{insert usual disclaimer: Just took Jareth outta his box to play with
him awhile...he's no worse for wear...uh, well, sorry about the sprained
ankle<eg>} and all the rest of the stuff in this lil weaving © copyright 1998 to Me.

"Just a Wish"
by
*Dreamspinner*
Chapter 2/?


    Fiona turned and sighed in her sleep, all under the ever watchful
eyes of the Guardians placed there to protect her. Her richly red gold
hair spread out like a halo upon the pillow, but the presence of tears
marred the perfection of the tender portrait of this sleeping beauty.
Her pale pale face so sorrowful in its exquisite perfection, as one
watched, the expression of horror spread and the woman rolled into a
miserable little ball, the hushed names of the dead on her lips as she
cried out for her lost husband and son. She witnessed the accident that
had so callously ripped them from her over and over in her dreaming- the
truck came out of nowhere and took half of their car with it- only she
and his son survived...and she lost the treasured child she carried.
They tried not to tell her about Conor and the babe as she lay in the
hospital bed watching the fluids drip endlessly into the little plastic
tubes connected to her. But she remembered the scarlet stains upon her
thighs in a flurry of pain and chaotic nightmare and a pale haired man
telling her to be still, that help was coming...he helped her through
the nightmarish delivery of her son, his soothing voice chasing away the
trauma she was enduring. She had faded in and out of consciousness, for
there was too much truth in the waking. While in the horrid hospital,
she saw Conor and her precious infant son's passing in the faces of
those around her, and wept endlessly...speaking to no one. His brothers
held her up by her arms as they sat through the funeral and burial - the
small white box she insisted upon looked too tiny to even gain anyone's
attention. With a flurry of movement, she had rushed to the little box,
taking the precious burden in hand to place it securely in her dead
husband's arms. Upon that, she fainted in front of a stunned gathering
of mourners. It was Alan who caught her before she hit the earth.
Alan...the young boy had refused to go with his uncles, stating quite
clearly that his mother needed him. She was really his step-mother, but
she had earned the title of 'mother' and much more in his heart long
ago. Conor's brothers had teased him endlessly about taking a much
younger wife, but it was good natured teasing- for Fiona was such a
sweet little thing and no one could find fault in her. Her move to her
old home was a much approved thing by all, and they helped settle Fiona
and Alan in, making them both promise to call if they needed anything.

    Fiona moved restlessly in the bed, knocking pillows everywhere even
as they tried to right themselves. Then the dream came...the wonderful
dream of her nursing her son, holding him tightly as he cooed at her. A
dream of such bittersweet bliss...she felt the demanding pull of a
hungry babe upon her breast, and looked down to see him watching her
intently. With a start, she awoke, looking about the room and wondering
what dream she had wandered into this time. She threw back the coverlet
and slid off the high bed to the ground, the coldness of the stone floor
made her almost jump, but she found delicate slippers awaiting her when
she looked for them. Sitting upon the chaise lounge, she slipped on the
delicate shoes, then carefully made her way through the room to see
whatever else was awaiting her. The room was very lovely, its shimmering
shades of blue very pleasing to her eyes, and she sighed as she leaned
against the windowsill to peek outside. The scene of a courtyard garden
met her curious gaze and she giggled as she watched a few faeries at
play...wait a minute...FAERIES?!? And in living color! She didn't notice
that her knuckles had turned white from the strong grip she had upon the
windowsill. With a gasp, she fell back into the seat which was awaiting
her, telling herself to wake up...which obviously was not working.
    "Gran...what am I to do now?" she whispered as the realization hit
her full force, "I got wished away and they actually CAME! Whatever for?
Why?? Where's Alan...that poor child...oh, I should have paid more
attention!" She berated herself, her head sinking into her hands, as she
called for her Gran.

    Jareth watched all from the shadows, his frown deepening as she
continued to blame herself. That would never do. He stepped lightly from
the shadows and coughed slightly to gain her attention. She spun around
and gazed at him, taking in his bearing and all in a few seconds before
slumping lower in her chair as if willing it to swallow her, her eyes
wide with unnamed chaotic emotions.
    He tried to put forth his most winning smile as he calmly walked
toward her, hands held out in front of himself in the universal form of
'I mean no harm'. The doe eyed damsel in obvious distress watched him
dubiously, all the tales her Gran had told her swimming through her head
as she struggled to identify this particular member of the Sidhe. Then
she remembered Alan's wish...and the air left her lungs in a strangled
sob before she could control it. Jareth stopped in his tracks at the
sound, tilting his head to one side in question, his eyes plainly
saying, 'If I had wanted to hurt you, would I have not done so already?'

    Then he spoke his voice soft and soothing, almost singing, "You are
safe here...safe...no worries. Calmly now, little one. I mean you no
harm." He watched her expression change from one of doubt to
incredulous, and her dainty mannerisms so reminded him of a doe that he
whispered to her, "Little Oisin." She stared at him, and he started to
walk towards her once more.
    Fiona watched the graceful pale man walking towards her and tried
not to scream, faint, run, or anything else which would cause her to be
blasted at once. She knew she was caught and bound by whatever magicks
that were activated by a young boy's wish, and she knew where she was
and who the "man" was that walked so calmly towards her. His golden hair
shimmered in the candlelight, casting a veil over his aura and intent,
so that even she could not truly SEE him. 'Glamorie,' she thought to
herself as the powerful strains of calming comfort washed out from him
to her. 'Don't be afraid...do not worry, safety lies here..' the waves
melted into her consciousness and she struggled stubbornly against it
with all she was worth. But the playing field was not even, and she was
exhausted, so it was with no great victory that he won. He was not all
that satisfied when her eyes glazed over and she gazed about calmly and
spellbound. He did not want to have to use such means...but she was too
delicate right now...and he needed her to be well if his plans were to
be successful.
    He calmly knelt before her, taking her hands in his own, "You are
under my protection, little Oisin. Nothing here in my realm will dare
harm you. Be at peace and heal your heart."
    Fiona gazed down at this man-creature in wonder. In a soft, hesitant
voice she spoke, "I have had a dream of my son...did one of the Sidhe
take him?"
    Jareth's eyes narrowed as he considered the question...and the
answer. Bother...he had wanted to play that particular card later in the
game, but...he watched her carefully as he said, "I am sorry, dear
child, but No."
    "No...," She looked deeply into the man-creature's eyes as her tears
fell unrestrained, and Jareth felt the full force of her grief and pain,
gritting his teeth against her innocent projections, he calmly summoned
Misha, one who was better able to deal with such things that he. The
Faerie Woman appeared and slowly walked forward. Misha and Jareth
watched Fiona's one small hope dash itself out in silence, he dreading
the questions that would soon follow. When Misha looked at the fragile
woman, she saw but an innocent child- and her maternalness washed out to
comfort the little one with fierce protectiveness. Jareth finally found
himself caught by Fiona's demanding eyes, even now she fought his hold
on her and he could not escape the questions any longer. He still knelt
at her feet as he told her his side of the gruesome tale....

*****************

    Nightime...and the full moon! How he loved to soar in it! He followed
the moontrail into the Mortal realm and dipped and soared in the evening
sky with great relish. Suddenly, in the distance, he saw the drama
unfolding and his own part in it. The truck driver swerved to miss the
giant owl which had suddenly materialized in front of him, not noticing
the smaller car coming down the lane....it all happened so fast! No
time! No TIME! Jareth flew quickly to the man's side- he was dying- and
with his last breath made the king swear a binding oath of blood and
honor- that he would take care of his wife and children- and bade him go
to them NOW. Jareth felt the man's blood melt and fuse into the palms of
his hands, cementing the deal with a painful reminder. He hurried up to
the smashed car and pulled the woman from it. It was clear that she had
sustained quite a few injuries, and the shock to her system had brought
on premature labor. He thought about taking her then, but the accusing
and watchful eyes of a young boy stopped him. She flickered in and out
of consciousness as the pain grew too be too much, and Jareth used his
own waning power to heal her, delivering the premature infant with
apparent ease...but the babe was in distress...and he knew the boy-child
would not survive. He felt that tiny fluttering life extinguish in his
hands...HIS fault! No unwanted child was this...neither abused nor
neglected...but a very much wanted and desired youngling...And he was
unable to do anything to prevent the tragedy he caused. He could not
reorder time to stop it.
    He whispered to her, "I'll make it up to you
somehow...somehow...this I swear." He left her there, blood-stained and
tattered, uncomprehensively holding the tiny bundle to her chest as the
screaming sirens of those who would help her blared their piercing wails
into the night. He hid in the shadows, unable to do anything
more...drained as he was, he knew he would barely made it back to his
own realm. 'So..the blood of the woman and her child also stains my
hands,' he thought bitterly as he looked down at his slowly tightening
fists. He only awaited the right moment to take her...and when that
wish, that silly wish echoed throughout his chambers, he acted.

**********

    Fiona was so still as he wove his part of the tale before her, so
still Misha began to worry. Such a shock, the poor little one...Misha
had not guessed how deeply mired in this whole business Jareth truly
was. With dream clouded eyes, Fiona looked down at the man-thing, her
mind reeling in denial as she managed but one eloquent word, "You."
    Jareth winced, preparing himself for an onslaught of rightful
accusations...but she only tilted her head to the side and said in a
slightly confused tone, "I remember you...I think...don't I?"
    She looked up finally, her gaze far beyond him and said quite
clearly, "It was an accident. I cast no blame upon you." Jareth could
not believe what he was hearing, and stood suddenly to pace the room,
every now and then casting a confused glance in her direction. Surely
she should blame him...surely she should hate him....mayhap she would
when her suitors arrived....
    Fiona paid no more attention to the man-thing with problems than she
would a slight breeze, her gaze caught by the faeries who were now
watching her intently through the glass panes of the window. She raised
a slender hand to touch the glass, and the faeries moved to place their
own tiny hands to match the path of her trailing fingertips.

on to Chapter 3...