Witness to Destruction
Chapter Twelve, part one

The song is 'Closer to Beliveving' By Emerson, Lake and Palmer


The room was gorgeous. Decked to capacity with every frill or ornamentation,
it seemed less a ball-room, as a menagerie for the people who flitted to 
and fro like so many exotic birds. Perfection.... Then her gaze caught 
something, a wisp of pale blond hair as the figure weaved in and out 
amongst the other dancers. She knew...the recollection died on her lips. 
She moved onward, pulled in and out on the tide of people, seeking the 
remembrance she'd know so briefly. Her frustration was mounting. She 
stopped being polite, and started shoving people outright. She had to find 
him. 'Him who?' She wondered momentarily.  A song began to drift across the
ball-room, light as a breeze, though she felt, inexplicably, that it was 
meant solely for her.

"To be closer to believing; To be just a breath away. On the death of 
inspiration, I would buy back yesterday. But there's no crueler illusion; 
There's no sharper coin to pay; As I reach out...it slips away."

Where was it coming from? That heavenly voice, soft and sensuous, that 
seemed to call to her very soul. Then, suddenly, he was there.

"Jareth." Her voice was a breathy whisper. She fell into his arms, safe, it 
seemed, as he continued to sing.

"From the opium of custom, to the ledges of extremes. Don't believe it till 
you've held it, Life is seldom what it seems. But lay your heart upon the 
table, And in the shuffling of dreams, Remember who on earth you are." 
Then he stopped. She looked up at him, and it seemed something had softened 
in his face. The stern lines had relaxed, his eyes glittered less harshly. 
"Amalthya." Her name rolled of his tongue beautifully. He ran his gloved 
hand back, smoothing her hair, then cradled her head against his chest. She 
stood there, caught in the embrace, not daring to speak, too afraid that 
the moment would shatter like so much glass. After what seemed an endless  
pause, she lifted her hand and eyes to his face. Her finger trailed the 
lines of his perfect mouth; then, with the tip of her satin gloved finger, 
she wiped away the faintest glimmering of a tear from his eye.  He moved 
his lips to say something, but she silenced him.

"Shhh, I'm here now. No words." She brought her lips to his.
	Now time did shatter, as their passions met, and melded, seeming to 
form an unbreakable bond, as the world crashed down around them.
----

She awoke with a jolt. "Oh, wow. That was some dream." she whispered to the 
night air. "If only it were real."
----

Jareth paced his room. He had been awakened by a dream, a dream so perfect, 
he could still feel her lips on his. "Damn it!" A large mirror in an ornate 
gilded frame that hung above his desk fragmented as he punched with all his 
strength. The shattered image mocked him as he stared at his hand; 
lacerated with rivulets of blood streaming to the floor at his feet. He 
cursed again, and tore part of his bed-sheets and wrapped it round his 
injured hand. Then he laughed, softly at first, then louder and more 
hysterically. "Who would have thought?" He shouted to the air. "A mortal 
girl has reduced *me* to a gibbering madman!"  It was simply too much. He 
sank into a chair before the roaring fire, still laughing to himself.

----

She lay awake in the bed when something splintered the quiet of the night 
time castle. There was the sound of tinkling glass, then fevered laughter. 
She gasped as a searing pain engulfed her hand, almost making her cry out. 
She bit her lip, and kept silent, but shivered as the laughter continued to 
echo throughout the building.

End Chapter Twelve, Part One