Chapter Seven: Two Souls Divided

Sarah had fallen asleep at her window seat by the time he arrived. She was adorable with her arms curled around her knees, her side pressed up against the cold glass. Jareth carefully brushed his hand over her cheek, curiously moved by how small, how utterly vulnerable she looked. Moonlight spilled through the window to bathe her in a silvery glow, making her appear just as ethereal as he. Yet there was an inherent fragility there, her mortality undeniable.

Something within his chest tightened and roared to life. He had felt this way before: when he had seen her for the first time as a babe. It was the overwhelming need to protect, to possess, to know that she was safely folded within his powers where no harm could come to her.

He could easily ensure it... But at what cost?

Jareth was well aware that it was dangerous to romance her. He would not be able to stop until he had secured her affections; he knew that in the last nineteen years she had become a terrible addiction for him, and to continue watching her from afar was no longer an option. Not if he valued his sanity. But there would be problems with taking her Underground.

She had to come willingly or not at all. For now, her cooperation was assured through her debt, but after that he would not be able bring her to his kingdom unless she allowed it. Sarah was a stubborn creature, and she would fight him at every turn.

Jareth's eyes narrowed on her face, realizing that he would have to be temptation incarnate in order to convince her to leave her friends and family. He was not completely heartless, she would always be allowed to visit them, but it would be a large concession on her part, nonetheless.

It was the thought of her mortality that plagued him, though. Continuous exposure to the magic within his realm would change her, but he wasn't exactly sure how such changes would manifest. She had a great deal of latent power for a human, else she never would have been able to call him, and the power of his realm would latch onto her and rapidly coax more of that magic to the surface. However, there was no guarantee that it would have any effect on her lifespan. With some studying it was possible that he could sustain her life indefinitely, especially with his hold over the element of time, but that was an option that should only be considered after he was able to see what changes were wrought in her.

The real danger was that all manifestations would develop quickly and permanently. If Sarah refused to enter his kingdom after her thirteen hours had been spent, she would soon fall ill and wither without any magic to support her new nature. Letting her die was simply not an option. He would breech whatever code he had to, break whatever laws stood in his way, even kill if it was necessary, because nothing was going to stand between them if her life was in jeopardy, not even Sarah herself.

"You do such terrible things to me, dearest," he murmured while watching her shift in her sleep. "I have not felt so emotionally violent since the creation of my Labyrinth. Why do you torment me, Sarah? Why am I the one you summon?"

Her shoulders twitched, as if to shrug at his questions.

"No," he laughed humorlessly, "I doubt you know either. I've watched you your whole life and cannot answer those questions. You confound me, and yet I remain bewitched. A mortal should not be able to enchant an Immortal King, dear one; it is unnatural," he whispered fiercely, studying her as she began to awaken.

Sarah cursed herself for falling asleep at the window. Her neck was stiff, the muscles knotted tightly. Whatever had woken her was godsend; she didn't even want to imagine how sore she would have been had she slept there the whole night.

Lazily, Sarah opened her eyes. Her little seat was caught in a pool of starlight, the room beyond looking dark and uninviting. She stifled a shriek into her hand; something to her side had glided through the shadows.

There, in the blackness that had descended upon her bedroom, were two eyes: twin icy points of inhuman light gazing at her in frightening scrutiny. There was something cold and desperate in that gaze, something incomprehensible and not the least bit crazed. But, as if hearing her thoughts, the eyes blinked and hid their fierceness behind a glaze of humor. Jareth stepped into her puddle of moonlight, arrogance and amusement trailing him like a cloak, but his typical demeanor could not erase the raw emotion she had just glimpsed.

It took Sarah a few moments to realize that his demeanor was not as typical as she had first assumed. From less than a foot away, Jareth looked... weary. It was there in the tightness of his face, in the stiff way he held himself. The fine laugh lines around his eyes conveyed an exhaustion she never would have credited him with had she not witnessed it herself. And yet there was a fever brightness to his eyes, a twitch to his fingers that suggested he was too keyed up to rest. It was strangely human of him. She couldn't think of a time he had ever looked so vulnerable, not even when she had unwittingly rejected him.

Jareth smirked at her slow study and gave her a mocking bow.

"I don't trust you," she stated simply, trying to ignore that even in his playfulness he seemed tired.

"I should hope not," he smiled, but the gesture never reached his eyes. "It would take all the fun out of our relationship if you were the least bit complacent."

Sarah peered through the darkness. She could barely make out the small shape of the hourglass, but the tiny grains of sand seemed to be pouring out at a sluggish pace. Turning back to Jareth, she narrowed her eyes and asked, "What do you want?"

"So distrusting," he observed bitterly.

"I have every reason to be," she reminded him. "You've done nothing to prove that I'm safe in your company."

Jareth ignored the accusation or, more likely, could say nothing to refute it. "I thought we could start out with something simple. A walk; that shouldn't be terribly difficult for either of us." He held out a gloved hand to her in offering.

"A walk?" she repeated dumbly and he nodded, hand still held aloft expectantly. Sarah blinked. Was he insane? "If I had you at my mercy, I'd have something a lot more sinister planned than a walk. How exactly is mild exercise considered revenge?" She frowned at him. "You're just incapable of doing anything expected, aren't you?"

His smile froze and became brittle around the edges. "Let's not prod at that sore point, Sarah. Neither of us can ever win that argument."

"Why a walk?"

Jareth raise an eyebrow, "Did it ever occur to you that I might simply be lonely?"

"I can't afford to see you as approachable," Sarah replied hotly. "You taught me to always be on guard."

"And I pay for that mistake every second we are together."

She tried to ignore the hopelessness in his response, the desolation in his eyes. Jareth was spirited and larger than life. How could he be lonely? He could be acting, of course, but the vulnerability she glimpsed in him seemed too brittle, too raw to be faked. And, despite all odds, the thought that he was lonesome melted her cold heart a little.

She caved in. "Where?"

"A place no mortal has ever trod," he answered vaguely. At her unimpressed look he added sincerely, "It is somewhere I often go to relax."

Her curiosity piqued at the prospect of learning what sort of place Jareth would choose to haunt. With a silent prayer, she finally took the proffered hand. His grip was cool and firm, and the moment they made contact her orderly, mundane room melted away to reveal a new world.

It was Nature as Sarah never could have imagined it: wild and dark, dangerous and beautiful, untouched by the march of time and industry. The moon shone down on an ancient forest, silvering trees taller than she'd ever thought possible. Here and there along the unpaved trail before them were luminescent flowers, glowing gently through the darkness. But in that darkness creatures moved, unseen things that lurked and waited for an unwary soul.

The two of them began to walk down the path at a leisurely pace, and Sarah found herself staying close to Jareth's side. The forest was enchanting but a little unsettling and, for as much as she didn't trust the Goblin King, she knew somehow that he would protect her from the hungry eyes that followed their progress.

Sarah walked beside him, enchanted if a little wary, but that was all right because the enchantment was definitely winning out. At her expression of awe, he couldn't help but feel a little proud of himself.

"What is this place?" She whispered, as though afraid to disturb the inherent tranquility.

"K'shent Mier," Jareth replied with great pride. When she looked at him confusedly, he elaborated, "It is an unspeakably ancient place, once part of your world. Underground, it is the seat of my power."

Sarah furrowed her brow and looked around. "You rule from the middle of a forest?"

He laughed and linked arms with her, steering her away from where the path became rough. "There is a city in the center; this forest protects it."

"Protects it from what? Enemies of the Labyrinth?" Sarah frowned, her fingers curling on his arm as she thought. Jareth savored the contact, hoping it meant that she was becoming more at ease with his presence. "Wait, this is the seat of your power? You don't rule from the Goblin Castle?" Understanding began to dawn in her eyes. "You're more than just the Goblin King, aren't you?"

He nodded. "Many regions are directly governed by the local nobility, but they all defer to me. The Underground is my kingdom." And already, thoughts of that troublesome kingdom were intruding upon this interlude. If their arms hadn't been linked he would have been rubbing his temples at the thought of tomorrow's Court session.

"Wow," Sarah paused. "And I thought just controlling the Labyrinth would be tough."

Jareth shook his head, "The Labyrinth and I are of one mind, there is no need to control it." Sighing, he added, "The rest of the kingdom, however, requires a much firmer hand."

She puzzled over that for a minute. "You're reluctant to get involved?"

"It's... complicated," he shrugged, studying her. It was refreshing to see that she was genuinely interested in his answer. "Immortal society has ever moved in circles, and the only way to keep it from collapsing in on itself is periodic intervention from the monarchy. In this case, me."

He turned his gaze heavenward, searching for the moon and the stars through the thick canopy of the trees. Arrogant as he was, he found it difficult to talk about himself in this way. Few understood the effect that being the King had on him, and it bothered him to think Sarah might not feel enough compassion to even try. "Not many can appreciate what it means to rule. Every day in this interminably long life, I awaken knowing that without my guiding hand everything would speed toward chaos. That is my reality." He finally gave in to temptation, running his free hand over his face. "I have been keeping my people safe from anarchy for centuries, and on occasion it tires me beyond all comprehension."

She came to a stop and turned to face him. "Then why be king at all?"

Jareth met her dark gaze, keenly aware of the distance his birthright put between him and all others. "There was no choice in the matter," he answered. "My father was King before me and I am his heir. I had to take the throne. In my younger years I toyed with the thought of abdicating, but then what purpose would I serve? I was raised to be a king; it does not matter if I enjoy the job."

Sarah was quiet for a long while after that, allowing her companion to lead her through the twisting forest.

She felt, perhaps, the slightest bit humbled by what she had just learned. It had never crossed her mind that Jareth could rule over more than just the Labyrinth. True, she hadn't known him for very long, but this weary regal figure seemed so at odds with the cunning Goblin King she had met. What sacrifices had he made, been forced to make in the name of duty? It made her life seem so simple in comparison. And how terrible, she thought, how maddening it must be to have so much expected of him just because of who his father was.

This wasn't at all like the fairytale kings she had learned about in stories, she realized; this was real government, a real kingdom that he was sworn to protect. And he ran the Labyrinth on top of that, she thought in amazement. Even with his power over time, she imagined that he struggled to complete all his duties. And it had to be painful, in some way, to rule when he so clearly didn't want to. Did that make him a bitter tyrant, or was he a just king?

Questions began to swirl around her head, and in a moment of astounding clarity Sarah realized that she knew nothing about him. The man standing beside her was a stranger. She knew he could be shrewd and cruel, but now he spoke of honor and responsibility and it didn't fit in with what she had thought she'd known. Who was Jareth?

The silence stretched on as they continued to walk. Her thoughts chased themselves in circles, and she was going to have to stop thinking about it or she would go mad. But without her thoughts, the silence was unnerving. Jareth, for his part, seemed content just to stroll along with her, so she would have to start the conversation back up herself.

Sarah glanced at him for a moment and was once again struck with how different he suddenly seemed. "Are you lonely?" she asked, suddenly remembering his words from earlier.

Jareth studied her, a sad smile curling his lips. "More than I can bear, sometimes." His arm flexed under her fingers. "Other times, I have all the company I could ever desire."

"I was lonely, after my mother left. I thought I'd never be happy again, so I can sympathize." She swallowed at the uncomfortable emotions her confession brought up. "But there is a distance between us, Jareth; there always has been."

"I am only asking that we attempt to bridge it."

The question burst from her lips before she could stop it. "Why?"

He stopped walking and drew her close, frowning down at her as something altogether bleak and miserable danced through his eyes. "Is it really so hard for you to believe that I am merely desirous of your company? That I see something in you worth pursuing?"

"I don't understand you," she explained. "I have nothing to go off of but what I know of you and, increasingly, I'm finding out that it's nothing at all. I have to question your motivations because you don't go out of your way to explain yourself, and if I don't know what your intentions are, then I can't trust you. Especially when I know that you won't think twice about threatening my loved ones in order to get your way."

"I am not used to having to make myself plain," he admitted, "and, even if I were, it is in my nature to be ruthless and duplicitous. I cannot change that about myself; it is who I am. Nevertheless, I will try to make myself as clear as possible." He waited for her nod before continuing. "Our lives are intertwined, Sarah. They have been for some time, and I ask only that you allow us the opportunity to discover why."

"Intertwined?"

"Indeed," he confirmed, but did not answer the inherent question. Instead, Jareth took her hand from his arm and gently brushed his lips over her knuckles.

Sarah had all of a second to be shocked at his gentle touch before he and the forest disappeared, her bedroom swimming back into reality.

Alone with her thoughts, she pondered for a minute, trying to ignore how her fingers still tingled. She hadn't expected him to... She'd known, of course, that Jareth held some sort of affection for her, but she hadn't really expected him to act on it. The gesture was thoroughly antiquated, and yet somehow endearing. In truth, she'd actually enjoyed their hour or two together.

Sarah was just beginning to think that perhaps their relationship was turning a new leaf when she noticed that much less than a thirteenth of the sand had filtered through the hourglass.

As she laid awake in bed that night, she couldn't help but be angry. Was this some sort of trick? She'd been stupid enough to sympathize with Jareth, perhaps had even started to like him a little, and already he had betrayed that. Could nothing be simple where he was concerned?

Sarah knew she had nodded off at some point, so it wasn't much of a surprise when she opened her eyes to discover herself in, not her own room, but his study. She hadn't been given the peace of her own dreams for a over a week now, so it seemed unlikely that she would start receiving peace any time soon.

What she wasn't expecting was for Jareth not to be present. The study was cold and dark, the fireplace empty as though it knew its master was gone. The silence was unnerving, but not absolute. Someone else was in room with her.

"Hello?" Sarah called. When no answer greeted her, she rubbed her tired eyes and murmured, "My life has become a never-ending nightmare." The last thing she remembered was going to bed with angry and confused feelings toward the Goblin King. "I should smash that stupid hourglass, then maybe things would go back to normal."

"I doubt he would take kindly to that." A shadow flitted out of the deeper darkness of the room. It was not the Shadow-Man she had encountered before; the newcomer sounded younger, appeared smaller.

She chewed at her lip, unsure whether to trust this new shadow. Not that she'd trusted the old one, but at least he'd had the element of familiarity. "Who are you?" she finally asked.

"My name is Hadrian," he replied, a smile clear in his voice. "I am the heir apparent until Jareth manages to father some children of his own."

"What do you want?"

The Shadow-Boy seemed to struggle to find the right words. "I owe Jareth a great deal. He has given me more than I can ever hope to repay." Hadrian paused, taking a deep breath. "It is for his sake that I give you this warning."

"A warning?" Sarah echoed. She had a fairly clear idea what sort of thing the King's ward might say to her. "Let me guess... You want me to stay away from him because, as a mortal, I am in no way his equal?"

"I would never presume to insult you in such a way, being human myself, and there is no question that you are his equal. Even if you hadn't proven yourself, in choosing you he made you his equal." He seemed to stare at her necklace for a moment, though it was hard to tell when he had no distinct features. "No, I am here to help. I want you to understand that what I am about to tell you must not be taken lightly. This is a delicate matter."

She nodded, wondering where this could possibly be going.

"What do you know of the creation of the Labyrinth?"

"Nothing," she answered. "I suppose I thought the land had just always been that way."

Hadrian shook his head. "Jareth created the Labyrinth in a fit of rage. He poured all of his magic and cunning into it. So much so, that he never really got all of himself back. Do you understand?"

"I don't think so, no."

"Jareth is more fragile than anyone realizes," the boy sighed. "He is an incomplete man, and I fear it would not take much to break him entirely."

"I don't want to hurt him," Sarah replied seriously, "but I have to look out for myself, too."

"I appreciate that your position is difficult, my lady," Hadrian soothed. "I ask only that you tread carefully, for the sake of the kingdom if not Jareth."

There was so much wrong with that statement, so much she didn't fully understand. "Yes, but," she began, only Hadrian's shadow had already gone. The room was empty, save her.

Time management was not precisely one of Jareth's skills. Why bother when he could simply rearrange time to suit his needs? Yet even he could not be in two places at once, and he would need to be if his new plan for Sarah had any hope of working.

Jareth paced his sitting room, mulling his thoughts over. Karen had presented him with an opportunity for more steady, constant contact with Sarah. He needed that sort of interaction with the girl if he was to have any hope of softening her to his suit. Yet at the same time, he was honor-bound to attend Court, which was far less stimulating but infinitely more necessary. When he looked at it though, his business with Sarah was deadly serious in its own right. They were both sensitive issues that required attention. So how could he attend to both at the same time?

An idea struck him, an awful, cringe-worthy idea that would make everyone furious if they found out. But that was one of the few perks of being King—even if the entire Court collectively caught on to his lie, no one could call him on it.

Carefully, Jareth sought out the wild side of his thoughts, the side that was drunk on magic and revenge, the side that was of one mind with The Labyrinth. And, as always, The Labyrinth responded to Jareth's call, its dark strength eager to be of use.

For a moment, Sarah expected to suddenly find herself speeding toward consciousness, but it seemed this particular dream was not yet over.

Hadrian's Shadow had gone, leaving Jareth's study empty and ominous. Along the far wall, the cold grate in the fireplace gave a flicker, as though considering whether to spring to life. Her heart leapt in response, wondering if this meant Jareth was approaching. Not having the energy to face him or, frankly, the desire, she darted through the open door.

The hallway beyond the study was wide and tall. Walls of polished green stone rose up around her, fading into the shadows of the rafters. Sarah took an uneasy look down either end of the corridor. One way seemed to stretch on forever before bending off out of sight, and the other way connected to a wealth of stairwells leading in all different directions. Not quite as confusing as the Escher Room though, she decided, but complicated nonetheless.

With her back still to the study, she tried to figure out which way presented the lesser of two evils. Feeling that she had seen enough staircases in Jareth's kingdom to last her a lifetime, Sarah began marching down the longer end of the hallway. With every step, she silently willed herself to wake up. Not that the corridor was a terrible experience—there were bright torches along the walls to keep the atmosphere content and warm—it was just that she had no idea why she was still in the dream.

And what exactly were these dreams, anyway? It wasn't like when she was with Jareth at all—in these dreams she only ever saw the shadow of people. And who were these shadows? Hadrian had introduced himself, but what of the Other? Were the pair of them always shadows or were they hiding themselves from her for some reason?

Sarah walked blindly as she was lost in thought, her bare feet quietly slapping against the floor. It was amazingly warm for stone, but she hardly noticed that when her mind was running in circles. Thus occupied, she was barely aware of turning the sharp corner she had seen from the study.

A short flight of stairs greeted her unexpectedly and she tumbled down them with a shriek. She came to a thudding stop at the bottom, cursing loudly.

Someone off to her side chuckled at her misfortune. Angrily, she whipped her head around, ready to give them the tongue-lashing of their lives, but no one was there.

A sharp pain shot up from her hand, and with a groan of frustration Sarah realized her palm was bleeding. It figured, somehow, that there would still be pain in this stupid dream.

The chuckling stopped abruptly, the Shadow-Man stepping into view. He was different from before; he had form now, no longer a shadow cast on the wall, but some sort of dark wraith instead. "You're hurt," he observed, crouching down to look at her hand.

Sarah swallowed her sudden nerves. She knew this was the Shadow-Man, but the differences in him were astounding; his appearance wasn't the only thing that had changed. In her previous dreams, he had always been flippant and vaguely amused but now he was dark and angry, his presence oppressive.

"It's nothing," she finally replied, "just a little cut."

He made a sound, something between an angry rumble and a long-suffering sigh, and lifted her hand for inspection. His grip was strong as steel yet oddly gentle, as though terrified of hurting her further.

It was disconcerting to see the corporeal shadow holding her hand, to feel the nothingness that was definitely something carefully cradle her injured limb. Sarah had never truly been scared of the Shadow-Man before, but in this moment she felt the danger rolling off him in angry waves.

A small drop of blood trickled down her forearm and fell to the floor. In a flash, the hallway was plunged into coldness, ice coating the walls while frost crept through the cracks between stones. If she hadn't been terrified by this reaction, she would have had the good sense to shiver.

The Shadow-Man gently but inexorably pulled her forward. Panicked at the thought of being closer to all that cold rage, Sarah tried to jerk away. The corridor grew slightly more chilled in response but his grip did not loosen. "Don't be difficult," he said.

She knew that voice; she hadn't recognized it in previous dreams, but she hadn't remembered the Goblin King at that point either. It was his voice, dark and velvety. "Jareth?"

But he shook his head at her question, and she was too distracted to pursue it when her hand suddenly went numb. With sick fascination, she watched the skin of her palm knit itself closed, blood disappearing as though she had never been hurt.

The Shadow-Man caressed her wrist, his thumb sliding over the newly mended flesh. She felt a jolt at his touch; her healed hand was alive with sensation, feeling the simple caress stronger than she'd ever felt anything.

"You should be more careful," he chastised quietly, "for our sake, if not your own."

"Who are you?" Sarah demanded. "Who is this other you keep alluding to?"

He didn't answer. The Shadow-Man's touch turned absent-minded and his head cocked to the side as though listening to a voice only he could hear.

She pulled away from him without any resistance. He was distracted, she realized. "I have so many questions and no one ever answers me. I just want to know what's going on," she sighed.

Of course, that he heard. "You are caught in a tide," he replied, setting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Powerful in your own right and stronger every day, yet helpless to stop this chain of events." He paused, apparently thinking over her previous questions. "The other I refer to is Jareth, a male that I ask you not judge too harshly. He is not only in love but in obsession as well, and that makes him blind to the truth of what he does to you."

"And that makes it okay for him to not consider my feelings?" she asked hotly.

"No," the Shadow-Man replied, "but it gives you insight into why he doesn't."

"Who are you?"

His hand slipped from her as he drew away. "I am Jareth," he mused, "yet I am also not Jareth. We are no longer the same person, yet we are of one mind."

Sarah held onto his words, even as the dream around her began to give way to consciousness. She'd heard that last phrase before, hadn't she? But where?

A/N: Originally chapters sixteen and seventeen. A good deal of the content here has been changed, though most of the general plot is still the same.

Sorry for the delay on this chapter—final projects were a bit overwhelming. My writing traditionally slows down around holidays, but I'm working with a highly different process on this story so I'm still going to try updating once a week.

Please Review!

Disclaimer: Jareth and Sarah, et al, are the artistic property of Disney, Henson, Lucas, and Jones. No money is being made off this story.