Ch.3: In the Deeps

It became almost like a ritual for them - the blood on Sarah's hand or lip upon violent waking, the song without words with its sensual caress, and then the book held up like an offering between them. Jareth would murmur "My turn to read" or "My turn to listen", a silky demand that she remember her promise and reconnect with this reality here with him.

And she would obey, because she kept her promises and because the alternative reality her mind conjured for her was chaotic, shifting madness. Letting someone else's carefully crafted words anchor her thoughts was so much easier, so very, very peaceful - at least until her body's demands became too prominent to ignore, whether for food or sleep.

And let's be honest here - sex is on that list, noted her rational part. Don't kid yourself that sex with him isn't becoming an actual physical need. Moreso than food.

Not a bad need at all, trilled her sensual side. Quite fabulous, actually. Especially since food in general just seems to suck lately. And sex is frickin' amazing.

We really need to have that little chat with him about incubus characteristics, noted her rational side. But more to the point, it puts you under his control. Is that a good position to be in?

Perhaps not. But he needs me, too. That much I know. Or else he wouldn't be here.

But she knew that things were slowly worsening, despite his ministrations. Though sleep was coming in slightly longer intervals, the first moments of waking were becoming increasingly savage. There was a sense of dwindling time, of sand running through some gargantuan hour glass somewhere. A susurration of sharp-edged poison seeped from the rotten fissure in her mind, a constant chittering undertone. You have done irrevocable evil. You are a murderer. You are unworthy. Wretched. Viiiiile.

Her rational part was struggling to be heard over the mental din. She knew that he saw it, that his efforts at redirecting her thoughts were increasing in direct response to it. And she also knew that it wasn't enough.

This point was made with brutal clarity the afternoon she was jerked to consciousness with the length of his body pressed on top of hers, his hands pinioning her wrists above her head, trickles of blood running down the sides of her face. Mismatched eyes regarded hers calmly as he kept her immobile, the subtle mental weave of the wordless melody shimmering away to silence.

"Are you with me now, Sarah?"

She blinked slowly at him, becoming aware of the sting of scratches around her eyes. "I'm here. What..." She trailed off, faltering as realization crystallized and an icy numbness sank into her chest. "Tell me that I didn't just try to claw my eyes out in my sleep. Just... tell me that."

His voice was gentle as rain as he licked blood from along a scratch. "Do you want me to lie to you?"

A hoarse, brittle laugh choked her for a moment. "No, I suppose not. You'd take that as carte blanche to do it all the time, claiming I'd asked you to."

His answering laughter ran like warm honey along her skin. "That does sound like something I'd do."

She flexed her hands as the soothing familiarity of his presence worked its way into her mind, winnowing away the stone of numbness inside her. "Alright, now that I'm in my non-self-mutilating state of mind, can you let go of my wrists?"

"I could. Though how do I know for certain that you're no longer in that state of mind?"

A half-smile played along her lips. "Because if you don't let go, I'll be in a you-mutilating state of mind in a moment." She twisted beneath him, trying to slide out of his grasp.

A certain darkness slipped behind his eyes as his grip tightened, and his body became a cage around hers. "Tempting."

She looked at him for a heartbeat. "Right, you and the power games."

He leaned in to lick the line of another scratch with languid precision, his breath hot against her ear. "They're terribly exciting. I think that everyone will play them in the near future."

She blinked as her thoughts skidded. "You just riffed from The Princess Bride, didn't you?"

A subtle merriment shaded his voice as he bit along the flesh just below her ear, a low possessive growl rippling along her neck. "Perhaps I did."

She looked up at him, a true smile flickered briefly. "Do you know that I absolutely, completely, utterly adore you? Because I do."

"And I you." The raw hunger etched into the words was unmistakable.

"But we need to talk."

He became utterly still for a moment before drawing back to regard her, a careful casualness closing around him like armor even as his hands remained locked around her wrists.

She swallowed, feeling distinctly vulnerable. "This isn't working. It's getting worse. You know it's getting worse. This time it was scratching my eyes out. What will it be next time?"

A terrible, haunted look surfaced briefly in his eyes before the neutral mask slid back in place.

A shiver ran through her at the implications of that look, goading her to press on. "What if you're not in time to stop me next time? I can't just sleep in shackles and hope for the best."

His lips twitched in a puckish half-smile, a recognizable wolfish glow in his eyes.

"Stop that. I will not be sleeping in shackles."

"Such a pity. They would solve the most immediate issue."

"And make your power trippy heart soar with joy, I know. But seriously...distraction and general avoidance clearly aren't cutting it. I need to be doing something more proactive. Something to counteract this."

He arched an eyebrow, the brittle edge of dismissal in his voice. "Such as what exactly? Excessively generous, nice things to make up for it and assuage your guilt? You know precisely how that will turn out. That's what got you here in the first place."

She held his gaze, her voice threaded with rationality. "I'd have you to balance me."

The sound he made was perilously close to a snort, for all its velvety undertones. "I appreciate your confidence, but there are limits. Even for me."

Her chest tightened at that admission. "Fine - something more neutral then. Instead of just ignoring this, trying to bury it, I need to confront it somehow..." Her eyes drifted to their most recently completed book, Ender's Game. "Make amends of it."

His eyes tracked hers. "And how might you do that?"

She pursed her lips, musing. "I need to know who these people were, understand them...I don't know, maybe do what a Speaker for the Dead would do, to tell their stories for them. What they wanted, what their struggles were, who they loved and who loved them. Something like that."

He remained silent.

"You're skeptical, I take it."

When he finally spoke, his words were quiet with warning. "There's a very real possibility that immersing yourself in the details of who those people were may tip you over the razor edge you currently walk into a madness you can't wake up from. As dangerous as it is right now, that would be infinitely worse."

She looked at him closely. Understanding dawned suddenly. "You've seen this happen before."

He closed his eyes, a sigh escaping. "Yes."

"It doesn't have to happen that way, though, right?"

"It did for me."

Well, shit, gibbered her rational part. That doesn't bode well.

She swallowed, trying to imagine a Jareth mired in whorling madness, and the devastation that could be wrought in that state. "How did you wake up?"

"It turns out the Labyrinth has a sense of self-preservation. Push hard enough and you find it."

"How long did it take for you to push?"

"A very long time. I don't recommend it. Especially since you lack my recuperative abilities. As it was, it was quite some time before I was whole again."

She turned that over for a few moments, before asking quietly, "How did the Labyrinth manage to pull you out?"

"Other focuses. And enough time had passed that the memories didn't have the strength they once did."

"Ah. Hence your recommendation to me."

"Indeed. Tread with care down the path you're looking at. I guarantee I don't have the power myself to pull you out if you should fall."

She swallowed again, but noted his phrasing. "The Labyrinth does, though?"

"Perhaps." His lips thinned in contemplation. "No guarantees there either, so it's best not to have to find out."

She sighed, closing her eyes. "So that leaves us back where we started. What do you suggest I do, aside from sleeping in shackles?"

"I didn't say your plan of active redemption was without merit."

She opened one eye. "Seriously? After all that?"

"I wanted you to be aware of the dangers involved. 'Dangers untold' is profoundly apt."

"I see. If my wrists weren't currently pinned, I would smack you. Just so you know."

His trickster smile resurfaced. "Good thing said wrists are pinned, then. But you should feel free to try and extricate them to your heart's content."

A half-smile twinkled back up at him. "I'm sure that would be fun for everyone. But alright, so you're with me on Operation Speaker for the Dead?"

"For now. Until something better presents itself."

"Or if it seems like I'm about to permanently lose it."

"Or that."

She took a measured breath. "Well then, tally-fucking-ho it is."

He leaned in until his forehead touched hers. "You do have the most entertaining way of phrasing things."

"We aim to please." She writhed beneath him suddenly, throwing the strength of both arms against the confines of his hands in a way that caused the wickedness to flame in his eyes. "Now maybe we can get with that carnal focus you're so fond of prescribing in the meantime."

His teeth were darting and sharp along the curl of her ear. "As you wish."

Twenty four hours later, she was scouring the web on her tablet for more details of the dead tram riders, her bare feet draped comfortably across his lap. His fingers twined lazily through her toes as he leafed through The Nine Princes in Amber, hunting for the place where they had left off.

There were so many little nuggets of information she had managed to mine so far, hoarding them into caches of informational treasure. At first, it had just been the obituaries, and then came some video clips of the funerals, those little time slices of the people who had loved each and every person. And then through social media came the more intimate details of their daily lives - how they had spent their free time, what they had been passionate about, who had posted all the minutiae and who had been more circumspect... There were so many pieces to put together, like an ever-expanding puzzle for each one.

She was reading the last post of one girl who had been on the tram, and she smiled at the burbling torrent of excitement in it. Apparently, the girl had been asked out by a boy she had had a crush on for some time and had received notice that she had gotten a full scholarship to her first choice college, all in the same day. "'Most fantabulous day **ever**! I love my life!'"

Indeed. Right up until you plummeted to your death that afternoon. Bet that downgraded it some.

Sarah didn't even realize she had stopped breathing until a choking gasp broke out of her.

Jareth reached over to trace the line of a tear she hadn't felt fall, examining the liquid for a moment on his fingertip before tasting it. His voice slid along her skin, sinuous with warning. "And how is the guilt-polishing going? Have it mirror-bright yet?"

"That's right - needle the girl walking the line of madness." She moved her foot gently along the line of his thigh, feeling the lithe muscle beneath. "Seriously though, these reactions...I think they're getting more uncontrolled, not less."

"And you're surprised by this?" There was more than a touch of the sardonic in his voice, crackling through the silky undertones.

She sighed. "I guess I thought the intention to make amends would be worth more than it is."

His fingers lingered over the line of her arch, delicate touches in a familiar staccato rhythm. "The mind is a temperamental thing."

"By which you mean my subconscious is bitchier than I thought."

His lips quirked with amusement. "Quite."

"If you say 'I told you so', I may be inclined to violence."

"Is that supposed to be discouraging or encouraging?" He ran his nails lightly along the top of her foot.

She closed her eyes, a sour smile twisting her lips as more tears trickled out and she felt the first burn of a fatigue headache at the base of her skull. "You know, I'm not even sure at this point."

He reached to touch the new tears, his cool fingers deftly collecting them and bringing them to his lips. "I'd say uncertainty is the first step towards wisdom, but you might be inclined towards even more violence."

"Mostly because it's a sneakier way of saying 'I told you so'."

"It might be, at that." His attention flicked to the book as he thumbed through a few more pages, trying to find where they had left off.

She reached to touch his wrist, feeling the compounded damage in her body - the scratches on her cheeks, the bruises on her wrists and forearms and ankles from being restrained, the burning dryness in her eyes from weeping and fatigue, the bitten soreness of her tongue and lips, the latest gouges along her sternum above her heart and the accompanying ripped fingernails. "Jareth, I'm scared."

The full force of his gaze suddenly rested on her, his body held in that terrible, preternatural stillness.

"I'm losing it. Look at me." Despair hollowed her voice. "This plan isn't working and I'm fucking losing it."

Fluid motion returned to him in a breath and he captured the hand touching his, rubbing gently across the bitten knuckles. "I know."

Her breathing hitched at his admission, and her voice splintered. "Sweet god, what happens when I fall?"

"Don't fall, and you don't have to find out."

Wearied frustration snapped through her. "Right, because that's such a goddamned piece of cake?" She shook her head in disgust. "Fucking Faerie."

A wry smile glimmered back at her. "Perhaps not so easy here. But elsewhere? That's something worth considering."

She sat up, a tendril of hope whispering in her mind. "You think it'll be easier to control in the Labyrinth?"

"It bears consideration. You're important to the Labyrinth. And it has considerable power."

"More than you do, for instance?" Her eyes twinkled with a slight mischief.

A soft hiss escaped him. "That's right - needle the Faerie king trying to help you. Wretched girl."

She grinned back at him. "I'm learning from the best."

He smiled then, touching the corner of her mouth gently. "And there's the Sarah I know."

She raised an eyebrow. "Did you just manipulate me into feeling better?"

"Would I do that?"

She laughed softly. "I adore you, you horrid manipulative man."

"Mmm, that's 'horrid manipulative highness' to you." The shadow of a growl danced beneath the words.

She inclined her head as she ran the back of her hand affectionately down the line of his arm. "Alright, your horrid manipulative highness. With love, from the wretched girl."

Softness shimmered briefly in his eyes as he took her hand and began to gently bite along the wrist in the sensitive spot above the pulse point, just below the bruises. "And you are such a wretch, too."

She closed her eyes in pleasure, letting the other hand drift along his torso, walking down the line of his stomach. "You'd be bored otherwise." Her fingers found the particular spot that made him inhale in that delightful, startled way, just below the hard jut of the hip bone. "But okay, so the new plan is to get the Labyrinth to help neutralize the crap in my head since you and I can't do it on our own?"

"Exactly." He pushed her down to the couch in a sudden, liquid movement that left him stretched across her, one of her hands pressed above her head and the other buried between their bodies. "Also, I should note that the Labyrinth has many other things to recommend it. For one," his breath was hot in her ear, "there's a delightful little alcove on the west side of the outer wall. It has grass that is an absolute pleasure on bare skin."

She arched against him, savoring his quick intake of breath as she moved her fingers with familiar deftness and inhaled the winter bright scent of him. The first trickles of healing coolness began to pass between them, so recognizable now that she knew what to pay attention to. Her own breathing had begun to speed up in time with his. "As lovely as that sounds, let me just make sure I have things straight first: The plan is to get the ridiculously powerful third party Faerie realm to join operation Save-My-Ass while also making enjoyable use of said realm's environs?"

"Quite." He looked at her from inches away as their hips began to move in slow, delicious synchrony. "Said enjoyable usage of the environs has the added benefit of maintaining said realm's attention."

"Ah." She inhaled sharply, letting softer flesh take the place of her hand. "And why exactly would that get its attention?"

"Surely your varied readings have mentioned the potency of fertility magic." The sweet, familiar glitter-burn whipped along his skin, sending delightful shocks through her. "Power always commands attention."

She shifted beneath him in a slow, deliberate movement, feeling how the swirling tension inside her was drawn back to him, a looping thread humming between them, intensifying. "Isn't the Labyrinth's attention how we both got into this in the first place?"

His lips hovered above hers. "I mentioned its capricious nature, yes?"

"You did." Her free hand moved to his back, sliding along the silky heat of his skin.

"It's also vain, proud, and acquisitive." His teeth pulled at her lower lip, causing her to growl softly. "It likes to be needed and it likes to keep what it finds."

"Sounds like someone else I know." She moved her hips against his, causing them both to inhale simultaneously.

"I've been its king for some time." Their hips found a languid rhythm, the pulsing heat building inside.

"Right, and the Labyrinth has had its wicked way with you already."

His mouth twisted in slight distaste. "That it has. But with clear benefits." He loomed above her suddenly even as their bodies continued their maddening dance, his eyes glinting beneath lowered lashes. "Which you've been enjoying, I might add, my lovely wretch."

She looked up at him, abruptly aware of his rapacious beauty. "And it has its drawbacks too, presumably, your manipulative highness."

His smile was feral. "That it does."

She writhed against him with a liquid quickness that tore a snarl from him and made him tighten his grip on her wrist. "But what choice have I got, right? Permanent madness and mutilation sounds like no fun at all."

"Then you're willing," he said, thrusting into her with an abrupt ferocity that stole her breath, "to come with me."

A purring moan escaped her. "You really just said that right now, didn't you?"

His velvety laughter coiled around them both as he thrust into her again, working deep and slick. "Well?"

"Hell, yes," she whispered, just before she screamed for him.

Sarah blinked slowly, sensing the way her back fit just so against his chest, the way her hips curved gracefully into his, the way their breaths rose and fell together. That sense of peace and protection, so utterly seductive now, seemed only to be found in the press of her flesh to his, her voice to his, her words to his - their omnipresent duet. The shadowy whispers of her mind were blissfully muted at those times. But now they had begun to rise again in the dark mental recesses, oily and viscous.

"So when shall we go?" His words dangled like shining fruit in the afternoon sun, ripe with promise.

She stretched against him, her toes playing against his. "Whenever you like. In fact, the sooner, the better. Also, I'm holding you to that description of delectable grass on bare skin."

"How about now, then?"

She smiled, tilting her head back so it rested just below his. "We should probably put some clothes on first."

"Should we?" The words rippled down the side of her neck.

"Sadly, there are rules about indecent exposure."

"Says who?" His teeth pulled on the curve of her ear, hot and sharp.

She tilted her head forward so her ear was out of reach. "Correction: There are rules about indecent exposure in this world. I'd rather not draw unwanted attention before we're on our merry way."

Amusement curled through his voice. "And you think our little blind-folded outings have been unheeded?"

"That's additional clothes. Sort of. Very different than no clothes." She leaned away from him, feeling the air move between them, so cold after the liquid heat of his skin. "C'mon - let's throw something on and be on said merry way."

He sighed in mock sorrow. "Alas, if we must."

"We must."

"We'll simply lose them again once we reach that grass you're so interested in." His hand began to trace down her chest, sending tingles along her skin.

She clapped her hand on top of his, preventing it from more immediate mischief. "A risk I'm willing to take. How do we get there, anyway?"

His other hand ghosted along the top of hers in flicking, teasing touches. "I've got a new song for you to learn. And we need to begin it in that lovely little park around the corner."

She clapped the other hand on top of his other hand, pressing it flat. "Mmm, that park has quite respectable grass, too."

"So it does. It's a key element, actually."

She turned to look at him, her interest piqued. "How so?"

His smile was full of secrets, with an irresistible twist of taunting. "Come find out."

She brandished her own trickster smile. "I'm game."

"Excellent."

A short while later, they were walking through the park, coming to one of her favorite trees. It was a gnarled, twisting thing with wonderful sprawling, ropey branches that had always made her think of a forest oracle. Or possibly a carnivorous woody monster. Either had been sufficiently fantastic for light musing.

"Here. This will do quite nicely." He stopped, turning to catch her hand up in his. "I'll start, and you join in when you can."

He began to walk then, and the first notes spilled out, deep and rich. She felt them as she felt his hand, a solid pressure against her, pulling gently, direction as subtle as a breeze. The melody was a dancing, glittering thing, hopping and lively, but with the same shifting loop as the calming song she knew so well.

As they walked together, she heard the bones of harmony and counterpoint, which her mind cast as shades of green and yellow, brilliant malachite and soft verdigris, subdued amber and heady saffron. With a quick intake of breath, she burst into a bold, sweet descant that brightened the saffron further, edging it towards true gold.

His smile was incandescent as he looked at her, both of them still singing, still moving together, with steps and voices perfectly timed. He shifted his melody in the green spectrum, deepening it to the green-black of forest shadows, sliding towards the rich black of fertile soil.

Sweet joy suffused her as she sung with him, warming her, dancing across the bones of her chest and running hot through her veins. The subtle pull in the melody had increased, but diffused, as if millions of delicate filaments were reaching for her all at once.

She noticed that they had gotten to a part of the park she had never noticed before. Some of the leaves seemed to have an unfamiliar luster...and there, the water had a glitter to it that was remarkable. As they walked further, still singing, bringing forth the lilac and the vermillion, she noticed more of the plants seemed to have a luminescence that was simply uncanny. The familiar periwinkles and roses had fallen away as well, with truly exotic specimens of unparalleled color taking their place.

The pull was a siren's song now, the filaments seeming to root into her so that every cell cried Forward. So much of the landscape was glittering now - the road had a definite sheen, as did the bark of the trees. Not to mention a very distinctive stretch of wall that had several eyeball lichen growing gracefully from it.

The lichen, bobbing and waving cheerfully, provided a murmuring harmony to her duet with him. As she listened, she could hear other soft, harmonizing voices, and a deep, throbbing note so low that she felt it rather than really heard it, underpinning everything.

As the song circled down to silence, they stopped beneath a tree that bore a slight resemblance to her favorite tree back in her park, if a rather fantastic interpretation exaggerating all the aspects she was so fond of. The ropey, twisting branches were so voluminous that she couldn't make out where they ended, and the trunk stretched so very, very wide.

She stared for some moments, marveling at its sheer size and how far the roots went - they burrowed through the earth in rolling masses as far as the eye could see. "Yggdrasil has nothing on this baby. I take it we're here."

He inclined his head in a courtly gesture. "Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful. Also, you're beautiful." She kissed him suddenly on the mouth in utter delight. "And the way we traveled here was damned beautiful. I mean, we just read about that whole shifting reality thing from Zelazny...I thought that was something only the Amberites could do. In Zelazny's imagination, I might add."

He glowed, savoring her open admiration. "It's a skill, like any other. I was inspired to acquire it. Amber royalty can't have all the fun, can they?"

She shook her head. "You can do that, just decide to acquire something like that? Just make up a song to do anything you want?"

He shrugged. "My skills have always tended towards the bardic."

She smiled, still shaking her head. "It's incredible. Is that something you can teach?"

His eyes glittered with something unreadable. "Perhaps. You have some bardic skills of your own, which makes it easier to work with my way of doing things."

"I definitely want to learn." Mischief prickled through her suddenly, lithesome and surprisingly muscular. "Do you swear to try to teach me?"

His eyes widened at her bold demand. "And if I refuse to swear?"

She sighed with melodramatic mournfulness. "Then I will swear to purposefully muck up every harmony you want me to sing henceforth. It would be thoroughly tragic."

Amused disbelief curled his lips into a half-smile. "You do realize that would hurt you as well."

She tilted her head in mock consideration. "Mmm, key element: As well. You want me to sing with you. Wouldn't we both be better off if you simply agreed to swear?"

He regarded her. "You've picked up a predilection for power games."

She flashed her trickster's smile at him. "Learning from the best. Besides, this would make it one promise apiece, which seems quite fair."

A predatory glint sharpened the amusement in his eyes. "Who said it had to be fair?"

Her smile widened. "Me."

He nodded, his own smile growing with a curious mixture of irritation, pride, and pleasure. "What if I demand an advantage?"

She shrugged. "Demand away. Are you swearing or aren't you? I promise my skills at harmony evisceration are quite terrible."

"That, I'm inclined to believe." With a movement swift as cracking ice, he placed his hand over his heart. "I do most solemnly swear to try to teach you, though you are an absolute wretch."

Her smile was a pretty thing now, smooth as glass. "Teach me what?"

His laughter was quick and approving. "Teach you to sing your way through worlds. You demanding minx."

"Good - so pacted." A clear ringing like a brass bell wafted in the air, trailing the words. "And, because someone requires an advantage even though he is the nigh-omnipotent magical Faerie ruler here..." She noted how his lips twitched at this. "I solemnly swear to do my best to learn from you, your bardic highness."

"So pacted." Another ringing split the air, this one like the fall of silver coins.

"There, now it's two promises to one. Surely that's a reasonable advantage."

"What if I demand other advantages?"

"Demand away. Especially if they involve delectable grass that you know the way to and I don't."

"And if they do?"

"Then they're likely to be agreed to."

"Good to know, as it just so happens they do."

"Most convenient." Her eyes were alight with pleasure. "So where's said delectable grass, anyway?"

His grin would have done a Cheshire cat proud. "This way. It's quite close."

"Quite close" turned out to be just on the other side of the tree, where the roots formed a sort of circle near the gnarled base that held a verdant pool of downy blades. The grass there almost seemed to shine, the green was so very brilliant against the velvet brown-black of the earth. The branches stretching overhead provided an enticing mixture of light and shadow that was both dazzling and strangely lulling.

She gazed at it for a long moment with him. "Wow. You really weren't kidding. That grass should have a sign on it saying 'Witness my seductive power'. Or maybe just 'Lo, I am Faerie grass - lie down at your own peril'."

He stretched out in the dappled sunlight, sighing in pleasure as his long limbs sprawled in the green. "Come lie down with me anyway, despite the peril?"

She took a moment to admire the picture he made, all white and gold against emerald. His eyes were so hungry, so needful with that wisp of fear that she would refuse him, though his smile was sultry as midsummer. There are things I can teach you too, my prickly, ravenous love. Things about trust. She stepped into the circle with him, smiling softly as she intoned, "As you wish."

He reached for her, drawing her down to him in the grass, and she saw that flickering crackle of fear transform into a blazing hope terrible in its ferocity. Then her skin touched the first blades of grass, and time drizzled to a stop.

A deep sigh of relief reverberated through her mind, echoing with the vastness of earth and sky. For an infinite moment, she saw millions upon millions of shining threads forming a glittering structure of words and wishes and ancient will. But there was a horrid gash, a cold, sucking rift in the not-fabric that ached and burned. The threads hung tattered and forlorn around it, and it was exactly the shape of her.

Horror flooded her. I didn't know...

Defeating a Faerie king in his own realm has consequences. The voice was the one that had sung the deep anchoring note earlier, and the words thrummed with power like great slabs of stone.

She saw that the shining threads surrounding the hole were reaching for her, straining to touch her, to sink into her flesh. Their hunger flashed bright and greedy, and she was suddenly very afraid.

Join with us, they whispered, so many voices dancing like fireflies.

Her fear was an iron hook in her thoughts, cold and steadying.

Become one of us. An image shimmered, dark and glistening, of her laughing with wicked intent, larger than life and shining with Faerie power inside her like a pulsing gem. Stay.

And let you have your way with me, too? The hook was dissolving, slipping away.

Give in. The words were the gentlest of melodies now, winding and twisting and lulling, sweet with promises of utter peace. You fit here.

So I do. With a sigh, she let the threads take her, lying against the velvet ground with Jareth's fingers entwined with hers, knowing that he had led her to this lustrous, ancient, needful beast. Fucking Faerie.

Return to who you are, return to what you are. The Labyrinth's words echoed through Jareth's thoughts as he looked down at her, their sinuous, irresistible power winding through her into him as he listened to the shaping take hold of her. Return to where you are born and reborn again.

He knew her memories were beginning to slip away into the eager, fertile ground. A sudden pang struck him, as he remembered his own moment of surrender so long ago, the utter loss of self that had followed...and the devastation when that self was recovered piece by bloody piece. The cycle of loss and recovery after that had been vicious - forgetful innocence and the scalding clarity of recall, swirling one after another, bleeding sanity away, all in the name of balance. Until, at last, another way had been found.

It took you far too long to bring her here.

The rolling thunder of the voice snapped him out of his reverie. Patience is a virtue. You know she had to be willing for it to work best. Besides, what's a few years to us?

You care for her too much.

His lips twisted in a wry half-smile. And exactly whose fault is that?

There was no other way to save you.

Well, we all do what we must, now don't we?

There was a certain, indistinct grumbling like gravel rolling down a ravine.

Mischief flexed inside him. It's unbecoming for immensely powerful realms to sulk, you know.

It's unwise to taunt immensely powerful realms, too. Especially when they've got a hole in them the exact size of your lady-love.

He recognized the surly fondness behind the implied threat. Lady-love? Well, aren't we the ones using antiquated terms today.

There was a decided irascible merriment now. Oh, stuff it. How's that for modern parlance?

Quite modern of you.

I need to finish repairing this rift before it sucks away anything else.

The separation of Sarah's mind was beginning, a silvery shimmer against the icy blackness of the rift. After a moment's concentration, he located the coppery spot where his own ceded shadow-self lay, woven seamlessly into the gilded skein of the Labyrinth. Even now, it reached for him, recognizing its source. A gentle whisper came from it. Belong to you. Take me.

He slammed his thoughts down against its call, even though his mind cried out piteously for its lost parts. That way lay madness (yet again) and the impending doom of the realm (yet again). He directed his thoughts back to the Labyrinth.

Don't take everything from her. She needs to remain as much of who and what she is as possible.

Curiosity crinkled in its voice. Why? Wouldn't a blank slate be so much easier to work with? Far easier to create.

Easier, but not better. You'll recall how well utter oblivion worked with me.

It would have been fine if I had hidden your memories better. You were happy. You would never have known who you had been. You would never have realized what you had done.

He took a measured breath. It never failed to amaze him how much it knew while still understanding so little. But I did find out. And it nearly destroyed everything when I did. Every time that I did.

I saved you. Every time. There was a definite smugness now.

He took another measured breath, strongly reminded of the uncomplicated reasoning of the goblins. So you did. Until you had to find a new way because the old one wouldn't work anymore. And, granted, you did find that way, with her, but after far too long. And you almost failed, and we all nearly perished. So why don't we try leaving her with something of herself? Just take the troublesome bits - they should be more than enough for what's needed.

Obstinant reluctance surged back at him. It's more trouble than it's worth. You can shape the bones of identity any way you want. Just do that. Make her whatever you want.

I would lose what I've come to need. He thrust the manipulation like a spear. Or would you rather lose us both now? A pretty mess that would make, two gaping holes in the foundation.

Irritated resignation slowly welled up. I will do what I can, though it will be more difficult and infinitely more fragile.

That will be just fine.

She looked at him, blinking slowly in the dappled sunlight that sparked the most curious sense of resignation in her. "I feel strange...why can't I remember my name? I have a name...people have names, don't they..." Her voice trailed off as she gently poked at the smooth, icy blankness in her mind.

"Do you know me?" His voice was rich as velvet along her skin.

She looked at their entwined hands, at the way their feet tangled comfortably together. "I'd say we know each other quite well."

That spurred a smile. "I see your charming wit is intact."

At the hint of the predator in that smile, the thrum of possession and the spark of the jester, a title surfaced. "Highness," she murmured. Then his name, a whisper of wings in her mind. "Jareth." The word slid like silk against her lips.

"Yes," he said, his mouth playing along her shoulder in a thoroughly distracting fashion. "That's me."

Another name surfaced, a delicate simplicity in its syllables. "Sarah," she whispered.

A burst of pleasure then, as tapered fingers stroked along her cheek. "Mmm, yes. That's you."

She shook her head slightly, her brow furrowed. "What happened to me? Why is everything so dim in my mind? I almost see…" She broke off as the blankness in her mind became more liquid, more penetrable.

"What? Tell me." The coaxing thread of command was inexorable, and the blankness cracked, its secrets trickling out.

The images and impressions flickered like an old film. "There were books, books read aloud...and there was a promise, a promise that I made about them, to you." A Faerie-bound promise, with clarion bells at its creation.

Another impression now, of veiled sight as unknown tastes danced along her tongue, familiar and exotic. "And there was a game, a game of guessing. A game of dominance." She glanced at him, an eyebrow raised.

His smile flashed hot with mischief. "Power games are terribly exciting."

"And you think that everyone will play them in the near future." The words slipped out before she could think, carrying a rolling wave of deep affection.

A lightness suffused his expression, making the sharp, aquiline features exquisitely beautiful. "Indeed."

She smiled wryly back at him, as memories surfaced of the penalty and reward consequences of the guesses, and the way their legs would mingle together, just as they were now, and the feel of his body curled around her, so strong, so terribly strong. She had felt so utterly safe.

Safe from what?

The memories were moving faster now. "There was singing, too. We were singing. Together." The voices twined like glittering thread, weaving reality and dreams and thoughts into new paths, away from an aching, fetid darkness that had been growing.

An image flashed of his crystalline eyes filled with such hunger and need, but also with such laughter and the fragile shine of love. And with that, the desperate, encroaching fear of loss. "You cared for me. Very much."

"I still do." His teeth pulled gently along the join of her neck and shoulder, sending a tingling rush through her.

She blinked, trying to focus as more images flowed. "And you were helping me, weren't you?"

He became utterly still, all affectionate seduction abruptly halted. "I was. And still am."

The blankness in her mind had solidified again, become resistant. "With what?"

But as she pushed at the blankness, it yielded suddenly, collapsing in on itself. There were awakenings surrounded by blood and pain. So much fear, so much grief and guilt shoved down, festering like an abscess.

She ran her tongue across her lips, and looked down at her hands. She had a phantom image of wounds, of blood running from battered knuckles, though there was nothing there now but smooth, pale skin.

But the memories were gushing now, pulpy and thick. She saw the time just before each awakening, the jagged, brutal imagery cresting behind her closed eyes.

"I see them, the faces." The words crawled out of her as sluggish whispers. "So many faces." Her breathing quickened. "And they're - oh! They're so scared. They're terrified. Their eyes are so…accusing, pleading. Oh God..." Her eyes were open, her hand clenched in the sunlight, looking monstrous in its pale smoothness. It was supposed to have blood, to show the marks of guilt...

"Shhh…I know." The cadence of his voice wrapped her thoughts, soft as feathers. "Do you remember how this melody goes? " The notes began softly, wending and twisting, shifting and shaping with the glittering touch of Faerie, so easy to see here, those ribbons of smooth tranquility and oblivion, like tendrils.

The declarative knowledge was lost, a chill gash in her mind wailing for its missing pieces, but the procedural knowledge was there - the response of her body to his touch and his voice, to that melody. She felt the notes looping through her brain, the pull of prediction leading her from one note to the next, anticipating the spiraling refrain, even as her eyes slid closed again.

He paused for a moment, his fingers smoothing her brow as he kissed her eyelids. "Just lie back a moment, here with me. Feel the grass at your back, the sun on your skin, the wind in your hair. Soak it in, let it soothe your mind."

"And then?" she murmured drowsily, curling into his side. The ice fire scent of him was both enticing and familiar. Feels like home, an errant thought flickered.

"And then we will see how things fare, my love."

Moments drifted by as he watched her breathing slow and even out.

Suddenly, the rhythm shifted slightly, and her brows drew together. "Fucking…Faerie…," she murmured, before her breaths became slow and even once more.

Amusement ran through him, warm and sparkling. It was too much to lose her now, to lose what they had created together within him. Far too much.

He could hear what the earth whispered into her from the core of the Labyrinth, with her mental shields lax from his coaxing words and the touch of his skin to hers. One of us...return to who you are...

A wearied resignation shuddered through him. More must be taken.

I could have told you that. The Labyrinth's tone was only slightly chiding.

He reined in his pride with a measured force of will. Please...help me.

The response was immediate, with an undertone of satisfaction. Of course.

With its help, he began guiding the shimmering, dazzling not-threads into a stronger binding. The black, poisonous memory was caught like a fly in the web surrounding her shadow-self, wrapped in layer after layer of the silvery memory remnants connected to it. As he concentrated, he felt its potency diminish to a feeble whisper, its vile seed buried deep.

He drew back in satisfaction as he felt the binding anchor with a sinewy solidity. It was contained, though a part of him mourned for the experiences that had been sacrificed to construct its prison. Those experiences would have to be rebuilt...everything between them would have to be rebuilt. But it could be done, given the right series of targeted interactions. The core of who she was was still there. It would be enough. It had to be enough.

He found himself repeating that thought to himself under his breath, as if it were a mantra. It will be enough.

The sour taste of pragmatism twisted his lips. It didn't really matter if they never quite recovered that easy, intimate push and pull of interaction they had had just before she came here, though he wanted it with a desperation that was thoroughly humiliating. What mattered was that her descent had been halted - she would not disintegrate into madness.

Which meant he wouldn't disintegrate with her. Which meant the Labyrinth wouldn't tumble into a maelstrom of chaotic destruction. Which was, in the end, the point.

It would be better with her strong and agile and washed clean of the blight of her actions. Human minds could be so fragile. (He should know.) Her mind would not be, in time. Not with all he could teach her.

And time they would have plenty of now.

He had a delicious moment of absolute satisfaction, as he felt the way she fit against him, the warm length of her body curled comfortably into his. He compared their skin and the luster of their hair, noting the barely perceptible similarities. He inhaled near the nape of her neck - ah yes, even there it had begun, with the Labyrinth's magic working within her so much more strongly now that she was here and bound to it as he was. He could detect the subtle shift of her scent, a touch of glinting winter sunshine there instead of gentle summer's.

He kissed gently along her eyelids and forehead. All in good time.

The Labyrinth's voice boomed in his mind, deep with warning. The binding is strong, but not unbreakable. Some connections to her mind remain. The disapproval of that was quite palpable. If those memories find her before she is ready, the destruction will be massive.

He let the certainty flow into his words. The Labyrinth must believe him. He must believe himself. I will watch her. I will teach her. She is mine, and I will make her strong.

Its grudging assent was the slow grind of boulders. If it looks like it's beginning to fail, I'll do things my way.

Exasperation slid through him. You know how that could end.

It still gives us time to come up with something else.

He took a deep breath, trying not to let the caustic frustration color his words. This thing required patience. Things of the Labyrinth always did. True. But it's dangerous. For all of us. Human minds are not the same. Even one time could break her, if she's not prepared to integrate that magnitude of memories when she eventually finds them...or they find her. The flexibility of human minds is not infinite. She must have some base to work from, or madness is all but assured.

A flippant impatience rolled back. That's why you're teaching her, isn't it? Stop arguing or I'll simply do it now, and be done with it.

That silenced him. Fine.

He felt its presence recede in a rumbling wave.

Looking down at Sarah, he stroked a finger along her cheek and shook his head. Fucking Faerie. I will make you strong, my love, for all our sakes.

Author's Note: And that seems like a reasonable place to stop for now. Anything following is clearly the segue to the Great Adventure/Mishap/Calamity of What Happens When She Finds Out, and probably belongs in a separate tale.