Mornings of Gold (a Jareth and Sarah fanfiction)

Chapter Fifteen

"I'm sorry there's no space for you tonight." Sarah poured herself a second glass of very old, very rich wine and gave the man across the table from her an apologetic smile.

    Jareth caught her eye over the rim of his own glass and gave her a half-smirk. "Please don't worry yourself over it, love. I'm perfectly fine with my current living arrangements." Something in the way he said 'fine' made Sarah feel as if the word wasn't entirely true. But as bad as she felt for leaving him on his own in the Underground, he was right: she had no reason to worry. Nothing could be done – not right now, anyway, as Toby was sleeping in her only spare room.

    Still, she couldn't help but think, isn't there something I can do for him? Somewhere he can go that's free from that dark kingdom and the hold it has over him?

    "Where will you go tonight?" she asked, already sure she knew the answer. But Jareth surprised her. "I'll explore. Get to know this city better. Then I'll go back home."

    She blanched at the concept immediately. "No, Jareth, you mustn't!" She protested. "There's all sorts out there and on the subway at this time of night. Pickpockets, murderers, unsavoury characters like that. You could get into real trouble."

    Jareth's smile widened across his face, and in his eyes danced an amused light. "Sarah, I am perfectly capable of looking after myself, you know," he attempted to placate her, his statement not unlike the one she'd made to her stepmother just a couple of weeks before. Looking him over, she certainly found herself wanting to believe it: if his hauntingly-asymmetrical gaze wasn't enough to scare off any attacker, his lean build and sharp knuckles were a good second bet. But something held her back – she didn't want him to go wandering off into such a human night, and it wasn't because of the people he may come across along the way...

    "...Well," she countered haltingly, "w-what if you got lost? You don't know this city: you could go down some backstreet and not reemerge for days!"

    "I fear you may be elaborating the point somewhat, my dear." Jareth was not to be fooled.

    She thought for a moment. "A car crash!" she exclaimed, so suddenly that Jareth had to hush her before she woke Toby. "What if you were involved in some terrible car crash and were mangled beyond recognition? I'd never know what happened to you!"

    "And now you're simply fantasising," Jareth teased, feigning offence. "How could you think about my tragic death in such a way?"

    Sarah chuckled forcefully. Part of her wanted to just let him go – he wasn't one of her nearest-and-dearest; he could do what he pleased with himself. She couldn't care less about what antics lay in store for him.

    But that part was growing smaller by the minute.

    "I'll finish my glass," Jareth was saying, "and then I'll head off. Who knows where I'll go? What I'll do?" The last two sentences were illustrated with great, swinging, wide-armed gestures.

    Sarah did not want to see where he'd go or what he'd do. She'd seen what the vices of the city could do to an unprepared person from a smaller background – her birth mother, for example. The poor woman had been fine up until Sarah was five, but had caught the eye of a charismatic young actor when holidaying in LA. She'd never come back, and Sarah's father had almost gone mad with rage and loneliness. After years of hearing no news, he'd accidentally stumbled across a little black-and-white square on a newspaper's announcement page stating that a Mrs Williams had passed away in hospital due to a cocaine overdose. They never spoke of her again.

    Sarah didn't want to watch Jareth find the path her mother had strayed down, didn't want to see what would become of him if he became ensnared in its web of human despair. She didn't want to see him strung out on powders and pills, skin stretched across bones, looking for a fix like half the people already were in this godforsaken city. He wouldn't know what had hit him, right up until it hit him so hard he'd never wake up. He couldn't hear the pain in her voice as she pleaded one last time, loudly, that he shouldn't go out there, that he'd be hurt. He couldn't see the way her eyes clung to his every move, the way they were bright with panic.