Trigger Warnings: Depression, suicide attempt, drowning

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I'm sinking in the quicksand of my thought

And I ain't got the power anymore

"Quicksand" by David Bowie


The sickening sound of mud sucking at her shoes was the only noise Sarah could hear other than her own sharp breaths. The lake was still as she trudged towards it. There was no wind whispering for her to turn around. The trees were silent, watching, but uninvolved. Even the wildlife left her to her grief.


The sixteen years since Sarah's return Aboveground had been difficult. Having known magic, only to be returned to a world without it, had been a torment. She lived a life of isolation, rarely venturing beyond her apartment, and when she did, it was only out of necessity.

Her social circle consisted of a smattering of college friends with whom she had little left in common and rarely spoke to. In truth, she avoided them because she felt as though she never had anything to contribute to the conversation while they shared photos of their families, travels, and successes. Then, there was always the moment Sarah dreaded most: She'd run out of questions to ask them about their lives, and they would ask, "So anyway, Sarah, how are you?"

She would dive into describing whatever book she was reading, had just finished, or planned to read. After waiting patiently for her to conclude her impromptu book report, there would always be the follow-up question: "Okay, but how are you?"

And then she'd have to lie. She'd tell them how fine she was. She'd say she was an early riser, that she ate healthily and walked regularly.

In reality, Sarah clung to sleep as long as she could in the mornings and sometimes late into the afternoons. Her dreams could be so vivid at times that she could almost swear she was lucid. If she just tapped into the right frame of mind, she could chase her dreams back into sleep until her body finally protested enough to rouse her for the day.

Her health was fading, as her eating patterns were so irregular from her chaotic sleeping habits, but there was no one around to comment. When she looked in the mirror, she didn't see her sickly frame or her drawn face. She looked past herself, through to where she hoped to find companionship on the other side. It had only been through continued contact with her friends, Hoggle, Ludo, and Sir Didymus that she was able to maintain any connection to joy.

Sarah had sat in her apartment one evening with a grin on her face, ready to spin away from her mirror and give her friends hugs. When she turned, no one awaited her. "Ludo, Hoggle, Sir Didymus, I need you," Sarah tried again. She was greeted by her empty bedroom and more questions than she had answers for.

She replayed their last few conversations, registering things in retrospect that she hadn't at the time. Was she just imagining it, or had Hoggle been acting especially secretive? Had Sir Didymus been more nervous than usual? And Ludo, had he been quieter than he typically would have been?

Sarah attempted to reach them every night for three years. Her feelings of dread climbed with each day that passed without a word from them. It was difficult not to assume the worst: that they were gone, lost. Possibly dead. She couldn't think of any other reason why they wouldn't communicate with her. Her hope slipped further into grief every time she faced her mirror and said the words, only to turn to find no one waiting for her with open arms.


Sarah sucked in a quick breath as the first dregs of murky water lapped at her legs. Had she been focused on physical comfort, she would have cringed at the feeling of water-logged socks and hiking boots creating friction against her skin. She wouldn't be wearing them at all had she been planning on returning to the beach.

Sarah zipped up her heavy jacket over her sweater, taking a few strides forward. The water was to her waist, and she could feel the hostile cold of it as her clothing clung to her skin.

She paused for a moment as a breeze brushed by her, carrying with it the sound of large wings. Her eyes scanned the trees that encircled the beach suspiciously.

Turning purposefully back to the dark water, Sarah continued until she couldn't walk anymore. Treading water, she turned one last time to the half-circle of trees. "I don't want to live without them."

Sarah swam, as fast and as hard as she could. She didn't have much of a plan, only to exhaust herself to the point where she couldn't swim back. When she could no longer swim, her body continued to tread water despite her mind's orders to give up. She struggled against herself, coughing and breathing in water.

Her limbs grew heavy, her sodden clothing pulling her below to the beckoning depths. This is what she wanted, Sarah reminded herself as she took an involuntary breath and sank below the surface. Her legs still kicked, her arms still grasped at nothing, but her mind was as still as the lake had been before she had stepped into it.

Her concept of time slipped away as the light from the night sky faded above her before winking out entirely. She only knew she was conscious because her body continued to fight, but she wasn't thinking of her body. She was thinking of them.


Vague awareness crept back into her mind as strong hands pressed against her breastbone in steady movements.

"Sarah," came a commanding voice from above her, "I need you to breathe for me."

The hands stopped, and fingers tipped her chin up. Warm lips found hers as air forced its way into her lungs.

She felt herself being moved to her side as she began to cough. Calming fingers stroked her cheek as she vomited bile and lake water next to her.

"Good, Precious."

Sarah's eyes flew open in recognition as she searched to confirm the source of the praise. Her gaze settled on The Goblin King, his eyes hooded as he knelt over her in the mud. His mouth was a hard line as he watched her struggle to rid herself of the contents of her stomach and lungs onto the muddy ground beside her. "Breathe, Sarah. You must breathe."

Her hands clutched at her throat, then at her chest. She let out a muted sob as she tried to do as he instructed.

Jareth grasped her hands, rubbing life back into them. "Look at me. Breathe." He took a deep breath for her to mimic.

Sarah locked panicked eyes with his and sucked in a rattling breath resulting in more coughing and hyperventilating.

Jareth lifted a hand to cup her face, relief that she was breathing and concern over her distress warring on his face. "You are safe."

She breathed raggedly for a few minutes and did not protest while he rubbed reassuring patterns into her back. Her mind was slow to return to her, but her body reacted to his touch. She leaned into the affection, so desperate was she for connection after years of solitude.

"Sarah," he said gently, easing his arm around her shoulders and gathering her close, "You will feel my magic for a moment while I transport us."

Sarah turned her face towards his warmth, not caring about anything at that moment aside from the comfort he was offering her. She stayed there, tucked into his side, eyes closed, doing her best to match his breathing for a long while before she realized the sensation of heavy, sodden clothing was replaced by warm, soft flannel on her skin. She opened her eyes to see herself ostensibly clean and wearing a pajama set. Looking up, she found Jareth eyeing her for a reaction.

"Thanks," Sarah whispered, feeling detached from her body. Her voice didn't sound like her own as her mind struggled to make sense of what was happening.

Jareth inclined his head, watching her closely as she observed her surroundings for the first time.

"Am I—where am I?" Her eyes darted between him, the large four-poster bed they were seated on the edge of, and back to him with a dawning accusation.

He gave her a careful smile. "You are in my bed chambers, Precious. Where I expect you to rest."

Sarah considered this. She could tell he expected her to protest, to stomp her foot and proclaim how unfair this was. Instead, she shrugged dispassionately, pulling the covers back and crawling beneath them. "I am exhausted," she admitted. "Where will you go?"

Jareth canted his head to the side. "Go?"

"Surely you have babes to steal, songs to sing, peaches to lace, that kind of thing."

His smile was patient as he reached out his hand for hers and gave it a quick squeeze before releasing it. "I am not going anywhere."

Sarah gave him a curious look. "You're just going to sit there while I sleep, then?"

"Yes."

"And watch me."

"And watch over you, yes. That is the general idea."

Sarah felt like her mind was swimming as she sank into the pillows. "But, why?"

"I am going to stay by your side because you attempted to end your own life tonight, Sarah."

Sarah felt a mental barrier shatter, and the murkiness of her mind broke into crisp clarity as she remembered the lake and the years leading up to her swim. Her memories rushed back to her like lake water violently flooding her lungs. "I was ready, Jareth," she said. "I was ready to die."

Jareth studied her face from his position at the edge of the bed beside her. "Tell me why."

She met his eyes, a deep sadness settling into her own. "I'm alone."

He frowned. "Your family—"

Sarah looked down briefly, then back up at him. "We aren't close."

"I see," Jareth said, his voice soothing. "And what about friends?"

Her eyes shadowed with sudden mistrust. "You tell me."

"Sarah, I don't know what you mean." His brow furrowed in confusion.

"Yes, you do. You must." Sarah tried to get up. "I have to find them."

"You must rest, Sarah." Jareth reached for her, pulling her back down to the bed. "Tell me, what is it that I 'must' know about?"

She looked at him, fear shining in her eyes. A thick silence fell between them as Sarah prepared for an answer she would never be ready to hear.

He took one of her shaking hands. "Tell me."

Sarah looked down at their hands and took a deep breath. "Three years ago, I called for Hoggle, Ludo, and Sir Didymus. They didn't come then, and they haven't come since." She paused, looking back up at him. Her voice broke as she finally asked, "Jareth, are they alive?"

Jareth's puzzled expression changed to one of understanding. "Oh, Precious. Yes, they are alive."

Sarah lay back on the pillows and covered her face in her hands, overcome with relief. "I thought something had happened, that they were dead." She peeked at him from between her fingers. "That you were dead."

Jareth smirked and produced a crystal, teasing it lazily across his fingers. "I am very much alive."

She eyed him dubiously. "I see that." She swallowed and sat up so she was at eye level with him. "Part of me had accepted that I'd made each of you up. Whether you were dead or a dream, the loss was more than I could bear to live with."

The crystal disappeared, and Jareth searched her face. "You wonder even now if you are dreaming."

Sarah nodded. "I don't think I will ever know for sure."

Jareth smiled at her sadly. "Perhaps not."

A quiet spanned between them as he stroked the tops of Sarah's hands. Jareth observed her as she watched him caress her.

Sarah wondered vaguely why it didn't feel strange or invasive to be touched by him, her old nemesis. Instead, it felt oddly familiar and comfortable.

She licked her suddenly dry lips and looked up at him. "What happened? Why would they stop showing up?"

"The last day you saw your friends marked the final day of the thirteenth year since your return Aboveground. You had thirteen years of connection to the Underground in which to wish to return. Your time ran out, Sarah."

She stifled a gasp. "But—I didn't know. They didn't tell me."

"They would have been unable to tell you, bound by Underground magic. I, myself, would have been unable to tell you prior to the thirteenth year."

Sarah narrowed her eyes. "But after? Why did you wait three years?"

Something inscrutable passed over Jareth's face. "Perhaps I wanted to punish you. Just a bit."

"Punish me? For what?"

He shook his head. "I fear it is too late to admit to my petty resentments. What's done is done."

Sarah blinked at him. "Sorry—did you just admit to being petty?"

"Perhaps," he hissed. Then, after a pause, he added playfully, "Do try not to tell anyone."

She gaped at him for a long moment before letting out a sharp laugh at the absolute absurdity of the entire situation. "This"—she gestured broadly—"is ridiculous. I must be dreaming."

"I assure you, you are not." He looked disturbed by her laughter, and his voice had lost its playful quality. "This is very real, Sarah."

Sarah sobered, looking down at her hands. "I know," she muttered under her breath.

Jareth carded a hand through his perfectly unruly hair and sighed before admitting, "I knew you were suffering. All this time."

She stiffened but didn't look up at him. She could feel him staring at her, gauging her reaction to his confession. "Oh?"

"Yes," he confirmed. "I have watched you closely over the years. I should have anticipated this. Had I known it was this bad, Sarah, if I had known you would try to take your own life, I would have intervened sooner."

Her eyes met his, and she saw with surprise that his face was full of emotion. A heavy silence fell between them before she asked the question she really wanted an answer to. "Why do you care?"

Jareth's eyes grew large for a moment, and he seemed to flounder as if unsure how to answer. Finally, he settled on, "You are the first and only Champion of my Labyrinth. You deserve better."

Sarah rolled her eyes as if to make it clear his answer gave less than the satisfactory explanation she had been hoping for.

He continued, "I never enjoyed seeing you suffer, Sarah."

She shrugged. "You just did nothing to help. And honestly, why should you? We don't know each other—not really. You owe me nothing."

Jareth did not respond, but Sarah could see a cloud of sadness pass over his eyes at her words. He lifted a quizzical eyebrow at Sarah as she held up the corner of the blankets as if in invitation to join her beneath them.

She gave him a sheepish half-smile. "Can one old enemy cuddle another in a big, magical bed without it being weird?"

He took the sheets from her hands, slipping in beside her to lay on his side, facing her. "Who said the bed is magical?"

"Is it?" She slid to her side to face him, suddenly feeling like a child at a sleepover up way past their bedtime. She yawned.

"Of course."

"I mean, what kind of Goblin King would you be without a magical bed, really?"

"A poor excuse for one."

Sarah reached out a tentative hand and brushed a stray hair from his face before resting her palm on his cheek. "Thank you."

Jareth covered her hand with his own. "You are welcome."

She inched closer to him nervously. "Can I…"

He reached his arms out to her, letting her fill the space between them. His strong arms wrapped around her as she tucked herself under his chin. It had been so long since she had felt such tenderness and compassion, it caused something in her to break. She felt her body shaking before the tears came. Jareth only held her closer, rubbing soothing circles into her back. She lost track of time as she cried, dimly aware that he was singing familiar words of long ago. She slipped into a dreamless sleep as he murmured against her hair, "I'll be there for you as the world falls down."


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A/N: Thank you so much for reading. This was a hard one to write. I am considering writing a follow-up to this story. Please let me know what you think.

Special thank you to BowieQueen for Beta reading this for me and for being wonderfully supportive.