Flight Patterns

Sarah sat in her apartment bedroom with her head in her hands. She was torn between feeling intense anger and weeping sorrow. She'd been fired from her job today. Not that she was terribly disappointed about that; she hated her job. The people she worked with were all assholes who gossiped more than old ladies at bingo. She'd been confined to a cubical, expected to work eight hour days that were never long enough to get all of her work done, so she'd ended up staying extra hours or coming in early and of course she'd been salaried so she didn't get paid for those extra hours. Her boss had approached her earlier that day around lunchtime. He'd pulled her aside into his office to inform her that because of her lack of ability to work with her team members and because she was falling behind in her work that he was going to have to let her go. Sarah hadn't argued, didn't say a single word to the large balding man, but had simply gone back to her desk, packed up the few personal items she had, left her badge on the desk, and left the building.

The reason she was so angry though was because she just could not believe the nerve of the man. She hadn't been lacking in the ability to work with her teammates, she'd been lacking the ability to put up with their shit and they'd lacked the ability to be intelligent human beings. As for the falling behind, she was given so many accounts to handle there was no possible way for her to keep up unless she worked more than twelve hour days. There had been several times Sarah had come home, sobbed at the workload she'd been given on top of what she'd already had, then broke open the bottle of apple vodka in an attempt to make it all go away. It never did.

The anger Sarah felt though competed with tears and fears of being jobless. She had a rent check due next week that she should be able to pay, but what about after that? She had to eat too, how was she suppose to find enough money to buy groceries, gas for the car, not to mention pay the utility bill. She didn't dare call Karen, her stepmother, for money. She had no doubt her father would have lent her some until she got back on her feet, but unfortunately his heart had given out last spring. He'd been in and out of the hospital for chest pains all during the previous winter then April had come along and so had the massive heart attack. He'd been dead before the ambulance had gotten him to the hospital. The thoughts of her dad brought forth fresh tears and Sarah curled in on herself, tipped over so she was lying down on her bed and cried even harder.

It was several hours later when she emerged from her bedroom to enter the kitchen. She turned the burner on under the teakettle and let it warm up while she grabbed a mug from the cupboard and a tea bag from the next cupboard over. She waited a few more minutes for the kettle to warm by going through the mail on the table. When she'd arrived home, she'd simply grabbed it out of her box and flung it on the table on the way to her room. Now as she sifted through it she saw it was mostly junk mail with the exception of the utilities bill. A groan escaped her at the sight of it.

The tea, which was supposed to help calm a person, only served to make Sarah tired. She decided that sleep didn't sound like too bad of an idea and made her way back into the bedroom. Lying down after changing, she took in a deep breath then let it back out. "I wish I could just escape from all of this…. I wish I could fly away," she muttered before turning to her pillow and falling asleep.

o O o O o O o

Jareth the Goblin King nodded along as he listened to his assistant's report on the southern fields. The elf's voice was grating against his ears and he wished he'd be done with it already. By the sound of it, the south fields were in great shape. The upcoming harvest would be bountiful. There was no need for the man to ramble on and on about just what Jareth didn't quite know because he'd stopped really listening about ten minutes ago. "Your Majesty?" the elf's voice broke through his thoughts.

Jareth's head snapped up, "Yes?"

"Is that satisfactory to you?"

"I'm sorry, could you repeat the proposal?"

"I said that the farmers of the southern fields are expecting much more than their grain bins can hold, so they are requesting that some of the grain be transported to the storage units of the eastern plains seeing as they are currently unused."

"Yes, yes. Is that all?"

"Um… yes your Majesty. That's all for the southern plains, but there is the report from the trade center in the Goblin City to review."

"Can it wait till tomorrow?"

The elf glanced down at the sheaf of papers on his small desk that was set adjacent from the King's large one. "I… yes, your Majesty," he answered after seeing the look on his king's face.

"Good, I shall be taking the remainder of the day to myself. Good day, Bartholomew," Jareth nodded at his assistant before walking out of his office and made his way down the stairs and into the gardens. The smell of the late autumn roses hit his senses and he drew in a deep breath. He stopped by the three-tier fountain splashing noisily and gazed at the late afternoon sky. It was nearly cloudless and the urge to feel the wind in his feathers was overwhelming.

He closed his eyes and concentrated before a shiver stole over his entire body and he transformed into a majestic barn owl. He leapt up and took off into the air, gaining enough altitude that the only sound he heard was the wind in his feathers. This was his sanctuary, his place of solitude. He allowed himself to drift lazily, hopping from thermal to thermal to keep himself afloat while he let his mind wander.

If he concentrated enough, he could feel every living being in his labyrinth, including the labyrinth itself. It was invigorating being able to feel the life forces of each individual. He could only do this with the beings in the labyrinth though, those outside of its walls he could not feel as strongly, but he had a kind of connection with all of the subjects of his kingdom whether they be goblin, fiery, elf, fae, or some other race.

He'd been flying for several hours when he found himself gliding along the edge of the forest that was along the labyrinth's northern boarder; a flash of white caught his sharp eyes. He looked down to see another barn owl swooping in and out of the trees. The creature looked to be having fun… that was until he noticed the flock of sparrows chasing it. A shiver stole through him as he remembered how it had once happened to him. He'd accidently gotten too close to a sparrow's nest and they'd taken chase, driving him away.

Snapping his beak, his mind made up, he dove down into the darkening forest to fly alongside what he now noticed was a she-owl. She gave him a glance before turning sharply to avoid a large oak tree. If he had a brow to furrow, he would. The she-owl before him was flapping and fluttering like a fledgling fresh out of the nest, not like the adult she appeared to be. She swooped back around to fly alongside him. He gave her another glance before darting in between two trees, hoping she'd take the hint and follow him. He dodged and darted amid the leafless trees, taking the hardest course possible to make the sparrows stop following.

After a few minutes, the cries and shrieks of the sparrows faded and stopped altogether. Jareth, in a very un-owl-like move, twisted his head around to see if the she-owl was still behind him. She was and she flapped harder to catch up to him. He turned back around and swooped down below a branch. He'd barely cleared the thick limb, feeling the bark brush against the feathers on his back. However a sickening thud reached his sensitive ears and he pulled up short, making a sharp U-turn.

As he suspected, the she-owl lay lifeless on the ground below the branch. The poor creature looked so helpless; Jareth swooped down and landed beside her. The young she-owl appeared to be unconscious, so he transformed back into his fae form, still crouched beside the bird. Carefully, he examined the she-owl. Her left wing was crumpled beneath her and he suspected it was broken in several places. He could only imagine the pain she would be in if she were awake. Gently, so as not to damage her anymore, he lifted her from the cold ground and cradled her against his chest then magically transported himself back to his suite of rooms in the Goblin Castle.

He was about to call for his physician, but paused when he realized this was an owl. His physician, being the proud elf that he was, would balk at the thought of treating an animal. Besides, Jareth, being able to transform into an owl, probably knew more about their physiology anyway. Carefully, he laid the she-owl on the low table in front of the fire and sat down on the settee before her. First things first, her wing needed to be set. He was thankful she was unconscious for this, as it would be quite painful were she awake.

With delicate movements, he spread her wing out and shifted the bones back into their proper place. When he was done, he magically conjured a splint and placed it on the wing. He was not confident enough in the healing arts to mend her bones completely, so he would just have to confine her until she healed.

He watched as her small chest rose and fell with short breaths. He hoped she would be okay. For some reason, he felt it was his fault that she was in this condition. Conjuring a blanket, he built a small nest for her in the chair near his bed. Then he retrieved her from the table and gently placed her in the cozy little nest. Taking one last glance at her, he divested himself of his garments and climbed into bed. It had been a long day…

o O o O o O o

A feeble hooting woke him the next morning. Opening his eyes groggily, the events of the previous evening rushed back to him and he turned in bed to see the she-owl sitting up in the nest he'd made for her. She blinked at him and clicked her beak as though to say something. "I suppose you're hungry, aren't you?" he asked smiling at the disheveled creature.

He rose from the bed and stretched before magicking clothing on himself. Looking down, he saw that his subconscious had dressed him in whites and tans… a perfect match to the she-owl's colors. He smirked then approached the little owl and held out his gloved hand. It shrunk back and he narrowed his eyes at it. "If you want food, then come along," he ordered.

The she-owl glanced up at him, then hesitantly stepped onto his arm, digging her claws into his shirt material to steady herself as he moved from the bedroom to the sitting room. On the table in the sitting room, was a platter with the King's breakfast. Scrambled eggs, sausages, toast, and fruit juice sat ready for him along with a small pot of tea and a folder of reports for him to look over. As soon as he sat, the she-owl hopped down onto the table. She waddled over to the other side of the small table and came to rest facing the king, as though trying to figure him out.

Jareth smirked at his mind personifying the owl and took one of his sausages, cut it up into tiny bite-size pieces and placed it on a napkin before the ruffled creature. She fluffed herself up as his hand came near and dove into the food as soon as he'd drawn it back. As she gobbled down the pieces of sausage, he conjured a small bowl and filled it with water from the pitcher on his bureau drawer. "My, my… your table manners are atrocious," he joked before starting on his own breakfast.

He ate slowly as he read through the morning reports. There were more than usual because he'd skipped out from his duties early yesterday. He sighed as he remembered the amount of paperwork waiting for him in his office. There could be no avoiding it today. If he wanted his customary one free day during the weekend, he would have to work late tonight. Finishing his third cup of tea, he rose from his chair. The owl kept her eyes on him as he moved about, slipping on his boots and checking his reflection in the mirror. He came back to the table and held out his arm again. "I find that I rather like your company," he said with a grin.

The she-owl sized him up once before hopping onto his arm. He lifted it to his shoulder and she stepped off his arm onto his shoulder, gripping it tightly with her talons as he walked out the door. His assistant, Bartholomew, gave the owl a peculiar look, but didn't say anything, attributing it to his King's eccentric personality.

Jareth had been right, the day was filled with long tedious paper work and boring reports. The she-owl had sat on his shoulder observing until lunch when Jareth shared a bit of his meat with her. Then instead of climbing back up onto his shoulder, she waddled about his desk, examining the papers and odd little trinkets he kept. There was one in particular that kept her mesmerized for nearly thirty minutes. It was two metallic orbs that spun around each other, as though held in each other's gravity. Eventually she climbed back up to perch on his shoulder once again and settled in for a nap. Jareth smiled at the snoozing she-owl, jealous that she didn't have to do any of this nasty paper work.

It was moving on towards two o'clock in the morning when the Goblin King finally lay down his quill. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm, wiping the sleep out of his eyes, if only temporarily. The she-owl swayed slightly on his shoulder as he stood from behind his desk and made his way up to his bedchamber. The King, once in his chambers did not stay upright for very long. In fact, he only managed to set the she-owl in her nest and toe off his boots before collapsing on the massive four-poster bed. Sleep overtook him almost before he hit the feather pillows.

o O o O o O o

The next couple of weeks followed similar patterns as that first day. Jareth would wake and he and the she-owl would have breakfast together. Then they would go to his office where he would work on whatever needed his attention that day. Once every other day though, he held court in the throne room, and the she-owl accompanied him then too.

Nobody thought to question the King about his new pet or the fact that he seemed to talk to her as though she understood. Rumors flew about that the king was losing his marbles, though no one dared to voice any concerns to their king. They were all well aware that that would only earn them a quick trip to the Bog of Eternal Stench. Instead, the staff of the goblin castle kept their suspicions to themselves and the King remained unaware of his household's whispers.

It was his day off about two and a half weeks after taking in the little owl, and Jareth was spending it out in the garden with her. He had just taken off her splint that morning and flexed out her wing, attempting to see how well it was healing. She hadn't flinched as he extended the wing and felt along the ligaments. It had occurred to him several times that this was no ordinary owl. However he could not for the life of him figure out what else she could be. She acted much more intelligent than any ordinary owl; she was attentive when he spoke and gave signs of understanding him. Such as the day he'd complained about a negotiation with a neighboring kingdom, she'd nuzzled into his hair from her perch on his shoulder and playfully nipped at his ear. He figured if she were a spy of some kind, she definitely would not be acting like this. She probably would've attempted to act as much like a normal owl as possible. Instead, she was acting like a young fae who refused to return to her normal form and instead was playing around. However that theory was nigh impossible as well because most young fae avoided the Goblin Kingdom and himself. Most were frightened of him because of his duty of taking the wished away.

He hadn't stopped trying to figure out what the little owl really was, but on one of the last warm sunny days in autumn, it was very difficult to concentrate on the issue. Jareth was walking along a path lined with multi-colored mums. The she-owl was perched on his shoulder, happily taking in the sights and smells that came with late autumn. "You know," he started. "Eventually I'm going to have to release you back into the wild." He could feel the she-owl tense. "I mean, if you really are just an ordinary owl, you shouldn't be cooped up in a castle with a fae king who has little enough time for himself let alone a… pet, for lack of a better word."

She hooted softly in response. "But I suppose it's going to take another couple of weeks to strengthen that wing enough to fly properly," he smiled as she squeezed his shoulder

The rest of the afternoon was spent in the garden until the setting sun brought a chill with it. Then they moved back into the castle to a room that Jareth didn't visit as often as he liked. It was on the third floor, where the goblins weren't allowed, and had large windows facing west that let in the dying rays of the setting sun. The room held a collection of musical instruments from both the Aboveground and Underground. Stringed instruments hung from the wall, winds rested on velvet cushions in large glass display cases, and brass were treated much the same in their own display cases. Jareth liked to boast that he was proficient with each one. With a smile, he set the little she-owl down to perch on the back of a chair. Strolling slowly along the wall holding a variety of guitars, lutes, ukuleles, sitars, and mandolins. Jareth studied each instrument before selecting a varnished pine lute. Gingerly, he lifted the instrument from its place on the wall and carried it like a newborn babe over to a chair across from the she-owl.

He drew a thumb across the stings as he settled the instrument in his lap. It thrummed harmoniously, but he adjusted a couple of the pegs then strummed again. Satisfied, he began to pluck out a tune slowly. The King closed his eyes and smiled then began to pluck at the strings faster, creating a Celtic sounding melody that floated through the air. His fingers jumped and danced along the instrument, caressing it like a lover. Suddenly a deep melodious sound emanated from the fae. He began to sing in a strange language, a very old language, possibly one that had been thought dead for centuries, and only survived in the recesses of his mind. The owl watched the fae as though in a trance. She started to sway to the music and closed her eyes.

The fae looked up at his companion and beamed at her. His fingers moved faster and his voice lower as he reached the last chorus of the ancient song. When the last note faded away, owl and fae looked at each other with a kind of understanding between them. "I don't usually have an audience for my music," he commented standing with the lute. "Of course the elves and fae in my kingdom would enjoy it, but I am their king, what else would they say to me other than that they liked it?" He brought the lute back to its home on the wall and gently hung it. "I'm glad I had someone new to share it with, even if I don't know exactly what you are. I doubt you are fae or elvin, for you have an impropriety I find endearing that neither race would show." He turned to face her, her large amber eyes fixed on him. "However that leaves me with a dilemma, because you see fae and elves are the only two races with enough power to transform into another creature. I suppose you could be a goblin transformed by a fae or elf, but you're too smart to be a goblin."

He sauntered toward the owl. "In fact, if I had to guess at what race you would be, beside avian, I'd say human, but that would be virtually unfeasible." He stopped before her, his hands resting on his hips. "However I've learned not to underestimate the limits of possibility, and since you seem to lack the ability to communicate in a language I can understand, I think we'll adjourn for the night."

He held out an arm for her to climb onto then exited the musical room. He entered his private chambers to find a small dinner laid out for him as well as a small bowl of food prepared especially for the she-owl. The cooks had taken to providing his winged companion with food of her own after only a couple of days and Jareth was rather thankful. The bird was always eyeing his food otherwise. They ate and retired for the night.

o O o O o O o

A few days later, the dynamic duo was to be found in the King's office. The she-owl had been hopping and fluttering around, examining the room with interest pulling on pieces of parchment and fluttering up to the top of bookshelves to watch the King work. It was when he heard a jar tip over that he looked up from his paperwork, he saw that the owl had knocked over a quill stand on Bartholomew's desk, (he'd gone to take an inventory of the kitchens). She had picked up one of the quills in her beak and was doing what Jareth could only describe as attempting to write.

He furrowed his brow and blinked a couple times to see if it was just his imagination playing tricks on him. It wasn't… Slowly he rose from his seat and moved forward to see what the little she-owl was writing. Mostly, the piece of parchment was filled with drops of ink and sloppy scratches from the quill, as well as a few owl footprints where she'd stepped in the ink. However it was the few scratches that looked like letters that drew his attention. There was something that definitely looked like an 'H' and another at the end that looked like a 'P'. In between were some scratches that were a little bit more difficult to make out. Perhaps an 'L' next to the 'P', but what was between the 'H' and 'L'? "Hlp?" Jareth sounded it out. "Help? Is that what you're writing?" he turned to the owl who gave a click of her beak and hopped up and down a little.

Jareth could hardly believe what he was seeing. An owl that knew how to write… "What do you need help with?" he asked.

The she-owl moved to scrawl out more letters, but Jareth intercepted. "Hang on… I'll make this easier for you." He grabbed the quill out of her beak and dipped it in the ink again then set about writing down all the letters of the alphabet. "There, now you can just point to the letter," he said, satisfied with his idea.

The owl hopped over to the neatly scripted letters and used a talon to point to 'N' first. Jareth copied it down on another piece of parchment and continued to do so as she pointed out different letters until there was a message reading, 'Not an owl, human'. He gaped at the little owl, "You're human?" he asked.

She clicked her beak and moved closer to him, tugging on his sleeve with her beak. She had more to say. Jareth copied down more letters as she pointed them out until she had spelt out another whole message reading, 'Made wish, need help changing back'. She stood still in front of him after she'd pointed to the last letter. He studied the message for a long time before looking up at her. He wasn't sure what to feel. The little creature had tricked him. He'd taken her in and fed her, given her a place to sleep for three weeks, and this was the first time she was making it known that she wasn't really an owl?

The she-owl clicked her beak again and hopped closer, blinking at him. "Yes," he muttered. "Yes, I'll help you. But we will be having a very long discussion when you are human again."

The owl fluttered her wings and hopped closer, wrapping a taloned foot around his arm, as though to hug him. He sighed and stood. "Please stand in the middle of the room, I've never done this before on another person," he said gesturing to the floor.

She fluttered down from the desk and stood perfectly still in the middle of his office. Jareth gave her a hard look then formed a crystal in his gloved hand. He began to manipulate it over the front and back of his hands as he filled it with the power necessary to complete the transformation. "What once was, make again. Reveal the true form under the hidden," he muttered then threw the crystal sphere at the she-owl's feet.

A cloud of glitter and mist consumed the owl and rose to the ceiling. Jareth watched as the shadow of the creature shifted in the cloud and grew. A coughing sound announced the human's appearance. Slowly the mist dissipated and Jareth's eyes widened as he saw the nude female human before him. However his eyes nearly bulged from his head as they finally saw the face attached to the exquisite pale body. "Sarah," he breathed.

She was just as he remembered… well, not exactly. She was more… mature… physically. It looked that she'd aged about fifteen years or so from when they'd last met. Had it really been that long? Her long dark hair helped to hide her breasts from view, but there was still plenty for him to ogle, and ogle he did until her bell-like voice broke through the haze that was his thoughts. "Goblin King… Jareth… my eyes are up here," she said sternly. His eyes snapped up to hers and he could feel his face burn. It wasn't like this was the first time he'd seen a naked woman. This had just caught him off guard… that's what it was. "Could I bother you for a cloak maybe?" she asked.

He shook his head clear and set to the task of conjuring a cloak for her. A long dark cloak of thick wool appeared in his hand and he stepped forward to hand it to her. She brushed his hand as she took it and he jerked his arm back. "Thank you," she muttered as she fastened it about her narrow, but curvy frame.

He let out a long breath as she pulled it closed and all he could see of her skin was her bare feet and her face. "Sarah," he said again.

"Yes."

"How… you wished this upon yourself?" he asked remembering the second message.

She let out a sigh, "Yes and no. I made a wish, two in fact, and the magic took liberties because I was not specific."

"What did you wish for?"

"To escape… to fly away."

He took a hesitant step toward her. "What did you want to escape from, if I may ask?"

"My life," she said in a very small voice.

Jareth studied her for a moment before snapping to attention. "I'm sorry, Sarah. You must pardon my surprise and bad hosting skills. Come, I'll arrange for some proper clothing for you and perhaps something to eat as well?"

Sarah nodded and followed the Goblin King as he walked past her to open the door to his office. Outside was a goblin guard who he whispered instructions to. The guard nodded and took off down the hallway. "Come," Jareth said and held out a hand to touch her shoulder. "If I may? I would think that you would rather be transported to a place where you can change versus walking through the halls."

Sarah nodded and Jareth gripped both of her shoulders with his gloved hands. A moment later, they stood in the King's sitting room. He moved away from her. "I'm sorry, but none of my guest rooms are appropriately ready for guests at this moment," he said thinking of the incident earlier this week when the goblins tried to house chickens in his guest bedrooms. A smirk crossed his features. "But I suppose you already know that…"

Sarah grinned, "Yes, I'm pretty sure the goblins still smell like the bog."

They both chuckled at the memory of him yelling at the goblins then promptly depositing them into the bog. "Sarah…" he began still studying her. "Why now? Why not let me know you were an owl your first day here?"

She looked away from him down at her feet. "I… to be honest I didn't remember myself then. It wasn't until a couple of days ago when you mentioned that I might be human that memories of my life started rushing back at me. It took me those couple of days to work out how to tell you."

"I see… so you did not remember being human until a few days ago?"

"I remembered being not an owl, but I couldn't remember much past that."

He nodded and looked away from her at a knock on his door. He opened it and allowed in the maid who with wide eyes deposited a neatly folded dress and undergarments along with a tray of food. She exited hastily to feed the gossip mill for the day. "The washroom is that way, but I suppose you knew that as well," he said sounding like a mere 100 year old instead of the 700 years he was.

She nodded and took the clothing with her into the washroom. He sat at the table holding the food and rested his head on a hand. What was he to do with her now? She'd already been sleeping in his bedroom for the past three weeks. He blushed a deep scarlet at the thought that she'd seen him in the nude, and that only reminded him of her luscious body. "Get your head out of the bog, Goblin King," he muttered to himself.

A moment later, Sarah emerged from the washroom wearing a teal colored simple dress. Her hair still hung about her face, but it was now brushed out and smoothed. She moved to sit across from him at the table and it wasn't until she giggled a little after looking at him that he realized his mouth was hanging open slightly. They ate in silence though, neither wanting to speak of the subjects that had to come up sooner or later.

As it happened though, they came sooner… right after lunch. Jareth had just put down his napkin and he cleared his throat. Sarah looked up from the last bites of her fruit cup. "I suppose you'll be wanting to go home soon?" he asked putting out the question he most feared the answer to.

Sarah looked back down at her fruit and stirred it around the bowl. "No, I wished to escape, remember?"

"Oh… yes," he said stunned. "May I ask what you plan to do then?"

Her eyes remained fixed on the last strawberry in her cup. "I thought I might live here, in the castle. I mean I've already been living here for the past three weeks," she finished in a rush.

"Yes, I suppose you have." He smirked. "I don't believe it should be too hard to accommodate you."

"Thank you," she smiled

"I'm sure I can have one of the guest bedrooms cleaned up by tonight."

"I'm sure you could," she murmured. Jareth looked up at her, she looked unhappy. What had he said? He looked back down at his empty plate. She suddenly rose from her seat. "I should go pick which room I want," she said.

He rose with her, "Sarah… I"

"Yes?"

"I… " he moved closer to her, her green gem like eyes drawing him in. "Perhaps we…" She didn't move away from him, but he was now close enough to feel the heat from her body.

"Yes…" she muttered as she leaned toward him.

Their lips brushed, almost as if by accident, but what happened next was no accident at all. He reached a hand up and cupped the base of her skull, pressing his lips harder against hers. She reached up with both hand and let them come to rest on his chest. They broke apart for a moment looking into each other's eyes before clashing back together with force. Their mouths working together as their bodies sought to become one.

Needless to say, Sarah did not end up spending that night in a guest bedroom.