Disclaimer: Not mine. Never was, never will be. I can't even say I wish it was mine because I'm not sure what that would say about my subconscious. Henson's brain babies are simply my muse!

I know the formatting is a tad confusing. If it's too much to handle, please let me know and I'll pull it for revisions.

Sarah took a deep breath and blew hard into the wad of toilet paper, groaning as she dropped in into the garbage can. Her reflection stared back at her, heavy-lidded, ponytail mussed and thoroughly as miserable as she herself was. With a final sniffle she pulled open the door and groaned again.

"Well, that sounds simply dreadful." Crazy, flyaway hair, seemingly permanent smirk plastered across his decidedly not-sick face. God, she wanted to hit him so badly.

"Go away, Goblin King. I don't want to deal with you today," Sarah pushed her way past the blonde man leaning casually against the wall and thumped down the hall toward her bedroom. She shoved the door closed somewhat forcefully as she passed it in hopes of hearing it hit him but no such luck. He simply batted it back open and leaned in the doorway watching, grinning as she settled herself into her nest of blankets and pillows.

"Why, Sarah, you haven't called me by my title in years. I thought we were past all that by now," He flicked a bit of imaginary dust off his shoulder while she coughed, downplaying the slight bitter undercurrent to his words.

"Fine. Jareth, go away before I puke on you." She sniffled and sat up to go to the bathroom again when a box of tissues appeared in her lap. She blinked and looked up at the man beaming at her from the doorway. They simply stared at each other for a while before she pulled a tissue from the box and blew her nose.

"And here I was all ready to play nurse maid. I even brought you soup." he lifted his other hand which had a large plastic container in it. After watching her eye it suspiciously for a second he added, "It's chicken noodle."

Finally Sarah sighed and waved her hand dismissively. "Alright, you can stay."

Jareth chuckled and stood up. "How very gracious of you, dearest. I'll be back shortly." He turned and disappeared down the hall toward the kitchen and Sarah heard dishes clinking quietly from where she lay. Try as she might she couldn't seem to keep her eyes open and with a yawn she fell asleep.

Jareth returned with a steaming coffee mug to find her clutching a pillow to her chest, fast asleep. He smiled fondly and sat by her side, simply looking for a minute before he reached down and brushed her hair back from her face.

"Are you watching me sleep again?" she whispered, opening one eye to stare at him blearily. He laughed heartily.

"Caught red handed. Only for a moment, love. Here, sit up." After she'd set herself up against the headboard surrounded by several pillows he handed her the mug and watched her stare down at it for several agonizingly long seconds, wondering what he'd done wrong. Then her eyes caught his and he saw, to his utter amazement and dread, tears forming there. "Sarah? What is wrong? Did I not make it correctly?"

She shook her head smally and blinked against the moisture in her eyes. "You… You brought me a bendy straw. I love bendy straws." Her voice wavered slightly and the distress drained from Jareth's stance, replaced by relief. With an affectionate smile he leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

"Of course. What my girl wants, my girl gets." And with that he stretched out beside her with the tv remote and flipped through the channels. Sarah watched him, wondering where the strange mood swings were stemming from. Now she felt slightly miffed that he had called her his girl. One hand behind his head on a pillow, the other holding the remote in the air, booted feet crossed at the end of the bed. He smiled and waved a hand at her when he noticed her staring.

"Eat it before it gets cold." And she did. It was amazing. With a sigh she settled further into her pillows, occasionally blowing her nose. At some point the paper fell out of her hand, rolled over the edge of the bed and out of sight. Her eyes drifted closed for just a few short seconds and opened to find her head cradled against Jareth's chest, one of his arms wrapped around her while the other stroked her shoulder. She groaned softly and attempted to roll away, only slightly disappointed when he wouldn't allow it.

"I don't want to make you sick," she explained even as she stretched one arm over his stomach and pulled herself closer. He chuckled in response and kissed her hair.

"Have no fear for me, beloved, I'm quite healthy. I'm here to take care of you. Is there anything you need?" Shaking her head took some effort before she closed her eyes again and promptly fell asleep again. The rest of the day went on like this, with Jareth waiting on her hand and foot. If she hadn't been quite so out of sorts, it might have been gratifying. Sometime during the night she became feverish and Jareth fetched her an ice pack, holding it against her forehead while he watched tv. Drifting in and out of consciousness made for an interesting patchwork of memories later.

*****

You're the Dread Pirate Roberts, admit it!

With pride. What can I do for you?

You can die slowly, cut into a thousand pieces.

Tsk, tsk. That's hardly complementary, Highness.

"It rarely is with these damned demanding teenage girls, my friend. You get used to it."

You mock my pain.

Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.

"Hmm. Very well put, Westley. I shall have to write that down."

You can die too for all I care.

AS…You..Wish!

Oh, my sweet Westley, What have I done?

"Ha! If only it were that easy. I tried that wishing thing, it got me nowhere."

Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while.

I will never doubt again.

There will never be a need.

"Oh, please. This verges on ridiculous. What else is playing?"

Wheel… Of… Fortune! "Oh, God, no."

This is a story all about how my life got twist turned upside down… "What is this nonsense? His throne is tipped on its back… and it's spinning!"

But, Mark, I love you.

I'm with Sheila, Camie. Not that it matters anyway, since you're still married!

But I love you, Mark!

But you're married, Camie! "Ugh, these "soap operas" are getting redundant and petty."

Finally the soft familiar click of the remote being set on her side table and his other arm twining around her told her he'd found something worth watching. "Now that's more like it."

Shall we dance?
On a bright cloud of music shall we fly?
Shall we dance?
Shall we then say "Goodnight and mean "Goodbye"?
Or perchance,
When the last little star has left the sky,
Shall we still be together
With our arms around each other
And shall you be my new romance?
On the clear understanding
That this kind of thing can happen,
Shall we dance?

"Hmf mmf hmmph 's r'mumph," Sarah mumbled.

"What was that, my love?"

"Her dress 's ridiculous." He laughed and held a new cold pack to her forehead.

Shall we dance?

"I don't think it's all that bad."

"You wouldn't, Mr. glitter-pouf."

Shall we dance?

"What, even the sleeves?"

"Especially the sleeves."

"Oh, Sarah. Be kind to the tulle. It's been kind to you. Though you do have a point. It's excessive."

She smiled… Or she thought she did. Control over her muscles was quickly losing the battle with unconsciousness. One last thought occurred to her through the haze of her mind.

"'m I really your girl?" Jareth blinked and for the tenth time in a few hours felt the urge to reach into his jacket pocket and show her the elegant crystal ring he'd had made just hours after she accepted the challenge to run the labyrinth. Of course, adjustments had had to be made as she grew, but he always carried it with him for the day he felt she would finally accept him. Perhaps now would not be the most romantic time to ask her. Later then, he thought.

"Of course you are. Did you have any doubts at this point, after all I've said and done?"

She reflected before answering. He had made an admirable effort to be in her life, but only in the ways she'd wanted him to be. When she'd needed someone to brag to her friends about, he'd showed up at her high school to drive her home on a motorcycle. The first time she ever got completely wasted he sat beside her on the bathroom floor all night, rubbing her back and getting her water and telling her stories about the time he cooked and ate the goblin's favorite chicken, (Rosie or Rhonda or something of the like) and spent the better part of a month putting down their rebellion by crowning a new chicken-tossing champion, Louie. He was kind, supportive, infuriating, unbelievably overprotective and she was almost completely sure that she loved him. "…Not really. I just had to make sure."

"I will say it in any words you wish, whenever you wish. I will repeat it ten thousand times if it would please you." He sounded eager to prove it to her and she breathed a laugh, reaching up to pat his cheek lightly.

"Maybe tomorrow," she whispered through a yawn. Jareth smiled as she snuggled closer and sighed blissfully.

"Or the day after, or the day after that. I've only got forever."

That night, Sarah dreamt of a crystal ballroom and herself in a gown the color of the sky at night, spinning and laughing in the arms of her king.

Wheel of Fortune and Chicken-Tossing champion are references to Lixxle's story My Fine Feathered Friend, which I'm absolutely in love with! Her stories are adorable and so funny!

So, I'm not in love with this but here it is. A cute idea I came up with when I was at home, dying with a cold one day. Being sick sucks. : ( Anyway, thank you to my friend Claire for proofreading this for me! Hope you like it! There may be a sequel to this, depending on the reaction it gets.