Disclaimer: I don't own Labyrinth or associated characters.

Summary: Sarah wishes the loud, karaoke aficionado in the next room would shut the hell up. Jareth decides to help—they reminisce about the past.

If Happy Ever Afters Did Exist

She feels him…his presence…far before he says anything at all. His magic seeps into the atmosphere, buzzing along the walls of her tiny hotel room. He smells of the earth and stars. Old leather and night. Just a tinge of danger and cruelty. She smiles to herself—there's no cologne in the world that could ever match his scent.

The miserable singer in the next room rages on—"I'm at a payphone, trying to call home, all of my change I spent on you…" He tries hitting the high notes a la Adam Levine, failing miserably. If there's a sound that's a cross between a cat in heat and nails across a chalkboard, this man's singing voice would be it.

She grimaces…but he doesn't hear a word. His dual gaze is hooked to the back of her head—ravenous eyes devouring her form.

"I cannot help you, precious thing. If I were to take that man back to the Underground, I'd be sacked as King." There's a hint of amusement in the rich baritone of his voice…but there's also something else. An emotion that's raw and painful.

She laughs, green eyes sparkling with amusement—she'd always loved his sense of humor. "I'm really sorry about that, Jareth." She doesn't turn around when she speaks, keeping herself focused on the cityscape outside. "I've tried keeping myself from wishing for anything out loud—just couldn't help myself tonight."

The man in the next room starts singing again—right on cue. "R-E-S-P-E-C-T—find out what it means to me. R-E-S-P-E-C-T."

He keeps his distance, as if one wrong move will make her run. "You haven't wished for anything in the last eight years, precious thing." His tone isn't angry or bitter—only matter-of-fact. If she had, he would have been by her side in an instant.

At that, she turns around, immediately steeling herself from his unyielding presence. He looks just as daunting as he'd looked the last time they'd talked—perhaps a little less formal. He's dressed in hues of brown and white—a white shirt, tan pants and mahogany colored riding boots. Her eyes travel up his body, until they hold his gaze…a small smile twists her lips.

"I didn't mean to make a wish tonight—it was an accident."

The harsh angles of his face soften—his lips twitch with suppressed mirth. "I don't blame you," he says, tilting his head—indicating the man next door.

"Sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me."

She laughs again—his eyes widen a fraction. "You sure you don't want to take him away and turn him into a goblin? No room for goblin singers in your kingdom?"

He smiles slowly in response—his eyes never leave her face. He'd been deprived for the last eight years—and that had almost driven him insane with longing. And rage—blinding fury mostly directed towards himself.

"I've missed you," he replies quietly, ignoring her lighthearted questions.

Her expression remains friendly, but her eyes harden at his admission. "And I missed you."

And I missed you…

He laughs at her very deliberate choice in wording. "Cruel, precious—very cruel."

"I apologize for pulling you out of your very busy schedule, Your Majesty. Please disregard my careless wish. I absolve you of any demands—you're free to return to your world." She uses formal language intentionally, there's a sharpness to her voice that wasn't prevalent earlier.

He raises a laconic brow. "I accept your apology, precious thing…"

She smiles graciously—part of her is pleased that he's going to leave, and yet another part protests vehemently. "Thank you."

"…on one condition."

Tricky bastard. "What's that?"

Ah…cautious, are you, precious thing? He walks towards her, his pace deliberately slow.

Her heart thuds with every step he takes—she knows the bastard's walking slowly on purpose. A predator stalking his prey, pinning her to the spot.

"Jareth…?" She hates that there's a catch to her voice, but she can't help it. Part of him will always intimidate her.

A dark chuckle. "Spend the night with me."

She laughs heartily at his outrageous demand. "You're fucking serious, aren't you? My God, Jareth—your ego's the size of Jupiter."

His gaze is scorching hot as he comes closer…and closer, until she's backed against the wall. "I haven't seen you for a long time, precious—spend a few hours with me."

Her mouth falls open. "Oh…I thought you meant…"

The smile on his face is playful—but eyes are ablaze with emotion. "I'm not averse to that either…but it's not my priority."

…and right at that moment, her neighbor, who she's named Cacofonix, starts again. "And she wiiiillllll be loved. And she wiiiilllll be loved."

She rolls her eyes—clearly, he won't be loved—not with that voice. "Let me wear some clothes—the bar on the 40th floor is supposed to be amazing." She looks him over. "You should humanize yourself a little—you'll stand out enough as it is."

The Goblin King frowns, looking outside the floor to ceiling window—realizing, for the first time, that they're not in the city in which she used to reside. He narrows his eyes in distaste—he'd never been impressed by human cities—too full of metal and smoke. "You do not live here."

"Nope. We're in a hotel room—I'm visiting for work," she explains, rushing to the bathroom and pulling up a pair of dark jeans. She fishes out a silk blouse, and brushes her hair. "It's been a crazy schedule—thought I'd get some sleep tonight, but…"

"With or without youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu. With or wiiiithout youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu. I can't liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive."

She shudders, rushing out of the bathroom and leading him out of the door. "Let's go before he pillages this song…and I have no choice but to knock on his door and defend its honor."

"Lead the way, precious."

(The hotel bar)…

He looks around the bar—seemingly unimpressed by the ultra-modern décor. He scrutinizes a menu—it isn't in English, or any other human language that's familiar to him. "So where are we?"

"Not familiar with this part of the world, huh?" She shoots back with a grin, she hands him the English menu. "Kuala Lumpur, my firm's thinking of opening a unit in the city. I've been sent here to survey the field."

"And where is that, relative to your residence?"

Her eyes gleam with hidden laughter. Even after spending eight years apart, she knows him too well—he's trying to gauge where she lives. "About a 24-hour flight away—more, if I have more than one layover. What do you want?" she asks, indicating the menu.

A nonchalant shrug. "Order for me, precious."

She orders two scotch on the rocks—some Japanese single malt that's better than anything from Scotland. Supposedly.

"It's official," she says after taking a sip of her drink. "This is better than anything I've ever had. The Japanese win this battle—the Highland men in manly skirts better up their game."

The Goblin King doesn't seem too impressed. "It's adequate—I've never developed the taste for human liquor."

"Only human women then?" she teases—pleased when his eyes widen a fraction of an inch.

"Only you."

She chokes—"Don't say that…"

He takes no notice of her words. "A part of me was ripped open after you left, Sarah…there were days I believed I was delving into madness."

Her face goes red—the air around her becomes unbearably hot. "It was for the best Jareth—you know it. Hell, you suggested I leave."

He smiles wide enough to bare his inhumanly sharp teeth. "…and so you did. You left me without a second glance."

She raises her brows—even five years ago, she would have felt gut wrenching anger at his words. The pain of betrayal still too fresh in her memory. But now…? She feels like she's over that chapter in her life.

"Aren't you forgetting one tiny detail, Jareth?"

His smile fades—the sharp lines of his face realign into an impeccable mask. "You evoked a powerful wish, Sarah, you wished that I wouldn't be able to see you, talk to you, or even contact you in any form. You…disappeared… from my life entirely and I was powerless to do anything about it. When you said you were leaving, I believed you would—"

Her laughter interrupts him mid-sentence. "Come on, Jareth—you didn't seriously think I'd return and live out some weird threesome fantasy of yours, did you?"

"I don't have a threesome fantasy, precious." There's a quiet intensity to his voice when he speaks. "I love you."

As hard as she tries, she can't control her heart—her chest tightens, and her breathing turns laborious. It takes a few moments to regain her composure. "That didn't stop you from marrying someone else, Jareth. I know I'm eight years too late, but congratulations on that…would have stuck around in person…but…" her voice trails off, as she reminisces about the painful chapter in her past, "…just couldn't do it."

His gaze hardens, as does his tone. "I had responsibilities…and you never gave me the impression that you were particularly bothered by the arrangement."

"It's a human thing," she says with a smile, marveling at how differently they recall the same experience. "But you're right—I never talked to you about how upset I was. I hated coming across as clingy…blame it on watching one too many reruns of Sex and the City. Shoot me if I ever turn into Carrie Bradshaw."

"I didn't. Just so you know."

"Didn't what?"

His jaw tightens. "I didn't get married."

She gapes at that. "I left the day before—you canceled your wedding at the last second?"

He looks away. "Yes."

"Oh the irony," she ponders aloud with a bewildered laugh. "I should be pissed—I helped decorate your venue and everything—days and days of work. Do you know how difficult it is getting those damn goblins to arrange flowers?"

A slow smile. "I've never tried."

"It was like leading a team of children high on sugar…on a good day! And you didn't even bother getting married after all the work we put in…for shame, Jareth." Her voice is light—it gives her great peace that she isn't as affected by him anymore. Perspective comes with age—she thinks with a wry twist to her lips.

His cold gaze is dead serious. The tremor in his voice is the only indication of the turmoil brewing within. "You left me for nothing."

The bastard actually believes what he says—she thinks, shaking her head in disbelief.

Her gaze is unflinching, as is her voice, and she doesn't mince her words when she speaks. "You were ready to cast me aside to marry someone who'd make a better ally than a mere human. I don't care that you didn't go through with the wedding—not after what you told me that day, Jareth. I'd have left you regardless."

"Our marriages are not like mortal marriages, precious. You know that." He doesn't know who he's trying to convince—Sarah? Or himself?

This is the same old argument they've had before. She fit into his world perfectly—her quick wit and easy charm made her a court favorite. Her status as the king's mistress had given her considerable power—power she maneuvered well. She would have remained a court favorite regardless of whom he married.

"I thought mistress was an old-fashioned word for girlfriend, Jareth—I was clearly wrong, and I changed my mind. I didn't want to live in a badly written historical romance as the sad fucking mistress."

"Interesting analogy," he responds with a smile that's too sharp to be genuine. "…Since you brought up our last discussion earlier, I have a few queries for you."

Her eyes snap up. "Don't…Jareth," she pleads softly. "Let's pretend that conversation never happened."

"That conversation has haunted me every single moment since you left." He hadn't meant to say those words…but he had said them.

"Are you raving mad? I cannot afford to have a half-breed bastard child—not right now."

She bottles up her raging emotions. "It's not just you, Jareth—it's not like I'm dying to be in this situation."

His temper gets the better of him, and he slams his fists against the wall. "It doesn't matter—things will progress as they are supposed to."

That's when she makes up her mind. "I need to leave, Jareth—I can't do this."

He nods—neither can he. He's furious that both of them had been careless enough to throw his life into chaos. "It would be best if you were to stay in the human realm for a while, precious—while I make some arrangements for this new turn of events."

"Best of luck tomorrow," she says evenly…and then she leaves without turning back.

Her resolve breaks once she sees despair in his eyes. "I'll give you three questions, Jareth—that's the extent of my generosity."

He draws a shaky breath. "You chose to have—"

"Yes, I chose to have the child," she interrupts. "Next."

"How is…?" He pauses and barks out a derisive laugh. "I don't know the gender of my own child."

"Her name is Emmy, and she's fine. She's starting second grade this year—very excited. I keep trying to get her into ballet classes and other girly things, but she's convinced she wants to be a superhero or a ninja—go figure."

"Would you consider allowing her to visit me?"

"She doesn't know you exist—and I think it's best to keep it that way. Your world is fucking archaic in a lot of ways, Jareth—I wouldn't subject her to a place where she'll be called the Goblin King's half-breed, bastard daughter."

He opens his mouth to argue, but she places a hand on his arm.

"Those were your words, Jareth—not anyone else's."

There's nothing he can say to that—it's the truth. "How are you?" he asks instead, eyes narrowed as he studies the mortal woman before him.

"I'm fine—doing well enough at work. I took a few management courses during my pregnancy—not an MBA—but it's helped me pave my career."

It pleases him that she seems genuinely happy. "Are you with anyone?"

She raises her brows—trust him to get personal so quickly. Still—she decides to go with the truth. "I was, for a long time—but we're no longer together. He's a nice man, though—Emmy believes he's her father."

His dual eyes go cold at first—and then blaze with barely suppressed rage. "Why?"

She would have cowered in the face of his wrath once upon a time—not anymore. "I don't want her looking for you when she gets older, Jareth. It's the best scenario for everyone involved."

"Left in this world, she will age and die as a mortal."

"So will I—and everyone else. That's what it means to be mortal," she replies with an elegant shrug. "I tried being part of both worlds once, and look how that turned out for me. I thought I had it under control, but nope—I fell in love with you without meaning to, and then I got knocked up. I was fucked up for a while after I left." She looks away, remembering days where she'd force fed herself…days where she never left her bed.

Lacing his fingers through hers, he brings her wrist to his lips and places a kiss. "I love you, still."

She smiles at him—"you truly believe that, don't you? I don't think you know the meaning of the word, Jareth—you definitely don't feel it like I do…or used to, anyway."

"Would you allow me the chance to prove myself?" His voice is deceptively quiet, but his eyes glitter with anger and hope—a strange combination.

He wants to hold her by the shoulders and shake her roughly—he wants to take her back to his world, along with their daughter—he wants to tell her that he will, indeed, fight his council if it comes to that…but he doesn't. The rational part of him realizes that he has no right to make any demands. He'd chosen his future, and she'd chosen hers.

"Don't wish for the impossible, Your Majesty. I learned long ago, that that only leads to heartbreak. Let's talk about fun stuff instead—how's Hoggle?"

He laughs—of course, that miserable scab is the first thing she talks about. "I'm about to tell you that I shall place the sky within your eyes, and the moon within your heart, and you wish to speak of Higgle?"

She returns his laughter—a bittersweet sound. "Don't try and distract me by talking about the sky and the moon, Goblin King. My world has already fallen down once—and you were not there."

He knows she means to be humorous, but her words pierce his cold heart. He hadn't been there—he hadn't placed his love between the stars. He'd watched her walk away, instead.

Her eyes widen. "Jareth, I was joking—don't torture yourself like this. We can only move forward now."

"Yes, you keep saying that's what's best for everyone." His tone is flat, voice rough. "What makes you the expert?"

She signals for the check, and grins at him. "That's what I told myself every single day for two whole years—one day, I finally believed it. I suggest you do the same." She signs the bill to her room. "Hopefully, the karaoke enthusiast is asleep now—if not, tough luck. I'm wishing him away and I'm not going to run the Labyrinth for him."

(Sarah's room)…

"Woohoo," she woops—she can't hear any terrible singing. "Looks like your job here is done, Goblin King."

Her dismissive tone sets him on edge. "You wish for me to leave?"

Turning around to look at him, she bursts into laughter as she notes his surprise. "The problem seems to have solved itself…so yeah. I need a good night's sleep—I have a full work day tomorrow and a late night flight to catch."

"No."

She raises her brows. "No?"

"It'd be very naïve on your part, to assume I would leave you so easily, precious thing," he drawls, his trademark smirk twisting his lips. His eyes are shards of ice, and his face a stark statue.

…but she only shakes her head. "I've been through hell and back, Goblin King. You don't intimidate me anymore. You don't hold any power over me, or my daughter—and if I want, I can choose to wish you away from our lives forever."

"Sarah," he says her name in anguish. "You wouldn't be so cruel."

She looks at him evenly. "I wouldn't, but I could be. Remember that, Jareth."

"I suppose I should thank you for making a wish tonight."

"You should thank the terrible singer in the next room—I didn't make the wish consciously, I can promise you that."

At that, the Goblin King's characteristic composure breaks—he staggers to the bed and sinks down, his head in his hands as he tries to make sense of the mistakes he's made in his life. He'd fallen in love with a mortal—he'd never admitted it to himself before she'd left, but he had fallen in love with her the second she had braved her way through his Labyrinth. He'd gone to her when she was older…and he'd seduced her with every skill he'd ever known in his long life—of course, she managed to match him perfectly. And then he'd received an offer—a good one—one he would be a fool to forgo.

He resists the urge to laugh out loud at his foolishness. He'd been the biggest fool of all—he'd gambled for something he didn't even want…and then he'd lost.

She can't help but sit down next to him, placing a comforting arm around his broad shoulders. She rests her head in the crook of his neck. "There's no point thinking about it, Jareth. What's said is said."

"I love you," he repeats, his voice heavy—his lips move against the sensitive skin of her ear. "Shouldn't that account for something?"

Closing her eyes, she places her head against his chest—listening to his heart beat. "I loved you once. The moment passed—there was no overlap. We're not meant for mornings of gold or valentine evenings, Jareth—we're not meant to be together at all."

A harsh laugh. "If we're not meant to be together, why do I feel like throwing you down and taking you right now, precious? You call to me—your body pulls at mine in a visceral level that neither of us can resist."

"It's…physical. Doesn't mean there's something more," she responds. "After I returned, I was a fucking mess—one of my friends said something that helped me cope. She said 'don't make something out to be more than it is.' We should start—"

He sits up straight—one hand entangles itself in her hair, and angles her head so she's looking into his eyes. "Spare me your mortal nonsense, precious—we are certainly more than what you're making us out to be."

She shivers at his proximity—his breath feels hot on her neck—his hold teeters between gentle and rough, forceful enough to send a thrill of desire down her spine.

"Really? What are we, then? The way I see it, you thought you'd keep fucking me while marrying someone else. And I…I've kept you from your daughter…hell, I didn't even tell you she exists…and I'd do it again."

A slow, cruel smile. "Perhaps I can show you what we are, precious."

With those words, he crushes his mouth to hers in a searing kiss—he isn't gentle, nor is he rough. His tongue moves against hers in smooth strokes—his hand tightens its hold on her hair, pulling with just the right amount of pressure.

She should shove him away—she should run away screaming—and then, she should wish him out of her life for good measure. But she doesn't do any of those things.

Her hands fist into his wispy hair, and she closes her eyes—lost in his kiss. God…she'd missed this…she'd missed him so much. She melts into his touch when he cups a breast through her clothes—she can feel his fingers even through her bra—liquid heat gathers between her legs.

He feels something beyond lust—beyond want. It's been too long…the feel of her threatens to drive him insane. Her hair, her skin—the way her jade eyes darken with desire. She moves to unbutton his shirt, but he holds her back—too much time— he vanishes their clothes with magic.

In one swift motion, he places her flat on the bed, and covers her with his body—his legs working at pushing hers apart, hands on either side of her head. "I can't wait," he says, groaning when she thrusts her hips against his.

"Then don't."

He sinks into her with ruthless urgency, a tremor running through his body as he feels her wet heat envelope him, drawing him deep. His thrusts are long and hard—he moves at a reckless pace—as if he's worried she'll disappear right out of his grasp if he slows down.

She's never felt this level of urgency from him before. From what she remembers, he'd always liked drawing out her pleasure. He liked teasing her until she was desperate, until she admitted she needed him—never admitting how much he needed her. The opposite seems to be true now—he drives into her at a frenzied rhythm, and he whispers dark promises of love into her ear.

Her muscles tighten around him—lower abdomen tense like a coiled spring. She moans—his strokes are hard and ruthless as her body readies itself for release. She climbs higher and higher until she dances around the edge of pleasure…and then she falls.

He doesn't slow down when she comes—driving deeper and deeper into her until he joins her in release. He comes hard—emptying himself within her in forceful thrusts, as his body goes slack.

(Early morning)…

"Time to wake up, Goblin King," she whispers into his ear, a smile on her face when he slowly opens his eyes. She's always loved him in the morning. He looks so…vulnerable.

He doesn't bother sitting up. One hand snakes around her waist and he pulls her against him. "Come back to bed, Sarah."

She yelps—pulling free from his grasp. "I'm going to be late for work, Jareth—can't afford that. I've packed my bags as I'm going to dinner after work, and directly to the airport right after."

He finally sits up and looks at her—she's dressed in a pencil skirt and blazer. Two small bags are by the door. "So you fuck me ruthlessly and leave me, hmm?"

She makes a face. "I think check out is at 11…my escort is waiting at the lobby so I have to leave…"

"Then I shall wish myself away once you leave, precious thing."

Letting out a breath in relief, she smiles—or attempts to smile—at him. "Great."

"Will I see you again?"

The anticipation in his tone, makes her eyes widen. "I don't know," she answers truthfully. "Depends on how many bad karaoke singers I encounter, I guess."

He bares his teeth in a savage smile. "Then I will ensure you encounter many."

"Good bye, Jareth," she says cordially. And then she turns around shuts the door—praying he won't notice how her legs tremble as she walks away.

The Goblin King stares at the space she'd occupied long after she leaves. She hadn't said she wouldn't see him…perhaps there is a probability, no matter how small, that they'll have a chance at some sort of happiness.

FIN

References—the title—from a Maroon5 song. I like Maroon5 like I like the 'forced marriage' trope in Laby fandom—hate admitting it, but addicted. Notice a 'The Way We Were' vibe? Hehehe, I love that movie—find it very romantic. Cacofonix – kudos if you got the reference—come to think of it, there're weird similarities between the tiny Gaul village that could kick all kinds of Roman ass, and the Dark Court. Apparently, Japanese single malts are all the rage these days—they cost as much as a kidney—tis true scotch drinkers? I'm happy with a Glenfiddich 12 so, apparently, not fancy enough judge.

Dear God, I wrote this to practice writing emotions—it was a lot funnier in my head. On paper, it's come out tad depressing. Set it in Kuala Lumpur – it's one of those cities that makes you go 'WOW' the first time you visit. It's like a much cleaner, tropical, futuristic Toronto of sorts.

I set out to write a Jareth I did not like—also a scenario where S is in love with J, while he isn't (or doesn't realize that he is). LMAO, it's funny that I prefer a much darker, raging lunatic J (like the one in Devoured) to this one—this one's an asshole, but he doesn't blur the lines of consent.

I blame this on my gym guy—he's banned junk food, Menchie's, and beer—so FML. I'm eating carrots for lunch—turning into a raging lunatic soon. But…am going to a beach vacay in Oct so have to look presentable. Oooh…life…(is bigger)…now I have depressing 90s songs stuck in my head.