Sarah grabbed her bag and her keys and walked toward the door. She knew Moira was right about talking to Jareth, but she was still dreading the conversation that awaited her in London. She wanted to give Jareth a chance to explain himself more, though. She had been too hurt and angry during the initial conversation to properly listen.

She hadn't told him she was coming. She didn't want to give him time to try to turn on the charm or invent some crazy story. She wanted him completely caught off-guard. Much the same way she was when she opened her front door.

"There she is!" a woman cried. More voices followed and Sarah looked out at a crowd of unfamiliar faces. They shoved cameras in her face and pointed microphones toward her mouth, all shouting at once and taking flash after flash of pictures.

"Miss Williams! Miss Williams!" shouted a man with a video camera. "Is it true that you're actually the author of the best-selling novel, Her Majesty's Jewels? Are you really G.K. Ibis?"

"Who told you that?" Sarah asked, blinking in the flashing lights.

"Why have you been writing under that name?" "Why are you living in Great Missenden?" "Is it true you're working on a follow-up?" "When will you publish again?"

The questions all came at once as the crowd of reporters and photographers surged toward her.

Sarah whirled around, dizzy, in the pressing throng.

"Leave me the fuck alone!" she cried.

With near-superhuman strength, she pushed her way through the crowd and took off in a sprint down the street. She didn't stop running until she reached the heavy wooden doors of the little stone church. She gave a quick glance behind her before ducking through the doorway and into the vestibule. With a loud exhalation, Sarah closed the door behind her and leaned against it, closing her eyes.

Who could have told the press her secret? Very few people knew. Her agent, of course and a handful of people back home in the States. And Jareth.

"He couldn't have, could he?" Sarah thought, her heart dropping into her stomach. Would he really be so petty?

The silence of the church was broken by the sound of her phone and Sarah nearly jumped out of her skin. She half-expected the call to be from a reporter of journalist looking to dig up the truth about her now exposed double-life. She was relieved to see that it was a call from her parents' house.

"Sarah?" said the voice on the other end of the line.

"Toby? Oh my god, I'm so happy it's you!" she said, almost in tears.

"Um… well," her brother began, "You might not feel that way when I tell you why I'm calling…"

"You did WHAT?" Sarah cried into her phone.

"I'm sorry!" Toby gushed. "I was trying to impress Christi, a girl I want to go out with. So I told her you wrote that book"

"Fuck, Tobes! How did you even know I wrote it?" Sarah groaned.

"I was looking for some money to buy some video games and I found your old notebooks in the safe in the basement."

"Shit shit shit!"

"I'm really sorry, Sarah. I know I screwed up…"

Sarah took a deep breath and released it. "It's ok, kiddo," she told him. "It was going to come out sooner or later."

"You're fucking famous!" Toby snickered. Another thought dawned on him and he gasped. "And you're probably a fucking gazillionarie too!" he added.

"I'm not broke," Sarah told him. It was an understatement; her secret bank account in Switzerland was expanding on a regular basis.

"Can I have a loan?"

"You are in the doghouse for a while, Dude. But don't worry, there's a college fund with your name on it."

"College? Lame!" he moaned and she smiled.

"I have to go now, Tobes, okay? I have a big mess to clean up."

"Okay," said her brother. "I really am sorry, Sar."

Sarah sighed. "Let's just say we're even, okay?"

She and Toby said their goodbyes and hung up and Sarah opened the door of the church and peeked out. The street was still lined with press vehicles and she quickly shut the door and moved into the shadows of the sanctuary. As she stepped backwards, she bumped into something, a figure in black.

"Well well, Esmeralda," said Reverend Clarkston. Sarah whirled around to face him and he glared down at her. "Coming to seek sanctuary, are we? That's what always happens to people when their sins find them out."

"I just needed a moment to breathe," she told the reverend.

"You've not been in services in two weeks, but now that you're in trouble, you come running here," he said coldly.

"What are you talking about?" Sarah snapped.

Clarkston sneered down his nose at her and begin to circle her. "I know all about your dirty little secrets, Miss Williams," he told her. "I met your lover." He said it as if it were something distasteful. "And I heard a rather interesting rumor that you're not just the author of childrens' books."

"So?" Sarah retorted.

"So?" echoed the reverend. "Have you no shame, young lady? You come here pretending to be pious, when in truth you are the worst kind of reprobate, a whore, a pornographer and a hypocrite."

"I don't have to take this crap from you," Sarah said and turned toward the door, but Clarkston grabbed her arm and whirled her around before pushing her against one of the heavy wooden pillars.

"The Almighty does not take these things lightly," he hissed into her face. "You can find forgiveness if you ask for it humbly. Turn away from your sins, Sarah. All will be forgiven if you repent. Otherwise, I have no choice but to purge your name from our fellowship. Your soul will be damned."

He leered down at her, his eyes lingering too long on the curve of her breasts, his mouth twisted into a little snarl.

"Where has your lover disappeared to, Sarah?" he sneered. "Did he get you into trouble and then run away back to London? Will we be welcoming another little bastard into our community?"

Disgust and anger surged up in Sarah, white-hot and explosive. She wrenched away from him, slashing the side of his face with her fingernails.

"Fuck you!" she cried before bolting out the door.

Jareth slowly climbed the rickety stairs to his third-floor flat, his steps heavy. He'd tried to pull himself together enough for his classes, but had ended up leaving early. He was in no mood to lecture on Diarmuid and Grainne.

His heart ached and burned in his breast over the thought that he had hurt Sarah. It was the last thing he'd ever wanted to do. Just when it seemed like his dark past was behind him, it had reared its ugly head and had likely cost him the one person he'd ever really loved.

He stopped on the staircase and leaned against the wall. Gods, it was all so bloody unfair. Such a stupid mistake. When would he ever be free from its grasp? It had haunted his dreams for a decade. It festered on his soul like an ulcer. He carried the shame and guilt of it burned onto his skin like a prison tattoo.

"That's who I am," Jareth thought with a humorless chuckle. "I'm fucking Jean Valjean."

He pushed himself away from the wall and trudged slowly up the stairs in a state of misery. Reaching the top, he turned to dig his keys from his coat pocket and caught sight of a ragged bundle slumped on the floor beside his door. The bundle looked up as he approached.

Green eyes rimmed with red circles gazed up into his.

"Can I stay with you?" sniffled Sarah.

"Sarah, what happened?" Jareth asked as he helped her up and led her into his flat.

"Everything," Sarah groaned. She shuffled into the lounge and plopped listlessly onto the sofa.

"I'll make you some tea and then we can talk about it, okay?"

She nodded and Jareth shrugged of his coat and hustled off to put the kettle on. Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the sofa and thought back over the succession of events that had taken place over the past few hours.

She'd been on the verge of trying to smooth things over with Jareth when all hell broke loose due to her brother's reckless tongue and hyperactive teenage libido. She wasn't angry at Toby. Not really. He was just a kid. And she had done far worse at his age.

Reverend Clarkston on the other hand, had fully earned her ire. Sarah grew livid at the thought of him touching her and leering at her the way he had. He was supposed to be a religious man, trust-worthy and kind. But he'd shown himself to be vile, manipulative and predatory. She shuddered at the memory of his hands on her wrists, holding her down. She couldn't say that he would have forced himself on her, but he'd already proven himself to be a monster, so it wasn't beyond the realm of possibility.

"Here we are then," said Jareth as he breezed into the lounge bearing two steaming cups of tea.

He handed Sarah a cup and then moved to the end of the sofa. Lifting her legs, he sat down on the sofa and then placed her feet in his lap. While Sarah sipped her chamomile, Jareth removed her heavy boots and thick socks and rubbed her heels and ankles.

"Tell me what happened," he said, kneading the arch of her left foot.

"I've been outed," Sarah told him.

"Oh my," replied Jareth. "By whom?"

"Toby."

Jareth stifled a snicker and Sarah kicked at him with her bare foot. "It's not funny," she growled.

"No, perhaps not," said Jareth. "Still, your secret is out. What will you do?"

Sarah took a sip her tea and sighed. "I don't know. The reporters have already been to my house. They're probably all over town now asking everyone I know for dirt on my 'Secret Identity.' Clarkston already knows. He…" She paused, not sure she wanted to relate the sordid details of her interaction with the reverend to Jareth.

"What, Sarah?"

She shook her head, "It's nothing," she told him.

"Bollocks, Sarah Williams. Tell me what happened."

"Clarkston cornered me," she told him quietly.

"What?" asked Jareth, his nostrils flaring.

"He was really awful. Pretty much said I'm damned to hell for writing my book and for sleeping with you," Sarah answered.

"Did he touch you?" Jareth asked. Sarah could hear ice in his voice.

"He- he grabbed me," she admitted. "He pushed me against a pillar and threatened to excommunicate me."

Jareth had heard enough. He moved Sarah's legs aside and stood.

"Jareth," said Sarah, rising to meet his gaze. "Please don't do anything hasty. He's a horrible man, but he's still a reverend and a leader of the church. He's not worth whatever you're thinking." She grabbed his arm and held him. "Please don't add this to…"

Jareth scowled and pulled away. "My list of sins?" he asked quietly.

"I was going to say 'your guilt'", Sarah replied, looking at the floor.

"Yes well, what's one more stain on my soul if it means that bastard gets what is coming to him?"

They were silent for several moments and the air was thick with the tension of what lay unspoken between them. Finally, without a word, Jareth retrieved his coat, pulled it on and walked out the door.

Sarah sank down onto the sofa with her heart aching and her stomach twisting into knots. She knew his magic made him capable of anything, and while part of her wanted to see him gallantly rush off to defend her honor, she knew that if Jareth did anything to Clarkston it would be the end of their relationship. She couldn't, wouldn't love a monster.

The door opened again just a few minutes later and Jareth walked in carrying two take-away boxes. He stepped into the lounge, shaking the snow off his coat lapel, and set the boxes down on the coffee table. He paused when he saw the look of confusion on Sarah's face.

"I had a sudden craving for Thai noodles," he explained.

A little hiccupy laugh escaped Sarah's throat and then she burst into tears.

"Oh Sarah, love," Jareth said reaching for her and pulling her close. "Darling, don't cry."

"I- I thought… I thought…" she blubbered.

"Shh, love." Jareth held her and rocked her back and forth. "You thought I was going to go full Goblin King on that wretched old man, didn't you?"

Sarah nodded through her tears and Jareth chuckled.

"I assure you, dearest Sarah, that while that horrid man certainly deserves a headlong plunge into the Bog or worse, I am no longer the sort of man who gives into fits of blind anger and temper tantrums." He pulled back and smiled at her.

"Besides, all these years sitting behind a desk have not been kind to my figure, and I'm afraid my black leather-and-armor ensemble no longer fits the way it once did."

He smiled at her again and Sarah laughed.

"In all seriousness though, Sarah," Jareth told her. "The reverend's actions must be addressed. I can promise you no violence, but I cannot promise you that no one will get hurt."

"I understand," she told him.

He kissed her forehead. "Your noodles are getting cold."

A/N: What are your thoughts on Reverend Clarkston? Do you think Sarah and Jareth should cause a stir in Great Missenden? What course of action would you take in dealing with this situation? I'd love to hear your thoughts!

~Fanny~