Cleaning and bandaging the Goblin King was both easier and not with him awake. On one hand, it was nice to have him hold himself up. She was able to get to his back and have him take off his own pants.
On the other hand, he could talk.
"Sarah, that is quite painful!"
"Ouch! Watch it! Have you ever cared for someone? Our poor future children."
"Yes, my dear. You can look. Isn't it glorious?"
Sarah sighed so many times she thought her lungs would give out. He saved your life, he saved your life, he saved your life. She internally chanted, resisting the urge to slap him upside the head. She almost had at one point. She raised her hand and, despite his bravado, Jareth cringed and drew back into the pillow. He must have heard the sound and felt the air of a raised hand many times. She felt so guilty, she made an excuse to rinse out the washcloth.
When the task was complete, Jareth was quite the sight. Bandages and band aids abound. Sarah pulled one of Mark's oversized shirts over his head, carefully guiding his arms into the sleeves. Not wanting to attempt pants, she pulled the covers up to his waist.
Sarah decided it was time.
"Jareth, I want you to meet someone."
"Bring me something to eat. Roasted chicken would be nice, not too much garlic" He said at the same time. "And some wine."
Mark was still outside the door when he heard raised voices. Sarah and the man were talking over each other, each's voice trying to outshout the next.
He reached towards the doorknob and hesitated. His fingers brushed against the cool metal, but he didn't grip it. Sarah seemed very keen on keeping him away from that man.
Beyond that, though, he was afraid. His life was dull, and he was okay with that. He worked for a company that sold textbooks, he could cook all of five meals, he had a wonderful fiancée, and he filled his spare time with video games. The routine was nice, it was simple, and meeting this stranger was going to change everything. Every bone in his body knew it.
The choice was made for him as the noises from Sarah's bedroom crescendoed into screams. His hand automatically grabbed the doorknob and he swung it open.
The scene before him looked like something out of a sitcom.
Sarah was yelling at a decimal he had never heard from her. "YOU ARE THE GOBLIN KING? DO I LOOK LIKE A GOBLIN TO YOU?" She was bent forward, finger pointing accusingly at
The man was sitting up in Sarah's bed, propped from behind with pillows. Although he was weak and bandaged, he sat as if he ruled the house, one arm leaning against his makeshift backrest, the other gesturing at Sarah with a flick of his free hand.
"Well, you certainly have the manners of one!"
"You cannot demand for me to get you things! This is MY apartment and you are MY guest. I will happily get you food because you are hungry, but I do not HAVE any chicken and you will have to make due!"
"I do not think it is too much to ask! Just go out and slaughter one!"
"Oh my gosh! You don't listen! Don't you remember that I just saved your sorry ass!"
Jareth did not retort. He grew silent and solemn. Sarah put a hand to her mouth, realizing her mistake.
Finally he said in a quiet but deep voice. "Everything I've done, I've done for you. Everything." He half fell, half reclined back into a laying position.
Sarah pressed her lips together, opened her mouth, and then closed it again. She turned and started, realizing that Mark was standing in the room.
"Jareth, to your right my…. Mark is here to meet you."
Jareth turned to his right and Mark met his eyes. Despite the lack of focus, the mismatched eyes struck Mark to the core. This man, Jareth, deserved respect, Jareth's orders were law. Jareth could be cruel but fair.
"Oh, your Mark? Is he your servant? Good. Mark, fetch me chicken and wine. I am famished."
Sarah wondered if Jareth knew exactly who Mark was and was being dismissive on purpose. There was also a good chance that he was simply hungry. She had no clue how much, if any, food his father had provided him.
"Mark, I'm sorry to ask, but…"
Mark looked up as if he was snapping out of a trance. "Yes, of course. I'll go down to the corner store. Anything else we need?"
Sarah was surprised with how well Mark was responding to everything. She ran two fingers through the back of her hair. "Umm…. Some milk, more fruit, toilet paper, and…." She looked around the room. Her eyes fell on the chain around Jareth's wrist. "bolt cutters." She added firmly.
Having already decided to accept the oddities as they came, Mark nodded and added the items to his phone. "Got it. I'll be back soon."
With that he walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.
An awkward silence fell throughout the small bedroom. Sarah shuffled her feet against the carpet and Jareth folded his arms, sinking farther into the pillows.
Sarah eventually walked over and sat on the corner of the bed, gathering the courage to apologize. Apologize? That sounded so wrong. For the longest time, Jareth was the villain. He was the villain in a story long since over. It was still true that he was devious and predatory. Certainly he had no sense of boundaries, but his actions recently spoke of a hero. Even Sir Didymus would be proud of his king.
Sarah found herself reliving the moment Jareth had held her hand to his check. Blushing, she pushed the thought from her mind. She immediately felt a wave of guilt, recalling that her fiancé had just left the room.
"Jareth," she said softly. He moved only his head towards her voice. "I know what you did." She rose, grabbing the cup from her nightstand and walking towards the bathroom. She had to be doing something, this would be difficult conversation. "What you did for me," she clarified as she filled the cup. "And I want to thank you for it."
Walking over to the edge of the bed, she pushed the cup into his hand. "It water." He raised the cup to his lips and took several dainty sips before abandoning politeness and gulping it down. Sarah held both his hand and the cup for a second before taking it and making her way back to the bathroom to refill it.
Making her way back to the bed, she continued talking. Jareth's expression remained unchanged, but he was obviously listening. "When I first…trapped you down in the oubliette with me, you panicked before passing out. And, well, I found one of your crystals. It listened to me; I didn't think that it would. It showed me how you protected me from your father all those years ago and…"
She paused, placing the cup down on her side table. She gently scooped Jareth's hand and lead it until it touched the glass. "There is more water here if you need it."
Jareth nodded. His gaze was straight ahead and he looked as if he were worried. She watched as his breath made his shoulders rise and fall. Realizing that he couldn't see her staring, she took him all in. The tension in those shoulders, the tiredness in his eyes, the straight mouth that usual wore such a wicket grin.
He squeezed her hand and she released him.
"And I wanted to thank you." She finished.
It wasn't enough. It would never be enough. She felt the hot tears in the corners of her eyes. She let them flow freely, knowing he could not see them. She did not expect one to fall upon his arm.
The Goblin King reached out and clumsily found Sarah's face. He cupped the side of it and uses his thumb to wipe away the tears. Sarah knew she should pull away, but she didn't move. Instead, her cries broke into sobs. Jareth managed to sit up and reach his other hand to the back of her head. Weaving his long fingers into her dark hair, he pulled her towards his chest. She allowed herself to be lead as she continued her crying.
Her sobs eventually calmed and quieted as she focused on the warm and pressure all around her. The way her head went up and down with his chest. The scratch of the bandages on her under his loose shirt. Taking a deep breath herself, she began to pull away. He held on for a second more and then let her go.
Sarah used her sleeve to clean her face. She sniffed a few times and then said, "You shouldn't be comforting me. Jareth, I owe you my life. I owe you it twice over."
Jareth's face broke into a predatory grin. "Oh, Sarah."
Realizing what he may take from that, Sarah bit her lip. I can't even thank him without screwing things up. What is wrong with me? And why am I happy to see him smile again when he looks like he'll devour me?
"Jareth I didn't mean…"
"What's said is said." He moved himself comfortably in the bed. "I will remember this." He swung his legs around so that his feet hit the floor. With a small grunt, he sat completely up. "But for now, I require you to lead me to an outhouse."
If he noticed that the blankets fell and exposed his lower half, he did not act upon it. Sarah wondered if the fey had any concept of modesty or shame.
"Fine, I'm right here." She allowed herself to be used as a crutch and a guide dog. She noticed that he heavily relied on his right leg. I really hope isn't not broken. We'll have to go to the hospital. Jareth would not do well there. Plus, I don't know what fey anatomy consists of.
"Okay, we're in the bathroom now. I'm going to turn you around." She extended her arms and guided him in a half circle. "Now sit down." He carefully lowered himself onto the toilet.
Once he was seated, Sarah gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, careful to avoid any wounds. "I'll be outside the door. If you need any help. Let me know." She turned to leave, saying "Toilet paper is to your right…and I'm leaving sweatpants on the bed. Please put them on."
Behind the closed door she heard him mutter, "Well, I see no point in that."
The car revved as Mark pushed the pedal a bit too hard. He had gathered all the items are Sarah's list plus more pain killers (for himself; he had a terrible headache). Driving home was proving to be a challenge. It was almost as if he had forgotten how to drive.
The something that had been tugging at his mind was fiercely at work. Everything felt wrong. The car was foreign to him; the streets he had driven down for years did not feel right. They were too smooth, oddly straight. He thought of Sarah. She felt right. And, oddly enough, King Jareth felt right too.
Pulling into the driveway, he tried desperately to shake off these thoughts. He grabbed the bags and went inside the house.
When Jareth had returned to the bed, Sarah had demanded to look at his right leg. Jareth, without protest, had lifted it towards her. She looked over the purple and blue skin. It was certainly bruised. She felt up and down the bones by lightly pressing with her fingers. Jareth shifted uncomfortably, but managed to keep his leg still. She didn't know what she was looking for, but she didn't find it. It felt like a normal ankle and foot.
"It may just be sprained. I think you would have had a lot more trouble walking if it was broken. I will be right back; I'm going to get you some ice."
Jareth sighed. "This would be so much simpler with magic. I honestly do not know how you live with all of this nonsense of fetching things."
"If you had your magic, you could just heal yourself. Like I said, I'm leaving now."
Sarah had always been obsessed with the worlds of magic as a child. Although the concept was tarnished by her visit to the labyrinth, she did remember quite a bit of her "studies." If her suspicions were correct, that bracelet on Jareth's wrist was made of iron. Iron was a dangerous metal for any magical creature, but especially for the fey. It was probably the reason Jareth had no magic.
He's right, everything would be much simpler if he had his magic back. Still she was unsure of herself. Do I trust him? Would he do something to Mark? To me?
Her thoughts were interrupted by Mark. He looked just as confused as before, poor man.
"Hey, babe," she greeted him sympathetically. "Let me grab those bags. Thank you so much for going out."
"No problem." He said, handing her the bags.
She shuffled through the bags, pulling out a bottle of wine and some ready-made chicken. "Good thinking," she said as she held it up. "I'll put this on a plate. Could you grab some ice?"
He went to the freezer and began pulled out the soft ice pack. "Sarah, I know you said you would explain everything, but I think it's important for me to know right now. I think… I am pretty sure I've met Jareth before."
Sarah had already placed the chicken on a plate and was searching for a cork screw. Upon hearing this, the wine bottle slipped from her fingers. It cracked in half on the title floor, spilling red everywhere. "What?"
"I… I don't know for sure. It's not that I recognized his face or anything when he came here. It's just that I just know I've met him. I feel it."
Sarah's mind went to a dark place. Had Jareth been stalking her fiancé? Had he done anything to him? She was leaning strongly on the side of not removing the chain until she got a few answers.
Mark had his head tilted. "Do you hear that?"
She had heard it soon after the wine bottle broke, but had assumed that someone in a nearby apartment was making the sound. Now paying attention, she realized it was Jareth yelling.
The couple dashed to the bedroom. They came across Jareth thrashing around. He looked as if he was attempting to push himself into the headboard of the bed. He was yelling and screaming, bringing his arms in front of his face, his long legs kicked wildly, pushing against the sheets to shove him farther towards the headboard. "No! No no! NO! Stay back! I won't tell you, just leave, please leave me be!" He grabbed his hair with both hands and curled in on himself. "It's too dark. Too dark."
Sarah approached the bed. "Jareth," she said quietly. "That sound was just me. I dropped something. You're in the Aboveground. Your father can't get you."
Jareth had stopped moving with the exception of ragged breaths. Sarah noticed that he had reopened a wound on his torso and the blood was starting to spot against his shirt.
She made a decision in the moment. "Mark, please bring up the bolt cutters."
Mark ran from the room and returned soon after holding a pair of sturdy looking bolt cutters.
"Jareth, I'm going to touch you." She let her hand trail along his so that he knew where she was going, but at the moment she touched the chain, he jerked his hand back. Thinking fast, she grabbed it, and pulled the chain away from his wrist. "Mark, quick!"
Mark slipped the blade between Jareth's wrist and the chain. He squeezed the handles together hard. The chain was surprisingly tough. Adjusting his grip, he squeezed them again. Snap!
The chain cascaded from Jareth's wrist, to the edge of the bed, to the carpet. Jareth stopped struggling. Sarah watched as he blinked several times and then finally looked around him. His gaze fell on the mess of blankets in front of him, then on the window, then on the framed photo of a teenage Toby that was placed on her side table.
He could see!
Looking down at himself, he twisted his face into one of disgust. "Ugh!" He scoffed, "unacceptable!" He produced a crystal, and crushed it above his head. It produced a cloud of glitter that fell around him. When it had dissipated, he was dressed in a white poet's shirt. A brown vest clung tightly to him, followed by matching brown leggings and darker brown boots with matching gloves.
Looked over at Sarah, taking in her frumpy work clothing. "Even more unacceptable." He stated. He motioned with a bored hand toward her closet. The door flew open, revealing several dresses. All elaborate in their stitching and design, but all very different in color and style. "Choose whichever you like, my love."
Jareth placed his feet on the floor and began to stand. He cringed as he stood, but it was obvious that the magic had already gone to work in healing his body. He reached down and tapped his ankle a couple of times. It glowed with a green light for a second and then returned to normal.
Typical, Sarah thought, he changes clothing and then heals his sprained ankle.
Jareth immediately walked to the bathroom. Sarah followed. He was using her brush from the sink to tame his hair. After teasing it into its usual high style, he looked at himself in the mirror. He turned his head left and then right. Smiling, he gave a satisfied nod. "Much better."
Sarah's mouth fell open as he opened her drawers and began rummage through them. "Excuse me!"
He pulled out her make up bag and poked a gloved finger into it. "Is this really the best makeup you have, Sarah? For shame." He dumped it onto the sink. "I will have to make due."
She could only watch in mental whip lash as Jareth expertly applied her make up while leaning close to the mirror. He finished the corner of his eye with a flourish and tilted his chin up. He was obviously satisfied with his reflection.
With only a slight limp, he strutted out of the bathroom and fully took in his surroundings. "It will do," he proclaimed, looking around. His gaze finally fell on Mark who had been staring slack-jawed at the whole ordeal.
Jareth's (now lined) eyebrows drew close together. He drew in a huff of a breath. "Marcus! Where the hell have you been?"