hole in the middle smaller as the stone bits crumpled off.

Sarah felt the air around her, felt it and squeezed it. She imagined that she was in third grade again, making a rope out of Play-doh. And that's what she did. She rolled the air, compressed it tightly, and then moved on to another section.

Her invisible cord wasn't nearly strong enough to take her weight though. She needed to give it substance. She needed to infuse it with that white-gold slivery stuff. Sarah closed her eyes and gripped one end of the cord. She ran her hand down its length, imagining all the while that it was becoming a strong and heavily braided rope. When she looked, she was surprised to note that it had worked, and horrified to note that she was standing on a mere square foot of solid rock.

Desperately, she tossed one end of the rope to Jareth. He caught it without looking up. "Jump."

She did, and landed, unhappy and puffing on the stone floor. She stared below her. The ground still looked open. She should be plummeting to her death now, but it was solid. Suddenly, the hole appeared to close up.

"An illusion, sweet" Jareth explained, laughing above her. He kneeled down to her level and pushed one lock of hair behind her ear. "I would never hurt you… much."

Sarah slapped his hand away and stood up. She had expected this magical powers deal to be quite a less bit taxing. If it weren't for the sensation of every cell in her body nearly searing with life and power, she would almost say it wasn't worth it. "Careful Goblin King," she said. "I'm a quick learner."

a/n: it's an awkward place to leave off, I know. And I didn't mean it to be that way. I have lots more I want to say, but no time to type it, so… Hope you enjoyed. This is a long one, as promise. Not as long as I had hoped, but that's okay I guess. Read and review please. Everything helps. I'm looking for my muffin, Fabricated Revolution