Thank you for the reviews, they're a big encouragement. :)
To Unique Fantasiser: I'm glad Sarah's goodbyes had such an impact; I tried thinking about what I'd say to my dad if he ever died. As far as the funeral plans and Sarah staying at home, the house is now, for all intents and purposes, Sarah's. It hasn't been said in the story but she and her Aunt will be in town for a couple days before they return. Family had come from all over the country and it seemed appropriate to stick around until they went home. I haven't been to many funerals, myself, but I know that my Uncle had an open casket put on display in his living room. I don't know if that's how people normally do it, but I ran with it so I could have Jareth show up without pesky relatives getting in the way...
To Sarah Rose: I needed a sad song from before 1990, so I asked my dad. He came up with it right away, and it worked perfectly. Most sad songs back then were about broken hearts and not death, so I think I got lucky.
"So. Here we are. Again."
Sarah scowled. "I thought you were gone."
Jareth laughed bitterly, "I've been watching you, Sarah. I've seen your grief, your dissatisfaction."
"Why are you here?" she ground out. Her fists were balled, but she kept them firmly at her sides.
"Simple. You wished to trade places with your brother; I'm afraid it's not possible. No one can be brought back from the dead."
"Thanks for letting me know, I'll try to remember that-"
"But," he interrupted, raising a finger to her lips for emphasis, "I have another offer. It may interest you."
She searched his face, but he couldn't be read. She shook her head. "Not this. I'm not doing this again."
"I truly think you'll find it worth your while. I only ask that you hear me out, and afterward you can make your decision. Aren't you even a little curious?"
Sarah wasn't totally committed to her answer, but she wasn't about to give him any ammunition, "No."
"A pity," he remarked, but she was already leaving her room. She wasn't going to sit around here and listen to him; it was almost worse than being here alone. He followed her to the stairs, watching from the landing as she descended.
"And where are you off to?" he asked, an air of authority about him.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" she dismissed his question, taking a coat from the rack. He narrowed his eyes.
"What do you intend to do?"
"I don't know."
"Why go anywhere, if you have no reason to?"
"I have a reason; I'm just not sure what it is yet."
"Quite confident, for someone so ignorant of their own intentions."
"Must you have an opinion on everything?" she questioned exasperatedly, opening the door and leaving before he could reply.
She hadn't said it, for fear of dragging on the conversation, but she was quite livid at his arrival. Couldn't he understand that wishes weren't what she needed right now?
Unless he could find Toby, raise him from the dead and place him in her arms, he was useless to her. Something about that thought struck her as wrong and somewhat morbid, but she ignored the feeling.
"Oh, what I wouldn't give for…" For what? For Toby?
'It ain't the wrong place or they wouldn't be there.' She remembered Hoggle's words. If what he said was true, then Toby was supposed to be dead.
She shuddered. Something about that felt wrong too.
Her thought were jumbling together and she was grappling with herself about whether or not to go back and listen to Jareth's offer; whether or not she could ever accept it, or if she'd abide by Hoggle's logic. It was making her crazy and she hated it, so she decided to spot thinking altogether. At least until she could focus.
Sarah hadn't realized it, but she'd been clenching her fists and moving at a furious pace the entire walk. She must have been quite a sight for onlookers, but even if she had noticed any stares her mind was in a completely different place. She wasn't even sure where she was going; the only certainty for her now was the air rushing by her ears and the knowledge that if she stopped moving she'd be left alone with that terrible silence again.
She made like this for a good while- how long, she didn't exactly know, but long enough for the traffic lights to start flashing- until she arrived at the edge of the park.
The place, at least for her, had always been somewhat lonely. Most of the time that was the whole point. It seemed funny, in a black and white sort of way, how she'd just been craving company and was now hiding from it.
He didn't want to confront her here. Whatever he would do, he would do it another time, perhaps when she was feeling more open-minded. For now, watching from a distance would have to do.
She was lying on her back on a stone bench, eyes shut. Her breaths were shallow enough that her chest barely rose at all; by all senses, she appeared dead. But his keen ears picked up something in the wind; a whisper. It was faint, but unmistakably hers.
"Out of the night that covers me,
"Black as the pit, from pole to pole,
"I thank whatever gods may be
"For my unconquerable soul."
He couldn't place the rhyme; it certainly wasn't anything from his realm. But he could feel an energy flowing off of her, like those words had some hidden power.
"In the fell clutch of circumstance
"I have not winced nor cried aloud.
"Under the bludgeonings of chance
"My head is bloody, but unbowed.
"Beyond this place of wrath and tears
"Looms but the horrors of the shade,
"And yet the menace of the years
"Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.
"It matters not how strait the gate,
"How charged with punishments the scroll,
"I am the master of my fate:
"I am the captain of my soul."
Tears glittered on her face by the light of the street. They stung in the frigid cold of the winter night, but she ignored it. She chanted the poem, over and over as if it would protect her.
Protection? From what, Jareth?
No. As displeased as she was to have him back, she wasn't afraid of him. Frustration, annoyance in abundance, but no fear. Perhaps that was foolish of her.
No, what was gripping at her now– constricting her lungs and pounding her heart –it came from something else.
He'd stayed at his perch until she got up to leave. When he did move, it was swift and toward the house. He would wait for Sarah there, perhaps try to speak with her again. He'd need her cooperation for this; he had no clout this time around.
He arrived in less than five minutes, while for Sarah the walk was a half an hour, if not more. He'd have to find some way to pass the time.
In the end, he settled for a bit of light reading. Picking up a book from her nightstand, he made himself comfortable. It was a book of poems, and he planned to find the one Sarah recited in the park. It was as good an occupation as any, for now.
His heels kicked up on her vanity, her little chair leaned back on its rear legs, he flipped through the pages. He did so idly at first, but eventually found himself reading each word, utterly drawn in.
It wasn't until he heard the front door slam and Sarah's accusatory "Jareth!" ring throughout the household that he chose to put the book down, thinking perhaps that their discussion could wait until morning.
Kudos to William Earnest Henley for being a brilliant poet.