Chapter Six: Thicker than water

Sarah thought she knew what winter was until she experienced it in the Goblin Kingdom. Hoggle had tried to warn her of the approaching season, urging her to enjoy the outdoors as much as possible before it truly set in. She'd told him to stop being so dramatic. But now that they were in the very middle of a Dream Reality winter she regretted dismissing him. The sun on her face and the grass under her feet were wistful memories. What she had now were winds that could strip the hair from your head; snow so deep it covered the entire lower half of the trees; a cold so intense it drove entire realms into deep hibernation. This frozen hell had lasted almost five weeks and showed no signs of letting up. The King's magic kept the castle and its inhabitants warm, which seemed to be enough for everyone else. But Sarah, who wasn't used to being driven indoors for so long, was starting to show signs of cabin fever. She was restless and bored, longing for the cacophony of summer: waves breaking, birds twittering, children screaming after the ice cream van.

"If I never see snow again it'll be too soon," she grumbled, pacing the library one long afternoon. Even the lure of a thousand books was not enough to satisfy her that day. Their humming seemed to quieten in the wake of her anxiousness, reacting to her restless presence.

"I thought you said winter was romantic," her companion drawled from his spot on the lounge. Jareth had his legs hanging over the arm, his head on a pillow. He'd been scanning the book propped on his lap for twenty minutes and grumbling to himself. "Will you cease your pacing? It's very distracting."

"Normal winters are romantic," she replied tersely, throwing herself onto the lounge beside his head. "Sitting by a fire. Walking arm in arm through a flurry of snow. Hot cocoa to keep warm. If I stuck my head out that window it'd turn black with frostbite. There's no romance in freezing your ass off."

"It would be a terrible shame to ruin that pretty face," Jareth replied distractedly, thumbing through the pages of his book. "Or indeed, have your respective derriere fall off with the cold."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't say derriere."

"Useless. It's all useless rubbish," he announced with a frustrated growl, tossing the book aside and pressing his hands to his face. He gave a very long, very tired sigh.

Sarah tilted her head sideways at him, crossing her legs. "Nothing?"

"Not a scrap," he complained through his fingers. "You'd think there'd be more to say about goblin conduct after millennia of dealing with the beasts."

Her mood worsened at that. They'd been scouring political works for days in the hopes of finding new ways to tame the hordes. The upshot of such bad weather was that the rebellion seemed to have lost steam, giving Jareth more time to himself. The annoying part was that it proved useless to spend that time researching. With each fresh book thrown aside Sarah felt hopelessness growing like a bad seed. It seemed nothing the King did could repair his relationship with the goblins.

Noticing her despondency Jareth reached behind him and gave a sympathetic pat where he guessed her knee was. It landed on her thigh and the jolt of heat that shot through her was unexpected but not unpleasant. "Cheer up, pet," he told her, unaware of her flushed cheeks. "I'm working on it. Let's dwell on nicer things, yes?"

"Like what?" Sarah asked lightly, removing his hand from her leg.

He tilted his head as far back as possible to catch her eyes. "Perhaps we could think of nicer ways to keep warm, hmm?"

This flirting had been happening more and more gradually. Not that Sarah minded exactly; she was old enough to know her attraction stemmed from genuine interest and not just because she had no other human interaction. It was the guilt, as always, that had her casually reject him time and again. She was supposed to be doing all this, drawing him to her so he would make his confession. But how could she honestly flirt when she knew that every word of it would lead to her betrayal? God help her, she'd actually started to like the man. It was a dilemma that kept her up at night.

"I don't think so," she chastised him easily.

As always, her disinterest was met with casual grace. "Then tell me about your life, Sarah. That very human life of yours." He folded his arms across his stomach and eased into his pillow. "I'm so tired of anything to do with my world."

This was more surprising than the flirting. "Really?"

"Yes really. Why not?"

"You never seemed to be interested before." Actually, he'd always seemed downright nervous whenever she brought up her old life. The fact that he was openly inviting her to speak of it made her think he was growing complacent, assuming she was here to stay. She shifted uncomfortably.

"I am always interested in what you have to say, Sarah."

She peeked at his face. His eyes were closed but his expression was strangely open. That seemed to be happening more often too. As the weeks went by they were growing into what she'd label as a comfortable if bizarre relationship, of sorts. "Well…where should I start?"

"Wherever you like. What did you do when you left school?"

"I…I applied for volunteer work at the local library," she said uncertainly. "Sorting through the stacks, reading to kids, that sort of thing. I thought showing dedication would get me a job there eventually."

"And did it?"

"Not for a few years. I had to work a few different crappy retail jobs for a while. I did stocktake at The Gap; I was a check-out chick. It was pretty terrible but it felt good to be making my own way." She smiled impishly. "My dad couldn't understand why I wouldn't take his money. Karen threw a fit when I said I didn't want their help."

"Why didn't you take his money?"

"I learnt a thing or two about taking things for granted," she told him pointedly. "All my girlfriends were being given new cars and Master Cards. It changed them. I wanted to know how it felt to be responsible for myself. I didn't want to be in debt to anyone." A grimace crossed her face. "Especially someone like Karen."

"Such a difficult life," he mocked gently. "Your parents desperate to give you money; growing up in a wealthy community…I don't know how you survived it."

She gave him a shove. "Hey. You wanted to know about me. I'm not saying I had a hard life. I'm just saying I wanted an honest one."

"And that's why I admire you, Sarah," he replied soberly. Then ruined the moment with a mischievous: "Pray tell, who could have had such a magical impact on a teenage girl, hmm?"

"I had a few thought-provoking influences," she answered. "Hoggle, Ludo, Sir Didymus…"

"Anybody else?"

She pretended to think. "Hmm. Nope. That's it."

"You wound me, precious."

"You humble me, Goblin King."

They were silent in the wake of her affectionate statement. Thankfully he didn't let her squirm for too long, encouraging her to continue. "So you had some different jobs and finished half a semester of University, as I recall you saying once upon a time. What were the consequences of that?"

"A few steady years of paying off a pointless debt," Sarah admitted sheepishly. "I guess you could say it defeated the entire purpose of my fight against taking money from home." She thought nostalgically of long summers working the local swimming pool café, of a hideous six month journey into the world of hospitality. "I don't regret it though. I learnt a lot about myself. And I met some pretty interesting people. There was this writer who used to come into the diner where I worked. He always had black coffee and a ham-on-rye. He'd write for hours. My manager thought he was cheap for staying so long after he'd eaten, but I didn't have the heart to move him." She smiled broadly. "He was the one that inspired me to start my own novel and persist with the library job. I got it, too, after they told me to do some short courses."

"What happened to Jeremy?"

"Oh, he left town eventually. There wasn't enough to inspire him. I don't know where he is now."

Jareth had tensed beside her and it took a second to understand why. She hadn't mentioned the writer's name. "There were rumours, of course, that he might be going Above. To your world." Wick's words answered her unspoken question. He had been keeping an eye on her. "It's my turn to ask a question," she said boldly. "Why me?"

He sniffed. "'Why you' what?"

"Jareth."

"You were interesting," he answered vaguely.

"And?"

"And you'd beaten my Labyrinth. That doesn't happen very often Sarah."

"Is that it?"

"What more do you want?"

"I thought you knew; you showed me my dreams once."

"I didn't see them; I merely offered them to you."

"Then what was that whole trip with the peach about?"

Their banter had reached its crescendo. Blinking, Sarah realised she was bent right over Jareth's face from above, their eyes locked onto each other. Shaking herself out of it she slipped off the lounge away from those soulful eyes.

Jareth sighed, slumping into the cushions deeper than before. "It's late," he spoke into the air, not looking at her. "You should go to sleep."

"Yeah, okay," she replied quietly, though it wasn't late and she had no reason to hurry to bed. They bid goodnight to each other awkwardly and returned to their respective quarters.

"I'm such an idiot," Sarah groaned into her pillow.

At Wick's silence, she raised her head and an accusatory eyebrow. "Well? Aren't you going to tell me I'm just being dramatic?"

"You are being dramatic," the Elf replied, picking at his nails idly. "But you're also being a tiny bit of a…well…what you said."

"I can't believe you!" Sarah gasped. "You've got some cheek for a servant boy, you know."

Wick shrugged and grinned self-effacingly. "You told me to be your friend when I'm here, not a servant. Friends don't lie. And the truth is you've been a bit stupid Sarah."

Sarah threw her pillow at him.

He caught it easily in his nimble hands, smoothing its cover before placing it delicately on the carpet beside him. "You can't do anything about it, you know."

"I know," Sarah replied with a roll of her eyes. "He's the Goblin King, what do you think I'm going to do? Make out with him in a dark closet like some drunken college girl?"

"Sarah, I mean it." Wick's stern voice made her pay attention. "You cannot let this develop any further. Just do what you came here to do and be done with it as soon as possible."

His tight-pinched expression worried her, but she was too sick of drama to ask what he was so concerned about. "How am I supposed to do that exactly, Wick?"

"Winter will be over in a few weeks," he replied, tracing a pattern into the carpet with a finger. "The Harvest Festival is in spring. That might provide some…opportunities."

"Right. Okay." She crawled toward the edge of her bed and peered down at him. "Let's pretend I don't know what the Harvest Festival is…"

A reluctant smile made his anxious eyes shine. "Ready for another big answer?"

"You bet."

"The Harvest Festival happens once a year in the first week of spring. It's a Fae custom going back to the Birth of All Things, when this reality came into existence. There's a place in the palace Highlands called the Field of Lights. It's a garden of sorts that's existed since The Birth, too. The Field is full of trees that hold the dreams of every living creature in the Above."

Sarah blinked in surprise. "You have a field full of trees that grow human dreams?" she repeated disbelievingly.

"They don't grow the dreams, they're just a vessel," Wick corrected patiently. "It's the most ancient form of Creative Magic. The trees collect the dreams of humanity like a power source. You remember I told you this place is sometimes called the Dream Reality?" At Sarah's nod, he continued. "That's because the Fae, for however long there have been Fae, have collected the dreams to give life to our reality. We are sustained by the imagination of humans. It's been that way for as long as we can remember. At the Harvest Festival hundreds of Fae gather over a week to collect the Lights and send them out into the world, to replenish our domain. Those lights in the sky that look like oil on water? They're out stars, the dreams of your world."

What was there to say? She was in a reality that relied on the dreams of people like Sarah to exist. It wasn't the most far-fetched tale she'd ever heard…but it was the only one that happened to be real. Running a hand through her hair, Sarah gave herself some time to process this. "Okay. So that's why the Fae are so important? They're the only ones that can harvest these dreams and keep everything running?"

"Yes. And the reason I bring up The Festival is that it's quite a moving experience, as you can imagine." He blushed then, colour blooming slowly across his mint green cheeks. "There's music and dancing and singing; it's almost a feverish time. Fae gather from all over the realm to contribute. They're not a particularly emotional race, except when it comes to the Harvest. If you were to bring Jareth to the festivities, get him to take part in the collection…you might find him a little more eager to share things with you." He said all this without meeting her gaze.

It was a good plan. It was a great plan. But she couldn't muster up the enthusiasm for it. "You're making me into one of them," she murmured in a quavering voice. "I don't like manipulating people, Wick."

"I'm just trying to help you, Sarah. I'm sorry."

"I know." She puffed out her cheeks and let out a long breath. "I guess a festival would be pretty interesting."

"There's just one little hiccup."

"Of course there is. What's that?"

"No one but the Fae is allowed to attend. You'll have to convince him to take you in disguise."

She couldn't help it. Sarah began to laugh bitterly. They were really going to turn her into a Fae by the time all this was over.

Spirits in the castle were low when Sarah Williams was unhappy. Not in any shallow sense, Jareth noticed, as when she was casually upset by something or just in a bad mood. But as she was now, adrift in a grey sea of vague lethargy, he couldn't help observe that it sparked despondency in others too. This winter was proving to be too much for her usually unassailable spirit. The endless days of drifting from room to room, never seeing the sun, never breathing fresh air…it was a time of year the realm was used to. Not his Sarah. His Sarah was a summer flower and she was wilting. He was on his best behaviour around her, being the perfect gentlemen at meal times and withholding from their usual banter for fear of driving her away again. The goblins were with her a lot of the time too, playing card games and entertaining her with stories. But it seemed that each time he saw her she was paler, her hair as dull as her eyes. The frustrated energy she'd had for most of the season was being drained until she became listless.

It wasn't until she stopped reading that he decided to take drastic action.

Unfortunately he hadn't inherited his father's talent for weather. It was a tricky magic that involved complicated processes of weaving. He spent days on his project, using every trick his father had ever mentioned, trying to recreate the perfect elements for her. Finally on the fifth day Jareth heaved an exhausted sigh, leaning on the wall to survey his work with pride. Then he withdrew a crystal, seeking out Sarah. Finding her slumped in a chair by the fireplace of her drawing room, he willed himself there excitedly.

"Hey," she offered mildly, smile not quite reaching her eyes. In a white sweater and cream pants, she looked almost a ghost next to the dancing flames of the fireplace.

"I have a present for you," he announced, holding out a hand.

"You've already given me the library," she replied, going to him. "How are you going to top that?"

"Close your eyes," he instructed, relishing the urge to grin as she did so and he took them away. They arrived in a corridor lined with four doors. With his hands on Sarah's shoulders Jareth leaned in and spoke into her ear. "Choose a door."

Opening her eyes, Sarah took in the sight of the three plain doors in front of her and smiled with curious confusion. He met her questioning expression with an encouraging nod and a flourish of his hand.

"What have you been up to?" Sarah asked, stepping towards the door on the far left.

He said nothing, only held his breath as she turned the handle and stepped hesitantly inside.

"Oh my god, sun!" she cried gleefully, gasping with sheer delight.

Chuckling, he followed her inside.

Sarah stood in the middle of a stretch of sand beneath a vibrant summer sky. There were no visible walls, no boundaries the eye could see, only an endless stretch of ocean that broke along the shoreline and vanished into the distance. The squawk of far off birds and the taste of salt spray surrounded them. The heat from the sun was definitely not like the spell he used to keep the castle warm. This heat was raw and revitalising, causing Sarah to shiver with delight. He watched as she kicked off her shoes and dug her toes into the sand, tilting her head up towards the sun. Her face was the epitome of sheer bliss.

"It's just an illusion, of course," he murmured, coming to stand beside her. "You can only move a few feet, I just thought –"

"Ssssh," she hushed him, eyes closing against the delicate breeze. "It's incredible. Just listen."

Jareth didn't listen. How could he care for the sound of wind when she grinned like that? How could the sun's heat compare to the fire she stoked within him?

Then Sarah opened her eyes, took one look at him and burst out laughing.

The fire was doused. He frowned. "What?" he demanded indignantly, though her laugh reminded him of wooden wind chimes, earthy and light.

"You're not exactly dressed for the beach," she giggled, gesturing at him. He wore a mixture of black and deepest blue, tight pants with leather boots and a long coat made of thick crow's feathers. "You look like a bat that's stumbled onto Baywatch." When he clearly didn't understand the reference she only laughed again.

"Well then, I don't suppose you'd want to see the rest of your present?" he sniffed.

She quietened immediately. "There's more?"

"Of course there's more. I told you to pick a door, didn't I? Come come Sarah, pay attention."

Still visibly holding in a chuckle Sarah followed him into the next room. It was a dirt road lined with autumn-touched trees like a world on fire. They walked into the midst of it together, the crisp wind tugging their hair. Sarah was quiet beside him, taking in the sight of so many shades of orange as familiar as her childhood. He'd needed a few references for this room; the Fae world didn't have autumn. She bent down and picked up a leaf the colour of burnt caramel. She crunched it into a ball in her first, delighting in the crackling sounds. "Now this suits you," she told him kindly. "You could greet the kids at the door on Halloween."

This reference he understood, but he didn't quiet enjoy the thought of her associating him with nights of horror. At his sour expression she playfully nudged his arm and asked to see the last room.

This was his particular favourite. "You said you'd like a normal winter," he announced mildly, undermining the grandness of the scene before them. Snow crunched satisfyingly beneath their feet as they walked an empty street. Lamp posts glittered alongside them with fervent yellow lights to show the way. The sky above was blue like midnight in Paris and splashed with winking stars. Real stars, like the ones from Above. She felt a tear in her eye at the sight she'd missed. Tiny flurries of snow whirled around them until Sarah shivered and huddled into Jareth's side, her cheeks flushing pink. "Are you cold?" he asked with concern but she shook her head.

"It's a nice kind of cold," she told him. The world was silent and still, just them and the snow and the stars. "This is so beautiful. Thank you, Jareth. Really. Thank you." She abruptly stopped him in the street and worked her way into his arms, hugging him firmly against her. The top of her head rested just beneath his chin; his eyes fluttered closed as he inhaled her scent.

Later, she would ask politely why he hadn't given her spring as well. He would tell her that the real thing would be coming along soon enough and his work couldn't possibly compare. He wouldn't tell her that while there was nothing in the world he wouldn't give her, he could not give her spring. It was not his to give. Spring would belong forever and a day to Lina. He would hold this truth inside and ache with the weight of it, only feeling better when he pictured stars and snow and black hair pressed into his chin.

Sarah would never drink again. It was a cliché reaction to one hell of a hangover but she was certain she meant it. At least, she would never drink goblin ale again. Apparently it affected her twice as much as alcohol from the Above. With winter beginning to thaw Jareth had been gone for almost a week. She'd been going mad worrying about what might've been happening with the hordes. She seemed to suffer an endless amount of guilt since learning the consequences of her escape attempt. Hoggle had suggested a few quiet drinks to take her mind off things but it hadn't taken long for those few quiet drinks to become many and loud. There'd been laughter and dancing and a few games of drunken hide and seek. She'd learnt that Didymus could play the dulcimer and hold his liquor surprisingly well for a tiny thing. Ludo had proven himself adept at belching contests, though still without saying a word. And she'd discovered that Hoggle was a bad influence – they'd gotten into a food fight in the kitchen.

She barely remembered any of this of course, though evidence of the food fight was hard to miss. The four of them were in the kitchen now, wishing the Goblin King would appear and use his magic to clean up. It would save us a lot of scrubbing, Sarah thought wistfully as she attempted to gouge out sodden flour from the floor tiles. Occasionally there would be a regretful groan or a sickly burp from the goblins but mostly they worked in silence. Her head ached too much for conversation. At least being miserably hungover distracted her from thoughts of Jareth. He'd been looking healthier with his little winter break. The last time she'd seen him though his face had started to take on the unpleasantly familiar gauntness of old. She found herself hoping he was at least trying to take care of himself while working, even if he didn't have time for meals with her.

"Sarah? You listenin'?"

"Hmm?" she turned slowly to keep her head from spinning. "Did you say something Hoggle?"

"He asked if you would care to lie down, my lady," Didymus squeaked. He was currently sweeping the remnants of vegetables into a pile for Ludo to collect. "Hoggle doth think you suffer the most between us all. You may well benefit from sleep."

"I'm fine, boys. I'm a big girl."

"A big girl who can't hold no goblin ale, that's for sure," Hoggle teased. "We said it were strong stuff, didn't we? Told yer to go easy."

Sarah had a sudden flashback to her late teens at his words: she was seventeen and trying whiskey for the first time. She'd pilfered it from her father's liquor cabinet one night while babysitting. Troy was keeping her company, unbeknownst to her parents. He was a year older than her and smelled like cigarettes. The whiskey burned her throat on the way down; she spluttered and coughed. Troy laughed.

"I said it was strong stuff, Sarah. Go easy."

He was kissing her to soothe away the sting when her father and stepmother came home. Oh, the shouting. Not from her father; Robert was rarely angry. But Karen was unbearable and practically yanked Troy out the door by his ear. She was grounded for a month.

Oddly enough, the memory made Sarah miss her father. He had consoled her days later as she'd brooded in her room. He'd never been a discipline-heavy parent. Instead she remembered him trying to bond with her over similar stories from his teenage years. She'd been embarrassed at the time to hear about such exploits, but now she realised he'd been trying to say that kids did stupid things and that was totally normal. As long as she was careful, he'd said. Tears welled in her eyes.

"What do they think happened to me?" she asked in a whisper.

The goblins ceased their actions and stared at her in concern.

"I beg your pardon, sweet lady?" Didymus asked softly.

"My family," Sarah answered, wiping a wayward tear from her cheek. "Do they think I've been kidnapped? Are they looking for me?" She thought of how Toby and Alice would be feeling and the pain in her heart was worse than any headache.

"Err, don't yer know what happens when a child is lost to the King?" Hoggle asked quietly. "I thought he'd have said so."

"He didn't," she answered, giving up on scrubbing to slump against the kitchen cabinets. "And I didn't think to ask. How horrible is that? They're probably thinking I've been murdered and I'm here getting drunk with friends." She pressed a hand to her face that burned red with shame.

"Well, I wouldn't be frettin' about nothin' like that," Hoggle said carefully. "Only I don't know that you'll like what actually happens, either."

"Tell me, Hoggle. I want to know."

But Hoggle never liked being the bearer of bad news. He dipped his head and concentrated on wringing out a sponge. Ludo shuffled over and plonked himself beside Sarah, resting a giant hand on her knee. Didymus took it upon himself to explain.

"Are you certain you wish to know, dear one?" squeaked the little goblin.

"I'm sure, Didymus," Sarah replied, steeling herself. "Please."

"Well, you see…when a child is wished away and is not won back, it doth reside in the Goblin Realm. You know this much. But then there is the matter of what the families of your Above world think when they learn that their offspring have disappeared. In order to keep our world secret, and to protect families from despair…the Goblin King casts a forgetting spell on the relatives of the wished away." Didymus paused here, his moustache twitching nervously as he gauged Sarah's reaction. "He…that is to say…you have been erased from their memories, my lady. Sarah Williams does not exist Above any longer."

Hoggle had stared at his sponge throughout this entire explanation. Ludo was stroking her knee comfortingly. Sarah's eyes widened. "They don't…they don't remember me? At all? I'm just…gone, just like that?"

"Indeed, it is true," Didymus sighed. "It is not a nice subject to speak of, but it is the way things are. Perhaps the King is being kind, in a way."

"How is that kind? My little brother and sister have no idea who I am!" Sarah shouted. The noise made her head throb anew. "My father, my mother, Karen…they're all just going on with their lives as if I'm not stuck here paying my dues to save Toby!"

"Ain't it kinder, this way?" Hoggle piped up. "Ignorance is bliss, and all that. Sarah, think about it. Do you wants them to be cryin' and sad an' wonderin' where their Sarah is?"

It made sense but before Sarah could form a coherent response they heard a very loud crash from the upper levels that resounded in the echoing stone hallways.

"What in the Fate's design was that?" Hoggle grumbled.

"An intruder!" Didymus yelled excitedly. "An intruder in the castle! I must inspect this immediately! Come, sir Ludo!" He went tearing around the corner full of energy with a not-so-eager Ludo lumbering behind.

Sarah got to her feet, ignoring her swimming head, and kept pace with Hoggle as they followed the others towards the noise. They heard shouting in a familiar voice and traced it to Sarah's quarters. In a hallway near her bedroom they found two figures: one on the floor and the other towering over it. Sarah's mouth fell open in shock. Wick was crumpled at Jareth's feet, terror plain on his face as the Goblin King stood over him in menacing black armour.

"I know what you are doing here, you insipid little worm," he spat at the Elf. "I know my mother has sent you here to spy on me. I have seen you lurking in the corners whenever we meet. Do you think me stupid?" he leant further over the Elf, one hand pressed into the wall, the other in a tight fist. Wick was shaking. "My mother is a nasty, insidious creature of no morality and I don't give a damn if you report that to her, but understand this: if you ever think to sneak into Sarah's room again, if you ever set foot in my castle…I will tear at that green skin of yours until it becomes very, very red –"

"Stop!" Sarah screamed, pushing her way to the front of her group of friends. "Don't you touch him!"

Wick stared at her imploringly from the floor, eyes wide and mouth quivering. A fierce protectiveness overwhelmed her. She barely registered Jareth as she knelt down beside her friend. "Are you all right?" she asked urgently, helping Wick to his feet. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know you were looking for me." Wick couldn't speak. She felt his hand trembling in hers. "He's my friend, Jareth. I met him in the Labyrinth years ago and I've been inviting him here for some company. Back the hell off…" she'd finally turned to face the Goblin King at the end of her tirade. The breath left her at the sight of him.

He was smeared with blood. It splattered his armour, glistening horrifically against the shiny black. Tiny constellations of crimson splashed across his face and hair. There were dark circles under his eyes and a slight tremor in his frame that suggested he was either about to pass out or he was furious. Probably both. Sarah felt the strong urge to cry. Words failed her. Clutching Wick's shaking hand she made to move towards Jareth but he took a step back in silence.

"Jareth…" she whispered, reaching out. He vanished before she could touch him.

"I'm sorry Sarah," Wick finally managed to croak. "You weren't in your room, and I thought I could just poke around the hall in case you were close...he thought I was spying on you."

Sarah was barely listening. Jareth's blood splattered face filled her mind. "No I'm sorry, Wick. Really." She shook herself out of a horrified stupor and looked at her friend. "Are you sure you're okay? He didn't hurt you?"

"No, he didn't hurt me." Wick licked his lips. "I came to tell you about what happened in the Labyrinth…but I think maybe you should talk to the Goblin King about it." He gently pried her hand from his. "Go find him. I think he needs someone."

Sarah nodded; her head was clouded with worry and her heart raw with guilt. She turned to her friends without truly seeing them. The goblins had been silent in shock throughout the whole ordeal. "This is Wick, boys. Could you fix him a drink before he goes home? Make sure he's okay?"

"Of course, my lady," Didymus stammered, nonplussed.

Hoggle eyed the Elf warily but nodded. He would do anything for her.

"I'm going to look for him," Sarah told them needlessly as she started in the direction of Jareth's private rooms.

"I know it's difficult for you to follow orders Sarah but know this: if you enter my study, I will not be pleased. That is my one rule. Do you understand?"

He'd said that to her at some point in their dismal first few days together. To hell with that, Sarah thought now, having searched everywhere else in his quarters and not found Jareth. It was the final place for her to mark off before searching another part of the castle and she'd be damned if she was going to let him hide in his study now. Approaching the wooden door carved with a crown she knocked a few times. When nobody answered she let herself in. It was a plain old study, a place of work like any other. There were books lining one wall and a heavy wooden desk against the window. The room had a gravitas to it that made her uncomfortable though she couldn't say why. Moving to stand at the desk Sarah took in the view through the glass: she could see the entire perimeter of the web garden stretched out from here. It was beautiful in the midday light, the webs still white with frost and reflecting the sun a thousandfold.

It was almost too bright to look at. Squinting, Sarah averted her eyes from the brightness and found an open notebook sitting on the desk. It was thick and leather bound but made up of thousands of thin pages. There were similar ones like it piled on the corner of the desk. Curiously Sarah picked up the book, recognising it as some kind of ledger as she rifled through hundreds of names and labels and dates. A familiar name flashed quickly before her eyes and she felt a chill run down her spine. Flipping back to the page, Sarah sank into the chair behind her.

Tobias Williams, it said on the page. Then, in the category beside it: Retrieved by sibling in 1986 (Above years). Sarah scanned down the list of names but not a single one had the word retrieved on it. Possessed by a sudden idea she flipped to the back of the book and found the most recent entries. After a few minutes of searching, she found it: Sarah Williams. Acquired as payment for Alice and Tobias Williams, siblings, in 1996 (Above years). Erased.

So Didymus was right; she'd been wiped free of memory from her own world. Feeling a lump in her throat Sarah continued down the list. There were so many others, hundreds of names:

Billie Austen. Acquired. Sibling failed Labyrinth.

Jonathan Summers. Acquired. Mother failed Labyrinth.

Zabina Singh. Dead. Sibling dead.

Maria Hill. Dead. Cousin dead.

Sophie Barton. Dead.

Anthony. Dead.

Jose. Dead.

On and on it went. The list of those wished away and acquired by the Goblin King evolved into a list of the dead. Sarah read with tears in her eyes. Every day Jareth had to live this life. He had to take children, watch their relations die in the Labyrinth, watch the children die at the hands of his awful goblins. And worse, her escape attempt had pushed the monsters into rebellion. It was her fault that the word death followed these people's names. Along with what Wick had told her of Jareth's recent unpleasant duties, she now understood why he looked so haunted. She sniffed, wiping her thumb across the page as if to soothe the children long gone.

"It's not a nice read, is it Sarah?"

"Jesus Christ," she swore in shock, dropping the book roughly. Searching a poorly lit corner of the room she found Jareth slumped against the bookshelf. His knees were drawn up, his arms crossed over them. His head rested against the shelf behind him. He was no longer wearing the armour but still stained with blood. "How long have you been sitting there?"

"I used to like red, once upon a time," he said distantly. His eyes were unfocused and his fingers thrummed a lamenting rhythm against his calves. "But no longer. I have seen far too much red in my lifetime, Sarah. Far too much."

"Jareth, you're scaring me." She had never said that to him before but it was truer than ever in that moment. More than that, she was scared for him.

"You cowered before me, I was frightening," he murmured, closing his eyes.

Sarah knelt before him warily. "Are you hurt?" she asked softly.

"Oh, you mean this?" he absently rubbed fingers across his chin; they came away stained with blood. "It isn't mine."

She wasn't sure if that made anything better or worse. Still, he couldn't just sit there like that. Getting to her feet she found a water pitcher on a stand and set it beside him on the floor. Then she removed her jacket and soaked a corner of it with water. Jareth neither spoke nor moved as she gently wiped his face clean. His eyes drifted shut at her touch. Will I always be fixing you up? Sarah wondered distantly, sponging his cheek with the damp fabric. The dry blood in his hair wouldn't come out; he'd have to wash that himself.

"There, that's a little better," she murmured with a last tender press to his jaw. Jareth's eyes flickered open, his hand keeping hers in place against him. His touch was feather-light, wary of rejection. She offered no resistance, relaxing momentarily into their shared glance.

"Thank you, Sarah." Jareth's voice was as delicate as his touch.

"I told you to take better care of yourself," she chastised gently, setting aside the ruined sweater and the water to sit beside him against the shelves. "What happened?"

"What do you think happened, precious?" he replied in a pained voice. "You've read the ledger. My Labyrinth has become a slaughterhouse. I bathe in the blood of humanity."

They were quiet for a long time, side by side in a dark room with their dark thoughts. Eventually Sarah could take it no longer. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, bursting into tears. "This is all my fault! I'm so sorry Jareth – I should have let them take me – you should have left me there –"

He engulfed her in his arms, stifling her cries against his throat slick with sweat and dried blood. "Never," he said hoarsely into her hair. "Do you hear me Sarah? Never."

The exposed skin of his neck was hot and she brushed it with her lips accidentally while stifling her sobs. He tasted of salt but that might have just been her tears. Wiping her eyes, she sighed against his chest. "How can you stand it? Every day?"

He did not release her. "Because the alternative is unthinkable."

What could be so bad that this was preferable? "What's the alternative?"

He was silent for so long that she thought he would never answer. Then he spoke so quietly that she almost didn't hear it. "My sister and I are carved from two different stones," he began unexpectedly. "While I have the misfortune of inheriting much from our mother, Lina was graced with the qualities of our father. She is the spring and summer to my bitter eternal winter." His voice grew strong with obvious devotion.

Sarah listened intently, feeling her own heart race against the steady rhythm of his. He'd never shared such personal information with her before.

"My people were kinder once upon a time," he continued in a harder tone. "But we have existed a thousand years for every one of your human lifespans. I think living too long has caused us to lose a great deal of compassion and tolerance. The earth beneath our feet is our only guaranteed companion in a life that may stretch on for centuries. So the Fae have become guarded, burdened with the need for self-preservation. But Lina…" she heard a smile in his haunted voice. "She is the most human Fae I have ever known."

Sarah reluctantly pulled away from his arms so that she could study him. There was a ghost of a smile on his thin lips. He seemed to be envisioning someone before them; his wide eyes were shadowed with longing. "I was a scholar for many years when we were young. Knowledge and arts fascinated me. I wanted to wax philosophic with the greats of our time. I wanted to travel the realms and publish books on my findings. I had…many a dream." His reminiscent smile was thin and faded all too soon. "And as my sister was destined to become the next Fae Queen, I was afforded the time to study what I wished. But when Lina and I were barely ninety years old our father was killed."

"But I thought you were immortal?" Sarah enquired.

"Time is ours to control, Sarah, but the Fae can still die in many ways. My father was the victim of poison meant for my mother." Sarah's gasp had little effect on him. The story was a living thing, breaking free of Jareth like a creature beyond control. "He was a kind Fae, too trusting to last. I never understood what he saw in my mother. She seemed quick to forgive herself for getting him killed… but I have never been able to." With every word the heat was drawn from his eyes until nothing but cold black was left. Yet the tale told itself in his anguished voice, heedless of the aching details. "In the years following Lina sought comfort in growing close to an Elf community with whom my father had formed a respectful relationship. But she fell in love with an Elf, the first Fae to do so in countless centuries. Mother was furious. It's against our laws to be in a relationship with any but our own kind."

At this Jareth surfaced momentarily from the drowning waters of his past. Sarah became his sole focus. He looked at her with eyes so full of meaning that she felt her heart start to beat like a hummingbird. Oh god, she thought. It's true. He does. She cleared her throat, intending to ask a less desperate question but all she could say was: "Why?"

The tone of her voice was echoed in the look he gave her. "We are too few and too important," he said without a trace of arrogance. "Though we possess longevity we are greatly outnumbered by many other races…those that rely on us to maintain our whole reality. We can't afford to let our community disperse. And Lina…"

The past returned to engulf and remind him of his old grief. Sarah found herself releasing a pent up breath as he finally took his eyes off her. "Lina is the next in line to the throne. She couldn't be allowed to stray from such a path. So Mother had the Elf executed and assigned Lina to three centuries as Goblin Queen for punishment, to remind her of what was at stake." His next words were a desperate whisper: "But I couldn't let that happen."

He didn't seem to notice as she placed a comforting hand on his arm. "Lina would never survive this position. She's too kind, too soft. I don't mean to say that she's weak in any way…but her heart is too pure for the duties I perform. If the goblins didn't tear her apart in an instant, she'd have lost her soul within the month. So I begged to go in her place. I argued that killing her lover was punishment enough, though it took some persistence to convince my heartless mother of that. But she agreed eventually…and here we are."

It took a while for Sarah to comprehend all that she'd heard. Amidst her scattered thoughts a particular notion was glowing hot and bright in her mind: Jareth was here for the same reasons she was. They were saving their siblings. "You…you gave up everything?" she managed to ask finally.

"Lina was my everything," he replied simply.

"Where is she now?"

His expression was one of utmost longing. "In a wasteland called the Dust Bowl. She's a peacekeeper. Mother thought it would serve as adequate punishment whilst teaching her necessary skills. I imagine she must be quite the mediator now."

"Don't you see her?"

Jareth shook his head. "She's forbidden to contact me. I haven't seen her for one hundred and twelve years."

"What?!" Sarah cried. And here I am crying about a few months away from home!

"You understand now, don't you Sarah? I bear that ledger's report of misery so that my sister doesn't ever have to."

He looked different to her now. The arrogance of his ways seemed to her a shield to protect himself. The coldness she'd glimpsed in his eyes now spoke of impossibly unfair decisions forced upon a brother. As far as she could see, they were both as good as trapped here in this castle. How could she resent him for seeking out something kind in a world that punished love? No, Jareth was not the villain here. Slowly Sarah laid her head down on his shoulder. "I don't think you inherited anything from your mother," she murmured, feeling him relax under her cheek.

"Thank you," he replied just as quietly.

He smelt of blood and water, salt and earth. She closed her eyes and leaned into him. "I don't exist Above anymore, do I?" she murmured.

He was quiet for a moment. "The goblins told you?"

"Yeah. Can you…can it be reversed?"

"It can, with difficulty," he replied slowly. "But you know they'd suffer for their memory of you."

"I know." She sighed. "It was just a thought."

"Sarah."

One word, yet it was enough to make her seek out his gaze. His soul seemed to shine in his eyes; it made her think of snow melting.

"For what it's worth…" he ventured, "I never meant for things to happen this way."

"You mean taking me as payment?" An unexpected nervousness made her tease him.

"Oh Sarah," Jareth breathed, his face impossibly close. "You will never understand that it is I who will pay the price for you."

But Sarah did understand, more than she ever thought possible. Oh and how she knew this feeling well, the emotion pooling in her heart in response to his proximity. It meant more than simple attraction. Thoughts of flying and falling whirled through her mind. It meant…that she was in trouble.

Lina's lover had been killed. Would Sarah be equally disposed of after all this was over? The sensation of flying became one of total panic, as if she were being tossed over a cliff.

"What's the matter?" Jareth enquired, frowning.

"I…I have to go. I'm sorry." She got clumsily to her feet feeling weak with anxiety.

"Sarah?"

But she couldn't answer. She as good as had a death warrant hanging over her head. Fury drove her into a frenzied run as she sought out her bedroom. Anger with the Queen pounded through her like a physical heat: anger over her treatment of her own children, of the way she'd manipulated Sarah into this whole charade, of the fact that she hadn't at all mentioned that Sarah would die just like Lina's poor Elf. She was so mad when she finally arrived at the mirror in her bedroom that she nearly cracked the glass, thumping on it as she did.

"I demand to meet with the Queen of the Fae Domain!" she roared, her reflection fading into an empty black space beneath her pounding fist. On the third hit her hand disappeared into the glass and she wasted no time in hauling herself up onto her vanity and through the gateway.

She arrived directly in front of the Queen on her throne. "You sound upset, Miss Williams," said the frosty Fae woman without a touch of concern. "Why have you so rudely demanded my time?"

"You're going to kill me, aren't you?!" Sarah shouted without preamble, pacing before the marble throne. "You sneaky, lying, hateful woman – I can't believe you didn't tell me – you –" she choked on her words as a powerful invisible force held her in place.

"I suggest you calm yourself, Miss Williams, before you say anything that might count as treason." The Queen smoothed her dress in casual boredom as though talking of the weather. "Now, what are you talking about?"

"You killed the Elf that Lina was in love with," Sarah spat when she could talk again. "That's why you're so hell bent on punishing Jareth, isn't it? Because he's doing the same thing Lina did and you can't stand that your own children disobeyed you. And you're going to kill me too, aren't you?"

For a brief moment the Queen actually looked surprised. "I am not intending to execute you, Sarah," she responded calmly. "You are not an accomplice in my son's crime."

It took Sarah a moment to calm down enough to respond. "What?"

"What happened between my daughter and that Elf was reciprocal. If you were to share Jareth's sentiment, to act on it…matters would be different," she explained in a voice laden with warning. "But as it stands you are nothing more than a victim here." She arched a brow in silent question, daring Sarah to attest otherwise.

"I want your word," Sarah demanded.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Your word," Sarah repeated. "I want your promise that you won't kill, imprison or hurt me in any way when this is over. If Jareth confesses, you can't touch me."

The Queen considered her carefully. "What you are asking is more than a promise, child."

"I'm not a child," Sarah hissed. "I'm an adult in my own world with a family and a life that I treasure and I won't let you trick me into giving any of that up. I want your word, your Majesty." Those inscrutable eyes flicked over Sarah from top to bottom, measuring every ounce of the confidence she was trying to convey. A thought seized her and she hurried to speak it before the Queen could respond. "And I want you to reverse the erasing spell on my existence when I return home. And grant freedom to the three goblins that still live in the castle. They're my friends."

The Fae waved a hand and the mirror Sarah had come from flashed to show Toby and Alice at school, waiting to be picked up. They seemed to be blatantly ignoring one another in the midst of a childish fight. "May I remind you that you aren't in a position to be making demands, Miss Williams?"

Sarah's heart clenched at the sight in the mirror but she forced herself to remain strong. If Jareth could do it for Lina, she could do it for them. She dragged her gaze away from the image and glared resolutely at the Queen. "Might I remind you that without me you're going to have a pretty serious goblin problem on your hands? Jareth is living this life to save Lina, you know that right? I'm a lot like him. Can you imagine what I would do to keep my family away from you?"

The smile she received was brittle as old bones. "You're a human, Sarah."

"I know. It makes me way more dangerous than any dusty old Fae."

Hold your gaze, Sarah, she thought to herself under the Queen's iron-hard scrutiny. Don't you dare back down now.

"Very well." The words were sharp as a blade but relief washed through Sarah at the sound of them. "Come here."

Sarah stepped forward and reached out an uncertain hand in response to the pallid one that was being offered to her. The Queen grasped Sarah's left wrist in a painfully tight hold and blistering heat suffused their joint skin.

"I give my word as Queen of the Fae Domain that you will come to no harm should Jareth El'Maven be arrested for his crime. I pledge to restore your existence in the Above upon your return to it and I vow to grant freedom to your friends in the castle." Her grip became even tighter, making Sarah wince in pain. "However, if you reciprocate his feelings then you must accept the full consequences of your actions. This is my vow. May I hold myself to it from now until the Last Days." She let go of Sarah and reclined once more in her seat, her face etched from stone. "There. You have your promise. Now leave my palace; I am tired of arrogant humans."

Holding out her tender wrist, Sarah nodded in response before climbing back through the mirror without a word. When she was safe in her room she inspected her skin. There was a blistered thin ring of pastel blue encircling her entire wrist. It glowed faintly silver in the light. Sarah resigned herself to finding some sort of bangle to hide it from view, hoping it would stop hurting soon. The headache that had somehow been forgotten in the midst of the morning's insanity now returned tenfold.

"God Sarah," she moaned to herself. "What the hell have you gotten yourself into?"