Glimpse of Us: (Sarah) Like A Lie
The jungle crowded them with eerie silence as they pushed through the abundance of vines and foliage. Shadows were beginning to stretch, and with the dwindling light came a sinking sense of urgency to take shelter before darkness swallowed them. Jareth didn't say a word, but the encouraging hand at Sarah's back pressing her onward said all it needed to. He cast her cautious looks throughout, wordlessly assessing her condition. Sarah replied with quick nods, hoping they confirmed she was alright even though she couldn't be sure that was true. Her heart was still pounding, causing blood to pulse painfully in the torn flesh around her collarbone.
Daylight had all but disappeared by the time they reached the opening to the tunnels, and Sarah felt conflicted between sighing in relief and suggesting they find a different path. A familiar feeling of claustrophobia closed in around her as she stared at the low ceiling of the mouth of the cave—little more than a crack—and the dark unknown beyond it.
Jareth's splayed palm was firm and reassuring. "It's not as cramped as it appears," he told her, as though intuiting her fears.
"I'm—" She didn't know how to explain the feeling of tightness she felt around her lungs or the unpleasant tingling through her extremities.
"You don't like enclosed spaces," Jareth finished for her bluntly, without a hint of mockery.
"I don't," Sarah agreed. "Ever since the Helping Hands helped me right into an oubliette."
The palm on her back brushed almost imperceptibly in a comforting circle before dropping. "Understandable," he said, though it sounded like there was more—a beat left hanging that he wanted to fill.
Sarah couldn't be sure, but she thought she heard a note of apology in the acknowledgment. Maybe even regret.
Jareth slipped one of the packs off his shoulder and retrieved the flashlight. He clicked it on and handed it to her. "I wouldn't take you in there if it wasn't infinitely safer than out here."
She took the flashlight and sent him a shaky half-smile in silent thanks before following him forward.
The worst part proved to be the entrance, the walls so narrow as only to allow one of them to pass through at a time. Jareth slid through first, leaving Sarah alone in the dark jungle for a tense moment. In the beam of her flashlight, she watched him scan beyond where she could see before he turned back and motioned her onward.
Sarah ducked down and forced her way to him—her chest expanding with labored breaths and filling the little room she had as she squeezed between the unforgiving rocks. Being so confined, so trapped made everything that caused her to feel powerless coalesce into a nearly unbearable panic. Her heart cantered wildly, she couldn't breathe.
"You're alright," Jareth soothed as he took her hand and guided her into the larger passage where he stood.
Her collarbone twinged with pain as she abruptly wrapped her arms around his middle, but she didn't care. She needed to center herself—close her eyes for a moment, rest her cheek against his chest, and absorb his calm, steadying breaths.
She wondered if Jareth would mock, or even scold her for seeking comfort from him. Just as she tensed at the thought of it, he held her head closer. His other hand smoothed along her spine in a hypnotizing pattern.
"You are safe," he told her, and Sarah knew, somehow, that he meant more than her surroundings.
You are safe with me.
Safe to need this from me.
Sarah relaxed a little in his arms and let the past several hours uncoil. Let him hold her against the terror coursing through her body, the screams ringing in her ears, both from the not-Fireys' and her own throat. The smell of blood on her skin, her clothing. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, and though she refused to allow them to fall, she couldn't stop the dry sobs that made her body jerk.
"You can cry," Jareth said, his breath warm in her hair against the cool temperature of the cave.
She couldn't meet his eyes when she pulled back. "Thanks," she whispered. "Not now. Not here."
Jareth's hands slid to her cheeks, and he dipped her face before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "When you need to, then," he murmured against her skin. "I'm here."
Sarah nodded as they released each other, but she still avoided the gaze she felt measuring her every expression.
"This way," he told her, and as he stepped away, Sarah felt an overwhelming urge to pull him back. To let him hold her for a minute longer. To cry right then and there.
Instead, she followed him. They could comfortably walk side by side in this wider space, and Sarah's fingers wouldn't have been able to touch the ceiling if she stood on tip-toe. Jareth had been right—it wasn't so cramped. The walls weren't closing in on her. It was enough of a reprieve for her nerves to calm a bit.
They walked without a word for what felt like hours, but it was hard to tell with no natural light. Jareth flicked his gaze over her at every small gasp of pain or wince, but Sarah pressed onward.
"We must have walked at least ten miles," she said, trying very hard to shape the words to sound like an observation and not a complaint. "About sixteen kilometers," she added, glancing up at him.
"You can trust that I am able to manage that conversion," Jareth said with a chuckle. "And alternative units of measurement used by various cultures. Aboveground, Underground, or otherwise."
Otherwise? Sarah didn't ask. She wasn't ready to hear about wherever 'otherwise' was.
"Impressive," she told him, doing her best to sound neutral.
He shrugged and shot her a smug smirk. "You know it is."
"I won't lie," Sarah admitted, not bothering to bite back her smile. "It is."
Both of Jareth's eyebrows shot up. "A compliment," he said. "Unexpected, but appreciated."
She laughed. "As a mycologist, and general dork, the idea of being able to whip out unit conversions is appealing to me."
His grin was self-indulgent. "It has proven to be useful a time or two."
"I'm sure." Her brows furrowed conspiratorially, and her tone dripped with mock seriousness. "Besides, you never know when a question on the standard units of measurement used by Rock Callers might tank a winning trivia streak."
"Victory would be ours if you were on my team," Jareth said with a wink.
"Really?" She asked, unsure if they were still bantering, but undeniably interested in the answer. "Tell me."
He sent her a disappointed look. "Mountain Rock Callers or Desert Rock Callers?" He tutted. "Be specific."
Sarah felt her lips twitch at his dramatics. "Mountain," she answered arbitrarily.
"Boulder, stone, pebble, gravel," Jareth said, listing each off on his fingers.
She snorted. "You're making this up. It goes right from boulder to stone?" Her eyes rolled. "How is that descriptive?"
"They motion with their arms to indicate the size of the stone," Jareth told her earnestly. "Once their hands can extend no further, they are referring to a boulder." He demonstrated, his arms outstretched to exaggerated capacity.
There was something mischievous in Jareth's gaze, the way it moved between her pupils in calculating sweeps that made her want to keep playing along. "Got it," she affirmed with a nod. "What about Desert Rock Callers?"
His eyes lit up as if he had been hoping she would ask just that. "Boulder, stone, pebble, gravel."
Sarah couldn't help but grin incredulously. "That's the same—"
"And sand," he added, his tone crucial. "Very important, that bit."
A giggle stirred in her chest and bubbled up her throat. "You're definitely making this up."
Jareth hummed in a way that neither confirmed nor denied her accusation. "Tell me, Sarah," he began. "Do you often imagine yourself in high-stakes scenarios in which others interrogate you about the scientific units of measurement used by creatures that do not exist in your reality?"
Sarah gave a faux shudder as if chilled by a haunting recurring nightmare. "More often than I care to admit, my friend," she said, then paused as if struck by a horrifying thought. "It's fated to happen now that I've spoken it into the universe."
His crisp bark of a laugh echoed around them. "I've been worrying about all the wrong things," he said before his smile melted into grave concern. "We'd best beware of unexpected trivia encounters from now on."
"The clear and primary threat," she agreed before letting out a hiss as a shock of agony jolted through her shoulder. Her adrenaline had leveled, for the most part, and the numbing effect of the icy liquid Jareth had administered was beginning to wear off. Each step tugged her pain into sharper focus.
Jareth stopped to rove an appraising glance over her and looked as though he didn't like what he saw. "Can you walk another few minutes?" he asked. "We aren't far."
Sarah looked past him, searching the darkness that lay beyond the reach of her flashlight. "How can you tell?"
He was still studying her closely. "Do you feel warmer?"
She did feel warmer, but couldn't be sure if it was due to her injuries, the exertion, or Jareth potentially leading her straight to hell. She nodded anyway.
Jareth smiled sympathetically. "It's a hot spring," he told her. "Come."
Sarah let him lead her onward, but her legs loosened after only a few steps. Jareth held her up by their joined hands when she stumbled, preventing her from hitting the ground.
"Thanks," she muttered, frowning at the fragility in her voice. The pain spanning across her collarbone was becoming overwhelming. "I just need a quick rest, I think."
"Nonsense," Jareth teased lightly, though he couldn't hide the worry from his eyes as he looked at her, swaying on her feet. "You've never looked better."
She shot him a dubious look through heavy-lidded eyes. "Hmm," was all she managed.
"I'll carry you," he said, sounding decided, and guided a hand behind her back.
Sarah tensed at the feeling of his palm sliding along her spine. She considered rejecting the idea—insisting on taking a break and resuming on her own. A hug was one thing, but the thought of being off the ground and in Jareth's hold while she was wounded and vulnerable was unnerving. More uncomfortable, though, was the sharp ache lancing through her body and the weariness that made it impossible for her to continue.
Jareth chuckled softly as though he could sense her hesitation. "Don't make a fuss about it," he told her, his voice a gentle command. "You can hardly keep your feet under you."
She sighed a resigned sigh and looped her good arm around his neck, letting him scoop beneath her knees.
As soon as she was off her feet, her body succumbed to exhaustion and she let Jareth curl her into him. Her head was heavy as her cheek pressed against his warmth. She thought she felt lips brush her hairline, but couldn't decide if she had imagined it before pain dragged her into unconsciousness.
For a brief moment—what felt like seconds and a lifetime later—Sarah emerged from the nothingness, aware only of warmth cradling her and the cool rim of a bottle at her lips.
"Drink," Jareth told her, swimming in and out of focus.
Sarah drank and slipped back under.
After an unknowable amount of time, the sound of something stirring in water lured her from sleep again—strangely distant and nearby at the same time.
Echoes.
"Like I'm in a cave," she murmured before giggling sleepily.
That was ridiculous.
"Unfailingly observant, as always," Jareth drawled near the source of the splashing sound.
Sarah's eyes popped open, and she blinked against the darkness as her vision adjusted, confirming the glistening stalactites dangling precariously overhead.
When she turned her face, she could see the flashlight a few feet away from her, wedged between two rocks so the beam faced straight up. The ceiling of the cavern high above dazzled in the flashlight's conical glow as everything beneath it was cast in shadows.
Jareth stood beyond the direct light, and Sarah could only make out his silhouette. He appeared to be waist-deep in water, rising steam obscuring what the darkness could not.
Sarah propped herself up on her elbow to peer closer and yelped in surprise as pain jolted up her shoulder and across her clavicle. She swore and lurched to a sitting position.
"Easy," Jareth warned, taking a few sloshy strides toward her. "Move slowly, Sarah."
She oriented herself, taking stock of her body and its various aches and pains. Her clothes clung uncomfortably, stiff with dried sweat and grime, and they chafed her skin when she moved. Then she noticed the crust of old blood between her fingers, how it matted her hair to her forehead and the nape of her neck.
"I'm getting in there," she declared, carefully climbing to her feet. "I feel like roadkill."
"I never imagined myself turning down an opportunity to share a hot spring with you," Jareth lamented, watching her warily. "But I advise you to make it brief. You shouldn't let your wounds soften in the steam."
Sarah groaned. All she wanted was a long, hot soak up to her eyeballs, but she knew he was right. Her wounds would need to be cleaned and dressed again once she finished bathing so they could close properly. Dallying too long in the hot spring would just prolong her healing.
She reached for the bottom of her shirt as she walked toward the water but stopped, her fingers skimming a hem that was much lower than hers would have been. "Am I wearing your shirt?"
"I like it better on you." Jareth sounded pleased with himself, and Sarah couldn't deny the happy little thrill that danced through her at the praise. "But mostly," he continued, "I didn't have time to dig around in your bag when we were in the clearing."
Sarah laughed. "I didn't notice," she said, mindful of her injuries as she maneuvered the shirt over her head.
Jareth was still in the shadows, but she could see him more clearly now that her vision had adjusted. "To be fair," he said, his eyes tracking the shirt's journey to the ground before lifting back to hers. "You've had a day."
It was hard to ignore the way her naked skin prickled beneath the weight of his gaze. "Has it only been a day?" she asked.
"Time is relative," Jareth answered coolly.
She snorted. "You would say that," she said, but the affection she heard in her voice startled her.
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he shrugged.
"I wish I had my water shoes," Sarah complained as she tried to negotiate her feet out of her leggings with her boots still on. Her mind briefly reeled with all the potential creepy crawlies they might be sharing space with. She wasn't squeamish, but she wasn't about to let her bare feet touch the cave floor, either.
"Your boots serve the same purpose," he informed her. "They will dry within minutes. Besides, those shoes"—he made air quotes in her peripheral vision—"are an affront to any creature unfortunate enough to see them."
She looked up and lifted her good shoulder dismissively. "Most things that live down here probably evolved without eyes," she said. "Or had them, then lost them eventually."
"This isn't the Aboveground," he reasoned with a grin. "How can you be sure?"
"Because I'm alive," she told him simply.
Jareth's eyes flashed with something Sarah couldn't name. It was unsettling, the way the curve of his lips faltered, the quick breath he took in through his nose.
The expression was gone before she could think too long about what it could have meant. "Explain," he commanded with casual interest, that playful cadence back in his tone.
One booted foot popped free from her leggings before she worked on the other. "The fact that I can survive in the same environment as whatever lives down here for this long means we evolved under relatively similar circumstances," she said. "Same conditions, same elements."
She finally managed to rid herself of her filthy tights, kicking them aside with disgust. "So I imagine some creatures evolved down here similarly to how things evolved in the dark Above."
Jareth's head tilted, making no secret about the study he made of her. "Interesting theory, and accurate in most instances. But-" He paused, and Sarah could hear the smirk in the space between his words. "Not all."
A threat. Or a trap. A dare, maybe. In any case, she took the bait. "Explain."
"The Fae come from deep in the earth, and our dark vision is sharp." His teeth glinted, and Sarah thought she saw his pupils expand. "Here in the dark, Sarah, I can see you perfectly."
She rolled her eyes and made her way to the edge of the water in her panties and gore-stained bra, doing her best to seem unbothered by her exposed skin or his rapt attention to it. All she wanted was to wash the last few hours off of her.
It wasn't until she stepped into the water that she hesitated. She looked down and touched the bandage. "Do you have more of that demon swill?"
"Frost Gnome milk," Jareth supplied coolly, though the soft wrinkles around his eyes betrayed a teasing warmth.
Sarah felt her gorge rise. "I drank gnome milk?" She had come across descriptions of gnomes in various mythologies, and none of them inspired thirst of any sort.
"Hmm?" His smile stretched at the dismay he'd clearly anticipated. "Oh, no." He chuckled in a forced silly me kind of way. "I should have clarified. The Frost Gnome is a pitcher plant."
Sarah stared at him. "Now I don't know what to believe," she said bluntly.
Jareth laughed. "All of it, of course."
She huffed out a breath. "Going from thinking I consumed, and had my open wounds doused in, the mammary fluid of a sentient creature to finding out it was actually the digestive juices of a carnivorous plant was a wild ride."
He watched her with an amused look, seemingly content to let her ramble away her anxious energy.
"I'll worry about why I am not being actively digested later," she added as an afterthought. "Hopefully, you thought that one through."
Jareth feigned a sharp gasp. "Damn," he said. "I suspected there was something I hadn't considered."
"Such a pity," Sarah bemoaned as she stepped into the water. "It was nice seeing you. A brief yet eventful reunion."
He hummed a sad sound of agreement and sent her a pout. His eyes didn't leave hers as she moved toward him.
"But really, though," she said, punching through their hypothetical scenario. "Is there more?"
"More than enough to see the injury through," he told her.
"I don't know if I am more relieved or disturbed to learn that," Sarah said, cringing as she recalled the icicle spikes that sliced through her open wounds and down her throat.
Jareth chuckled sympathetically. "It isn't pleasant, I know. But it is effective as both an antiseptic and anti-inflammatory."
"It helped with the pain, too," Sarah grudgingly confessed.
She stood knee-deep in the water now, picking along the edges of the bandage. Her fingers searched for the end piece so she could unravel it, and she wished she'd paid attention to where Jareth had tucked it in.
He moved closer to her. "Let me help you."
Sarah looked up at him as he approached, the waterline cutting low across his hips as he made his way through increasingly shallow waters. It was too dark to see much of anything aside from that pants were not involved.
Something in Sarah's expression made him pause before he emerged further. He tilted his head at her, the shadows not concealing his smirk.
She felt the strangest urge to explain away whatever he had seen on her face, to tell him she was just surprised, not intimidated, or shy. Not anything, really, because she was just too tired. And because he had no power over her, anyway.
For sure.
But she didn't tell him any of that. Instead, she met him where he stood. The warm water lapped just below her navel. It was incredible on her sore muscles, and she felt herself start to relax in spite of everything. It didn't matter that her wounds ached, that she didn't have any answers, that Jareth was ostensibly naked.
He reached out but didn't touch her. His hand hovered in the space between them. "May I?"
Sarah nodded, swallowing hard. Maybe his nudity mattered. Just a little.
Jareth reached behind her. His fingers felt beneath the band of her bra, presumably for the end of the bandage he had hidden there. He wasn't wearing gloves, she realized, as the pads of his bare fingers brushed her skin. Before she thought about what she was doing, Sarah snatched his other wrist and held his hand up to her face to inspect it.
His fingers were long, his palm smooth, but she wasn't able to make out much detail. She squinted in the dim light and cursed the lack of it.
His head was back on a tilt, but he didn't pull away. "Have I offended you?"
"What?" she said, dropping his hand, suddenly grateful she was already flushed from the heated pool. "Oh, no. Sorry. I'm just really… like you said. I've had a day."
"Of course," Jareth allowed, and there was a secret chuckle beneath his words as his breath tickled the hair at her temple.
Sarah's heart skipped a beat at the sound of it as she hummed a neutral response.
"I'm going to unwrap the bandages," he told her, serious again. "It will hurt."
"I know," she said, mustering braveness from some unknown depth.
Sarah bit back a hiss as the bandages peeled away from her wounds, the lack of pressure immediately causing them to throb. She hadn't gotten a good look at her injuries before, and couldn't see much in the dark.
"How's it look?" she asked between grit teeth.
"...Better," Jareth said after too long of a beat.
Sarah didn't like the way his voice wavered. "Can you please be more descriptive?"
A hand cupped her shoulder and Jareth leaned down to examine her. "There isn't much tearing, but the punctures are deep," he told her. "Bruising will worsen over the next few days, but the wounds will heal if we keep them clean."
Sarah nodded, shuddering at the memory of the creature's claws sinking into her flesh. "I'm lucky it didn't slice something important."
"We both are," Jareth said, so quietly she almost didn't hear him.
It wasn't his words, exactly, since she knew Jareth needed her alive. It was what she felt behind them—remorse, gratitude, maybe a little fear—that stirred something in her then.
The vulnerability of it made Sarah want to soothe him, and she had to be honest with herself that she craved comfort from him just as desperately.
Part of her mind cautioned her to tread lightly, but her thundering heart insisted she obey her need to touch him. To be close.
Her lips pressed a kiss to his cheek before her brain gave the command, and Jareth let out a small gasp of surprise that made Sarah's breath hitch. Her palm cradled his jaw, and she wondered absently when she had put it there.
Sarah kissed his face again.
She was getting ahead of herself.
She knew it, and she didn't care.
Jareth exhaled shakily, and Sarah felt his lashes brush her cheek as he closed his eyes against her touch. The hand on her shoulder slid to her neck, and she was hyper-aware of his long fingers tensing and relaxing, then tensing again as if he wasn't sure how to react. Or if he should at all.
Something in her worried that she was being selfish. Maybe she knew she was. But she also knew that he desired her. She'd seen it in the way his heavy stare hovered over her when he thought she wasn't paying attention. In his darkening eyes as he'd watched her strip. And she could feel it now, his need to touch her. To be touched. To be closer.
That awareness was emboldening. Intoxicating.
Sarah watched as the tip of his tongue wet his lips. She wanted to see them shape her name. To know what it sounded like with his breathing so ragged, their faces close. She wanted it almost as much as she wanted his mouth on hers.
Her lips moved to linger near his, and she heard his breath catch. "Sarah," he murmured, his voice quieter than she had heard it before and it made her blood surge in her veins. Those two syllables, just above a whisper, were both a warning and a plea. Though for what, she couldn't be sure.
Sarah shivered into the kiss, only a brush of her mouth against the corner of his at first. Jareth's fingers spanned the back of her head and fisted her hair gently—just enough to pull her back and look at her face.
His eyes were wide—deep and searching—as they darted between hers. The passion she saw there was almost alarming. Like it seared too hot for him to carry alone. Like it could burn him alive if he didn't share it.
She tried to think of something to say that could assure him that the same fire consumed her. The same ferocious pull for contact. Her words came with little direction, straight from her heart, barely a thought before they tumbled from her mouth.
"We are inevitable," she whispered. I think you know that."
Something in Jareth's expression shifted, decision sliding over his worried features. His lips were moving over hers—soft, but demanding—before Sarah could register what was happening. The fingers in her hair flexed, pulling her closer as he breathed her in.
Sipped from her like he'd rather drown in it than resurface.
It felt so right to surrender. Any plans she'd had about leading slipped away as he took control, kissing her with a deliberate languidness that made her tremble.
Time slowed, and it was disorienting when compared to the speed at which she had anticipated this going. She'd had few expectations when she had initiated this. Frantic, fear-induced fucking, maybe? But whatever this was—it was not that. Jareth was having a moment, and by the gods, she was right there in it with him. Each kiss he pressed to her cheek, her temple, her jaw, was tender and unrushed. Like worship. Like he might never get to again.
Like it was their last kiss, not their first.
How could I ever love you more?
How could I ever keep you here?
I can only make this worse
I can only grasp for more
Feels like a lie when I hold you
Feels like a lie but it comes true
And you know I was lost when I found you
Now it feels like a lie when I hold you
'Like a Lie' by Copeland
A/N:
Thank you so much, Geliot99 and Rantobi for being incredible and thoughtful betas!
I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I'd love to hear your theories if you want to share them with me on Tumblr at foxfaceinthewindow. Say hi! ❤️
Thank you for your sweet comments and feedback. I love hearing from you!