{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 2/3

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...