Chapter Three The Crime

Sarah and Jareth reappeared back in the dungeon with an audible pop that shook the bars of the cell door. They landed hard and the force of their impact threw them apart. They sprawled on opposite ends of the cell, dazed.

After a moment, Jareth laughed. It was a bitter, harsh sound. "Foolish girl. Don't you think I would have already escaped if I could?"

His words stung. He was right, of course. It had been a stupid idea. Sarah sat up, wincing. Her butt was bruised, she was sure of it. "Where is this place?" She asked, inspecting the rock. It was empty and would need to be recharged. Pity all of her tools were still in her apartment.

"You, my dear, have the pleasure of being locked up in the dungeons beneath Odin's hall."

Sarah's gaze snapped up from the rock in her hand. "Odin? You mean the Norse god, Odin?"

He snorted with derision. "Of course not."

Sarah sighed with relief and let the rock slide into her bag. She didn't know if she was up to the challenge of rescuing Jareth from the clutches of a god.

"So," she said, standing to her feet and taking off her bag, "care to tell me how you managed to get yourself locked up?"

Annoyance flitted across his face. "I don't see as to how that's any of your business."

Sarah considered him silently for a moment. He was acting like a sullen teenager and she tried to remember if he had always been that way. The Goblin King she remembered was cocky, yes, but she couldn't remember him ever being this surly. He shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny, the chains clinking against the stone floor and drawing her attention.

"Hold still," she said, unbuttoning her shirt.

"Clothe yourself, woman," he practically shouted, scrambling backward and clearly insulted that she would disrobe in front of him.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Keep your pants on," she said, smirking inwardly at the unintentional pun. She shrugged out of the shirt, revealing a white camisole beneath, and sat on her haunches, motioning him to come closer. "Come here."

He refused to move and this time she did roll her eyes. "Let me see your arms," she said, breaking the seams between the shirt and the sleeve with a swift jerk. She did the same to the other sleeve. Jareth, seeing where this was leading, held out his arms for inspection, wincing at the pain the action caused.

She wished violently for clean water and cloth to clean his wounds. The skin of his wrists were angry red and bleeding as strips of skin were slothed off from the thick manacles. Sarah bit her lip as she took his hand into her own and slipped one of her sleeves up his wrist gently. Jareth breathed out sharply in pain through his nose at her actions.

She stopped and looked up at his face. All the blood had left his face and the hand she held trembled. He closed his eyes for a moment, fighting the pain, before indicating for her to go on. Sarah made sure the cloth completely covered the area affected by the iron before moving to his other arm. She worked quickly as she could, shooting concerned glances at him, watching as he grew whiter and whiter until she was sure he was going to faint from the pain.

When she had completed her task, she sat back on her heels. "Done," she said with relief. He took in a shaking breath and leaned back against the stone wall. They sat together for a long moment as he recovered and Sarah watched him carefully.

She was only fifteen when she had run the Labyrinth, so her memory was suspect, but he looked thinner than she remembered. She told herself it was probably the limp set to his hair and the fact that he wasn't wearing one of his high-collared jackets, but she couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't the only things missing. There was something essential missing. She just couldn't put her finger on it.

Jareth opened his eyes and caught her staring, but she refused to be embarrassed and met his gaze squarely. The tiniest of smirks tugged at his lips. "Still stubborn, I see," he said, the animosity missing from his tone.

She smiled in response, relieved he wasn't going back on the attack. "You didn't really expect that change, did you?"

The expression in his eyes was unreadable. "I wouldn't know," he said in clipped tones, "I never expected to see you again."

Her smile drooped. She put on the remains of her shirt, and buttoned it back up. "Well, that makes two of us."

He frowned. "Why are you here?"

Sarah sighed and rearranged her legs into Indian style. "Because," she said, fumbling for the words. Hadn't she just been debating this with herself? "Because you're important to me," she said at length, shrugging feebly.

His eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"I don't know, you just are." He looked at her with disbelief and she shrugged again. "I can't explain it."

"Try."

"It's like-" she paused, thinking for a moment. How did she tell the Goblin King something she wasn't entirely sure of herself anymore? "It's like when an old friend calls you out of the blue. They're on the other side of the world, they could have chosen to call someone else, but you're the one they called for help." Jareth frowned and she rushed to make her point. "Even if you haven't seen them in years, you help them because they were nice to you once and you owe them that much."

He scoffed. "You don't owe me anything."

She shook her head. "No, I do," she said seriously.

"Explain," he commanded, his eyes glittering.

So Sarah explained best she could. She talked about what she's seen of true darkness, how horrible and terrifying it was. Jareth may be petty and cruel, but he's not evil. He could have easily ripped her apart at any point during her long ago run through the labyrinth, but he didn't. "Besides," she said, "you opened my eyes to the world. Without you, I'd never know about the Otherlands." She looked at him, her expression earnest. "I owe you a great deal. Whether you like it or not, you have Sarah Williams as a friend."

His expression had slowly closed down during her speech and now she faced a cold mask that could have easily been made of stone. "You will regret those words, Sarah Williams," he said darkly. "Mark my words: the day will come when you will regret claiming the Goblin King as a friend." He sneered the word and Sarah withdrew into herself at his hostile tone. Jareth was gone and the Goblin King remained in his place.

"Perhaps," she said, looking away and hoping he wouldn't see the distress his words caused.

The sound of heavy boot steps filled the small dungeon. Both Sarah and Jareth fell silent as thick, palpable tension blanketed their cell. In the dim light, his mask cracked and beneath his expression was pained, as if dreading the coming moments. He turned to look at her with haunted eyes.

"Leave," he said.

"I can't. My spell stone is empty."

He closed his eyes, resigned. "You should have never come for me."

She didn't know what to say to that. She wanted to tell him that he was being silly, but the dark curtain of apprehension quelled her optimism. She repressed a shudder. The steady tap of heel against the stone floor rattled her nerves and she had to remind herself that she was the hero here and it would not be acceptable for her to cower behind the Goblin King.

The footsteps grew near and near and louder and louder, until at last the hulking mass of a broad shouldered man came into view. Sarah had expected him to react to her presence, perhaps show some surprise, but his steps never faltered and his face was a dark mask of annoyance. Too late she realized the cell must have an alarm built into it in addition to anti-teleportation measures. Her stomach sank. That's what you get for rushing into things, she told herself.

The guard said nothing to either occupant and unlocked the cell door with the large ring of keys he kept at his waist. He stared at Sarah while he did this and she felt all the blood drain from her face. He had come from her.

Sarah was dragged unceremoniously from the cell by the front of her shirt. Her feet scrabbled against the floor uselessly as she tried to loosen his grip with her hands, but for the amount of attention the guard paid her actions, she might as well have been a gnat. Jareth remained in his corner and watched her go with haunted eyes.

The jailer dragged her protesting body up several flights of stairs. The stairway was dark and shadowy, lit only by oil torches that sent plumes of black smoke into the air. The smoke stung Sarah's eyes.

As they climbed, her heart beat frantically against her chest. She tried to tell herself that she had been in worse situations, but Sarah was afraid. For all her courage and general fearlessness, Sarah didn't handle physical pain very well at all and she was terrified that she was being dragged away to be tortured.

Torture. The word made her stomach heave in the worst way possible. The methods devised by her own world were unimaginable. Sarah didn't even want to think about what those in the Otherworlds would do to her.

But much to her surprise and relief, instead of taking her to a torture chamber, Sarah's guard deposited her in a brightly lit hall built of dark, oiled wood and bright gilded metal. At the center of the room was the largest throne Sarah had ever seen and upon that seat sat a tall, thick-set imposing man. The guard dropped her on the ground before the throne and the man stood to his feet, his brown eyes flashing in anger.

"Is this the one?" he asked the guard, his tone tight and body tense. The guard nodded and the man whirled on Sarah with barely contained fury.

"You dare help that thief?" he bellowed, his face flushing as red as his thick thatch of hair.

"He is my friend," Sarah began.

"What low standards you must have," the man sneered, "to choose to ally yourself with that vermin."

Sarah was insulted. "I know not what he has done, only that he needed my help," she huffed, automatically re-ordering her words and inflections to comply with the formal tones required in the Otherworlds. "If he has wronged you, than that is between he and yourself."

The man stepped closer, looming above her. "And what of the wrong between you and I?"

Oh, crap, Sarah thought. Here it comes. "What I did was wrong," she said, with as much dignity and innocence as she could muster. "But it was done in ignorance and I beg your forgiveness."

"Ignorance is no excuse!" the man thundered. For a moment, Sarah thought he looked like the god he was named after and her terror returned. "I shall not grant forgiveness until what belongs to me is returned!"

In truth, Sarah hadn't really expected anything different.

---

The guard tossed Sarah unceremoniously at Jareth's feet before locking the door behind her and turning on his heel to leave.

As his footsteps retreated into the darkness, she groaned and gathered her limbs close, nursing the aching flesh and feeling wearier than she had in ages. She glanced up at Jareth, who was looking at her with a guarded expression.

"What have you done?"

"I've done nothing," he snapped.

Sarah closed her eyes and sat up, grimacing as new bruises made themselves known. She tried a different tact. "That mans says you have something that belongs to him. What did you take?"

Jareth's body tensed, but for an instant his eyes were filled with guilt and Sarah realized that he knew he'd done something he shouldn't have. Finally, Jareth heaved a great sigh and produced a crystal from the air.

He looked into it longingly. "I took only what is mine to take," he said, handing the crystal to Sarah with great care.

Sarah froze as apprehension flooded her body. She almost didn't want to look into the crystal. She was afraid of what she'd find. Taking a deep breath, she looked. And felt her heart break, just a little bit.

Inside the crystal sphere spun the frightened image of a pretty young girl. She couldn't have been more than fourteen or fifteen years old. Her hair was thick, long, and red. Her resemble to the fierce red-haired man suddenly made everything clear.

"Oh, Jareth," Sarah breathed. "What have you done?"

Jareth frowned. "I've done nothing!" He snatched back the crystal. "She wished her brother away and ran the maze." He threw Sarah a wounded glare, as if this was her fault. "She wasn't going to win. So I offered her a bargain, herself for the boy, and she agreed." If Goblin Kings pouted, Jareth would have done so. "She's mine. I won her fair and square."

"Her father doesn't see it that way," Sarah said, unable to keep the wry smile from twisting her lips.

Jareth sneered. "He'd sing a different tune if he knew what the silly little girl did. The boy's his heir and the clout thinks I stole away the girl without provocation. She's his third daughter, and not even his youngest at that. She's of no consequence to him." Jareth stared into the crystal with such longing, Sarah felt her heart clench in response.

"What are you going to do with her?" she asked, fearing the answer.

"I'm not going to turn her into a goblin, if that's what you think."

"I didn't think that."

Silence.

"So," Sarah began tentatively, "She accepted your terms?"

Jareth nodded. "She did."

Sarah bit her lip, a ridiculous teenage habit she had never been able to rid herself of. "Were they the same terms you offered me?"

Jareth's gaze snapped up and he glared at Sarah. "And if they were?"

"She's just a child, Jareth," she said gently. "She wouldn't have understood the full weight of your offer."

"Like you," he said. He let the accusation hang in the air.

Yes, her mind immediately answered, like me. Sarah didn't want to admit that, not to him. "No fifteen year old can completely grasp the concept of forever," Sarah said at last. "It took me years to understand what you were really asking."

His eyes flashed. "What is so difficult to comprehend? I've been alone for the entirety of my existence! I'm tired of being alone!"

Sarah sighed. She had a feeling she wasn't going to win this argument.


Next Time on The Binding:

Jareth looked vaguely ashamed at her question. "I had to send it somewhere safe, where I know he'll never be able to get it."

"And where is that?" Sarah prompted.

Again, with the chagrined expression. "With you."