Fragile

By: Lara Winner

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Labyrinth or its characters.

There will come a time,

When I will find a way

To say what I wanted to say

To liberate night from the day

And all this will just go away

-Wendy Rule "Everywhere and Nowhere"

The voice recorder clicks on.

"Session 13. Monday, October 28th. 8:06 am. Patient: Sarah Williams, Age: 20," as his monotone voice pauses, Dr. Mitchell looks up from his notebook, "Would you like to begin Miss Williams?"

I fidget with the plastic identification bracelet on my wrist and look around. There is no one here in the small office but the doctor and myself. That could change at any second so I shake my head and brace myself for the usual probing questions.

"You're looking better today. Did you sleep well last night?" he asks.

I ponder what response I should give. I could give the truth, that I hadn't slept at all, that I was afraid to close my eyes because I knew when I did the nightmares would consume me.

"Yes. No dreams." I lie.

Dr. Mitchell scribbles something in his notes. "And how is your anxiety issue? Is the prescription helping?"

The prescription of Ativan that he'd upped the dosage of twice… "I'm more relaxed, if that's what you mean."

"But your not completely at ease?"

Just beyond the doctor, outside the window, a tree branch moves. I jerk my gaze back to the man across the desk. It's best to focus on the doctor and his nondescript face that is as uninteresting as his voice. Despite my effort remain composed I tense and he doesn't miss the involuntary action.

"Miss Williams what are you feeling right now?"

My line of sight shifts ever so slightly. Amidst the dappling leaves, no more and than ten feet from the window, is a barn owl, perfectly snow white with brown trim. It is still as a statue and staring directly at me.

"Anger. Resentment." I growl hoping that my response carries to the one it is directed at. The ghosting of sharp laughter dances around in my head.

"Do you know what is causing these feelings? Is there a trigger that you can pinpoint for me?"

I continue to stare holes in the harmless looking little owl willing the man concealed within to understand that I am really not in the mood for his crap today.

Sweetling, I do believe he is waiting for an answer.

I flinch as Jareth's incorporeal voice invades my mind. Ignore him, I remind myself fiercely, don't give him the satisfaction. I don't have to play his games. Never mind that he will pester the damn daylights out of me until he gets a reaction. I can handle the Goblin King. It's me, myself and I that seem to have a problem.

Dr. Mitchell clears his throat and watches me expectantly. The seething anger inside continues to boil like molten lava.

"I can't explain…" I choke out around the frustrated scream building in my chest.

Of course you can. Simply tell him that the King of the Goblins expects his Queen's undivided attention.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I need calm. I need control.

"Try Miss Williams. Use anything that comes to mind."

"A poisoned peach that smells like summer." I whisper softly, "A cashmere noose, decadent to the touch but deadly just the same. Or maybe a razorblade hidden in a chocolate truffle. Seems harmless enough until your raw and bleeding…"

More scribbling. "And these metaphors all pertain to…?"

A poisoned peach. Truly Sarah, how long are you going to hold that against me?

"As long as I damn well please," I mutter under my breath.

I can give you forever…

Soft leather brushes my cheek in a possessive caress. My eyes shoot open as a tingle of fear and stab of yearning course though me with a vengeance. I can't stifle the gasp that flies from my lips.

"Jareth!"

It is a plea. It is a curse. Always a fair mix of both. I nearly topple over the chair as I spring to my feet, searching around frantically, uncertain if it is fight or flight guiding my actions. But it doesn't matter. He isn't there. Even the owl perched outside the window is gone.

However, the perfectly round crystal sitting innocently on the doctor's desk hadn't been there a moment ago.

I reach for it hesitantly, as if it might bite. From far, far away I can hear Dr. Mitchell's voice, loud and more animated than I'd ever heard it in the last seven months since I was institutionalized. Then even that bit of awareness drifts away as the crystal pulls me near. It is smooth yet warm to the touch and is far heavier then I expected as I lift it for closer inspection. Inside is a dream, a bleary swirl of shape and color that slowly sharpens into a clear moving image of bare skin and tangled limbs. Then all around me the dream comes alive.

Luxurious heat flows like a current, cresting and ebbing. Skin against skin creates beautiful friction. Moans and sighs become a tantalizing song in the language of passion. Pleasure, sweet and sharp, intoxicates the senses. A bitten lip and the taste of copper-

At the taste of blood I come back to myself. I touch my bottom lip tentatively and realize I have bitten it and my nerves are tingling from denied release.

The furious tension inside me explodes and I throw the crystal with all my might. Glass shatters into thousands of tiny shards. An alarm sounds but I'm too far gone in my rage to take note. The crystal is lying on the floor beneath what is left of the window, surrounded by broken glass and still the explicit dream inside plays on, tempting yet mocking.

I don't think I just grab the nearest large object, a metal trash can, and start bashing at the crystal. I have to make it go away, as if by destroying the dream I can break the hold Jareth has over me.

I scream when multiple pairs of hands begin to restrain me. I thrash and kick and claw but there is no stopping the sting of the needle or the wave of dizziness that comes over me. I don't want to sleep but the sedative I'm injected with says otherwise.

Despite my desperate struggle, the world slips away into a blessed, dreamless darkness.

My emotions are no longer my own. Some days it's uncontrollable anger. Some days it's paralyzing fear. On good days I'm near giddy with happiness. Today it's utter despair. A dark, deep murky pit that I'm drowning in.

"Forgive me," I sigh despondently, "I am not myself today."

I can see the tip of Jareth's boots in my peripheral vision but I can't summon enough energy to turn my head in his direction.

"So it would seem," he agrees.

My room is tiny and sparsely furnished with a pathetic excuse for a window near the ceiling. I feel trapped in here and the confined space makes the presence of His Majesty seem larger than life. But it's not enough to rouse me from my lethargy. There are things I want to tell him and complaints and curses I want to hurl at him. But today I can't bring myself to play our little game. Today I just want to… not be.

Jareth moves to my side almost silently, his footfalls a faint whisper. The lumpy mattress, where I'm sprawled on my stomach, sags a bit with his added weight as he sits with his back to the wall. Soft brown leather and a muscled thigh fills my vision and the scent of pine needles and autumn rain fills my senses. It's a pleasant scent, woodsy yet unearthly with a touch of spice that is definitely not human pheromones.

I close my eyes and breathe.

"Why must you be so damn stubborn?"

I'm pretty sure it is a rhetorical question but regardless I say nothing. I can picture the consternation on Jareth's handsome face just by his thoroughly frustrated tone. His touch, however, is gentle as he takes to stroking his long, tapered fingers though my hair. Today he's not wearing gloves. It's a nice change.

Jareth begins to hum an enchanting melody and for a time it is peaceful between us while I wallow in my personal darkness. We're not always at war, at least when I'm awake that is. Here in the physical world he has no power over me unless I grant him permission. But dreams are a different matter entirely. Jareth reads my dreams as if they were pages in a book and what he learns he uses against me.

He knows I desire him with an intensity that frightens me. He knows that every time he tries to seduce me it's only another step closer to the moment when I finally give in. Even now, tingles run down my spine as he tries to soothe me. Part of me craves him beyond all reason and needs him to consume me.

But I haven't gone completely mad, yet. In my heart I know the price for the smallest taste could be my soul. I'm not quite ready to barter that away, for now.

As if he knows the tenor of my musings, Jareth stops humming to ask, "When was the last time you slept, Sarah?"

I struggle against the listlessness and shrug.

"Let me sing you a lullaby," he entreats, "You need to rest."

I'm not sure I trust his concern, again I shrug.

"So articulate," he laughs snidely, "I do love a one-sided conversation."

Just to piss him off I shrug again.

Ignoring me, Jareth resumes humming but this time words float through my mind, wispy and echoing of a subtle magic.

How long have you been lost down here?

Too long, I think to myself.

How did you come to lose your way?

Somewhere between the Underground, reality and my self-destructive love for a Goblin King.

When did you realize that you'd never be free?

When I looked into the icy blue of his disarming eyes and the world fell down.

As the beautifully cryptic tune dances around my head, I surrender to his power and let sleep claim me from my own misery.

This time our dreamscape rendezvous is a moonlit garden blooming with red and white roses. In the center is a charming little pond teeming with plump goldfish. Off to the side there is a picturesque arbor with a whitewashed wooden swing.

Here the melancholy can't reach me and a carefree laugh bubbles forth because my surroundings are too pretty to be denied enjoyment.

"Now there's my Sarah."

I turn to Jareth with a measure of wariness. I don't know the game tonight or the rules so I proceed with needed caution.

"This place is lovely," I grin impishly, "Postcard or painting?"

"My personal gardens," he replies with a touch of pride. His thin-lipped smile turns decidedly wicked. "I could give you an intimate tour."

Good heavens the implications in Jareth's tone are pure temptation. In the moonlight he seems to glow, ethereal and untamed. His shirt is open, his skin is luminescent and his black leather breeches are snug in all the right places. From his wild pale hair to the tips of his black boots he is every inch debauched elegance.

It takes a good deal of self control to take note of the new rose-framed archways forming in the ivy coated stone walls. He wants to lead me astray down paths that only he can navigate. A younger me might have taken the bait.

I choose my words carefully, "And I could accept your generous gift but what favor would you ask in return?"

"I only require your companionship," he replies, his words velvet but his eyes shrewd.

I've learned to listen for what is not spoken. "How long am I to keep you company? The duration of a dream? Days? Weeks? Eternity perhaps?"

Jareth's laughter is coldly appreciative, "Do we really need such specifics?"

My incredulous glare says everything.

"Come now," he says, moving to take my hands in his own. Without gloves his skin is warm and softer than a flower's petal. But like everything else about him, their delicacy belies physical strength I could never match. He pulls me closer, lifting my right hand to his lips, "As dearly as I would love to have you at my leisure, dreams are fickle and fleeting. You will give me forever and I will be patient until then. As it is said 'All good things to those who wait'."

My pride speaks for me, "How can you be so confident?"

"Then release me," Jareth counters, shards of ice lacing his lofty demand. Anger and glimmer of hurt twists his countenance, "Say your right words and revoke your hold on me just as you did when you rejected my feelings. You've had sufficient practice. It should be a piece of cake."

I flinch at his scathing remarks, "I never meant to hurt you."

Jareth looks away and heaves an resigned sigh, "Intent and effect are not always a linear path."

Intent and effect... "Is that why I'm going crazy? Because I can't let you go?"

This time he words his answer carefully, "I have no power to influence your emotions. What you feel is entirely you."

"But you suspect something?" I needle.

"Perhaps."

"Tell me wha-"

Jareth presses a finger to my lips to silence me. I'm hardly reassured by his calculating scrutiny. "Unlike you, I will not hastily make assumptions. At this point I can not say what would help your situation or cause further harm. Despite what you may believe, I only want what is best for you."

I can't really argue with his logic and something tells me that I really don't want to know his suspicions or what conclusions he will draw from them. At times like this, when he seems completely sincere, it puts me off balance. It's easier to remember his little cruelties than to trust in his offered affections.

"What's best for me? Really?" I ask sarcastically, "You forgot to mention your own gain."

"I would prefer you to be sound of mind when you willingly become my queen," he replies with a predatory smile, "Though, I suppose were you to be stark raving mad that could also have merit."

Much better. This is the Jareth I know, love and hate.

Glaring daggers, I try to pull my hands from his tightening grip. "Why do I feel like you would be the only one benefiting from my eternal enslavement?"

Jareth tugs me closer, slipping his lean arms around my waist. "Relationship, not enslavement."

"And the difference is…?" I mutter, feeling my resolve weaken and knowing that he feels it was well. The smug bastard.

"My precious girl," he breathes softly, tilting his head to kiss that spot just below my ear that makes my heart race, "I would lay the world at your feet."

"The price?" I gasp, trembling as I clutch my fists into his shirt and pull him closer.

"Fear me, love me, do as I say…"

I jerk awake, the transition from dreaming to waking too abrupt and unexpected. My heart is still racing. I can still feel the lingering warmth of his body against mine. It's too much desire, too much fear… The unbearable sadness descends on me with rabid ferocity.

Burying my face into my pillow I begin to sob, body wracking heaves that pour the torrent inside me out in a river of tears. I cry because I love him. I cry because I hate that I love him. I cry because I can't let him go.

Mainly I cry because I'm losing my fucking mind.

A.N.- This is my first foray into Labyrinth fan fiction so I hope it does justice to the characters. This was supposed to be a one-shot but the story kind of took on a life of its own so we'll see where it goes from here. The song that Jareth hums/sings is "A Fairytale About Slavery" by Miranda Sex Garden. Pretty yet creepy, totally worth checking out.

I should have the next chapter up sometime next week. I'm thinking a total of six chapters over all. And there will be sexy times in the future but how explicit remains to be seen. I don't think this will get as raunchy as some of my other fics but that could change.

So until the next update, I love you guys and don't forget to give me feedback. I really do want to know what y'all think.