Sarah was still on the couch when she heard Jareth's key in the door. She hastily wiped her eyes on her sleeve and sat up, hoping she looked better than she felt, but all vain thoughts vanished when he walked in. His clothes, the same he'd been wearing the night before, were wrinkled, his hair was more unkempt than normal, and his face was drawn and pale.

"Are you ok?" she asked.

"I do not believe that I am."

"I tried to find you. I drove all night."

"I stayed with a friend."

"Oh…" she said dumbly. Jareth had friends. Weird.

"It seems you're a well-known figure around town."

"Small town," she said, sitting back on the couch, crossing her arms across her chest, and kicking one leg up to rest on the other.

"So I hear. I also hear you haven't been entirely honest with me."

A harsh laugh escaped her. "Well, there's a shocker. What do you think I've been dishonest about this time?"

Jareth paced the length of the living room, turning his head so his eyes remained fixed on her. She felt overly scrutinized - like she was prey and he was about to pounce.

"I don't know what to think. However, the things I know make a fairly short list, so let's start there, shall we?"

She set her jaw.

"I know that your boyfriend of some years was tragically killed."

She didn't allow herself to flinch; he was watching too closely, but she couldn't stop her leg from bouncing anxiously.

"No argument, I see. Very well, let's continue. I know that you have hidden all of this boyfriend's belongings behind a locked door. And the items that did not fit in that room are sealed away in a garage that you refuse to enter."

He continued pacing.

"Anything else?"

"I know that you took me in when you had no obligation to do so. Fed me. Clothed me. Treated me like a human being."

She blinked in surprise.

"You have not always been kind," he added.

"Turnabout is fair play," she argued.

Jareth held up a hand, unwilling to spar.

"I cannot comment on that which I do not remember. I am telling you what I know. And what I know is that you have not always been kind, but your kindness to me has far outweighed your unkindness to me. And for that, I am in your debt."

Sarah drew breath to speak, though she was unsure what she would even say, but he continued without pause.

"But if you cannot be honest with me, I cannot stay here."

She said nothing.

"I recognize that me leaving is not a hardship for you. This is not an ultimatum. But you have become something of a friend, and among my other debts to you, I owe you the benefit of the doubt."

"I told you the truth," she said.

"A lie of omission is still a lie."

"And what did I omit?"

"How did your boyfriend die?"

Her leg stopped bouncing. "Who told you?"

"Travis Kasekamp."

"What would he know about it, anyway?" Sara sighed, closing her eyes and laying her head back against the couch. She pressed her fingertips to her temples, feeling the throb of the veins there.

"He seems to feel I might be in danger."

Her hands fell to her sides as she opened her eyes, then her lips pulled up at the corners and she laughed bitterly. "Well, that's real sweet of him. Is he afraid I'm going to off you the same way I did Jason?"

"Did you kill your boyfriend, Sarah?"

"If Travis Kasekamp is so concerned, why isn't he here making sure I'm not murdering you right now?"

Jareth's eyes flicked toward the door.

Sarah's mouth fell open and she stood and marched to the window, moving the curtain aside to see Travis' car idling at the curb. "Un-fucking-believable," she whispered.

"Did you kill your boyfriend, Sarah?" he asked again.

She set her jaw. "As far as this town is concerned."

"That's not an answer."

"That's the answer everyone wants, Jareth. You see that, don't you?" Her voice rose as she began to pace. "They won't be satisfied until I'm locked in a pillory in the town square admitting my guilt while the high school marching band plays the fight song behind me."

"I want the truth." Jareth let her have the floor, circling her to give her space.

"No you don't!" Sarah shouted. "Nobody does!"

Jareth crossed his arms, refusing to back down.

"He wouldn't fix the fucking door!" The walls reverberated with the sound of her voice, a high, tinny not-quite-echo. She stilled her pacing and stared down the hallway.

Jareth followed her gaze, the taped-shut door just as puzzling in this moment as it had been when he'd first seen it.

"It doesn't stay closed," she said, far more quietly. "Just swings open sometimes. Dad offered to fix it. Said it would only take a minute. I told him no thanks. Jason was good at DIY and this was supposed to be our starter house. But he never did it. Just kept putting it off. And it didn't seem like a big deal. The garage only has the automatic door going to the outside; there are easier ways to break in. Plus, it was summer so the cold didn't bother us. He had time. He kept saying he'd do it later."

There was a long pause, and for a minute, Jareth thought she'd forgotten he was there.

"We had friends. Lots of them. Do you know why?"

Jareth didn't answer.

"Because Jason was a good person. Everybody liked him and he liked everybody. And I was so lucky because he liked me best." Her lips turned up ever so slightly, but the small smile wavered. "It was strange, you know? To go from being a complete loner to suddenly being surrounded by people who admired me - who envied me - because the nicest, most handsome man in town loved me. And I need you to understand that what I'm saying is the truth. He was genuine. No dark, sadistic secrets. He was a good man.

"But he wasn't perfect. That's one thing nobody in this town really understands." She shook her head and mumbled, "And I couldn't just be content with a partner who was only nearly perfect."

It was a while before she continued.

"We liked going out. Him. Me. Our friends. We all liked going out, and Jason liked to drink. He was the kind of guy who would have a few and then wouldn't see any reason not to have a few more. And he always said that it was no big deal because I could drive us home and make sure his precious car made it back into the garage.

"And I resented that! Because you know what? I also like to drink and let go and have fun. And it wasn't fair…" She stopped and glanced at Jareth for a split second before looking back to the ground. "I just wanted to let loose one time. Be someone other than the 'responsible one' for a change. Just once. You know?

"It seems so stupid now. So fucking stupid."

A short pause.

"Do you know I've never had a garage with an automatic door opener before?"

The change in tone and subject caught him off guard. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

"Do you know what that is?" she asked.

"I can use my imagination."

"Can you use your imagination to understand just how cool those are when you've never had one before and you're blind, stinking drunk?"

She didn't wait for an answer. "Jason installed it. It was important to him to keep his Camaro in the garage, and he didn't want to get out of the car to open the garage door every time he got home.

"I didn't mind. Fixing up the house was always the plan, and even if I thought his priorities were out of order, you've got to pick your battles, right?

"He drove. If a lie by omission is still a lie, you should know that. He drove us home - I'm not saying that like it absolves me of any guilt because neither of us should have been driving - and he parked in the garage, because the Camaro couldn't be left outside." She shook her head. "So I stumbled into the house and closed the garage door with the new button Jason installed. And because I was just clear-headed enough to know that I was going to need a big glass of water and a couple of Tylenol to stave off what promised to be one hell of a hangover the next morning, I went straight to the kitchen.

"Jason didn't make it that far. Just came in and passed out on the bed.

"And honestly, Jareth? I have no idea if I actually got that glass of water. All I know is that just going to get one saved my life. Because when my friend came over the next day, she found me unconscious in here," her eyes drifted to the couch, "and Jason dead in the bedroom."

She looked at Jareth. "Carbon monoxide poisoning. He left the damn car running and the fumes came through the broken door.

"Did I kill him? Not exactly. But close enough for the people in this crappy town. Because if I hadn't been drinking, I could have driven. And if I'd driven, I would have shut off the car, and Jason would have passed out in bed like he always did and would have woken up the next morning with a hangover like he always did and life would have just continued on like normal.

"And all those friends that I loved to go out with? Gone in an instant. Every single one of them whispering behind my back, feeding the rumors that go around town. That I planned it. That I left the door open. That I turned on the car after Jason passed out. At first, the rumor was that I wanted to collect all of his money, and when they realized that didn't make sense, the story changed. Murder/suicide is the story now. That I've always been crazy and just snapped. They all say it. All but one. The one who found me and saved my life.

"And if you think they haven't given her hell over it, you're sorely mistaken. Did Travis tell you about Sadie, too?"

Jareth shook his head, the movement almost too slight to be seen.

"Well, life hasn't been a peach for her, either." Sarah turned her back to Jareth and hugged herself. "One day she'll realize how much easier her life will be without me. But until then, she's all I've got."

She turned to face his judgment, prepared to stare him down the way she'd done thirteen years earlier. The way she wished she could stare down every damned person in town.

But he was already beside her and took her into his arms, hugging her tightly.

She stiffened. Then, after several moments, she hesitantly, tentatively embraced him back. The moment she did, he began rocking gently from side to side and she felt the tears begin to come. Tears she'd been trying to hide, trying to swallow, trying to press down inside of her so no one would ever see them. Because she didn't deserve pity, not from the people in town and certainly not from herself - the one person who could have done something to save Jason.

They came slowly at first, welling up large and solitary before sliding down her cheeks, but they were soon joined by others that had no time to grow before following the same trail and dripping off her jaw. A whimper started high in her throat and at first, she didn't think the sound was coming from her, but it grew and traveled deep into her chest where she could no longer contain it and soon she was crying. She was sobbing. She was howling. She cried and she cried hard. She cried for Jason - a decent man whose life was cut too short. She cried for Sadie who had uprooted her life in the city, hoping for the security of friends and family during the most uncertain and frightening time of her life. And, for the very first time, she cried for herself. She cried for the woman she might have been and for the life she might have built. And through it all, Jareth held her, one arm wrapped tightly around her back and the other gently holding her head against his chest, his cheek resting on the top of her head.

He held her until she cried herself out. Until she felt she couldn't cry another tear. And then he continued to hold her until she pushed herself away, ducking her head so he couldn't see her face. She crossed to the bathroom, but didn't close the door behind her. Instead, she grabbed a roll of toilet paper and brought it back into the living room, tearing off a length and dabbing her cheeks.

"I'm sorry."

"For?"

"All of this," she waved at her face and blew her nose.

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

"No, I really do. And for more than just this. You were right; I haven't been very nice."

"You've been more than accommodating."

"Please, Jareth. Just let me…" She paused and took a deep breath. "I wanted to say I'm sorry. That's what I meant to say last night before… Well, you remember.

"The painting was a nice gesture. Thank you. And thank you for helping around the house. It got away from me…" She looked around. The house wasn't exactly clean, but it wasn't so messy that she'd be mortified if someone stopped by - a few dishes in the sink, an unfolded blanket on the chair, her coat thrown over the back of the couch.

"I have caused you more work than you wanted to do."

"You caused me to get my ass in gear and do work that needed done. That's not a bad thing. And, honestly, Jareth? I feel a lot better now that it's done. I feel…"

Her stomach growled and she looked down. "Hungry, apparently. Are you hungry?"

"Famished," he said.

"Ok, I'll boil some spaghetti…"

There was a knock at the door.

They both glanced at the door and back at each other.

"I think we forgot about Travis," Sarah said quietly. She took a deep breath and started for the door.

Jareth stepped in front of her. "Allow me," he said.

Sarah started to protest and then realized it wasn't chivalry motivating him. She stood back, allowing him to open the door.

"Hey man… everything ok?" Travis looked nervous. Very nervous.

Jareth stepped through and drew the door behind him so it stayed open only a crack. For Travis' privacy or Sarah's, she wasn't sure. "It's fine," Jareth assured him. "I have a few things to do here, and I'll meet you back at the store in an hour."

"You sure, man? I mean, I can stay if you need a ride anywhere or…?"

"I'm sure. Thank you. One hour."

There was a pause. "Ok. One hour."

Jareth reentered the house, closing the door properly behind him.

"I'm not sure if that was really brave or really stupid." Sarah said. "What was he going to do if I was actually murdering you?" There was no humor in her voice. She turned to go to the kitchen.

"Why don't you have a warm shower? I'll take care of the food," Jareth suggested.

"You think you can handle cooking spaghetti?"

"Anyone can cook spaghetti."

Sarah shrugged and turned to the bathroom. He'd seen her cook enough noodles to know how to do it, plus there were instructions on the box. Worst case scenario, she'd be eating mush with tomato sauce. And that would fill her stomach the same as anything else would.

She stripped off her clothes, turned on the water to let it warm up, then caught a look at herself in the mirror. She looked like hell: red face, messy hair, bloodshot eyes. Her shoulders slumped, giving her a small hunch. At twenty-eight she felt old and wrung out. She wasn't looking forward to thirty.

She leaned forward, closer to the mirror, then wrinkled her nose and twisted her mouth, trying to make the ugliest face she could. She held the position for a few seconds, examining the ridiculous lines of her face, then sighed and rubbed her eyes, still puffy from her cry. Steam began to pour from the shower, and she stepped in, letting the hot water soak her hair and relax her muscles.

She stood letting the hot water hit her for longer than normal, concentrating on the feel of the water running down her body. Her heart ached, but that was normal. She hugged herself as if she could ease the pain, but it didn't lessen. The nausea, though… the constant, nagging dread in the pit of her stomach, that had lessened.

She reached for the small bottle of facial cleanser. It had been a while since she'd used it, but there was enough still left in the bottle to wash away the salt from her tears.

As she rinsed the cleanser under the spray of the shower, she realized she felt lighter than she had in a very long time. A lot lighter.

She soaped up her body, starting from the top and working her way down to her legs.

"Good lord… who fired the gardener?" she mumbled and reached for her razor.

It was a long while before she stepped out of the shower. The hot water had long since been used up and she had to do her final rinse in the cold. The mirror had fogged over, small rivulets of water dripping onto the counter below. She wiped away the condensation with her hand and took another look at herself. Her face had returned to its normal color and her eyes, with the help of the little bit of red that remained, shone bright green. She stood up straight, pulling her shoulders back, and ran a hand across her flat stomach. She could probably stand to gain a few, she thought, then turned to check out her behind. Not too shabby. She pulled on her robe, tied the sash, and gazed at herself.

The hollow ache in the center of her chest was still there. She looked away.

The aroma hit her when she opened the bathroom door and her stomach growled again. She'd intended to go straight to her room, but was drawn instead to the kitchen to see what Jareth was doing.

He had the skillet out and was adding the cooked spaghetti to it, stirring it around and flipping the pasta with a deft movement of his hand.

"What are you making?" she asked, surprised by the lack of red sauce.

"Spaghetti Aglio E Olio."

She looked at him askance. "And what's that when it's at home?"

"Spaghetti with garlic and oil. I had to improvise a little; you have only minced garlic. I helped myself to your spice cupboard."

Sarah inhaled deeply. "It smells amazing."

"It's ready, if you are."

"Yeah. Give me just one minute." She turned to go to her room to dress.

Chapter title from "Devil Town" by Daniel Johnston.