PART I

Chapter II


The boy would not make it through the night.

He sat in a forgotten rocking chair pushed to a dark corner of the vaguely familiar room and watched as life seeped out of the boy's cheeks, his body, his soul. The very boy he'd once bounced on his knee as a mere infant, the boy he could have loved as his own.

Not that he could have loved him any better than young Toby's sister, the girl who had nurtured her brother, raised him, taught him the rights and wrongs of the world his parents hadn't, loved him with a warmth they were not capable of, stood by him with a strength they did not possess.

Even now, as his sister loosely gripped the boy's hand and her shaking fingertips hovered above the strands of golden hair that had fallen into his face, hesitant, afraid, to even touch him, his parents were somewhere in this old house, pathetically crying into each other's shoulders as they left a young girl to guard over her brother in his very last moments, too weak to offer the boy any of the comfort and last goodbyes he so rightfully deserved as a well-loved child.

Sarah had always been the stronger one. Stronger than her mother, so afraid of being inconsequential that she had simply up and run in the hopes of carving out a name and a legacy for herself, leaving behind her husband, her daughter, her entire life. Stronger than her father, who had consequentially pushed away his own daughter, too weak to face the mirror image of his wife day in and day out, too scared to push past his daughter's looks to discover that she was nothing like her mother, nothing like her father. Stronger than him, the Goblin King, the pathetic man who had spent the last nine years hopelessly in love with her while she convinced herself that moving on was the right thing to do and had proceeded to do exactly that.

Sarah had always been strong.

Now, standing guard in her childhood room, the one she herself had spent an entire weekend modifying for her brother, he found his hands bound as he waited, hoped, prayed for her to say her right words.

Her brother was but a tiny doll in the huge bed she had painted jaunty, brightly-colored nautical stripes on, deathly still even as he slept on top of the covers, the heat irritating his carefully covered wounds, wounds his sister had bathed and clothed. Barely sealed, bloody gashes stood in stark contrast to his recently acquired snow-white complexion. Bulky casts swallowed up the boy and left a broken doll in its place. Hurt lungs and broken ribs worked overtime to function, resulting in uneasy, shuddering breaths Sarah occasionally kept count of in a soft murmur, almost as if to fend off the heavy silence and thick atmosphere in the room.

He knew, as the Goblin King sometimes knew these things and as all Fae can feel such shifts, that there would not be many more breaths for Sarah to count if she did not act swiftly. It was not a question of whether or not she remembered him. It was not a question of whether or not she would call upon him. All that was left was simply for Sarah to pull herself together, weary mind and exhausted limbs, and give in to him the way she had sworn she never would.

She would rise above it. She would be stronger than that, stronger than a young woman who would rather forfeit her brother's life than break a half-hearted promise she had muttered to herself in her earlier years, fueled by a fire and self-righteousness only confused and nearly-sixteen-year-old girls can feel. She was stronger than that, he just knew it.

She had always been strong.

Jareth prayed her strength would not fail them this time.

She had always been strong, but he had always been the one standing behind her, holding unwavering faith in his precious Sarah.

She had yet to let him down.

"Jareth."

He leapt to his feet on the hardwood floor, abandoning his previous post. She had called and now he was to swoop in, to save her brother, to do the impossible. For a moment, a moment too long, he found himself shaken by that thought. The impossible. What if he failed? What if young Toby, broken and bruised, was beyond even his magic of dreams and wishes?

"Jareth, please." The young woman half-sobbed even as she steadied her voice and worked to keep it clear and strong. "I need you." The dam broke with her long-overdue confession and Sarah dropped her head into her waiting hands, muffling her pained cries.

Her words and her cries moved him more than the most heated demand possibly could have. He knew, in that moment, that he would not fail her. He would not cause her any more pain. He would not allow her to cry any longer.

Jareth stepped forward into a corporeal form and placed a hand on Sarah's shaking back.

"I'm here, Sarah. I'm here now."


Right, so much for wrapping up the first part in two chapters. Next one will be the end of this downer, that's for sure. My inner fangirl is demanding that I 'bring on the fluff', and as she guides and controls most of my thoughts, actions and stories, I'd best bow to her wishes.

I'm quite eager to get to the fluff too, but it felt right to give Jareth a piece of his own, even if it was mostly rambling thoughts and observations with (one would hope) some insight into both main characters. What do you guys think? Was this worthy of its own chapter or should I have skipped it and followed up where I left off last chapter? As usual, reviews are warmly welcomed.

E Salvatore,

April 2013.