Mornings of Gold (a Jareth and Sarah fanfiction)

Chapter Four

The air was warmer than the last time he'd stepped foot in America.

    Jareth found himself wishing he'd worn a thinner jacket as he surveyed his surroundings. He'd appeared in a thicket in a park somewhere he'd forgotten the name of. Manhattan or something. The air was humid and thick with midsummer heat, even though it was only an hour or so past sunrise; Jareth found beads of perspiration already present on his forehead.

    He emerged from the trees and squinted in the sunlight at the land before him. His hypersensitive ears picked up the sounds of human life in full swing: laughter and conversations, dogs barking, the hum of engines some way off. He smiled secretly to himself, the lazy joy of summer already beginning to take effect.

    Rolling his shoulders, he vanished his jacket back to the Underground (if he changed his mind he could always bring it back, couldn't he?) and started to stroll towards the city he could hear in the near distance.

                                 ***

    The metal sign above him read 'Central Park'. He looked up at it, intrigued. Why was it central? What did it lie in the centre of? The city?

    Jareth flicked his fringe out of his eyes and took a moment to look around him. That park had been rather large, he decided, seeing as he'd walked for almost a half hour before he found any sign of the city he'd heard. Either that or the city was extremely loud. In Jareth's opinion right now it seemed a mix of both: his legs ached and his ears were being assailed by the harsh audio of industry.

    His heels clicked sharply on the cement beneath him as he took his first steps into New York City. The air smelled strange, a confusing mixture of scents that were both delicious and nauseating; from just one deep inhale Jareth could pick out the warm yeastiness of baking, the metallic tang of electricity and the oily smog of a number of different hydrocarbons.

    Jareth felt overwhelmed in this harsh new environment. It was nothing like the Underground, so quiet and cut-off from society. No, New York was literally vibrating with life. From the sound of it, it didn't seem to Jareth that anyone could ever get any peace or rest here. He was glad he had a dark, silent castle to go back to that night - he'd barely even spent an hour as a human and it was already draining him.

    He caught his reflection in the dusty glass of a storefront and actually had to stop and stare at his appearance. His eyes (when they weren't covered by those blonde curls) seemed so bright and real without their usual heavy makeup, which he'd neglected to apply that morning. He'd never noticed how well they suited his features, yet stood out at the same time: set above angular cheekbones that looked ready to slice through his face, their sharp contrast of mid-morning blue and dusky hazel was striking; it was as if someone had actually placed the sky within them. Their mismatched pupils added to the weirdness.

    He also noted how shockingly pale he was: the white sunlight almost turned his skin translucent as it bounced off it. It made him shine in a strange way that he wasn't entirely sure was too bad...

    Tearing himself away from the sight of this new man, Jareth picked up his feet and continued his aimless stroll. A lot of the people he passed seemed to be staring at him, either from his frustratingly out-of-place clothing or his dazzling appearance. He knew it was probably the latter, but thought it best to purchase some human garments anyway. Just to be sure. Humans bought their clothes in shops, didn't they? he pondered. The next store he came across had strange fabric hanging off statues in the window, and Jareth could see people milling around within. He decided to take a look.

    As soon as he stepped inside, his senses were attacked by an assortment of different annoyances. Tinny muzak played through speakers above his head and his skin was buffeted by a damp wave of clammy, room-temperature air (Jareth recognised this from his past ventures into civilisation as 'air-conditioning'). Bright, gaudy colours flashed in his vision and he was momentarily unable to move. He almost blacked out for a second as he took in all these sensations, but after a couple deep breaths he regained his composure and took a look around him. Clothes were as far as the eye could see, some showy and vibrant while others were plain. A complex array of styles and fashions mingled together to create outfit upon outfit. It was utter chaos.

    Jareth could definitely learn to like this place.

    His gaze was drawn to a sleek pair of thin, dark jeans near the far side of the shop. He was immediately walking towards them. They were perfect for his human alter ego: neat, without much embellishment. He was sure they'd suit him.

    He reached for them and his hand collided with another, belonging to a woman he had not noticed in front of him. Startled from the sudden contact, he drew back.

    "Apologies," he mumbled, looking away in embarrassment at his clumsiness. She didn't turn to him, just let out a quick, "It's okay, thanks," as she unhooked the jeans from their rack and made to the fitting rooms. He grabbed the next pair and followed her.

    Jareth entered an empty cubicle and locked the door, kicking off his boots excitedly. He discarded the leggings he had been wearing and slipped a foot through the right jean leg. The material was smooth and fluid against his skin and he pulled them up without any trouble, doing the same to the other leg a second later. He did them up, then admired himself in the mirror beside him.

    God, he looked good. His legs were so slender and tall, the black fabric emphasising their strength as well as their shape. He spun round and ran his eyes down himself, stifling a delighted gasp. He looked incredible.

    With a quick twirl of his wrist the jeans were off and the leggings had appeared back on him (magic made things so much easier). He remembered that humans paid in strange pieces of green paper for things they wanted, so imagined a wad of it in his hand. It was there in a flash. Grinning, he almost skipped to the tills, jeans in-hand.

    The same woman he'd bumped into at the racks was in front of him in the queue. 'Woman' wasn't a very accurate description of her - from the little amount of her he could see, Jareth didn't reckon she was much older than twenty. He let his eyes roll down her lusciously dark hair, falling in unbroken waves over her shoulders as she paid, and wondered absentmindedly if she was pretty. But then it was his turn to pay and he forgot all about wondering.

    The woman turned to face him as she walked away. Jareth caught a glimpse of full pink lips and shimmering green eyes framed by gorgeous black lashes and stopped thinking. They were familiar in some intriguing way. He knew those eyes.

    He continued to stare at her the whole time he paid. She'd been about to leave but had changed her mind at the door and was now browsing again. There was something about her figure that Jareth knew he recognised, but couldn't for the life of him put his finger on it, as if he'd seen her in a dream somewhere. It was maddening.

    The cashier gave him his change and handed him the bag containing his jeans but he barely took any notice - his attention was now solely focused on this strange girl in his midst. His eyes were still on her as he walked through the shop to the exit. He was racking his brains for some spark that would tell him who she was...

    And then she turned to him. And he found the spark.

    Jareth's heart froze in his chest. His mouth dried.

    Five years... she'd changed so much in just five years.

    He had seen her in a dream, he supposed with an ironic smirk. He'd seen her in a dream he'd created for her. In a dream that he'd intended to be amazing for her, but now haunted him behind closed eyelids.

    He'd seen her in more than a dream.

    Jareth managed to tear his eyes away from Sarah for one short moment before an excruciating pain coursed through him and everything faded to black.