___________________
"There's no sign of life
it's just the power to charm
I'm lying in the rain
But I never wave bye-bye"
	Modern Love -Bowie
______________________

Witness to Destruction
Chapter Twelve, Part Two

She sat in the darkness for a long moment, undecided. Should she go to him? 
She got up wearily, and left the room. She walked down the hall, stone 
floor cold on her feet. She paused outside the door, not hearing any noise 
from within. She opened the door cautiously, and stuck her head into the 
room. He  was seated in a chair before the fire, she could see the top of 
his hair over the back of the chair, gleaming like spun gold in the 
firelight. She walked up along the chair, resting her hand lightly on it's 
back. 
           His face was haggard as he stared into the flames, not 
acknowledge her presence. She didn't move, basking in the warmth of the 
blaze. After a while, he turned his head slightly, and looked at her. There 
was pain in his blue eyes, and she found herself wondering what she could 
do to ease it. Her gaze flickered down to the bloody bandage on his right 
hand. "What happened?" He gestured towards the shattered mirror on the far 
wall. "Let me look at it." She knew it was a stupid thing to say, he could 
have easily healed himself with his magic, but she kneeled down beside him 
anyway, and slowly unwrapped the makeshift bandage.  She turned it over 
gently to inspect the cuts and grimaced as she realized there were still 
shards of the glass embedded in the wounds. She pulled them out as gingerly 
as she could, but noticed him wince all the same.  "I'm sorry. Why did you 
do this to yourself?" He said nothing. Her eyes teared up. "I hope this 
isn't on my account. I'd hate for you to be so upset over me." She got up, 
and got a washcloth, a pitcher and basin, and brought it back over to the 
chair. She began to carefully  wash away all the caked blood, looking into 
his face while she did so. "Say something, anything. Even if it's that you 
hate me, it'd be better than you silence." Tears fell silently down her 
cheeks. 
          Now he did stir, and reached out his good hand to wipe them from 
her face. 

"I'm sorry." His voice was soft. "I'm the one who's hurt you."

She stiffened. "No. What makes you think that?" Her voice was harsher than 
she had intended, and she watched with dismay as he withdrew his hand, and 
looked back to the fire. Dejectedly, she got up and tore another strip from
 the now ruined sheet. She re-bandaged his hand tenderly, and stood to go. 
"All right. I understand. Good night." On impulse, she bent down and kissed 
his lips lightly. She drew back suddenly, as if shocked, and her hand flew 
up to cover her mouth. "I- Oh, God!" She turned and fled the room, unaware 
of his eyes fixed on her retreating form.
----

He almost called out, almost called her back. Almost. Instead he stayed in 
his chair, holding her image in his minds eye. The fleeting memory of her 
as she had bent to kiss him, dark hair falling over her shoulders, green 
silk nightgown gleaning in the light. A green that paled in comparison to 
the brilliance of her eyes. For that moment, it seemed the whole of his 
future was known to him, that here, with her, was the key to eternity. It 
was gone just as quickly, like a ghost half-seen in a dark hall, and he was 
left with only it's haunting impression on his soul.
----	

She wandered out of the castle, curious as to what the grounds surrounding 
it held. To her delight she found an array of well tended gardens filled 
with every flower imaginable, and quite a few she was sure had no 
counterparts on Earth. The colors were so much more vivid than any others 
she had ever beheld, that she found herself at a loss to describe him. 
After a long peaceful walk through hedg mazes and topiaries, she came upon 
a sight that took her breath away. 
             Roses. Everywhere in the long formal garden grew roses. From 
wild rambling ones, to soft ruby-velvet longstems perfect for cutting. 
Their sweet perfume hung in the air, making her almost light-headed. She 
walked from bush to bush, examining the heavy blossoms that grew there, 
seemingly at the hight of bloom. She stopped before a bush of large peach 
blossoms, breathing in their spicy fragrance.

"That one's 'Souvenir de la Malmasion' it's one of my favorites." Amalthya 
spun around with a start to find Jareth standing behind her. "Do you like 
it?"

"Y-yes. It's very pretty. What are you doing here?"

"Tending to my roses, of course." He took a small pruning shears he had 
been holding, and cut a few branches off the bush before her.

"These are yours?"

"Yes. No one touches these flowers but me. This is *my* garden. Is there a 
problem with that?" He cocked an eyebrow at her questioningly.

"No. No, of course not. I just never pictured you as the rose type."

"Oh, come now. You must not know me as well as you think."

"Maybe not. How's your hand?" She noted he still had it bandaged, while 
his other hand wore it's customary glove.

"My hand? Oh, it's fine, thanks to you."

"There's no need to thank me." She blushed, remembering the events of the 
night before.

"It was only polite."

"I see. Will you tell me the names of some of the other roses?"

"If you wish. This one here-" he said, pointing to a bunch with yellow 
centers and red edges, "-is 'Flaming beauty'. It's a hybrid tea rose. Only 
slightly fragrant, but it cuts well." He trimmed one and handed it to her. 
"Mind the thorns." He continued the tour, cutting one of each rose for her 
until she had magnificent bouquet. "These last two," he said, clipping a 
golden yellow rose and one that was scarlet and sliver, "Are 'King's 
Ransom' and 'Love' respectively." He handed them to her. She added the two 
to her armload.

"Thank you. They're very beautiful. You must have a real green thumb."

"I'll admit my magic helps, but I do think I have a gift for it."

She nodded in agreement. "You do. I should get these in water."

"Of course. Ask one of the servants for help. They've been ordered to obey 
your wishes."

"I will." She headed merrily back to the castle, leaving Jareth to his 
roses.

"Amalthya," he called just before she was out of earshot.

"Yes?"

"I have something I need to discuss with you later. Don't wander too far."

"All right." She called back. She continued on her way less spritly, 
wondering what it was he wanted to talk to about.

----

End Chapter Twelve, part two