Tony, sitting in a chair across from Sarah on the couch, both of them still muddy but drying, found it not entirely surprising that Sarah went under well. She had a malleable mind, obviously, one highly open to suggestion. Asking her about Jareth’s name had convinced him of that before, but he’d had no idea it would be this easy. Tony put her on a beach and eventually she was describing it in much more detail than he’d given her. She was even frowning and wanting sunglasses. "They’re in your pocket, Sarah." "Oh. Yes." She mimed taking them out and putting them on, and smiled. "That’s much better." "Sarah, I want to talk about Jareth." "Okay." "I told you that I saw him. Did you know I’ve been dreaming about him?" "Yes." Tony sat back in his chair, blinking. "You did? How?" "I knew because I knew you saw in my eyes." "What do you mean?" "Like the night you and Chris came over. You looked in my eyes. Chris only saw me, but you saw everything. And you took some of it with you." He realized his hands were shaking, and he lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply, waiting for the nicotine and watching Sarah, her almost sleeping face. He sighed. "I didn’t want it." "It doesn’t matter." "How do I get rid of him?" "You can’t." "Because he’s a part of me, the way he was a part of you?" "Yes. He’s mine, but now he’s yours too. When you figured out about him, you started to use him as your representation for your desires." "What do you think I want?" "It’s not your shade and shadow, Tony." Sarah was going down deeper, and he started to interrupt. He didn’t want her exploring some hidden childhood trauma or god forbid start a past-life regression. And then Sarah’s eyes opened. One was hazel. The other was a piercing blue. He froze. When she kept speaking, her voice was only marginally her own. It was accented, sharper, barbs hiding in it. It was Sarah’s dead level best impersonation of her imaginary king. "It’s not the darkness for you. It’s your light. Physician, heal thyself." It was gone as quickly as it happened. She blinked, and he saw matching hazel, and then she was asleep again, back under, on the seashore. He was gripping the seat of his chair, the other hand holding on to the cigarette tightly. He forced himself to relax. "Sarah, what was that?" "Him. Me." He took a few deep breaths, not really able too, a sacrifice to the god of nicotine. He realized his heart was thumping almost painfully. "You scared the shit out of me." "I’m sorry. Please don’t tell Chris I did that." "I won’t. I promise." "I know." "Sarah, I think it’s time for you to start waking up, very slowly. I want you to take one last long look at the beach. Now think about putting your things away, packing up your blanket and beachball and suntan lotion…" "And my sunglasses," she supplied. "And your sunglasses. You pack it all away, and it’s time to go home. I’m going to count to three, and by the time I get to three you’ll be very relaxed and feel very refreshed and completely awake. Are you ready?" She nodded. "One…two…three." Her pretty eyes fluttered open. "How did I do?" "Sarah, you were incredible." He smelled something vaguely familiar suddenly, and frowned, trying to puzzle it out. It was coming from Sarah. And it was coconut. Like suntan lotion.