A/N- The regular disclaimer.

And he was, a bitter laugh, bitter with experience, but also bitter, because in spite of himself, he was pleased with what she had just done. Her family had given her away… but she, she had just sold herself. "Sarah… In the Underground- words are binding."

...words are binding...

Silence. A silence known only to a desperate few, a silence when the clock ceases to tick, the earth to turn, your heart to beat. The silence before the carriage once again becomes a pumpkin, the silence as your feet leave the ground, before you start to fall. The silence that, once shattered, can never be repaired. "Jareth? Jareth, are you saying what I think you're saying?" Because you had better not be saying what I think you just said.

"Sarah…" Calm, rational, a soothing voice, but underneath, a tone that Sarah did not want to hear. A tone that, coming from him, could only mean one thing. A hidden note of pleading, coming from him… It was true.

"Oh God." Sarah suddenly felt slightly dizzy. "Jareth, I need… I need to sit down." Immediately he was by her side, leading her over to the chairs that surrounded the dying fire. The leather chair was firm beneath her, a solid promise that not everything in the world had just fallen to pieces. He knelt next to her, one gloved hand still resting on her own hand, the dancing shadows cast by the flickering embers catching his features, searing them into her gaze. She closed her eyes.

"Sarah, I know how you feel-"

"You know how I feel right now?"

"Sarah! Please… Listen to me." The pleading note had become more obvious. His voice was kind, such a contrast to the mocking tones she normally heard in it. "I do know how you feel; you think I have not made unintentional promises? That I have never accidentally bound myself? This is the Underground Sarah, and promises, whether they are meant or no, have to be kept. You aren't dealing with reason anymore, it doesn't understand sarcasm, words are meant, what's said is said." The words washed over her, numbing, almost comforting. Almost, but not quite. The silence had still been broken, her world had still shattered, and no words, however tender, that the Goblin King said, would put it back together again.

Still… Maybe, maybe it wasn't true, maybe he was just lying. Maybe he was just playing with her again. He had taken advantage of her before, had kissed her when she needed comfort. This was just another ploy. It had to be. They were words to untie the knot in her stomach, words to mend the hole in her heart, to put her world back together. But Sarah could not begin.

His hand still lightly resting on her own, she wanted so badly to believe that it was not true, wanted more than anything to believe he was lying to her. The man who had never told her a lie, the man whose every word had rung painfully true, she wanted more than anything to refuse him, refuse to believe. But she couldn't. He was telling her the truth. She couldn't mend her world with a lie, it would cave in upon her once again, and Sarah didn't think she could survive another collapse.

It was almost surreal. So the sky hadn't fallen in, her feet were still bonded firmly to the ground, but it was not the same. Would never be the same. What had she promised exactly? To shine his shoes, shine his shoes… she could see his smirk already, already wanted to throttle him. Now there was an option, kill him before she had to- to sleep with him… Sarah cringed internally at the words that had come out of her mouth, why hadn't she used that euphemism? To merely sleep with him would have been far easier. But worse, much worse then even that, she had promised to marry him. Surreal. Sarah was suddenly exhausted, her nerves which had been buzzing all evening, suddenly could take no more. The numbing pressure that had been weighing on her until she felt she could take no more was suddenly… gone.

"Sarah…" Her name once again falling from his lips, forcing her to open her eyes. He looked worried, tired. "Sarah, please, you need to go to bed. Sleep." Right. Of course. Sleep. A faint voice echoed in her head, one she would always remember. A voice she thought she had buried beneath the anger, beneath the pain of not belonging. A distant echo, sensible, sweet- Everything will look better in the morning. Her mother's voice, then, as quickly as it had come it was gone, and she was left staring at the Goblin King. Some consolation prize.

"Yes, of course. Sleep." She stood up, Jareth moving in unison with her. "But…" She glanced at the ceiling, remembering the vivid descent from her balcony as if it was a hundred years ago, like looking through a broken mirror.

"You can sleep in my bed tonight, Sarah. I will take a chair." It didn't occur to her to protest as he led her to the platformed bed. The room was already starting to blur around the corners, the numb feeling that had paralyzed her, keeping her silent. Jareth helped her up, the bed, decadent to the extreme was only comforting to Sarah's drooping eyes. He brushed a lock of hair from her face, turning to return to the fireplace when Sarah caught his hand.

"Jareth? Please? Is there anyway out? Anyway at all?"

...words are binding...

Anyway out? Jareth's heart suddenly lodged in his throat, his breath thundering in his ears. What could he say? Sarah. His Sarah. It sounded beautiful in his ears, a feeling of utopia only known to Pygmalion before him. Aphrodite had granted his wish now, had given him his Galatea, had turned his cold dream into warm flesh. She had given him his Sarah. The memory of the kiss was still strong, teasing, taunting him. She had become everything to him, she had become his world, how could he give that up? How could he think of losing that?

But how could he keep her? Like the Nightingale caged, would she forget how to sing? How could he keep her, bind her to him, hold her and never let go? How could he not? She was everything, in a world without meaning she had given him something to believe in. From a monochrome existence she had fallen into his life like light through a prism, scattering into a thousand different colors, painting his world with a passion he had never known. She enraged him, yes, violently so. But then, she had tamed it, tamed him, unwillingly, unconsciously, unintentionally. She had become his. But before that, far before that, she had made him hers.

How could he give that up? He could tell her, tell her the truth, that with one whisper he could set her free, give breath to one thought and let her fly away. I release you from your promise. He could tell her the truth, that promises once made, could be broken by consent. That you could scream and curse, a thousand different words that would have no effect, but once said, a promise could only be broken by consent. I release you… So yes Sarah, yes, there was a way out. He could liberate her with one parting kiss of words. There was a way out. But Jareth could not give it to her.

"No… No Sarah, I'm sorry." Choking in his throat, it was almost as quiet as her breath as sleep took her from him. The first lie he had ever told her. The only lie that could keep her. "I'm sorry Sarah…" I'm sorry…

A/N- Heh. I'm not sure what to think of Jareth, I'm alternating between throttling him for what he just did or melting at how sweet that was in a perverse way. Okay, not my favorite chapter, I'll admit it. Giving refrence to the last couple of paragraphs to those who aren't in love with ancient Greece,Pygmalion was a Greek sculpture who carved the perfect woman and fell in love with her. Aphrodite granted him his wish and turned the woman into flesh, her name was Galatea. As always, review please, and brownie points to those who already do.