Disclaimer: I do not own the Labyrinth or its characters; they are property of Jim Henson, Lucas Films, and Dennis Lee. This fanfiction is not made for profit in anyway; it is only further proof of my love for the movie and that I have an overactive imagination.
A/N: I was looking through some of my old Laby writings and found this one. Which I dabbled a little to update it. I'm not one hundred percent happy with it, but my main intention when writing it was to exercise myself in writing something more positive minded. I a very introspective and often pessimistic person by nature and thought, OK I want to write something with a little depth but also ends on a positive note for once. So this is what came out. Thank you for your time. Reviews and constructive criticism welcome :)
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"Where will I go Sarah? When amusement has faded and all that are left are seconds before the clock strikes?"
"The same end for all of us I guess," she answered, "as well as the same questions…"
She stopped mid sentence. Was what she said true? What if the moment she fell asleep he disappeared? Or would it happen after a few days? If she did not think of them consistently or for one moment forgot how real they all were - would they fade into nothingness? The thought frightened her and horrible ideas started to emerge, each new thought worse than the last.
"What are you thinking of Sarah?"
"Nothing," she whispered, hesitant, as if wondering if another word was better or needed to be uttered. Wondered when the word "forever" became so formidable, tried to imagine on his behalf how fearful the night looked if one didn't know if it would bring with it the morning.
"Ah," Jareth bit the word off, and she could almost feel him thoughtfully chewing before he replied rather playfully, "nothing tra la la."
"Yes," she smiled, then instantly grimaced, for how could she forget how serious this all was and smile?
They were quiet again, she sitting on her chair before her vanity mirror, one eye watching his reflection lean back, on the carpet, against the side of her bed, and another part of her looking out the window.
The outlines of evergreens, a random house and chimney, and beyond that… She looked at stars and a black sky that stretched out, further than clouds, past the earth's atmosphere, and into a vastness that suddenly terrified her.
Fifteen years old, and her definition of reality had to be reconsidered. Sarah knew Fairy Tales existed - or at least could exist – but nothing was easily defined. No "happily ever after" at the end of a long chapter to make everyone blissful and sigh like checking off a "to do" list. Why and how was it done, this magic? She wondered at what she had done, and knowing that nothing ever really lasts forever, what and whom she has condemned.
"Come here," he beckoned when he saw her shoulders shake.
She did. Without hesitation. Their feelings had changed toward each other when the adventure had ended, and more than anything she now felt from him a unique type of kinship.
"You are so quiet," he muttered as she sat on the floor next to him, their shoulders touching. She accepted his black silk handkerchief.
"And you are so…" she had started and her mind raced to fill in all the gaps. Calm she thought, and… Her face started to flush. While not exactly handsome in the contemporary fashion he was both exotic and rough, with a dignity that left her feeling awed and somewhat inferior.
The dark cloth was used to dab at her eyes, folded, unfolded, and then became chaotically coiled as she twisted it and twisted it further between white knuckled hands.
He did not deserve all these unknowns.
She did not deserve it either but his welfare was her responsibility, wasn't it? After all, she had created him. And though the questions were innumerable, didn't she start everything with one stupid selfish sentence? If words were this powerful, could she afford to casually cripple someone or something again with a mere utterance? A question asked out of curiosity or even anguish did not justify another creation's pain. Was silence her best option?
She felt a gloved finger delicately move a few strands of hair from the front of her face to gently loop behind her ear.
"Your silence does me injustice. I am quite curious as to how your sentence ends," he gently mocked, before producing another handkerchief to polish the end of his riding crop.
"You gave me powers…" she accused, quietly amazed they were having this conversation.
"And you gave me life."
Sarah flinched.
Sensing the questions in her head, and giving up his handkerchief as a lost cause, he tapped her knee with the crop and pointed the end of it back at her mirror.
"Look with me young Sarah." And the mirror's surface rippled as if it were a still pond held vertical, the undulations moving outward from its center. The Goblin city streets appeared and she could see that it was busy and filled with life. She watched, enrapt, at the colors and movements of a new world of goblins weaving between street stalls, haggling prices, giving rust colored coins for live chickens in wire cages and for raw vegetables.
Stoically he watched with her, knowing, without even turning his head the look on her face. It is not an everyday occurrence to see a world you created teeming with life right before your eyes.
The Goblin King flicked his wrist and the view moved to within the castle. Goblins ran and jumped over his chair, which caused him to huff in annoyance, and Sarah watched as goblins, like excited little children, lined up rows of dirt crusted cages.
There was a loud whoop and cages clanged open, causing feathers and fowl to fly out, darting across to the other side of the room toward a large pile of feed.
"Chicken races," he muttered, face in gloved palm, groaning about the sanitation of his throne as she laughed through tears.
They watched the old man with a bird for a hat, slowly alphabetize his library of magical tomes. Well, at least try to, the poor man kept falling asleep every two minutes.
Fairies buzzed over thorny vines, their wings catching the orange light just so, causing a dead garden to look quite beautiful.
She especially smiled when Hoggle and Sir Didymous sat outside Hoggle's cottage, whittling wood and conversing about how to fix a gear inside of a broken cuckoo clock.
The overwhelming feeling she had felt before had loosened, and instead she felt her throat tighten for different reasons. Him, them, the Labyrinth.
"Jareth," she softly cried.
He put his arms around her, understanding.
Leaning against her shoulder and he softly whispered against her hair, "I ask again, my dear, dear Sarah… Where will I go?"
She had created him. Created them all. And at first all she saw was an unknown, questions of life and death made very real for creatures of all shapes and sizes that were very dear to her. But now…
She swallowed, her voice catching. She knew. He was not asking a question. Within the Land lay a maze. Within every fairytale, therein lies a lesson. And within his whisper….
Love. Acceptance. But most of all… hope.
Sarah looked at him for a very long moment as tears spilled out, she could not hold them back anymore.
"You… will go back into the Labyrinth. And live." She said, barely whispering, finally answering the question that had haunted her all day.
They would take this day by day, with whatever amount of time they had. This was his life now.
A slow smile dawned. With infinite care, Jareth parted ebony hair and kissed her forehead. She sighed and wrapped her arms around his chest, breathing in the compelling scent of dry earth, sand, spice and magic.
She felt warm and happy in his arms and instead of thinking of death, saw a future of visitations. Of friends growing up and growing old together. More chicken races, the occasional fight between acquaintances and maybe even the rare kiss from a king.
"Will I see you again?" she asked even though she already knew the answer.
"Undoubtedly " he smirked. "However, there is one thing I must do before we continue this lovely conversation."
Sarah was still on the floor, her arms clasped loosely around herself as he faded from her embrace.
She laughed brightly, seeing right through her dresser mirror, her grumbling Goblin King taking a soapy damp cloth to his feather covered throne.
End.