Of all the names to cry out at a moment like this.

Sarah wasn't sure how it happened. It had just slipped out in a moment of weakness. She groaned and leaned back against the burning sand and closed her eyes. The desert sun beat down relentlessly, searing through her tattered fatigues and straight into the marrow of her bones.

"Stupid, stupid," she cursed herself as she tried to move. A jolt of white-hot pain tore through her and she fell back flat. "He probably won't come anyway," she thought, lifting her hands to her face to further shield her eyes from the blazing sun.

"Still fighting the forces of evil, are we, Precious?"

Sarah froze, only half-believing that she'd heard his voice. She slowly removed her hands from her face and opened her eyes. He stood a few feet from her, leaned casually against the battered shell of the jeep, looking very much the way she remembered. His hair was the color of the sand, one of his eyes the color of the desert sky in the brightest part of the day, the other eye deeper and dark like the desert sky on a night without stars. He wore his traditional "intimidation black" but the leather and armor had been replaced by loose fitting linen that flapped and fluttered in the scorching winds.

Jareth.

He smiled down at Sarah. "Are you not going to say anything?" he asked.

"I… I wasn't sure you would come," Sarah stuttered. She tried to sit up, not wanting him to see her lying helplessly flat on her back, but searing pain shot through her from her gaping wound and she cried out. In a flash, Jareth was kneeling at her side. He propped her up gently, unfastened her pack and set it to the side. Sarah winced against the pain in her side and noticed the look of concern that briefly passed over Jareth's face as he helped her slide up and lean back against one of the jeep's tires. A long, sticky trail of bright red blood stained the golden sand and marked the path from where she'd been moved. Jareth glanced at it warily and flinched, but said nothing.

"Thank you," Sarah told him as she leaned back into the relative shade of the jeep.

Jareth nodded to her and looked out over the endless glistening dunes.

"I thought you were going to be an actress," he said finally.

Sarah shook her head. "That was the selfish ambition of a fifteen-year-old girl," she told him. "It never really suited me. I'm much better at fighting for the people I love." She glanced sideways at him and found him gazing at her with an amused expression.

"And there are no lines to remember," Jareth said with a smirk.

Sarah began to laugh, but it was choked off by another wracking wave of pain. She clutched at her side, feeling a fresh gush of blood pouring from the wound.

"Oh god," she sighed, closing her eyes tight, "It hurts so bad."

She felt Jareth's hands on hers as he lifted them away to examine the wound.

"What happened?" he asked. He knew he should keep her talking.

"Ambush," Sarah answered. "We never saw them."

"We?"

"Yes, Jennings and Burke and me." Sarah motioned toward the two bodies that lay sprawled out on the hot sand on the other side of the jeep. "Just a normal patrol, we thought," Sarah continued. "They took us by surprise and hit the jeep with some sort of explosive. I think the guys were killed instantly, but I was thrown."

Jareth looked down at her pained face and bloodied body. "Why did you call me, Sarah?" he asked softly.

She shrugged. "I don't know," she answered, keeping her eyes closed. "I was alone. There was no one else to call that would hear me. I guess I was a little scared." She paused and drew in a painful breath. "I didn't want to die alone, Jareth."

Jareth studied the young woman leaning against the bombed out jeep and saw the girl he remembered. He knew he had frightened her that first night, and yet she had accepted his challenge, running the labyrinth and succeeding against all odds and despite his best attempts. That girl was here still, fighting for those she cared about against an unseen enemy, an enemy who didn't play fair.

"Is that the only reason you called me?" he asked her, reaching out to sweep away the damp strands of hair from her face.

Sarah opened her eyes at his touch and gazed up at him. "No," she answered, shaking her head. "I really wanted to see you again. I wanted you to see me. I wanted you to know that I'm not that stupid girl anymore, and yet I am. I'm different now, but the same. I know that probably makes no sense. I think I'm becoming delirious. I know I've lost a lot of blood. You're probably not even really here…" her voice trailed off.

Jareth touched her cheek, caressing it gently.

"It makes perfect sense, Sarah dear, and I am really here. Believe me."

He knew he didn't need to tell her that she was right about her blood loss. Her fatigues were soaked deep red and a scarlet river ran from the wound in her side and onto the sand leaving rust-colored clumps on the ground beside her.

"Jareth…"

"How is young Toby?" Jareth asked, trying to keep Sarah communicating.

"Toby? He's fine," Sarah answered slowly, her breathing becoming labored. "He just had a birthday. He's eleven now and loves video games and heavy metal music."

"Does he remember me?"

"I don't think so. He's never mentioned it if he does."

Jareth sighed and Sarah could hear a bit of disappointment in it.

"What of your betrothed?" questioned Jareth.

"You know about Michael?" Sarah asked, surprised.

"Of course," replied Jareth.

Sarah thought of the fiancé she had left at home. She pictured his dimpled smile and his brown sad puppy eyes. He was a great guy. He'd always been good to her, but… She pushed the thought away.

"We were supposed to get married when I returned home from this tour in a few weeks," Sarah told Jareth with a bitter laugh.

"I'm sorry," whispered Jareth. "We can talk about something else."

"No, it's okay," Sarah replied. "He'll be better off. I'm not sure that I was fully invested in that relationship anyway." She sighed and continued. "It's difficult to commit yourself to one person when you keep thinking of someone else you once danced with in a dream."

She looked up at Jareth again and held his gaze, her green eyes fierce, yet tender and honest.

"Precious," Jareth said, tracing his fingers over her damp forehead, "I'm not certain I would make a suitable confessor for you. Perhaps you shouldn't…" He let his voice trail off.

Sarah breathed deeply and leaned her head back against the jeep. "No, you're right," she told him. "It won't help, will it?"

She gave him a weak smile and Jareth did his best to smile back at her. They were silent for several minutes before he spoke again.

"Sarah, I wish it were in my power to…to heal you. I could transport you to help, but I fear the journey alone would kill you."

Sarah shook her head vehemently. "I wouldn't allow you to do it anyway," she said. "I can't desert my men." She coughed and a crimson droplet appeared on her lips.

"Oh dear," she whispered.

Jareth moved in close to her and cupped her chin in his hand. He wiped the drop of blood from her lips with his thumb, leaving a streak of red across her mouth.

"I can't heal you," he told her earnestly, "but I can do something for you."

With a graceful flourish of his hand, he produced a crystal. Sarah gazed at it in wonder as it spun in his palm, sending refracted beams of rainbow colors onto the scorching sand.

"What is it?" she asked hypnotically.

"It's a dream, Sarah," Jareth answered. "Any dream you wish. Name it and it will be yours. Your spirit can live inside the dream and inside the crystal forever."

"Forever?" Sarah mulled the thought over for a moment. "My body will die though?"

"Yes," Jareth held the crystal out to her. Sarah moved to reach out to take it, but her arms would no longer cooperate.

"Jareth, please help me," she whispered. Her body began to shake violently and Jareth knew she was going into shock. There wasn't much time. He moved in closer to her, pulling her toward him until her head rested on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and placed the crystal in her hands.

"Sarah," he whispered into her ear. "You'll have to wish. I can't help you if you don't wish."

Sarah nodded slowly. "I wish…I wish I could dance forever…with the Goblin King."

Jareth was almost certain his heart stopped as her words registered in his mind. Of all the wishes she could have made, she wished to dance forever, and with him. He felt stunned and confused and…something else, something unfamiliar. Humbled.

Sarah moaned in his arms and he tightened them around her.

"Did anything happen?" she asked weakly.

"It will, Precious,"

"How long, Jareth?" He smiled at the sound of his name on her lips.

"Not long," he answered truthfully.

"Oh." She understood and leaned into him.

Jareth kissed the top of her head. "That's it, Precious. Don't be afraid. You're as brave a soldier as ever." He began to hum softly in her ear, rocking gently back and forth.

Sarah felt her body relax, her heart slowing, the pain subsiding. Around her the sand glistened and swirled and became twisting flecks of gold and light. She felt herself rising, carried aloft by the warm desert wind and the sound of Jareth's humming. Sarah released herself to the wind and the music, floating higher and higher into the sapphire sky. She looked back down at the ground for a moment and saw the mangled jeep, her fallen comrades, and her own body slumped against the figure of the Goblin King. She could still hear his voice, but he was no longer humming. He was singing to her. She couldn't make out the words, but the melody was hauntingly familiar.

Sarah looked back up into the sky above her and watched in awe as the clouds parted and golden glow burst forth from an open doorway. She let herself float through the door and felt her feet touch down on a cool marble floor. She looked around and smiled. Crystal and mirrors and gilt chairs lined the edges of the ballroom. Sarah caught her reflection in a mirror and paused to gaze at herself.

Her tattered and bloody combat fatigues were gone, replaced by an exquisite burgundy ballgown with intricate gold stitching. The full skirt of the gown swept the floor and trailed gracefully behind her. Her hair was piled in delicate curls on top of her head with vines of gold woven into her dark locks.

A movement behind her drew her attention away from her reflection and Sarah turned. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of Jareth standing majestically at the top of the stairs. His hair shone golden in the soft light and his eyes twinkled as he gazed down at her. He wore a jacket of deep rich royal purple encrusted with rare gems, a flowing shirt of ivory silk and silver-gray breeches. Sarah watched, rapt, as he slowly descended that stairs and held out his hand to her.

"May I have this dance?' he asked gently.

Sarah smiled and nodded and placed her hand in his. He led her to the center of the ballroom and slid his other hand around her waist before sweeping her into a waltz. Sarah closed her eyes as they spun around the room. This time there were no masks, no deception, no clock, no revelers; there was only Sarah and the Goblin King, dancing forever.

Notes: This story was inspired by the beautiful song of the same name as sung by Hayley Westenra. I knew I wanted to write a story for the song, but I didn't really want a "happily-ever after" type story since the song is quite bittersweet. I hope you found it moving and not sappy. As always, feedback of any kind is welcome and appreciated.

Fanny

*I hope you will check out the song Dark Waltz on the media of your choosing. There are several nice vid versions on YouTube. There may even be a Labyrinth vid if you dig around for it.