Tell Me on a Sunday

Don't want to know who's to blame. It won't help knowing. Don't want to fight, day and night…"

Sarah was careful not to tip her container of hot chicken soup as she fumbled with her keys. She had to smile at her good fortune in finding the soup. She had smelled it as she stopped at a stoplight on her way home. Looking to her left, she had seen the flickering neon sign in the window of the little diner. She'd swung immediately into the parking lot, but a lady was already hanging a sign that said "Closed" in the window. Sarah had started to pull away but the lady saw her and waved her inside. Sarah hadn't even had to ask about the soup. The lady brought out a container of the stuff and handed it to her and wouldn't take her money. Sarah shook her head. 12:17 a.m. on a Sunday in L.A., and she still managed to find exactly what she was looking for.

The aroma of the soup was making her mouth water, but her door key was not cooperating. "Damn door," she thought as she jiggled the key in the lock, still trying to hold the soup container steady with her other hand. She was about to give up when she heard the lock click and the door swung open of its own accord. Sarah stepped into her apartment cautiously. She had a sneaking suspicion about who had opened the door. Sure enough, the Goblin King was seated on her sofa, casually juggling three crystals in his right hand. Sarah put her purse and the container of soup down on the counter and stomped over to where he sat.

"Don't I have to invite you in or something?" she asked angrily.

Jareth rolled a crystal over his wrist and down his arm and then back again before answering.

"My dear, I'm not a vampire. You watch entirely too much television."

"Okay then, what are you doing here?" Sarah snapped. "First my dressing room and now my apartment… Honestly, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were stalking me."

"Hmph," grunted Jareth as he flicked his wrist and made the crystals vanish. "You have quite a high opinion of yourself, Sarah dear."

"Then answer my question," Sarah replied. "Why are you here?"

Jareth rose swiftly from the sofa and smoothed his dark pants with his gloved hands. Sarah noticed that he was dressed in more modern clothing: black slacks and a white button-down shirt. The mundane clothing did nothing to take away from his regal bearing or his Otherworldly air. He looked at her pointedly.

"I had come to thank you," he began. "However, since you obviously have no desire for my company…" He moved toward the door, but Sarah stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

"Hold it," she said, putting her hands out in front of her. "Thank me? For what?"

Jareth cocked his head to one side. "I had a very interesting visit from Hogwart."

"Hoggle."

"Whatever. It seems he stumbled upon a miracle cure for the Goblin flu."

"Oh, did he?" Sarah asked, feigning innocence.

"Yes, he did" answered Jareth. "It just so happens that this 'wonder cure' also takes care of our little Underground chicken surplus."

"Well, that is convenient," Sarah said smugly.

"It is convenient," Jareth echoed, raising an elegantly arched eyebrow. "I'm just wondering," he continued, "where he got such an idea."

Sarah refused to take the bait. "He's a clever little dwarf," she told Jareth. "You should probably award him a goblin Nobel Prize or something."

Jareth snorted. "Oh come come," he sneered. "That dwarf doesn't know his ass from a hole in the ground. Why are you putting this on him, Sarah? I know it was you who told him about the chicken soup."

"I did not," Sarah argued.

"No?" asked the Goblin King as he stepped toward the container of soup on the kitchen counter. "What's in the bowl, Sarah?"

Sarah averted her eyes and shrugged. "My dinner," she replied.

Jareth folded his arms over his chest and stared at her expectantly.

"Okay, fine," Sarah said. "It's chicken soup. Are you happy?"

"Now, that's quite a coincidence, don't you think, Precious?" asked Jareth. He thoughtfully stoked his sharp chin.

"Not really," countered Sarah. "Hoggle told me about the chicken soup and it made me want some."

Jareth shook his head. Stubborn girl. "Why don't you just admit it, Sarah? You helped me didn't you?"

"I didn't help you," she retorted. "I helped Hoggle and the poor goblins."

Jareth took a step toward her. "You helped me. Why?"

Sarah shrugged and moved past the Goblin King and across the room to the window on the far wall. "I don't know," she said as she peeked out through the blinds at the dark night. "Earlier you just seemed a little…" A little what? Lost? Desperate? "Unhinged."

Jareth chuckled and Sarah was relieved. She'd been afraid that the arrogant bastard would misunderstand. She knew he wasn't weak, but everyone needs a little help from time to time.

"I'm indebted to you, Sarah," he told her gently.

Sarah turned from the window to face him. "Oh no," she said. "I don't want you to be indebted to me. In fact, I think you've helped me quite enough."

Jareth stared at her, disbelieving. "You knew?" he asked in almost a whisper.

"Of course," Sarah replied, putting her hands on her hips. "Look, I know I'm good, but I'm not that good. I knew there was some kind of voodoo going on to get me where I wanted to be without…compromising myself."

The Goblin King gave her a weak smile and decided that he'd let her believe that his motivations were entirely honorable and not the least bit self-serving.

"So…" Sarah began as she walked toward him. "Can we just call ourselves even?" She extended her hand to Jareth.

"If you wish it, Precious," he answered.

He took her hand, but didn't shake it as she'd intended. Instead, he bent low and placed a delicate kiss upon it. A little shiver ran down Sarah's spine as his lips brushed over her skin. She thought about the way he'd kissed her earlier, hard and fierce, and the memory made her blush. Jareth saw the look in her eyes and in one swift movement swept her into his arms, intent on kissing her until she was breathless. Sarah didn't resist, but turned her face up to meet his. He bent down to her.

"Sarah…ah…ah..AH-CHOO!"

"Jareth?"

"Bloody hell."


A/N:

Oh dear! Looks like His Smexiness has come down with a nasty bug! Tell me, what would you do in such a situation? I'm not sure how I'd handle a sick Goblin King, but I'm pretty sure whatever I did would involve Vapo-rub. Lots and lots of Vapo-rub.

Sarah Rose 29: I'm sure you know the musical title for this one.

Fanny