AN: I know this is the first addition to this story in nearly four years. I had this written a long time ago, but I've just recently rediscovered it, and I thought that I would put it up to see what everyone thought.

Chapter 4

What Was Lost Can Now Be Found

Sarah tried blinking several times, but she could still see through the woman in front of her.

"I'm sorry; I think I must be ill." The words came out slowly and clearly, as if she was thinking about each word before she said it, "but I swear that I can see right through you."

"That's probably because you really are seeing right through me. I'm a …." Muirin paused before continuing. Sarah's head had drooped against her chest, signaling her defeat in the battle against sleep. Muirin's sigh came out as a mere trickle of air. Things were not going well. At this rate, Sarah would drink herself to death before Jareth would realize what the ring was, and then the entire legacy of the Underground would be thrown into turmoil. Things did not bode well.

Jareth didn't notice the air shifting around him in the library when Muirin appeared behind him. She had to call to him before he would even acknowledge her presence.

"Can't you see I'm busy? I've got some research to do." Came his terse reply.

"What are you trying to find? Maybe I can help."

He paused to look at the small object he held in his hand, "It's this ring. It belonged to my mother, and it was the one that I meant Emmaline to have. The one that disappeared when I tried to put it on her finger the day she died. Now, I get it back from old Magnus, and he says that Sarah gave it to him. What in the world am I supposed to think?"

"Perhaps you are not meant to solve this on your own. Maybe the answer lies with someone else."

"Who would you suggest could help me? I know that you have someone in mind, or else you wouldn't have said anything." Jareth looked at her exasperated and closed the book that he'd had cracked open in his hand.

"Who had it before Magnus?"

"Sarah"

"Right. Well, suppose you ask her about it."

"I can't. She doesn't need me barging in on her life and disrupting her peace of mind. For the last fifteen years I have watched her memories of our world fade into oblivion while she made herself believe that none of it was real. Why should I bother with her now?"

"Because she needs you."

"Needs me! No one ever needs me. No, they need me to take away their screaming charges when they say a few careless words that they don't think will cause anything to happen. That's how she needed me, too. Now after all this time, and after she has forced herself into not believing in all this, she needs me. She hasn't called me. I would have heard her. How can you know that she needs me?"

"Gods in the Underground, I am sick of this! When will you stop thinking that everything is about you? This is about her and I am telling you that she needs you. She is trying to drink herself to death apparently, and she nearly succeeded when I was there." Her cheeks grew pink and her hair swayed around her face, signaling her growing anger and frustration with him.

He threw the book down and took a step towards his friend. "When you were where? You saw her? Aboveground?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did. Until they took her away, at least."

"Who took her away? How long ago was this?"

"A man came into the house, calling her name. He was very upset when he found her, and called for the others to help him. She tried to put up a fight by saying that someone was already looking out for her, but it didn't work. There were too many of them. This happened two days ago and she has not come back to her house since then."

"And you waited the long to inform me? I should have been there from the start of all this. If her husband has done anything to hurt her, I swear I will…." He began to walk around like a caged animal.

"Jareth, no. It's not what you think. Please don't jump to any conclusions until you learn everything from her."

"What am I supposed to think? You tell me she is trying to drink herself to death. The only reason that anyone would do that is because they are unhappy, and he must be doing something to make her unhappy. He's lucky if he will live through what I am going to do to him."

"He's dead, Jareth. He was killed a few months ago."

"What?"

"It was an accident. Sarah's been drinking ever since. She's lost her will to live without him."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you were too busy jumping to conclusions. Please, you must help her. There is so much depending on her."

"Why do you care so much about her? You've never met her."

"Because I know you do."

He kept silent at what she had said, avoiding eye contact with her. Jareth disappeared, leaving Muirin alone in the library. She moved silently among the stacks of haphazardly opened books to a shelf in the farthest corner. Nothing had been moved off of these shelves, the floor being bare and void of the tilting piles that littered the rest of the library. Muirin looked up at the top shelf and a very large, very old book shuttered, then slid out of its place. It floated down towards her, then changed its course and traveled unaided to the table Jareth had been working at. Muirin smiled as she reached the table and saw the cover of the book. Goblins and Their Kingdom was nothing special. Just a history of the Goblin Kingdom, including a detailed history of the royal family, and a lengthy illustrated section on the crown jewels of the kingdom.

"Yes," she thought as she faded from the room. "Jareth will be very excited to see this."

For a moment, Jareth could not understand the sight before him. On the narrow bed lay the person who had occupied his thoughts everyday for the past fifteen years. Her appearance shocked him, making him wish that he'd not let her go all those years before. He would have kept her from becoming the person he saw before him. Her glossy brown hair was a dull and tangled mat that stuck to her sweaty and pale face. Her thin frame was evidence of the fact that she had not eaten properly in a while and her face was beginning to show the ravages that neglect and too much alcohol had caused. Unbeknownst to him, the only reason she was sleeping was because of the sedatives she'd been given. He moved next to the bed, bending to stroke her hair and face with his hand.

"My poor dearest Sarah. What has happened to make you like this? You were so full of life, so passionate about so many things. Why throw it all away? She did not stir beneath his touch, only continued her low and shallow breathing. He knew she was not well. She didn't have the appearance of one who was getting during their sleep. His hand slid down her shoulder, following the recesses of her arm, finally stopping at her hand. He marveled at how small and delicate they seemed, yet how strong that he knew they were. Long and slender fingers topped by perfectly rounded tips that were so cold to the touch he could feel the chill through his gloves. Her hands were both freezing; in fact, until this moment, he had not taken notice of the chill that hung in the air. It was everywhere, pressing on him, forcing air out of his lungs in great gasps. That was when he noticed the shadows in the corner. He did not move, but continued to hold her hands and take in her features. He watched her chest rise and fall as she breathed, each becoming shallower than the one before. He knew why the shadow had fallen across her room.

"No." He whispered. "You cannot have her."

"But she wants to go." Came the raspy reply.

"I don't care."

"She might as well be dead already. The doctors are not holding out any hope. Why don't you let it go?"

"Because."

"Because why? I'm going to need a reason."

"Because I need her. I lost her once, and I'm not about to loose her again."

"Very well. But you mustn't let her return here to earth. She will be dead to them."

"Will she remember any of this?"

"No, these past few hours will die as well. Take her now, for she needs care."

Without another word, the shadows recessed to the corner and disappeared. Jareth felt the air shift and warm around him as he reached to take her hand again. This time at his touch, she stirred. A small sigh escaped her lips as he bent down to kiss her lightly on the cheek.

"Don't worry, Dearest one. Nothing will make you sad again. I'm here now." He slid his hand beneath her gaunt frame and lifted her effortlessly off the bed. Without looking back, he turned and walked towards the window, slowly disappearing from sight.

Robert Williams stood in the doorway of what had been his daughter's hospital room. The bed had been stripped of the sheets and the faint odor of disinfectant hung in the air. Sarah's few things had already been removed from the room, making him realize that even though a person had just died in this room that morning, the staff considered things still business as usual.

When he'd gotten the call from Sarah's psychiatrist, he knew that things were not going well. He'd grown worried at her silence, always hoping that she would pick up the phone or at least call him back. When he saw her that last morning, he was unprepared to se her in such a downward spiral, fueled by the alcohol that she had kept hidden from the world. He had not left the hospital in two days, hoping against hope that she would recover. Alcohol poisoning was the almost immediate response from the emergency room doctor that had cared for her. He said that if things didn't look better in a few hours, it would take a miracle to bring her back. She had never gotten better.

With a weary sigh he turned from the room. She was gone, but there was still so much left to do for her.