Chapter Four: Defy You Deny You

The woman gave new meaning to the word ungrateful. In fact, Jareth was certain that if he picked up a dictionary and searched for the word it would simply be a picture of Sarah Williams. And she would probably have her lovely mouth half open ready to demand something or make a complaint. He simply couldn't fathom where this fresh level of detestation had stemmed from. She'd taken up his offer to show her the castle grounds, and yet from the moment they began she acted like he'd had her bound and gagged to come along. A flash of utmost irritation ran through him at the tempting picture of her bound in a very different situation. He would never understand her ability to infuriate and intoxicate him simultaneously. Even now, with that look of utter defiance in her emerald eyes, she was a blazing flame that called to him.

"Hello? Are you listening?" she waved her fingers in front of his face and he blinked, coming out of his thoughts.

"Barely," he managed to reply quite dryly. "I assume you were making some sort of complaint?"

"I asked where the kitchen was," Sarah replied heatedly. "I'd like to make my own meals. So I don't always have to wait for you to magic me up a plate of something."

"The kitchen is full of goblin fodder, as I only ever 'magic up' my meals, as you so eloquently put it," he told her, but started to lead the way nonetheless. "But if you tell me what you require, I'll provide it."

She didn't thank him. While they walked he snuck glances at her. She wore a loose button up shirt with high waisted black jeans and sneakers. He wondered if she knew what her casual appearance did to him. He'd seen his share of beautiful women; an intricate hairdo and a tight dress had done wonders for him in the past. But Sarah, with her ruffled black mane and her boyish costumes…it awakened a part of him that hadn't stirred in a long while. Perhaps he liked the ease with which she existed, the confidence of a young woman who had discovered herself and found nothing worth being ashamed of. Perhaps it was the loose shirt that slipped every now and then and afforded him a glance of her tanned collarbone…he shivered with delight at the thought of tracing his tongue along that delicate skin. No, he told himself firmly. You must never touch her. But then an even more painfully hopeful thought sprang to mind: touching doesn't necessarily mean loving.

"…need some work done around here," came Sarah's voice from beyond his bubble of dangerous thoughts.

"Work?" he replied with a slight cough. "What work?"

"Your castle is a bit of a mess, Goblin King," Sarah told him, gesturing at the kitchen they had arrived at while he'd been thinking. "It's a dump actually."

This little barb was one of many she'd flung at him today. Her desire to insult him was running deeper than he'd ever known. Yet he looked around at the kitchen, with its broken cupboard hinges and hay-strewn floor; the draws hung open with miscellaneous utensils waiting to fall from them. Everything was faintly marred by scratches or dust or dirt. He seemed to notice this for the first time, and felt something like the stirrings of shame. "I'm a busy man," he told her brusquely. "I don't have time to entertain, so what use have I for a kitchen?"

"It's not just the kitchen," she replied, stepping around the battered preparation bench to inspect something that was beyond mouldy sitting on the counter. "You've let the place go. Don't you have any pride? You're a King, and this is your castle. But it looks like a warzone."

"That's because it was," he said quietly, revelling in the anger blooming in his chest. Anything was better than hopeless infatuation. "Have you not noted the obvious lack of any goblins, Sarah? Compared to the last time you were here?"

She put down a broken mug she was looking at and met his gaze, looking almost nervous. "I…I hadn't noticed," she said. "I've been preoccupied."

"You hadn't noticed that the Goblin King has no goblins? I thought you were more observant than that."

She shrugged. "Like I said. I've been preoccupied. So what's the story then? Where is everyone?"

"They're dead," he said boldly. "My goblins turned on each other and slaughtered the weaker species. Now I am King of monsters, the likes of which you had the pleasure of meeting a few days ago."

Her reaction was strange. She seemed frightened but not genuinely surprised at the information. "So you haven't fixed anything since then?" she asked.

"I'm a little busy running a kingdom to concern myself with home repair," he said wryly.

Again there was that annoying shrug, as if nothing he said held much interest for her. "I thought kings would be better at multitasking," she mumbled just loud enough that he would hear it. Then, wiping her hands on her jeans, she continued: "Can I see the gardens? I want to see what I've got to work with."

She only became worse as the morning wore on. His castle was in obvious disarray, yes, but he'd thought that its size would impress her in some way. After all, he'd given her an entire wing to herself: a private bath, drawing room, bedroom and several alcoves with large bay windows to view the grounds. He'd told her she'd have free reign of anywhere in the castle, except for his private quarters. Yet nothing had drawn more than a few snide comments that grew in increasing viciousness. His mouth began to twitch with the effort of not snarling as they traversed his gardens and she pointed out every little flaw. The Sarah he knew was not afraid to speak her mind but this…this was something else. This was plain spite and utter rudeness. Finally he showed her the web garden, which had always been one of his favourite places: a grassy field stretched out below a thousand different ivory vines that intertwined and glittered in a glorious parody of a spider web. He had spent many restless evenings lying on the grass beneath the webs and watching them catch the moonlight. Though everything else may have started to suffer in his neglect, this place remained as perfect as ever: a silent, shimmering effigy of beauty in his dark world. Sarah was clearly in awe of it for a heartbeat – he saw the wonder on her face – but to his complete exasperation, she set her mouth in a determined frown and turned her gaze away.

Enough was enough. She made as if to simply walk away from his pride and joy with barely a glance and he could take it no more. The bitterness, the attitude and the nasty remarks: there was only so much one could withstand from someone who turned your world. He snatched up her wrist and pulled her into his chest with a force that surprised them both. "That is enough, Sarah," he growled at her. "Stop this childish behaviour. Tell me what is bothering you."

If this frightened her it only showed for a second. Her wide eyes and open mouth were quickly smoothed into a look of shrewd defiance. "Why do you care?" she replied pointedly, and for a dizzying moment he felt as if she already knew the answer. "You got what you wanted: I'm the payment for my brother and sister. I'm just property now, right? Traded goods?" she managed to pull her wrist free of his grip, but only because he let her. Touching her heated skin was too much to bear in his current mood. He didn't know if he wanted to kiss or choke the life out of her. "Who cares what your new possession is feeling?" she spat, turning to walk away from him.

"Fine," Jareth snarled, overcome by emotion. "If that's what you truly think of me, so be it." He vanished and reappeared directly in front of her. "Yes, Sarah, I'm the monster who stole you away," he growled. "I am the Beast, and you are the Beauty, but this will be no silly girl's fairy tale. You are in my world, and things never end the way you expect them to." Oh, how his blood boiled. Not at her, not anymore, but at himself: at the fear he saw in her eyes, plain as day. He had caused the trembling of that entrancing bottom lip, the hardening of those soulful eyes that might never soften again. Because of him. Before she could react, before he could comprehend the damage he had caused, he vanished, leaving her alone in the garden.

"Well?!" Sarah shouted into the air, "Did you see that Fae Queen?! Still think you're right?!" She was shaking, but why was unclear. Hadn't she wanted this? He'd only tried to show her around, make her feel at home…but she'd had to keep pushing him, had to prove that there was no way he was committing any ridiculous fairy crime. Now that he was gone she sank onto the grass, feeling weak in the aftermath of her need to be hard as hell.

She was only mildly surprised when a mirror appeared beside her and Wick stepped out of it.

"Tell her it's done," she told him without moving from the grass. From her position she stared up at where the vines began to crisscross in delicate pathways, catching the sunlight and shining. It really was quite breathtaking. Guilt twisted the tiny knot in her stomach.

The Elf stood over her with a concerned expression. "She's away for a conference," he said. His voice was richer, more comfortable in itself, almost casual. "I can't tell her anything for a few days. But it doesn't matter. She wouldn't believe you anyway. Jareth is just as hot headed as his mother, only he doesn't mean half the awful things he says."

Sarah regarded the Elf. "You sound different."

He shrugged, taking a seat beside her. "I'm off duty."

"Then why are you here?"

"I heard you shouting," he replied, plucking a blade of grass and twirling it idly in his nimble fingers. "I just wondered if you were all right."

"I'm fine," Sarah sighed, head falling back against the grass. "I just…I had to do it. I had to push him. And he did mean what he said; you didn't see his face. He was so…" she didn't finish the thought, because it would mean admitting he'd scared her. "Why do you sound like that?"

"I'm my True Self," Wick replied as if expecting her to understand.

"I don't know what that means, Wick," Sarah told him, rolling her eyes up to him.

"Right, sorry." He shifted on the grass to join her lying down, looking up at the webs. Elves haven't always been creatures of service. We were more powerful, once, almost as much as the Fae."

"What happened?"

"About six centuries of class struggle. Our government clashed with the Fae royals, arguing that we should be made equal. There was a lot of debating and civil unrest between us." Wick told the story with a rolling cadence in his voice, the confident teller of a story he seemed to hold inside quite preciously. "Eventually the Fae demoted us to a lower class. Split our souls in two so that we could be subservient and feel comfortable in life at the same time."

Sarah rolled onto her side and rested her cheek in her palm, gazing at him in horror. "They split your souls?"

He nodded. "We have two now. Two Selves: our Servant Self and our True Self. When we're working we pick up our Servant Self. We're to be subservient, be respectful, you know. The usual. At home, we can be our True Selves, pick up the soul that lets us enjoy our private life. It's meant to keep us from feeling the need to rebel, you know, because we don't feel the inferiority our ancestors struggled with."

"I can't believe they did that to you," Sarah shook her head. "They split you in two just because you wanted to be treated like equals?"

His shrug was forced. "It doesn't hurt. At least, not these days. The first generation…I heard that was unpleasant. But it's been bred into us now." He smiled wryly. "Although, as you can see by my other Self, sometimes the souls have trouble separating."

"That's disgusting!"

"It's our life," Wick replied offhandedly, but she could tell the subject upset him.

"I guess that explains why the Goblin King is such a monster," she muttered, aiming to change the subject. When the Elf offered no reply she looked up at him. "What? You don't think he's evil? He pretty much just admitted to it."

"I think…I think some people, when backed into a corner, will react the way you want them to. Because they don't want to disappoint you."

"Yeah well, what would you know?" Sarah grumbled, sitting up and hugging her legs to herself.

"I know that you're not going to get out of this by cheating," Wick replied waspishly.

"Cheating? How was I cheating? I'm making the Queen see he doesn't love me! He just sees me as property!"

"The Queen won't be seeing anything for a few days," he told her. "She's busy with royal duties. So you've made the Goblin King angry for no reason." Wick stood up, conjuring the mirror again. "I suggest you try again in a few days. And try a different tact. You're not going to get what you want by poking him with a stick." He climbed into the mirror and both vanished with a delicate sweeping sound.

"Wait! Wick!" Sarah called a few times, but nothing happened. She sighed, long and hard. "Good going Sarah, you've pissed off the only friend you've got here." She decided to stay in the web garden for a while longer. It was by far the most comforting place in her new home. She lay back on the grass again, feeling it tickle her ear, and watched the sun sparkle off the webs. Despite the beauty of her surroundings she felt worse than ever. Provoking him hadn't worked; she was pretty sure he wasn't going to talk to her again. And her only friend was annoyed with her. Sarah plucked at a blade of grass and tore it to pieces in frustration.

He'd been punishing her. For four days Jareth had avoided all contact with Sarah, letting her drift through the castle in total isolation. At first it had felt good to see her squirm after the way she'd treated him. He'd gotten a vague sense of satisfaction out of watching her return to his garden every day and sit for hours, lonely and bored. But his bitter gratification had begun to ebb when he saw her crying at night. It wasn't spying, not really…he'd just thrown a few tiny crystal balls her way at times, to catch a glimpse of how she was taking the punishment. And it hardly seemed fair, the guilt he felt when he saw her sobbing into a pillow after the trouble she'd caused him.

But as much as he would never audibly admit to it, he loathed the fact that he'd made a grown woman cry.

The Dwarf-Goblin knew it, the nasty little scab. He could feel Hoggle's judging eyes on him whenever they were together. At last he could bear it no longer. She would hate him all the more for this, but he didn't care. He had to see her smile again, even if it could not be because of him. Rolling his eyes, sighing under the weight of his entire existence, Jareth finally answered his servant's silent plea.

"Go to her," he commanded. How a command could sound so much like defeat, he didn't know. "And bring the others with you."

"Thankyou, Sire," said the ugly little creature with genuine gratitude, and shuffled off without delay. Lounging in his throne, Jareth felt decidedly ill. Yes, she would hate him.

She was dreaming, that was it. She was dozing on her bed out of sheer boredom, and she'd fallen asleep and was dreaming. Why else would she be hearing two very familiar voices arguing at the foot of the bed?

"The cad has poisoned her, I'm certain of it! Why else doth the lady sleep so late in the day?"

"She ain't been poisoned, you idiot. She's just sleepin', what else can you expect her to do? She ain't got nothin' or no-one in this damned nasty place. Now shut up, or yer'll scare the wits out of her. We has to wake her up real careful. Don'tcha know what we look like?"

"Then I shall wake her like the fair maiden she is: with the kiss of a knight –"

"Oh no you won't! Sarah don't want no filthy goblin stink on her face –"

This squabbling seemed to go on for a while. It must have been a particularly vivid dream, because for a moment she felt the brush of something against her hand before it was snatched back.

"I says no kissing!"

"You exasperate me, Sir! What would you have us do then?"

"Leaves it to the big guy, okay? He's gentle enough. And she saw him before so she ain't gonna be scared."

Sarah exhaled gently, comforted by the dream voices and their familiar bickering. She curled deeper into her pillow, feeling its downy fabric against her cheek, the whispered crinkling under her ear as she shifted. Then a stink filled her nostrils. It was a strong smell of tanned leather and sweat. It conjured images of kind eyes and big hands, though her nose scrunched up with the intensity of it. Then she felt a weight on her hair: a careful, continuous stroke.

"Sarah."

She grinned in her sleep at the familiar voice. "Hello Hoggle," she murmured, eyes still closed. The weight on her hair was starting to rouse her but she resisted the urge to wake. Waking up would mean saying goodbye to the first friendly voice she'd heard in days.

"She remembers Hoggle!" cried the voice ecstatically. "Yer hear that? She remembers!"

"Of course I do…" Sarah mumbled, frowning now. The smell was beginning to bother her. As was that insistent patting that felt so real. Her eyes fluttered open, heavy with sleep, and the blurred lines of an ugly toothy blob filled her vision. As she began to focus the blob became a squashy head with kind eyes and two giant fangs. She screamed, not quite recognising him in her stupor.

"What the – oh my god, you scared me…" Sarah's voice trailed off, her hand clasped to her heart. Her big goblin friend had withdrawn his hand from her hair and was just sitting there grinning at her. But he wasn't what she was staring at. There were two more goblins with him, one just taller than the bed and the other so small it had to crane its neck right back to see her. The taller one grinned at her too, with its beady little eyes and shock of white hair over craggy brown skin. The small one seemed to jitter in its place, with sharp eyes and red and white patches of leathery skin and a bizarre little moustache.

Sarah blinked and rubbed her eyes. The familiar voices…

"Don't go bein' scared of us now, Sarah. Ain't no need," said the one with white hair.

"I concur, fair maiden," squeaked the little goblin from the floor, "Do not despair, for we are your loyal companions of old and would never seek to harm you!"

The voices just didn't match up with the bodies. "Hoggle?" Sarah whispered in terrible realisation. "Sir Didymus?"

"At your service, milady!"

"Yes, Sarah. It's Hoggle."

And then Sarah made a connection: the big red goblin, with those fangs he would never use on her and his kind eyes and lumbering walk – "Ludo?" she turned to face the big creature smiling sadly at her. His massive hand came to rest on hers, and he nodded but said nothing. "Oh my god." Sarah felt tears spring to her eyes. "Look at all of you…you're…" she took Hoggle's gnarled hand, staring into his new face in disbelief.

"Ain't a pretty sight, we know," said Hoggle, and he seemed to blush under her scrutiny.

She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "You're still my friends," she told him firmly, taking them all in with a sweeping gaze. "That's all that matters." Ludo's long arms reached around her from behind and crushed her into a bone-cracking hug. Though the smell was enough to make her gag Sarah couldn't help laughing, patting whatever part of him she could reach. "It's good to see you too, Ludo."

Set back on her feet, Sarah expected to hear something from the friendly beast before it hit her that she hadn't heard a single sound from him yet. She noticed a teary gleam in Didymus' eyes and a particularly wary expression on Hoggle. "Ludo can still talk, right? I mean, you can. But I met Ludo the other day and he didn't say a word."

Hoggle averted his gaze. Even as a goblin the action was distinctly familiar of his old self.

"We do not know if Sir Ludo can speak," said Didymus. "He has not uttered a single syllable since the transformation."

"But he could talk!" Sarah protested, "He wasn't some dumb beast!" She turned to Ludo, who was watching her shyly. "Ludo, why didn't you say anything to me when we met the other day?" she asked him gently. "Why didn't you tell me you were all here?"

Ludo gave a non-committal shrug and turned his gaze to the floor.

"He don't say much no more," Hoggle said into the silence that followed.

"He didn't say much to begin with!" Sarah cried. "And now look at him! My poor beast, all of you, my friends – what the hell happened to you?"

"It don't matter," said Hoggle, still talking to the floor. "I needs to tell you I'm sorry, Sarah."

"Sorry for what?" she asked.

"For leaving you all alone," he replied. "When you was younger. And now, too."

In her joy at seeing her friends – no matter what had happened to them – she'd forgotten her old ire at their abandoning her. "Is this why you never visited me?" she asked, gesturing at their bodies. "Because of this? I still would've liked to have seen you."

"We had no choice, fair maiden," said Didymus. "We were bound to the castle as punishment."

"Punishment for what?"

"Now, don't go gettin' upset about it, it weren't exactly Jareth's fault –"

"Jareth? The Goblin King did this to you?"

"Well, yes, but his Majesty was afforded no other choice, you see –"

"But His Majesty did this to you!" Sarah cried in outrage, bristling with a level of disgust she didn't think possible. "He had no right! And he kept you from me all these years! Was it because you helped me through the Labyrinth?"

"Now, Sarah, just calm down –"

"Was it?"

"Yes but yer ain't listening –"

"I want to talk to him. Now."

"You ain't got no reason to –"

"Jareth!" Sarah shouted into the air, shaking off Hoggle's pleading grip on her arm. His name clawed its way from her throat like a demon; it felt satisfying to reduce him to something lesser than a King. She would never recognise his power again. The thought of her friends being bound to a man like Jareth made her feel sick. She was insulted by the very idea that he might be in love with her. No, what he'd done was inexcusable, regardless of any supposed feelings he might have. "Jareth!"she roared, "I know you can hear me you son of a bitch! Come here!"

Her friends quailed at her enraged summons. Yet when Jareth appeared, face expectant and eyes like steel, they gathered in front of Sarah protectively. "Your Majesty," said Hoggle in a quivering voice. "She don't mean nothin' by this, you got to forgive her –"

"Silence," Jareth cut in sharply. "Sarah wishes to speak to me. You will let her."

Sarah pushed through her friends' protective barrier and stalked right up to him, stopping with her glaring expression inches from his own. "You turned my friends into goblins," she spat. The hard planes of his unwavering glare were the sole focus of her world in that moment. His mouth was set firm; his eyes made her think of brutal winter. Yet he said nothing. "You made them your slaves," she went on. "You trapped them in this castle and forced them to serve you just because they were kind to me, once, years ago! Who the hell do you think you are? They have souls, they had lives, and you took that from them the same way you did me!" She had actually started to jab a finger into his chest during her tirade, hitting him with every other word that flowed from some angry place deep inside her. Still, he accepted her abuse without saying a word. "I used to read that book and dream about this clever Goblin King who would love me. But you're not some impressive King of nightmares. You're just a pathetic little man who needs toys to entertain himself. You could never love anyone."

Sarah was breathing hard, feeling dizzy in the aftermath of her rant. But she forced herself to return his stare, refusing to back down. What she saw in his eyes made her stomach twist. It wasn't fury, it wasn't even indignation. It was complete and utter anguish. Total and complete misery. But before she could blink he had taken hold of her arms in a crushing grip and leaned in so close that his nose bumped against hers.

"You're right," he said with such emotion that Sarah knew she'd gone too far. "I can never love you, Sarah Williams. But even so, you are mine now, and doesn't all your courage just crumble under the weight of that fact?" He released her arms, pushing her away from him. Now he wouldn't look at her. "Go," he spat at the others. "Leave."

With mournful expressions the goblins left Sarah alone with Jareth. "How terrified you must be, owned by a monster that cannot love," he said to her, turning his back. "Tell me: does it feel like you've won this little game, today?"

And he vanished, leaving her to wonder.

It was much harder than they made it look in the movies.

Sarah clung desperately to her lifeline – a makeshift rope of twisted bed sheets and clothes – hoping against hope that it would work just as well in real life. In the stories people made daring escapes from towers. In the stories, it all went perfectly. But Sarah felt ridiculous hanging halfway out of a window with her feet desperately seeking purchase against the stone. Every muscle strained, her hands ached, and she'd bitten her lip til it bled just to keep quiet through the struggle. And any second she fully expected to hear the ripping of fabric and plummet to her death. No, running away was nothing like she'd ever thought it would be.

Absurdly, in the moment she slipped further down, she recalled a vague dream from her childhood:

She had a bag packed full of juice boxes and candy bars. It was a heavy weight to bear as she clambered over the rooftops of a town filled with blue houses.

"What are you doing, little one?" asked a voice from above her. It was a giant owl, tawny and wide eyed and perched on the edge of the roof.

"I'm running away, what does it look like?" she snapped.

"And what are you running from?"

Sarah had had no answer then, but she had plenty now: a twisted King who'd deformed her friends, a future of wandering empty castle rooms, the look on Jareth's face before he'd pushed her away. "Doesn't matter what you're running from," she grunted to herself, slipping further down the makeshift rope. "Focus on where you're going, Sarah."

Though she'd called and called for Wick, damn him, he hadn't answered. She'd even tried summoning the Queen to no avail. So fuck it, she'd thought in all her desperation and anger. I'll go to her myself. She'd been through the Labyrinth. She could cross a few fantasy realms, or at least try, sure that someone would eventually answer her calls.

This determination was enough to get her out the window and almost to the ground when she heard the ripping she'd been dreading. Her stomach flew up into her throat; there was an awful heartbeat of suspension before she fell crashing the rest of the way into her sad little garden. The air rushed out of her all at once, leaving her breathless and seeing stars. But the fall hadn't been too bad; she'd been almost close enough to jump the rest of the way anyway. Landing in dead shrubbery didn't half hurt though. Groaning, Sarah eased herself onto her feet, feeling for broken bones but only finding scratches. Dusting herself off, she made quick work of the gardens in case anyone had heard her undignified escape. Through the various sections she crept, by the fountains and the statues and the beautiful web garden. Everything except the latter was really in need of maintenance…Sarah wondered what guests thought of the way Jareth had let things go downhill. Who cares, she corrected herself, it's not your problem anymore. Fresh determination enveloped her and she made quick work of the pathway that took her finally to the walls of the Goblin City. They rose up higher than she remembered, intimidating in their dank silence as if daring her to cross them. Sarah had no intention of actually entering the city but it was the fastest path away from the castle. The sooner she reached the Queen the better. Her fury with Jareth was a constant tide, ebbing with the effort of escape but flowing anew in each moment of silence.

Now, she glared up at the wall and all it contained on the other side. What she'd seen in Jareth's eyes back in that castle was more worrying than whatever monsters she might face outside. At least that's what she told herself as she found a foothold and hauled herself up onto the wall. It was just wide enough for her to step without too much fear of falling over the edge and into the city itself. Balancing carefully, Sarah took a brief moment to look out over the horrifying domain. It was very different from what she remembered. The little ramshackle houses had been almost amusing once, filled as they had been with yapping little creatures. Now there were no lights in the city and the houses were hauntingly empty. Even the dark streets seemed to have malicious intent. She strained to see deeper into the cluster of homes and was certain there were large black shapes flitting from shadow to shadow. Stick to the walls. Get to the other side. Get a message to the Queen. Tell her she can call off this insane investigation. Tell her to free my friends. She repeated the litany over and over in her head, taking careful steps along the top of the wall as she made her way around the city's edge.

The moonlight was scarce, sheathed behind clouds. She had to take cautious steps in the dim light and had her arms throne wide for balance. Every now and then a muffled thump or rustling would reach her on the foul wind, making her scan the wall frantically for any sign of life. Fifteen minutes or so passed by easily and Sarah began to consider that she might actually make it through without drama. Her steps came a little more confidently, her chin held high. Jareth liked to think his world was so insidious and frightening for a poor human, yet here she was walking the city walls like a tightrope walker without any problem. She almost felt like smiling in victory, imagining the look on his smug face when he realised she was long gone.

Then the clouds parted, illuminating her under the moon, and she realised she was being watched. Twenty pairs of eyes glistened in the sudden light – thirty – forty – there were so many. They stared at her from broken doorframes, hung from rooftops, stood hunched over in the roughly paved streets. Sarah hadn't seen them in her own house, only eyes and claws in shadows. Now they were everywhere and she could make out every leering scaled face, every hungry expression, every tooth and claw attached to large powerful goblin bodies. Her heart was pounding; she stood there frozen in complete view for all to see. Oh shit, she cursed, oh shit oh shit….she couldn't think clearly. They hadn't yet made a move; they just seemed to be watching. She found enough brainpower to take a slow step along the wall, not taking her eyes from the horde beneath her. They did nothing. She took another step. Something chittered sinisterly, and she heard the scraping of claws and gnashing of teeth. Forcing herself to appear calm, Sarah took painfully slow steps, never taking her eyes off the ground. Her heart was ready to burst in panic but she knew that if she ran that would be the end of her.

It felt like hours passed by this way, taking one step every few seconds and watching for any signs of them following. Sweat began to break out on her forehead; her nose itched and she longed to scratch it but dared not make any sudden movements. The wind's awful smell grew stronger and she struggled not to wretch. And then she heard a hideous whisper from directly behind her:

"Bend and snap the legs and twist the gut blood blood blood…"

Skin crawling, she turned around just in time to avoid a great sweeping claw. A leathery-faced goblin with one eye and huge teeth had crept up on her from below and took another swipe as she jumped back, arms whirling desperately to keep balance. Sarah turned and ran. She didn't care that the wall was crumbling in places and shadows made it hard to see. She barrelled along its uneven edge, tears of silent panic streaming down her face as she heard countless creatures give chase with glee all around her. From the corner of her eye she snatched images of monsters hurling themselves at the wall from below, trying to gain purchase on its slimy stone. She almost lost her footing more than once, forcing herself to keep going, to not look back as the litany of gruesome threats became a loud chanting. There didn't seem to be many goblins ahead of her at least. They were coming from below and behind her but the city further along seemed almost vacant.

She was barely aware of this desperate thought as something snatched at her foot and she fell tumbling from the wall. She hit the stones and screamed in pain, feeling something break in her ankle, layers of skin being rubbed raw across her hands and cheek.

"What did we say, snap snap snap, break that bone, yum yum yum –"

Sarah hauled herself to her feet, backing against the wall, crying with the agony of her ankle.

"Stay back!" she screamed dismally, pressing her bleeding hands into her chest. "Stay the fuck away from me!"

But the horde closed in, almost casual in their victory, shuffling towards her with slathering mouths and gleeful expressions. The closest goblin, a hook-nosed demon with red eyes and teeth like a shark, towered over her with a feral grin.

There was nothing she could do. Sarah screamed.

You could never love anyone. She was right, of course. Jareth could never love her without consequence. Why couldn't he have fallen for one of the hundreds of Fae noblewomen who'd have flung themselves at him in a heartbeat? Why not Elmira, with her long hair perfect for tugging on and her dark lips always eager for tasks? Why not Lady Shiane, who could turn a phrase as well as any professor and looked delectable when naked beneath him? No, he had to fall for a human. And not just any human. The most infuriating woman he'd ever met in his life. Sarah Williams was ungrateful, stubborn, childish, too clever for her own good…and yet the way she'd yelled in his face had broken him in more ways than he could count. And he knew of no Fae woman who could put him back together the way Sarah would, though he could never allow her to, no matter all the torment she caused him.

But there was no way he could send her home. If the hordes were to hear of it, that their King had not only refused them a prize but then returned the human he'd taken as payment…there would be an uproar. They were temperamental as it was these days. Sinking deeper into his throne, Jareth pinched the bridge of his nose. He suspected a headache was creeping up on him, but that was not worth thinking about – he ached a lot lately, in every kind of way. You could never love anyone…he was here in this blasted castle because he loved too much. But she would never know that, could never understand the sacrifices he had made. And yet even as he thought this, he knew it to be wrong. Was she not here for the same reasons as he? To save someone else? And years ago, had she not denied her own dreams to save her brother the first time? The notion that she might understand better than anyone only made him ache anew.

He was not in the mood to be shouted at, but that's exactly what happened then.

"Your Majesty! Sarah's missing!" came the panicked, gravelly voice of the Dwarf-Goblin, rushing towards him without so much as a how-do-you-do. "She's gone!"

His irritation at being harassed so late at night momentarily overpowered his comprehension of the reason for it. "Calm yourself, you fool," he drawled without removing his hand from his now pounding forehead. "She's probably taking a bath. Trying to soak away that nasty temper of hers, no doubt."

"She ain't nowhere in the castle!" Hoggle exclaimed. "We searched everywhere!"

"The gardens, then," Jareth replied dismissively with a wave of his hand. He was in no frame of mind to go traipsing the grounds in search of a woman who wanted nothing to do with him.

"What do you think we was doin' all night, playin' poker?" Hoggle replied, with more than a hint of impatience in his voice now. He really was becoming far too confident for his own good. "We searched everywhere, your Majesty. Didymus took the top towers, Ludo did the gardens and Hoggle did the rest. Sarah ain't nowhere. We think…" he wrung his scabby little hands worriedly, voice softening with concern. "We think she's run off."

The smallest flicker of unease slithered its way into Jareth's belly. She wouldn't be foolish enough to leave the grounds…but the way she'd looked at him, so full of disgust, completely pushed to her limits…that Sarah would do anything. With a feigned rolling of his eyes Jareth stood from the throne and went to the large window facing the City.

"If she's just gone to the bathroom I'll have your hide," he growled, conjuring a crystal ball and willing it to show Sarah to him. Willing it to show him that she was indeed just lost in the castle somewhere and not – Oh, Sarah.

She was strolling along the walls of the City like some desperate circus performer.

"Well? Where is she?" Hoggle asked impatiently, straining to see up at the ball held out of reach.

Jareth gripped the crystal tightly in his gloved hand, forcing his voice to sound unaffected.

"She's gone for a walk," he said as carefully as he could. "Along the City walls."

Hoggle moaned. "What's she gone and done that for," he wailed. "She ain't got no clue what she's doin – "

"She's a grown woman, she can take care of herself," Jareth snapped. "If she's idiotic enough to get that close she can deal with the consequences herself. I am not at her beck and call." Yet his insides squirmed and his eyes never left the image before him. Sarah was balancing in the moonlight, unaware of the danger that was following her in the shadows. Let them scare her, he thought bitterly, ignoring the way Hoggle was pleading at his feet now. Let her learn the hard way. One of the goblins was catching up to her from below, scaling the wall. Let her learn, he thought again, more persistently. His foot started to tap in agitation. She narrowly avoided an attack and started to race along. He could taste her fear from where he stood. Let her learn. Another goblin hooked its hand around her foot; he watched her fall as if in slow motion. He did not move but a sweat broke out over his entire body. Hoggle was almost crying beneath him now, tugging at his cloak incessantly. No, he thought, though by now his willpower had crumbled beyond help. She has no power over me. I will not go to her.

Then he heard her scream.

Sarah closed her eyes against those rows and rows of jagged teeth bearing down on her. The night was black and filled with awful chittering and guttural threats. I'm dead, she thought as the stink of the goblins filled her nose. I'm dead, I'm sorry Toby, I'm sorry Alice, I'm –

The goblins began to roar. She heard shrieking and the heavy thud and scrape of bodily contact but couldn't open her eyes. Then she was being engulfed, not by the teeth and stink of monsters but by a body, warm and earthy. She felt herself being lifted into the air, hugged against a chest – her face was pressed into musky skin. The cacophony of goblin outrage disappeared as the world spun. When it stopped Sarah finally opened her eyes, looking up into the furious face of Jareth. He glared straight ahead, carrying her to a lounge where he set her down none too gently. The throbbing of her ankle spiked with the movement and she hissed, distracted by pain. Jareth had moved away from her and stood by a huge bay window, glowering into the night. His shoulders shook with suppressed fury. She looked around at the comfortably furnished room, plush carpet and writing desk with a decanter on the mantelpiece. There was no fire in the fireplace, and she shivered at the cold emanating from the man by the window.

"Where are we?" she asked in a small voice.

"Safe," was his clipped reply. "Despite the damage you have just caused to a relationship that has taken centuries to build. Despite the fact that my hordes will be out for blood because I have once again intervened in what should have rightfully been theirs to take. Despite the fact you have been ungrateful and ignorant from the start of this venture and have done something so utterly stupid I thought it was surely beneath you…you are safe, Sarah Williams."

She felt smaller than she'd ever felt in her life, and yet still there was a part of her that flared up in reaction to his anger. "Then you could have just let me die," she retorted. "If I'm so much trouble."

He turned his head slowly to study her, chin held high and eyes blazing. "You have no idea," he said, voice low and laced with an unnameable emotion. "You have no understanding of what it means for you to be here, Sarah. If you continue in this childish way, next time I might just do that."

"Well how about I spare you the trouble and head right back out there?" Sarah spat, though there were tears in her eyes now. Whether it was from her miserable situation or the pain in her ankle, she wasn't sure. She tried to get to her feet but the raw skin of her palms stung hideously when she pressed them into the lounge.

"Sit down," Jareth commanded, moving toward her.

"I don't need anymore of your help," she hissed, trying to get up again.

"You're obviously in pain. Stop being –"

"I swear if you call me stupid one more time –"

"Sarah!" Jareth yelled, his hands tight on her shoulders, forcing her to stay down. He knelt in front of her, his grip strong, his eyes close enough that she could almost see herself in them. She looked terrible. She felt terrible. Finally, she sagged in defeat and his hands came away from her shoulders and he started removing his gloves.

"What are you doing?" she asked, biting her lip as he waved his hand and her sneaker disappeared.

Ignoring her he took gentle hold of her bruised and swollen ankle, holding it lightly between his hands. He murmured something, just enough that she could see his lips move but not make out the words. She gasped as her skin began to tingle beneath his fingers and then itch fervently. She longed to scratch it but as she watched the purple and red bruising around her ankle faded, the swelling disappeared, the aching subsided. Jareth felt the tendons of her foot, handling each toe in turn, rotating her ankle a few times and running his thumbs along the arch. She couldn't quite stifle a giggle at that, ticklish as she'd always been, and he set her foot down with a raised brow. She blushed and looked out the window at the night sky.

When she looked back, he was still there, eyeing her strangely.

"Thankyou," she offered into the silence, feeling awkward.

"Your hands," he replied. At her questioning look he gently gripped her wrists and turned her palms upwards to reveal the bleeding, scraped skin.

"Oh, they aren't that bad, you don't have to –"

But he enclosed her wrists completely in his grip and before she knew it her hands were fresh and pink as if she'd just taken a bath. She rubbed her fingers into the palms, amazed at how soft they felt.

"You know, I think I was doing pretty well before your monsters cheated," she said lightly, feeling suffocated in the silence of his ministrations.

And then Jareth reached up and cupped her cheek in his hand.

She knew what he was doing; she could feel the burning up the side of her face as she had in her palms moments ago. But for the life of her she could do nothing but watch his lips as he murmured those secret words again and her cheek itched under his warm touch. Maybe she was finally succumbing to shock but it felt like a little too much time passed before he withdrew his hand and stood. She felt the need to say something, to regain some of the power she'd lost after failing so completely to escape.

"Look, I appreciate what you've done for me, okay? I do. But don't expect us to become best friends. I'm not here because I want to be. You're the King of a horrible race of goblins who entertains himself by snatching kids and toying with his subjects. And I'm still mad at you for turning my friends into slaves."

To her surprise, he didn't seem angry anymore. He moved slowly towards a seat by the window and started to put his gloves back on, thought better of it, then laid them beside him. "Might I say something in my defence?" he enquired, examining his fingers. He sat strangely, his cloak draped over his right leg that he stretched out tenderly.

"What? What do you have to say for yourself?"

"That I had your friends safely locked away when my goblins began to tear into each other. That they'd have died if they'd been sent to the City, or simply banished to the Outlands where my worst hordes are kept contained." He winced, moving his right leg a little. "I could have banished them and left them to die. But I decided to keep them safe. Instead I let it be known that they had been killed for helping you, and I then transformed them into the creatures you see now so as to make them unrecognisable, all to keep them safe. For you, Sarah."

"Why?" she asked, distracted as he again winced. "Why do that for me?"

"Why have I ever done anything for you?" he replied with a shrug that was distinctly uncharacteristic of him. He made as if to stand but this time the cloak fell away and she caught a flash of red.

"You're hurt." She came to stand in front of him, frowning in concern despite herself.

"It's nothing." He made to draw the cloak up again but Sarah stilled his hand.

"Let me see." He averted his gaze, rolling his eyes while she gingerly inspected his leg. He had a bite mark stretching from the front of his shin all the way around to the back of his calf muscle. It was messy and bloody, his skin torn in jagged edges. It seemed that the shark-toothed goblin that'd been about to attack her had gotten Jareth instead. She made a sympathetic sound and sat back on her heels. "That's nothing, is it?" she looked up at him, but he just shrugged in response. "It's dirty. I need a cloth and water. Have you got anything like a first aid kit? With antiseptic?"

Jareth waved his hand and a wooden box appeared beside her, filled with necessary equipment. Sarah found some scissors and cut away the bottom half of his tights, shushing him when he protested. Then she set to work washing the bite with a damp cloth in rhythmic dabs. At first it was awkward, after all they'd been through, for her to sit there at his feet and tend his wounds. But that all seemed to fall away quickly enough as she absorbed herself in the task of cleaning him up. She was by no means a nurse but it felt good to be of some actual use after these long days trapped without a purpose. He squirmed at the application of antiseptic but she shushed him again, fighting the urge to smile at his pout. It grew cold, and she drew her shirt tighter around herself. Noticing, Jareth waved a hand and the fireplace burst into life. Warmth seeped into the room and took the nervous chill from their bones. She began to contemplate what he'd said about saving her friends. And the fact he hadn't truly answered her question. She glanced up at him, finally starting to relax into the chair, his bare hands thrumming softly on the wooden arms. He seemed oddly vulnerable in that moment.

She was applying a bandage when it occurred to her that he could have healed himself with magic. Feeling foolish for spending so much time on the wound, she opened her mouth say something about it.

But she caught the look in his eyes, something gentle and unfamiliar on him, and decided to keep quiet.