RATING: K+
GENRE: Angst, Drama
**WARNING: Character Death (though there is a resolution)**
SUMMARY: What price are you willing to pay to save a loved one?

GRAY

Rain slapped against Sarah's umbrella, spilling over the edge in a steady stream. She thought it appropriate that the gray skies were weeping the tears she no longer could. Which stage of grief was this cold numbness, she wondered. Acceptance? Denial? Something in between, perhaps.

Water pooled in the grass against her boots as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Her legs were growing stiff as the priest droned on about those who inherited the kingdom of God. Sarah barely heard his words, her focus instead on the too-small casket under tented poles. A bouquet of daisies rested atop the dark mahogany—her favorite flower. And because they were her favorite, they became Toby's favorite too—as much as any boy fascinated with bugs and Transformers could have a favorite blossom.

Just last weekend, she had come home from college to celebrate her brother's eighth birthday—with lots of candy, cake, ice cream, and a trip to the video arcade. She ruffled his blond hair, which he hated, while he told her about his new high score on Super Mario Bros. He'd been so energetic, so alive.

And three days later, he fell climbing the old oak tree in their backyard. He was trying to get a soccer ball out of the branches when he lost his balance. Death had been instantaneous. He felt no pain, the coroner had told the family with reassuring tones—as if that knowledge would make this all less horrifying. It didn't.

A motor sounded, muffled by the downpour, and Toby's casket lowered slowly into the earth. The small crowd lurched forward to throw flowers into the grave. Karen wept noisily, clutching Sarah's father as he stared on. Pain, in various forms, tightened the features of the friends and extended family in attendance—pain and sympathy, though could any of them really understand? Or did they mourn the tragedy while secretly relieved this was not a cross they'd been asked to endure? Somewhere in Sarah's mind, a voice whispered she was not being fair—but what did she care about fairness anymore?

She returned hugs, accepted condolences mechanically—not hearing, not feeling. Her thoughts were in the ether as they returned to the cars, as they entered the house with a retinue of grievers and a kitchen full of food. Why did people bring food to a funeral? Sarah couldn't eat, and by the way Karen pushed her green bean casserole around with a fork, Sarah guessed her stepmother shared her sentiments.

When the group began sharing memories of Toby, ostensibly because her brother would want them to celebrate his life rather than lament it had been too short, Sarah slipped away upstairs to her room. Her chest constricted as a flood of images washed over her—of Toby's lopsided smiles, of tickle fights and story books. She could hear his one-year-old voice attempting to say her name for the first time. Rahrah.

She recalled keenly how she had fought for a harrowing ten hours to win him back seven years ago. Had it been worth it, in the end?

She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as warm tears rolled down the sides of her face. "I wish…" she whispered, choking on the word she'd forbidden herself for so many years. "I wish I could switch places with Toby." Never had she wanted anything more.

"You can't."

Her heart quivered nervously at the voice she hadn't heard for so many years. A part of her knew that when she said "I wish," she risked the attention of her former nemesis—a part of her was afraid he wouldn't care even if the words reached him.

"Why can't I?" She rose slowly, drying her wet cheeks with the back of her hand. She brought her eyes up to meet his. The King of the Goblins was as beautiful and terrifying as she remembered, exuding devastating power even as he lounged gracefully against her vanity.

He scrutinized her with a sharp gaze for several breaths before answering her question. "Because, contrary to legends and myths about me," he said, crossing his arms over his chest, "I don't deal in death." He spat the last word as if the idea was repugnant. "And the one who does… Well, he doesn't accept trades."

Bringing a hand up, he studied his fingers as if only mildly interested in their conversation. "I'm afraid, Sarah, that you are condemned to go on living."

A sob bubbled up her throat, but she swallowed it down, refusing to cry in the presence of the unfeeling monarch. "Would you have turned him into a goblin?" she asked, leaving another question unspoken. Would he have been better off?

The king looked at her, his mouth a thin line. Silence stretched between them as she waited for his response, the quiet suffocating her with each heartbeat. Against her instinct to shrink, to flee, she held his gaze, willing him to tell her the truth—no matter how unkind.

"I don't know," he said finally, glancing away. He plucked a photograph taped to the vanity mirror. It had been taken a year ago, just after she and Toby had left the face-painting booth at the fair. She was a cat and Toby was Optimus Prime. "I don't know how he would have been transformed by my kingdom."

"But he would have lived." Fresh tears burned in her eyes as she thought of the coffin descending down, down, down.

"Yes," Jareth answered flatly, setting aside the photo. "Would it have been the life you wanted for him, though?" He straightened, taking a step toward her. "I'm not entirely certain you would have called that existence fair." There was a ghost of bitterness in his tone.

His words stung as if he had slapped her. Did he really think she was the same petulant teenager? Was that how she appeared to him now? "Maybe I wouldn't have," she returned, lifting her chin with the temerity she had never quite grown out of. "But under the circumstances, any kind of living is better than…not."

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a mocking grin as he took another step forward. "Is it? Tell me, Sarah, do you find this particular type of living to be better than the alternative? I seem to recall just minutes ago you wishing yourself dead."

She glared at him, angry at his flippancy. "You're twisting my words, Goblin King."

"Hardly," he said, now close enough to her that she had to crane her neck to keep her eyes on his. "You still overlook the consequences of your wishes. Still such a child. Pity."

Sarah wanted to spit in his face for his callousness. How dare he accuse her of being some insolent girl? Her brother—the only person she had truly loved—was gone. And Jareth would play these games with her! But then, hadn't he always been this way? Mocking, uncaring, selfish—cruel. Punishing her defiance at every turn—even stealing her time.

Time.

A quivering thread of hope overtook her. "I wish," she began softly and grew louder with each word, "the Goblin King would turn back time, before Toby's accident. Right now."

Fury contorted Jareth's features, and with lightning speed, he grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her as he spoke. "You stupid, foolish girl! Do you believe I wouldn't have done it already if I could? You understand nothing!" he bit out. "I would reorder time—move the very stars—a thousand times over to save him for you."

She blinked at him, disturbed by his vehement confession. "Why?" Her voice sounded so small in her ears.

Jareth abruptly released her with a sigh. "My magic is bound, Sarah," he said, not answering her question. He stared down at her with such intensity her skin pebbled with goosebumps. "By you."

His quiet words stole the air from the room, and she felt dizzy with understanding. You have no power over me. Battle worn and terrified, she had uttered that line and, for the first time that horrible night, felt triumphant.

And the same sentence which had saved Toby had also doomed him.

She swallowed thickly. "What if I take it back?" When he didn't answer, she asked again, her voice cracking in desperation. "What if I take it back?"

Jareth shook his head, his mouth tightening in a frown. "As I said, you understand nothing."

"Can I take it back?" She hated the vulnerability in her tone, but she was on the precipice of either falling forever in grief or flying with the knowledge she had done everything she could to save her brother.

"Yes." He stared unblinking down at her, derision teasing at the corners of his lips again. "For a price."

"I don't care what it costs me—not if you bring Toby back." Her heart hammered against her ribcage as she waited for the final verdict from Jareth, knowing the mercurial king could decide not to help her at all.

He let out a mirthless laugh. "Oh, you will care very much, impetuous child." Cupping her chin, he leaned toward her and murmured, "If you're so determined, then say your right words."

She squeezed her eyes shut, blood pounding in her ears. "I wish that I could undo…" Her words trailed off at the sudden breeze that stirred her hair.

"Just fear me, love me, do as I say, and I will be your slave."

She opened her eyes, and Jareth stood before her, the remains of his castle floating impossibly in the air behind him. He stared at her with expectation and something undefinable drawing taut the pale skin around his mouth. She sucked in a sharp breath when she realized she'd been taken to the very moment she had rendered the king of the goblins powerless against her—and powerless to help Toby.

"My kingdom is as great." The statement came from her of its own volition and fear seized her. "My kingdom is as great," she repeated. No! It was as if her teenage will was too strong. She wrestled with herself even as her mouth began forming the words which would ultimately kill Toby.

"You have—" She cut off, clamping her mouth shut. Confusion flickered across Jareth's face. "You have to send my brother back." The adolescent within her who had just conquered the goblin city screamed at her, clawed at her to regain control.

Jareth raised an upswept brow. "Do I?"

"I'll do what you want, if you send him back—and protect him." Fifteen-year-old Sarah was horrified, but adult Sarah would not recant. She had wished to die in Toby's place; this bargain couldn't be much worse.

"Done." Jareth held the crystal out to her with an ominous grin.

She raised a quaking hand and touched the cold, smooth surface of the globe.

And was suddenly back in her room, everything as it was before—even the intimate way the king of the goblins held her face between his gloved hands. She still wore the same black dress as she had worn to the funeral, and she was afraid that she had changed nothing with her wish.

And then, down the hall, she heard the most beautiful sound.

"Mom!" Toby shouted, his voice closer with each footfall. "Can I go to David's house?"

Sarah pushed past Jareth and flung open the door. Her brother, whole and alive, jumped at the sudden movement. He blinked at Sarah, brow furrowing. "Sarah? What are you doing here?"

She grabbed him, wrapped her arms around him, nearly weeping at his solidity. "I'm here to see you, Tobes."

Her brother grunted. "You're squishing me."

Laughing, Sarah released him and held him by the shoulders as she studied every inch of him. There wasn't a single hair misplaced, and tears of elation swelled in her eyes.

Toby scrunched his face. "Why are you being so weird?"

"I just had a bad dream," she said, shaking her head. "It's nothing."

"Oh, okay." He shrugged as if the explanation was good enough for him. "I'm going to David's house. See ya!" And with that he was bounding down the stairs, hollering for his mother again.

Sarah watched him go, her cheeks wet with staggering relief. She felt the warmth of Jareth at her back and whispered, "He's safe."

He made a noise of agreement. His feathery hair tickled her cheek as he said against her ear, "But you are not."

Chills inched up her spine, fanning out across her skin like crawling spiders. Her price. She was afraid to ask what it was, what he had cautioned her against. "Will I ever see him again?" The new ache swelling in her chest told her she already knew the answer.

"Only from afar," Jareth replied, his lips grazing the shell of her ear. "You asked only that I protect your brother. You never asked to have a life with him."

"And you won't let me have that."

"On the contrary," he murmured, sliding a possessive hand down her arm, "I've been generous. I gave you seven years with the boy." He spun her to face him. "I warned you about the consequences of your wishes. What's said is said."

She wanted to hate Jareth for barring her forever from her brother, but the pain of this separation paled in comparison to the alternative she had already suffered. At least Toby would go on living, even if she no longer had a part that life.

She sighed in resignation, looking up at the man who had become Toby's savior and her warden. "What will you do with me?"

Jareth's lips curved up in the corners with a feral smile. "You'll keep your end of our bargain."

I ask for so little. Just let me rule you…

Just fear me, love me, do as I say…

"I have ever been your slave." He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him. "And now, you belong to me."

His words echoed in a space transformed into the stale, impersonal paisley of a guest bedroom, leaving behind no trace of the headstrong girl who would pay any price to save her brother.

~FIN~

A/N: Thank you for reading this angsty thing. I'd love to hear your thoughts if you have a moment!