Jareth's Return

Jareth(4)

Jareth was fascinated by many things in this world, but fascinated he may be, he knew he needed to get home. He watched the Little Sorceress clean the dishes they had used in silence. Why couldn't he Shift home? He was still connected to the Labyrinth. He could feel it in the back of his mind; that niggling, buzzing that was the sentience of his land. Now how would he get back to it?

"Have you actually tried to...poof back home?" Theodora broke the somewhat silent air apart with her question.

"Have I tried to...what?" What in the name of the Realms does poof mean?

"Have you tried to, you know, poof?" She opened and closed her fingers, as if that would help him understand better. This girl was odd, and for him to think so was definitely something, for he ruled a land of magic folk. Theodora sighed at his strange look, "I mean, have you tried to use your teleport power? You know, just going home."

It dawned on him, "Oh. Shifting. No. There's something blocking me from home. I can feel it, you see. The Labyrinth, it's in my head." He tapped the back of his skull. "Right here, all the time. I can feel every disturbance, every change in the maze, and every person who enters or exits. It's even possible to change it myself with a single thought." Jareth's eyes misted over a bit, thinking of his beloved home, and he leaned back against the counter. He grew quite sad, suddenly.  "Lately, though, the connection has been painful; a constant ache in my head. You see, the Labyrinth is dying. We've tried everything, from repairing what has broken or deteriorated to replacing things that so much as looked like it would fall. But, last night and this morning, my bond with my Kingdom has been...numbed. Blocked off, partially anyways, just enough, to where I can't enter it."

All the while he spoke, she watched him, seemingly enthralled by his every word. Her eyes teared up and she blinked rapidly. " I'm so sorry, truly I am. But, I have to ask; why are telling me all of that? I know I asked about trying, but everything else...I'm a virtual stranger. Why do you trust me so?"

That puzzled Jareth, for only a trusted few were aware of the state of his land. He crossed his arms and thought for a moment, but he could come up with nothing plausible. "I haven't a clue. I just feel as though I can." And if that's the case, then you must really be something special. He would find out what.

Theodora nodded and sniffed. "Well, all that aside, we should try to test your, uh, Shifting power."

"Explain yourself."

She looked a little nervous. "Well, you could try to Shift home and see what happens.  Then, if that doesn't work, you could try to Shift other places." She paused. "You can Shift other places, can't you?"

He laughed. "Theodora, you wound my pride. Of course I can!" He refused to call her Dori; he thought it was a comoletely ridiculous name for a woman.

The woman in question grumbled at her full name, but shook it off quickly. "Alright, so try it. Home first. Wait! Let's go to the living room. I don't want to break the kitchen, if something bad happens." She grabbed his arm and lead him through a door and down a small corridor.

Jareth watched her work, again, as she took the seats of the long chairs and piled them on the floor. "Stand on these, in the middle." When he moved as directed, she told him to proceed.

The Goblin King closed his eyes and Theodora became quiet-for that he was thankful. He could hear her breathing, slow and calm and it reassured him, for if he was honest, he was a bit unnerved. He'd never been unsure of his ability before. His being reached for the Labyrinth in his mind, gripped it, as best he could, pushing passed the numbness.

Then, he could feel it; that feeling of sliding sideways, being in between everything.

He could feel the space between the earth and the air.

The gap between the magic and not.

The places in between the air itself.

He was home. He could feel it. And it hurt him, hurt his head and made him want to cry out.

Then he was falling. Falling through air, through the magic and the not, through the earth and the air. Falling for what felt like eternity.

Finally, he fell on the pile of cushions that the Little Witch had wisely placed beneath him. The sudden stop knocked him breathless, nonetheless and the pain in his head throbbed as he clutched it, trying and failing to breathe.

"Jareth!" Just like that, her voice cut through the air and it rushed into his starved lungs with a noisy gasp. She was beside him in the next instant, turning his face towards her. The moment her skin touched his, the pain in his head vanished as though it hadn't been there at all. "Hey, hey, look at me. Look at my eyes. Look in my eyes and breathe. In and out, slowly." She coached him and stroked his face as he caught his breath.

Looking at Theodora's eyes, those eyes that burned him and drowned him and made him lose his train of thought, he thought about the pain he had felt. He tried to dechiper the roaring he had heard amidst the torment.

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. How could he have been such a fool? It was so simple. The Labyrinth didn't want him back. So simple yet so painful, enough to bring the already fragile mask of the stoic King down another agonizing inch. His eyes and nose burned with the tears he ached to shed at the thought of his beloved home, his one refuge, the only thing he knew better than himself, rejecting him. Why? He asked himself. Why can't I just go home?

Jareth sat up, breathing almost normally, allowing Theodora to help him. Taking one last deep breath, he wiped his eyes roughly, shoved away his crippling abandonment and assured the Little Witch he was fine.

"What happened? You were standing there and then you were gone. Next thing I know, you were falling from the damn ceiling, choking! Don't scare me like that again!" She looked genuinely shaken.

So he told her. He'd only known her for a day, but he always seemed to find himself telling her more information that necessary. As he told her, she scooted next to him and held his cool hand in both of her own. Not speaking as he told of the pain he felt, that he now knew to be the Labyrinth's anger at him, just listening, occasionally squeezing his fingers when she knew it to be too much.

He was grateful for her. So very grateful for this girl, so young yet seeming so old, that he had known for a day.

He was grateful for this...friend.