What You Wish For

by Mell-O-Drama

Years after defeating the labyrinth, Sarah is still haunted by dreams of the Underground. She has tried to grow up and leave her childish fantasies behind her, but in sleep, she can't escape them, no matter how much she wants to - or needs to.

What You Wish For

Sarah opened her eyes slowly and looked around, trying to figure out where she was. This wasn't her bedroom -- this wasn't anywhere she recognised. Confused, she tried to sit up but a wave of dizzy nausea hit her and she lay back down immediately, moaning. She felt sick and light-headed. Her first thought was that she was hallucinating, but she couldn't remember the last time she'd had been ill. So what had she been doing? She blinked, her mind slowly clearing as she became more awake and more aware, taking in the scene around her, the cool mist against her face, the stone against her back. No -- no, that wasn't right. That wasn't normal. Where was she? With a groan, Sarah fought against the retching in her stomach and pushed herself off the ground, her hand scraping against cold, rough stone. She rubbed at the headache already pounding behind her temples, her mind slow and heady, as she tried to work out what was going on. Was she outside? A surge of panic rose up in her throat as she realised she had no memory of coming to this place -- wherever it was. Her surroundings held no clues; an impenetrable grey fog swirled around her in thick, confusing patterns, and she couldn't see past it to work out where she was. The last thing she remembered, she realised with a frown, was going to sleep in her bedroom. Could this be a dream? But, no, she thought, it didn't feel right. Normally, in her dreams, Sarah had a solid idea of where she was, of what she was doing. She never felt confused -- or sick. And anyway, they normally involved Cary Elwes.

But then -- how could it be real? Her head still felt hazy and she wobbled slightly as she stood to her feet, peering through the fog. She remembered going to sleep, but this felt too real to be a dream. And, she remembered with a dry swallow, she had learned the hard way, not long ago, not to take anything for granted.

This place didn't look familiar to her at all, but she couldn't shake a strange feeling of déjà vu, as if she'd been here before -- in a dream. (Was this a dream now? She still wasn't sure.)

And then, she thought she caught a flicker of movement from the corner of her eye. Spinning around on still weak feet, she turned, and -- holding her breath -- squinted through the thick mist around her. For a moment, everything was still and she thought she had imagined the movement. And then she saw it -- a figure, the silhouette only just noticeable, a shade darker against the fog. It was moving forward, coming straight towards her, its pace slow and steady. Not knowing what to expect, Sarah took a step back, feeling the coarse stone behind her. It was a wall, strong and solid, and she fumbled her hands over it, trying to find an opening, a door, an escape. She felt a fluttering of fear in her stomach as she watched the figure coming towards her, the shape becoming larger and more defined as it grew closer. Did the creature know she was here? The details were still blurred in the fog, but it was tall, and it was definitely heading in her direction -- although she didn't know if it was through chance or design. She felt her shoulders tense as she stepped away from the wall, wondering if she would need to run -- or fight. She had never been in a proper fight before (her mind frantically wandered to scuffles in the playground after school, all pulling hair and kicking shins, but neither party leaving the other with anything more serious than bruises and scraped knees) and she didn't know what to expect. The only time she had ever really fought anyone had been -- had been when she was in the labyrinth. But she'd had her friends there to help her and, well, it had never seemed frightening. It had never really occurred to her that she would lose. She had been the good guy and the good guy always wins. But this -- this wasn't a fairy tale. She didn't know what it was. She was in a strange place, with no way out, and a strange figure was still walking towards her, and she still didn't know if it was friend or foe. She didn't want to shout out in case she was simply drawing attention to herself -- but if it came any closer it was going to see her anyway, and if it wasn't friendly...

Her head felt cloudy and laggard, as if the fog had seeped through and was clogging her mind. She felt slow and stupid as she stood there, waiting for the figure to emerge from the fog, ready to run because there wasn't much else she could do, and the figure was still drawing closer and closer. The figure's footsteps were slower now, less sure, and it took Sarah a moment to realise it must have seen her outline through the mist. Was it planning an attack -- or was it just frightened, as she was, of what was on the other side?

Drawing a breath, she paused for a moment, still debating whether it was a good idea, and then, bracing herself, called out, 'Hello?'

The figure stiffened, then stopped. For a moment -- a long, horrifying moment that seemed to drag on and on -- Sarah stood still and peered at the figure, only a few feet away, still covered by billowing mist, her heart racing, her breaths nervous and shallow. It stared back -- and then stepped forward. Sarah's eyes widened with shock.

'Jareth!'

He bowed low, mocking her. Her heart was pounding furiously in her chest, her palms slick with sweat, and she drew in a large breath of the dry mist to calm her nerves. 'This is your doing, isn't it?' Her tone was higher than she intended, loud and accusing. 'You're the one who brought me here. What do you want?' She raised her chin proudly, trying to look more impressive than she felt as she answered her own question: 'Revenge?'

Jareth gave a lopsided smile, as if he were trying not to laugh, and raised an eyebrow at her. 'Not even a "hello"? Where are your manners, Sarah Williams? And to think, I've never shown you anything but the utmost courtesies.'

'"Courtesies"!' she snorted. 'You kidnapped my brother!'

'You asked me to take him,' Jareth said lightly.

'You -- you tried to kill me!' she cried in disbelief.

'At what point,' he asked, his eyes sparkling with dangerous intent, 'did I ever try to harm you?'

'You threw a snake at me!' she griped, her skin still crawling at the memory.

He smirked. 'It was an illusion, nothing more.'

'Well -- you set the Cleaners after me and Hoggle!'

'If I recall correctly,' he answered, nonplussed, 'which I do, you felt the labyrinth wasn't a big enough challenge for you. I was simply fufilling another wish.'

She glared at him, her hands clenched into fists at her sides to stop them from trembling -- or slapping him. How dare he? How dare he do this to her? 'You dumped me,' she exclaimed, 'in the Bog of Eternal Stench!'

'Hardly an attempt on your life,' he drawled lazily, examining his gloves. Sarah glared at him, scarcely knowing if it was his nonchalance that was upsetting her or just his presence there at all. She defeated him. She had solved the riddles of the labyrinth, she had fought her way through the Goblin City. She had faced him and she won. Why had he brought her here? And why was he acting as if he had done nothing at all?

'Well -- you sent your army out to stop me getting to the castle!' she cried. 'Are you going to tell me they weren't trying to kill me?'

'Yes,' he answered simply. He looked up at her and smiled. 'You always were such a conceited thing. Do you really think, for the hope of gaining one goblin child, I would be willing to sacrifice my entire army? My, my, my, Sarah, what sort of king do you think I am?' He turned and walked a pace around the room, talking breezily over his shoulder. 'The army faced you because in your precious dreams and stories, Sarah, there was always a battle. You thought yourself a brave, bold heroine, and so one you became. They would never have harmed you.' He waved his hand dismissively, his voice softer as he continued: 'Had you lost the fight, you would have been captured and brought to the castle dungeons in irons, and left until the thirteen hours were up. You were never in any mortal danger.'

His tone was light and airy as he continued: 'Not at any point during your time there. The obstacles you faced were simply to force you to give in and forfeit the child.'

'So the whole labyrinth is -- is a sham?' she snapped, furious at the relevation revelation.

'You misunderstand me,' he said, his smile showing a hint of sharp, feral teeth. 'In your time in the labyrinth, you were never in mortal danger. Many have wished away more than babies and given up in exchange more than dreams.'

'I... I don't understand,' she admitted, feeling deflated as her anger and fear began to leave her. 'I thought...'

'You think so many things,' Jareth said, his tone condescending. 'Of course you don't understand. Do you think you could even begin to comprehend the inner workings of my labyrinth?' he asked coldly. 'You live in a world without magic, and you wish to understand the deepest and most complicated forms?' He stopped, looking at her up and down, although his expression was of bored disinterest. 'You,' he pronounced, 'couldn't hope to understand.'

'Then explain it to me!' She said it quickly, without thinking, and he turned back to face her, his expression unreadable but his eyes dark and -- angry, perhaps, that she was giving him orders. He stared at her with that cold expression and Sarah found herself taking an involuntary step back as she quietly added: 'Please.'

He looked at her through half-shut lids. 'You won't apprehend.'

'Well -- explain it in layman's terms.'

'In layman's terms,' he laughed coldly. 'The labyrinth is...' He trailed off, shaking his head as he tried to think of an explanation she could follow. 'You understand, I take it, the workings of dreams?' He spoke as if he was explaining this to a young child -- and, Sarah supposed, to him she must seem like one. (She couldn't explain why the thought bothered her, but it did.) 'In a dream, you can touch, and taste, and see, and although you do not physically experience any sensations, you believe you have.'

'I understand,' she said slowly, trying to restrain the anger in her voice, 'the concept of a dream.'

'Do you?' he asked softly, and Sarah got the distinct impression that he was mocking her. She frowned at him but didn't interrupt again. 'Dreams are formed deep within the subconscious mind, and often they form metaphorical and symbolic images in order to communicate messages to your conscious mind -- possible solutions to problems, sexual desires, things you have kept buried.'

He paused again, trying to think out the words before he spoke them. 'The labyrinth is a sentient being -- not in the way you would understand it, but a sentient being nonetheless. It is in a constant state of flux; it takes form from the person trying to conquer it. Similar to a dream, the form it takes is often symbolic, taking images from the subconscious mind, creating scenarios--'

'Wait,' Sarah said, staring at him, her eyes narrowed, as she tried to follow what he was saying. 'Are you telling me that... that everything was just in my head? My friends and...'

Jareth sighed impatiently, turning his back to her with a flick of his cloak. 'I told you you wouldn't understand. There's no point in trying to explain this to you.'

'No, no, please. I... I want to know.'

Jareth stood in silence, his back still turned to her, facing the stone wall. For a moment, Sarah thought he was going to stay that way, refusing to talk to her, until he finally broke the silence with a sigh.

'You were physically transported from your home to another place and returned, if that is what you were asking,' he said, his tone quiet and emotionless. 'The labyrinth exists outside of your mind, also. But the particular shapes it took for you, the particular challenges you faced, it would not replicate for the next contestant. The labyrinth becomes a unique challenge specifically made for the person running it.' He stopped and turned to face her, to see if she was following. 'The inhabitants also appear to take forms known to the person; monsters from nightmares to scare them, past lovers to tempt them--'

'Are you saying Hoggle and all my friends aren't real?' Sarah couldn't force the wobble from her voice.

Jareth's shoulders dropped a little before he regained his regal standing. 'They and their personalities remain the same -- they would simply appear to look different to you than to anyone else, images you would recognise, and implicitly trust or fear.'

Sarah nodded slowly, beginning to understand. 'They... A lot of the people I met,' she mumbled, softly, 'they looked familiar.' She cast her memory back, amazed that she'd never noticed the similarities until he pointed them out. (Just another thing, she chided herself, that she had taken for granted.) It seemed so obvious now: the Fire Gang who had grappled with her resembled her soft toys; she had a beautifully detailed book end of a dwarf which Hoggle had reminded her of, down to the bag of jewels at his side; and the dress worn by the dancer in the music box her mother had given her -- the one she thought was so beautiful, so perfect -- was so similar to the dress she had worn, dancing with Jareth. And Jareth himself... She looked up at him, frowning, and asked uncertainly, 'Does... Do you look different from the way I see you?'

He grinned at her over his shoulder and turned to face her fully. 'How do you see me, Sarah?'

She looked up at him for a moment, not sure how to answer. He was teasing her again, she knew, but she looked him over anyway, taking a moment to fully take in the appearance that had inspired such feelings in her before -- frustration, fear, and a dangerous spark of curiosity. Or longing.

He struck an impressive pose, standing tall and imperial, his hands on his hips. With his long hair tossed back like a proud mane and his mismatched eyes sparkling with intent, he looked regal and, she thought with a tight feeling in her stomach, a little predatory.

Catching her gaze with a long, hard stare, Jareth raised an eyebrow at her and smiled, but not nicely. When she dropped her gaze, he gave a low chuckle of delight. 'Do I appear handsome? Powerful?' She could hear the smile in his voice. 'Frightening?'

She looked up at him again and he raised an eyebrow expectantly. 'Yes.'

'Then you see me precisely as I am.'

She looked away, blushing hard, and tried to concentrate on what he had been saying before. 'Is -- is this a dream?' she asked, suddenly not so sure.

'In a way, yes,' he said with a shrug. 'But in a more accurate way, no.'

'That makes no sense.' She blinked in confusion. 'None of this makes any sense!'

It was all suddenly too much. The fog, this place. And the way he was smiling at her -- a predator, eyeing its prey. Her heart thrust furiously in her chest and she turned on her heel, wanting nothing more than to get away from here, from him. And then she was sitting up in her bed, the covers twisted around her ankles, a thin film of sweat covering her trembling body and Toby's cries and the sound of an alarm clock going off next door filling her head. She was home. And that was the first dream.

--

When Sarah Williams was ten years old, her mother divorced her father and abandoned her family and ran away to New York to pursue a career on the Broadway stage. Sarah had pretty much pin-pointed this as the time when things started to go wrong in her life, and she had often wondered how different things would have been had this not happened. She often thought that your life -- your dreams, your hopes, your personality -- were all shaped by the people and events around you, like a reflection in distorted glass or a rippling pond, the small ripples causing the full body of water to shift and change shape. Would she be a whole different person now if her mother had been there to shape her childhood?

She wouldn't, she supposed, look any different. Although -- maybe she would. Maybe she would look -- well, happier. Since she was ten, she had walked around with an expression of perpetual sorrow in her eyes, as if she carried all the grievances of the world upon her young shoulders, as if she'd been forced to grow up very suddenly and very quickly, and she'd been no where near ready to pack away her childhood just yet.

How different would things have been if her mother had been around to help her through her teenage years? If Irene hadn't burst her way in and imposed herself so heavily upon her life?

If her mother had stuck around, if she hadn't had Irene breathing down her neck, would she ever have become the sullen and quiet fifteen year old who found her family life so hard, who took refuge in fairy tales and stories, who wished her brother away to the goblins?

And, more, how different would she have been if she'd never wished Toby away? For all the fear and all the danger she had faced, her time in the labyrinth had been just the remedy she had needed. She had realised how selfish and childish she had been acting, she had realised that her resentful attitude towards Toby was anger at her parents' divorce and fear that she was being replaced in her father's life. And she had realised that it was finally time to grow up and become the person she was meant to be, instead of indulging in fairy stories and fantasies.

Her time in the labyrinth had helped her accept that she had to grow up. She had never understood, when she was younger, why Wendy Darling had wanted to leave Neverland or why Dorothy Gale thought there was no place like home. She had been so sure that if she found a world with fairies, and magic, and adventure that she would never want to leave, no matter how many pirates and witches there were.

But then, the stories and games of her youth had begun to seem cheap after she had been to the labyrinth. She had lived the fantasy, been to the impossible place, and everything else seemed silly and childish in comparison. The labyrinth had been nothing like she'd imagined a magic place to be. Certainly, it had looked the way she'd expected it to, and it had been full of strange and fantastic creatures, but it had also been confusing and tricky and full of so many unpleasant truths: fairies don't grant wishes; not all monsters are bad; and sometimes the heroine is also the villain, who wished her brother away in the first place.

She had drawn the line in the sand after the labyrinth. She had stored away the childhood things that she felt she should keep -- her books, her music box, her copy of the play -- and donated her toys to Toby and threw the rest away. Her father had offered to store it in the attic in case she changed her mind, but it was a symbolic gesture, and she insisted. (She had, in fact, wanted to burn it all, like a Viking funeral, but Irene flat out refused.) She had wanted to put her childhood behind her. She had wanted to grow up and go to college, get a job, and raise a family, and want all the things she was supposed to want. But it had become impossible to ignore the labyrinth.

The first dream came a few weeks after she had escaped from the labyrinth. Afterwards, she had been too afraid to go back to sleep and her father had found her in the morning, sitting at the kitchen table, pouring black coffee down her throat and still trembling. She had tried to stay awake for as long as she could, not sure if it had only been a dream but not willing to risk seeing him again in either case. She had eventually fallen asleep out of sheer exhaustion and dreamed of nothing. She had slowly began to relax after that and found a way to justify it all as nothing but a dream -- the events had been so recent after all, and it had been such a life-changing experience that it was only natural that she would dream about it. And then it happened again. Jareth wasn't in it this time. She was alone in the fog-filled maze, wandering around the twisting, turning corridors, confused and friendless. She woke up in tears. And then it didn't stop after that. Every night when she fell asleep, she dreamt of the labyrinth. Sometimes, she was walking through the long, winding corridors of the inner maze, the pathways narrow and crooked, sometimes she was walking through the Goblin City, the rowdy inhabitants ignoring her as they bustled around the thriving markets and busy streets. She had dreamt she was trapped in an oubliette more times than she'd care to remember, hour after hour, trapped in the cold silent dark. Once she had dreamt she was inside the castle, alone in the staircase room. The dreams were so vivid that she found herself getting confused, having to stop and work out whether she was dreaming or not. And, whenever she woke up, she felt as if she hadn't slept at all. If she had been walking in her dream, her legs were tired. If she had eaten, she felt full. She often woke feeling exhausted, with massive dark circles beneath her eyes, no matter how long she had slept for.

Still, she had always managed to dismiss them all as simple dreams before. (If she dreamt about a place she had been, then she was simply reminiscing, and if she dreamt about a place she had never been during her time there, then it was just her imagination, and if she woke up covered in bumps and bruises, well then she'd just banged against the headboard in her sleep...) The dreams continued for four years. She finished school, she got into an out-of-state college to study Drama and Classic Literature, she moved out of her father's house and into a shared dormitory, taking up a part-time job at a local restaurant to help buy books -- and through it all, the dreams continued, and she continued to ignore them. The labyrinth was a part of her past. She knew -- she knew -- it had all really happened, but it was a part of her childhood and she was a grown-up now, and she had to concentrate on that.

--

She was sprawled across rough, cold stone, crumpled on the hard ground like a discarded toy, and she lay for a moment, tired and inert, until she began to realise that something wasn't right. She shouldn't be here, not in this place. She tried to push herself up, her hands scraping against the rock, but a wave of dizziness hit her and she fell back to the ground again, grazing her palm as she went. Her stomach was tight with nausea, her head was aching. She closed her eyes and lay for a moment until the sick feeling passed, trying to clear her mind of the thick, slow feeling, as if she was still asleep. Her first thought was that she was hung-over, but she couldn't remember the last time she'd had a drink. What had she been doing? She remembered falling asleep... She sighed and cracked her eyes open again, trying to take in her surroundings. She recognised this place, and it took her a few moments to work out why. She was in the same long, winding maze she had dreamt of years before, the thick mist billowing around her, distorting the view. She felt a sharp stab of fear in her stomach and she scrambled to unsteady feet. She turned, hardly realising she was holding her breath, and then Jareth was standing in front of her, looking just the way he had four years before, when she had dreamt of him last. At first she was afraid, angry, but he just stood there, tall and straight, his shoulders thrown back, watching her with an amused expression.

'Back again, I see.'

He moved in close to her, his voice low and reproaching. 'Wake up, Sarah. Leave this place. Go back to your books and your classes, and pretend you know nothing of my labyrinth and tell yourself it was all a lovely dream.'

'I... I can't,' she murmured, doing her best not to show him how frightened she was, the effect he still had on her after all this time. 'I've tried. I keep coming back here, I dream about it every night.'

'Do you really?' he asked, aloof.

'It's you, isn't it? You're the one who keeps bringing me here.'

'Such arrogance,' he chuckled. 'I'm the Goblin King; there are so many demands on my time, why would I waste it bringing you here?'

'Well -- if it's not you, then... who has been bringing me here?' Her head still felt cloudy and unsure. She felt as if the answer was right at the back of her mind but the fog was curling around her head, stopping her from reaching it.

Jareth let out a low, dry laugh. 'You assume someone would spend such time and energy on you? How long have you been coming to this place?'

'Years.'

He smiled, and she caught a glimpse of sharp white teeth. 'Dear child. And you come back here, night after night after night?'

She watched the grin spread widely across his face and hesitated, knowing he was mocking her. 'Yes,' she said finally, bowing her head. He placed his hand under her chin and turned her up to face him. He was so close, too close. He traced his thumb across her jawline and her stomach gave a nervous, fluttering jolt.

'I wonder why that is.' He smiled a dark, knowing smile and she tried to straighten her legs to stop them from trembling. He was too close, far too close -- she could feel the heat of his skin through his glove, she could smell the spice of his aftershave -- and she knew, she knew he was doing this just to taunt her, laughing at her expense. She tried to wrench out of his grasp and reached forward to push him away -- but there was just air beneath her fingers. Looking around her, she saw that she was no longer in the maze. She was sitting upright in her bed, her arms stretched out in front of her, alone.

She took a deep breath and sat for a moment, waiting for her heart to stop racing, the adrenaline to stop pumping through her veins. That dream had been the worst. She'd never, in the years she'd been having the dreams, she had never seen him. Not since that very first dream. It had been four years since she had seen him last, and his image still frightened her. And -- at the same time -- excited her, like seeing an old friend. But no, she was certainly no friend of Jareth's.

Pushing herself out of bed, she peered around her dorm room, her eyes still bleary, until she caught sight of her room-mate's digital alarm clock. Five a.m.. She sighed wearily and lay back down, although she forced her eyes to stay open. She didn't want to fall back asleep and risk dreaming about him again. If, the thought niggled at the back of her head, it had been a dream. But, of course, of course it was a dream, they were all dreams. There was no possible way... (Was there? She had thought a lot of things weren't possible, before.) She rubbed absently at her hand, noting that she'd grazed the skin -- although, casting her mind back with a frown, she couldn't remember hurting herself. And it hadn't hurt before she'd gone to sleep.

She leapt out of bed, stumbling through the dark room to the tiny en-suite bathroom to splash cold water on her face. She tried not to look at her hand as she brushed her teeth and her hair, afraid that it would only confirm something she didn't want to know. Because if it was more than a dream, if impossible things were happening while she slept...

She wanted to be able to put it all behind her, but the labyrinth wouldn't be forgotten so easily. Or maybe it was Jareth who refused to be forgotten. He had taken her to the labyrinth before, what was to stop him doing it again?

She pushed her way out of the bathroom, refusing to continue that line of thought any further. Fumbling around in the dark, she pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, deciding to take a walk to the Student Union for some coffee. She didn't want to go back to sleep. She didn't want to dream again, not for a long time.

--

Apart from herself and the red-eyed barista attendant, the Student Union was empty but Sarah still couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. She sipped at the too-hot coffee, careful not to burn her tongue, and stared out the window at the grey, wet morning.

This was ridiculous, she reprimanded herself. She was nineteen years old; she was an adult. She shouldn't be so easily frightened of dreams and memories.

Why was she still so drawn to the labyrinth? She wanted to be a grown-up. She wanted to do well in her studies and meet a nice guy, and -- and not wake up with a grazed hand as if she'd fallen on rough stone in her sleep. She had tried so hard to distance the labyrinth from her, treat it as a thing in the past. She had stopped calling on her friends in the mirror. She had never touched the play again. And yet, every night, the dreams... Every night for four years. It was becoming unbearable.

And, she thought with a tight, curdling feeling in her stomach, she was becoming less and less sure that they were mere dreams. But the alternative scared her more than she would like to admit to, even to herself.

Nursing her coffee in both hands, Sarah felt the heat radiate through the polystyrene and watched the steam curl and spiral from the cup before evaporating into the air. This was real. This was the waking world. And she had obligations and priorities and classes and family, and things which she needed to concentrate on here.

But no matter how many times she told herself that, her mind kept wandering back to the labyrinth. She went through her day in a distracted daze, hardly hearing a word her lecturers said, daydreaming through all her classes. She couldn't get his words out of her head. She couldn't shake the ghost feeling of his touch upon her flesh, and she shivered at the memory of it, disgusted at herself for letting him get so close, for letting him get inside her head. And afraid that he had managed it so easily. And, more than anything else, she was afraid that she was thinking along those lines, thinking more and more of it as something which had happened rather than a meaningless reverie conjured up by her imagination. She didn't want to admit it could have been real, not even inside her own head. Because, frankly, it wasn't a place she could trust any more.

--

She stayed out on the campus long after her classes had ended, nursing coffee after coffee at the Student Union until the manager finally asked her to leave, and then she simply walked around the grounds, letting the cold wind bite at her skin. Anything to stay awake. She didn't want to fall asleep. She didn't think she could handle seeing him again. Not even a dream of him. Finally, with no where else to go, she headed back to her dorm and took a long, cold shower. Towelling her hair to avoid waking her room-mate with the electric dryer, she wandered around the small room, eager to find something, anything, to do. She just had to stay awake. She just had to stay busy.

Her body, however, disagreed. Her eyes itched and her eyelids felt heavy. It was impossible to concentrate on her coursework, so she sat on the edge of her bed, afraid to get too comfortable, and thumbed through magazines. Absently, she would glance up at the alarm clock every so often, registering that a few more minutes had passed since she'd looked at it last. She was planning to wait until five a.m. and then jog down to the Student Union again. If she drank enough coffee, if she kept herself active...

But she couldn't keep it up, she knew. She would have to sleep eventually, and then what would happen? What would be waiting for her?

It wasn't a line of thought she wanted to see through. She stood and walked a few paces around the room, just for something to do. Catching a glimpse of movement in the mirrored medicine cabinet -- barely illuminated by the low light of her bedside lamp -- she jumped, her heart fluttering wildly in her chest, before she realised it was her reflection. Of course it was. What had she been expecting? She rolled her eyes, embarrassed that she was so skittish. It was bad enough that she was afraid of her dreams; she didn't want to be afraid of her own reflection, too. Although, she thought as she critically examined her face in the mirror, she did look quite frightening. There were dark circles beneath her red-rimmed eyes and her complexion was pale and waxy. She looked awful. She felt awful.

She sat back down on the edge of her bed with a sigh and, closing her eyes, rubbed at the headache slowly building below her temples. How long could she keep this up, realistically, she wondered. She had managed two days last time. Was it worth trying it again? The dreams never stopped, no matter what she did. Pills, herbal remedies, hot milk, alcohol... She had considered therapy, but she knew she would have to explain about the labyrinth and that would probably land her straight in an institution. She knew it was real, she knew it had happened, but what proof did she have? And... and she wasn't entirely sure that she wasn't going crazy. After all, every time she closed her eyes--

With a jolt, she realised she had closed her eyes. She hadn't meant to -- how long ago was it, now? Was she awake or sleeping? She forced her tired eyes open and leapt to her feet but, she realised, it was too late. Inches away, wearing a smug smirk, stood Jareth.

'We really need to stop meeting this way, Sarah,' he purred. 'People will talk.'

'Tell me how,' she moaned, glaring at him. 'Believe me, I want nothing more than to stop coming here.'

He smiled at her, as if he knew something she didn't, and moved past her.

She watched him for a moment and frowned. This was all a game to him. But then -- wasn't that all it had ever been, a game? A game she never knew the rules to. Although -- maybe she did. She cast her mind back to that fateful night, the night she wished Toby away. She had been angry -- angry at Irene, at her father, at herself. She had told him the story of the play, threatening to send him away, and play-acted the incantation. But it wasn't until she'd actually made the wish, until she'd actually said the words out loud, that he was taken away. That was the rule -- maybe that was the only rule. 'Say your right words, the goblins said...'

'I wish,' she said, stammering as he turned to look at her expectantly. 'I wish--'

'You should be careful what you wish for,' he told her tartly. 'Or haven't you learned that already?'

'I wish you'd tell me how -- how to stop these dreams,' she finished weakly.

'No you don't,' he answered with a smile, side-stepping her.

She stared at him, surprised, and fell into step behind him, moving through the thick fog. 'Yes, I do, so tell me!'

'Now, why would I do that?' he asked, stopping so suddenly she almost walked into him. A smile flickered around his lips and she realised he was playing with her again.

She threw her shoulders back, trying to look more confident than she felt. 'I thought it was your job to grant wishes.'

He laughed loudly, cruelly. 'Did you now? And wherever did you get that impression? I must have a word with my spokespeople.'

She held her stance, held her ground. Hoggle had told her that, in the labyrinth, you had to say what you meant, you had to be direct. She just needed the right words...

'I... I know that words have power here,' she started, finding it difficult to return his hard gaze. 'So I'm asking you: tell me what I need to do to stop coming here.'

He examined her for a moment as if she were a painting, tilting his head to one side as he scrutinized her expression, her posture. She stood there, feeling young and foolish under his stare for what felt like an eternity until he spoke, his words loud and harsh after the long silence.

'Words have a certain power here, yes,' he began, 'but more the intention behind them. It isn't enough to say the words as if reading from a book. You have to mean what you say.' He cocked his head to one side, regarding her with what was almost interest. 'Do you remember, Sarah, when we first met? You told me you didn't mean to wish your brother away.'

'I didn't!' she protested quickly, and he raised a hand to silence her.

'Perhaps you didn't understand that it would happen, but you most certainly meant it. All the unfairness, Sarah.' She could hear the mocking lilt in his tone. 'All the times young Toby took priority over you in terms of attention... Affection... You most certainly meant it.' The smug look faded to a cold, distant expression as he continued: 'Equally, when you realised no one could gain control over you unless you chose to relinquish it--'

'You mean,' Sarah interrupted, smiling darkly, 'when I said you have no power--'

'Yes,' he spoke over her loudly, with an air of finality, and she stopped. 'Yes. Had you spoken the words without understanding them, without meaning them, they wouldn't have had the effect they did.'

He looked at her again, his eyes shining brightly, and Sarah suddenly felt very young, and vulnerable, and unsure.

'When you spoke those words, Sarah, you took away any influence I had over you, any control I had over your will, over your dreams. This,' he said with a sneering smile, gesturing at the thick mist around them, 'is all your doing. The dreams which keep bringing you to this place are of your own design, no one else's. So, little girl, if you want them to stop, I suggest you look into some new bedtime reading material.'

--

Sarah hadn't slept now for nearly three days -- very deliberate this time not to sit down too long, not to close her eyes, not to relax -- and it was beginning to affect her. As Jareth had turned his back on her and begun to walk away, she had pulled very suddenly out of her dream and lay wide-eyed on top of her bed, fighting down the urge to cry. Her room-mate's clock and shone 5:07 and she realised she couldn't have been asleep for more than an hour. It was a frightening prospect; how long was it meant to take to get into the state of sleep where you have dreams? Weren't there stages? The thought thrust her out of bed, and she ran the full distance to the Student Union, and spent the entire morning drinking coffee after coffee, trying not to think about what it all meant.

She had thought that if she just kept busy, just kept her mind occupied, filling her time with work and school, but her body protested at every opportunity. She felt heavy, her muscles trembling and aching with the need for sleep, and -- if it was possible -- she looked even worse than she felt. Her skin was so pale it was near white, and in stark contrast to the black bags under her eyes. And her eyes themselves were so red and bloodshot that Sarah was fairly convinced she resembled a Hallowe'en mask.

She couldn't keep this up. She just couldn't.

As people around her began to file noisily out of the lecture hall, Sarah blinked down at her empty notebook and realised she had just sat through an entire class without taking a single note. She sighed and rubbed at her itchy eyes, trying to blink her bleary vision back into focus. Her mind was so sleep deprived that it was just getting too hard to concentrate, to force herself to focus on anything. What had the lecturer been droning on (and on and on) about? She hadn't even written down a topic title. But -- she hated to admit it -- but it wasn't just the lack of sleep that was getting to her. Jareth's words kept resounding around her head, reprimanding her, mocking her. Was it true? Was she really the one who was taking herself to the labyrinth every night? She had tried to ignore it, at first, tried to write it off as just another cruel trick of Jareth's. He was trying to confuse her, or make fun of her, or provoke her. He wasn't telling her the truth, of course he wasn't. It was him, he kept bringing her there, it had to be him.

But she couldn't quash the small, pestering thought at the back of her head that reminded her that she wasn't finished with the Underground -- she never would be -- and maybe she was, somehow, subconsciously, thinking about it. Longing for it. For her friends, and adventure, and magic. Even if she didn't want to admit it.

But, no. She didn't want it, she didn't. She was a grown-up, now. She couldn't spend her time fantasizing about magical worlds and goblin kings. People had expectations of her -- her dad, Irene, her tutors -- and she needed to live up to those. There were rules, standards. She had to worry about her exams, not goblins! She couldn't afford to dream her life away. No. No, she had to end this. She had to find a way to stop the dreams for good.

--

The next time she fell asleep, she didn't dream of Jareth. Instead, she was wandering through the inner maze of the labyrinth, lost and alone, the fog curling around her in thick, dizzying patterns. It seemed to seep into her brain, confusing her, making her forget. What was she doing here? Wasn't she meant to be looking for something? Someone? She swept through the twisting stone walkways in a daze, searching although she didn't know what for, intent on finding whatever it was. It was a while before she began to notice, disbelieving at first, that the walls were changing behind her. When she took a turn to the left, the walls crept up behind her and blocked off the path to the right, and pathways which were dead ends suddenly transformed into long, twisting corridors when her back was turned. She began to slow down, watching the walls warily, and she couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that they were watching back. Whenever she took a step, they moved with her, drawing closer, closing in on her... And then it wasn't just when she took a step; suddenly there were four walls surrounding her and no way out and they were pressing in closer and closer. The sound of stone moving against stone was a loud, grating rasp and dust filled the air and her lungs as the walls closed in on her, pressing in tighter and tighter. They wouldn't stop, oh God, they wouldn't stop, they wouldn't ever stop! She screamed and screamed until her voice was just a hoarse whisper for someone to help her, and pounded on the walls until her fists were red and raw, and then she woke up in tears with her hands bruised and bleeding.

--

Sarah paced up and down her empty dorm room, just for something to do, just to keep moving. (Could you fall asleep if you were moving? It didn't seem likely, but then her legs felt as if they were about to buckle under her at any minute.) It had been three days since she dreamt she was about to be crushed by the labyrinth maze and she had been too shaken to go back to sleep since. That had been worse, so much worse, than facing Jareth, because while he was certainly dangerous, he had never attacked her in the dreams. And, at least, she could ask him her questions and try to get some answers. Answers which she desperately needed. The dreams couldn't go on, they just couldn't, because it was getting harder and harder for her to deny that if she got hurt in the dreams, the pain came with her into the waking world. What would have happened if she hadn't woken up when she did? If she died in a dream...

She needed to stop them, that was obvious. And since Jareth was the only person who seemed to know anything about the labyrinth, about the dreams, she needed to ask him. But she wasn't ready to go back to sleep, not just yet. She didn't want to have another dream like that one. She had been nervous of small spaces ever since her first time in the labyrinth, since the Cleaners chased her down that tiny corridor and she hadn't been able to find a way out, so being trapped like that, the walls closing in, the space becoming tighter and tighter around her, was just unbearable.

Sarah turned on her heel, walking another pace of the room. Her room-mate was out on a date and the dorm was quiet and empty, but Sarah's mind was brimming with questions that needed answers.

Jareth had told her the first time that the labyrinth was like some sort of dream that you could control, manipulate, but she hadn't been able to do it yet. She had tried; she had tried everything she could think of when those walls closed in. Could you do it consciously? But then... was she conscious when she dreamt of the labyrinth? She didn't even know any more. She felt like she didn't know anything any more.

Her head swam groggily with questions she couldn't answer.

She turned again, and caught the movement reflected in the medicine cabinet mirror from the corner of her eye. The idea popped suddenly, fully-formed, into her mind as if someone had placed it there. She had used the mirror of her vanity dresser back home to talk to her friends in the labyrinth. All she had needed to do was say 'I need you' and they would appear. Would it still work, now? She hadn't done it for years, of course. Maybe the magic didn't work any more, or maybe the magic was only on that one mirror. But... but it was worth a try.

This wasn't something Hoggle, or Ludo, or Sir Didymus could help her with, though. She had never tried to call Jareth, never. Would the magic work with him? Would he come if she called?

Drawing a deep breath, she stepped towards the mirror, trying to ignore the nervous fluttering in her stomach. Swallowing, she stared straight into the mirror, focusing on the spot behind her shoulder, and pronounced the words slowly and carefully: 'I need you, Jareth.'

She watched the reflection of the room behind her intently, waiting for any sign of change. She waited for a full minute before it became obvious that nothing was going to happen. Maybe it only worked on her old vanity mirror back home, or maybe the words didn't work with Jareth. Or -- maybe he just didn't want to see her. Deflated, she turned away from the small medicine cabinet and moved towards her bed, and stifled a gasp.

Jareth lounged elegantly across the length of her bed, half on his side with one knee propped up. One gloved hand ran absent patterns down the creases in her douvet while he cushioned the other behind his head. At her expression, he raised an eyebrow and smirked.

'You know,' he murmured dryly, 'this is the third time this month you haven't curtsied in my presence and begged to kiss the hems of my robe. Were we in my royal court, that would be considered treason and I would be obligated to have you beheaded. Which isn't to say I wouldn't enjoy it. Which also isn't to say that it doesn't remain an open option should you summon me from my bedchamber again.'

Sarah flinched at the mention of his bedchamber. It hadn't really occurred to her that he might be sleeping. In fact, it hadn't occurred to her that Jareth's castle consisted of more than the throne room and the Escher-style staircase room that she had seen. And it was hard to imagine him sleeping, because sleeping made you vulnerable and, well, human. It was hard to imagine him away from the villain of her youth and as an actual person; she had assumed he spent all of his time stealing babies and seducing young girls.

'If you simply wanted to stand and gawk at me,' he sighed impatiently, pushing himself up to a sitting position, 'I could have had a portrait sent to you.'

She shook herself out of her reverie, and, quietly, began to speak.

'I... I need you to stop the dreams.'

He seemed amused. 'I thought I had explained, in no uncertain terms, that your little night-time adventures are nothing to do with me.'

'But it can't be me doing it, it just can't.'

She shook her head and looked away. She was so tired she felt near tears.

'Really? And why not?' He folded his arms across his chest, watching her with a smile.

'How can I be?' she asked, throwing her arms in the air. 'It makes no sense! They're... they're not just dreams, I'm actually there, aren't I?'

He didn't answer, he just smiled.

'But -- but I don't have the power to do that! I can't... transport myself, or whatever.'

'You used to see things so clearly,' he said finally, eyeing her with a mixture of interest and disdain. 'Whatever happened to my once worthy opponent?'

'What do you mean?' she asked quietly.

'I have given you the answers, Sarah, again and again. And yet you fail to make sense of them.'

'You haven't given me answers!' she cried, infuriated. 'You haven't given me anything!'

'I've given you everything!' he hissed, leaping to his feet. They stood for a long moment, facing each other in a charged silence until he finally rolled his eyes and swept across to the other side of the room with a swish of his cloak.

'You... You told me before that the labyrinth changed to make a challenge for me,' she said finally, breaking the silence. 'Is that why, whenever I said, "It's a piece of cake"--'

'How I've loathed those words,' he drawled.

'--it suddenly got harder?'

'Extraordinary, she learns,' he smiled, clapping his hands in a mocking applause. 'I thought you were criticizing my worth as an opponent and so I raised the stakes to suit your needs.' He surveyed her for a moment, smiling. 'I told you I was exhausted from living up to your expectations of me. I thought you'd never stop using that damn phrase.'

'But... but I thought you said it was the labyrinth doing that? Changing?'

'It was. We are... connected, in a sense.' He frowned, trying to think of a way to explain it to her. 'As the ruler of the Underground, I have a kind of control over the labyrinth. It changes to fit my needs as it does to whoever is facing the challenge. Sometimes I consciously change it, sometimes not.'

'I think I understand,' she said softly. He looked to her with a disinterested expression and asked flatly, 'Any more questions, or may I return to my duties?'

'Your duties?' she asked.

'You think the Goblin King spends all his time granting wishes?' he asked dryly, a smirk playing around his lips. 'I have duties as King, you understand.'

She nodded and looked away, chastising herself. Of course, of course he had a kingdom and a world and a life all away from her, things she didn't even know about. He stood to give her a mocking bow but before he could move to leave, she asked him, quietly, already dreading the answer: 'Will I dream about it again tonight?'

'I don't know, Sarah,' he leered, 'will you go to bed with thoughts of me?'

Her head shot up, an insult already forming on her lips, but he was gone.

--

She finally gave into sheer exhaustion at eight o'clock in the morning, after nearly four days of sleep deprivation, and found the dream already waiting for her. Jareth stood, the fog swirling around him like a cloak, watching her stand to unsteady feet with a closed annoyance.

'We meet again, it would seem.'

'But... I don't want to be here. I don't want this.'

'I wonder that you know what you want,' he scorned. 'You want so many things. Wanting them and not wanting them all at the same time. Do you know what you want at all, or do you know, and you're too afraid to take it?'

It wasn't a question as much as it was an insult.

'I don't want this,' she repeated, the words sounding uncertain in her mouth.

'Don't you? Then I wonder why you keep bringing us both back here.'

'"Us both"?' she repeated stupidly, and he sighed, looking at her as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

'Do you think I sense your imminent arrival and clap my hands together with glee?' he sneered, his eyes flashing with annoyance. 'The power which brings you here every night brings me to this exact spot as well. The power which -- I shall remind you -- you control.' He stopped, a lazy smile spreading across his face. Planting his hands on his hips, he tilted his head and laughed: 'So, Sarah, I appear to be the man of your dreams. Tell me, why do you keep bringing me here to meet you? Which little fantasy are you trying to fulfill?'

She turned away from him, her face burning.

'Tell me how to stop the dreams.' She forced her voice to sound steady, in control.

'What, and ruin all the fun? I do so enjoy our little visits, don't you?'

'If you control the labyrinth,' she spoke loudly, doing her best to ignore his taunting. 'Can't you stop me from coming here? Can't you take the power off me?'

He looked at her for a moment through half-closed eyes, as if he was considering something. Finally he said, in a deep, profound voice, 'No.'

'But that's--'

'Sarah,' he cut across her in a warning tone. 'I have been more than tolerant until this point, but if you dare to accuse me of not being "fair", then I won't be accountable for my actions.'

He leaned indolently against the stone wall and let his gaze travel across her face, amused at her clearly offended expression.

She crumpled, losing her false mask of strength and certainty, and slid to the ground, leaning her head against the wall in a position of defeat. 'I haven't been able to sleep in four years,' she confided. 'I don't understand why this keeps happening.'

He watched her, unmoving, for a few moments with a bored interest. Finally, when she didn't say anything else, he pushed himself off the wall and turned to walk out of the maze. At the echoing sound of his boots upon the gravel, her eyes shot open and he noticed, for the first time, how very tired she looked.

'Is it... Is it within the ability you have,' she asked, picking her words carefully, 'to stop me from coming to the labyrinth in my dreams?'

He chuckled quietly, amused at how deliberate she was being. 'Oh Sarah,' he grinned, enjoying the expression of pain on her face. 'Don't you remember? I have no power over you.'

She held his gaze, narrowing her eyes as she noted, 'You didn't answer my question.

He gave a languid shrug. 'Frankly, I'm boring of this. In fact, my throat is becoming a little sore. This is your dream, Sarah. You know very well what you must do. Why don't you tell me?'

He leaned back against the wall behind him and folded his arms loosely across his chest, waiting for her reaction.

She eyed him suspiciously as she tried to work it all out, tried to force her sleepy brain to understand it all. The answer was there, somewhere, she knew it.

'You took me to the labyrinth to rescue Toby,' she said, thinking aloud. 'And you brought me back, so I know you can do it.'

'I brought you to the labyrinth after you had challenged me and agreed to run it,' he corrected snidely. 'And I returned you after you had reached the solution. Believe me, it was purely a professional arrangement. I'm not in the habit of whisking young girls away in the night.'

Her head snapped up, the ideas suddenly becoming sharper in her mind. 'So -- so if I challenge you and win, you have to take me home from the labyrinth?'

He smirked. 'Such confidence.'

'Do you?'

'It is the general niceity, yes.'

'If... If I challenged you, and I won, could you take me home and stop me from ever coming back?'

He raised an eyebrow, his eyes brightening with interest. 'If that's the prize you would ask in exchange for winning, then yes.'

She raised her chin and said, her tone more confident than she was, 'Then I challenge you.'

'Very well. What are you willing to offer in return?'

'I... what do you mean?'

'The last time you ran my labyrinth, you offered me a baby in the event of your losing. I see you don't have one with you this time. So what will you wager instead?'

'What do you want?'

'You.'

She stared at him, surprised. 'You... you mean, you'll turn me into a goblin?' she asked softly, horrified at the idea.

'Human adults can't be turned into goblins,' he answered with a cruel smile. 'Which is a terrible pity; I think you'd make a rather splendid one. Crawling in the dirt, dressed in tatters and rags, scrabbling with the chickens, feasting on insects and rats...'

At her expression, he laughed cruelly and began to circle around her, pressing himself close to intimidate her. 'No, what better prize than to have under my power the only person who has ever defeated me? When the rumours of your little triumph spread through my kingdom, I began to lose some of my reputation, some of my power.' His tone was bitter and remote. 'I ceased to appear quite so frightening once it became known that a fifteen year old girl had bested my labyrinth.'

He leaned in behind her, enjoying the sight of her tense muscles, the scent of fear as he drew in close.

'So you'd kill me,' she mumbled softly, the worry open in her voice.

'Oh,' he grinned, 'I haven't even decided what I'd do with you yet.'

'No,' she said firmly. 'No, not a chance.'

'So assured of your own defeat?' he mocked as he moved again, coming round to face her.

'You're not going to goad me into it,' she laughed humourlessly. 'I'll... I'll offer you something else.'

'There's nothing else I want.'

'Then I won't do it.'

'Oh, but you must, Sarah.' His smile had turned feral, his eyes locked onto her own with a steady, determined gaze. 'You have to face the labyrinth if you ever want to escape it.'

'I'll... I'll find another way. I'll stop myself from having the dreams.' She tried to force some confidence into her voice, but Jareth chuckled lowly, seeing through her immediately.

'Really? Have you been having much success so far?'

She faltered, but -- remembering what he was asking for -- straightened her shoulders and held her resolve. 'It doesn't matter. They're only dreams. I'm not going to risk my life just to stop them.' She tried to bury down that niggling little voice that reminded her that, if they were only dreams, she wouldn't wake up bruised and bleeding every morning. She could very well be risking her life just by going to sleep at night, these days...

'Now, now,' he said smoothly, 'who said anything about lives being risked? I give you my word, as a gentleman, that should you lose, I won't harm you.'

'You're not much of a gentleman,' she muttered.

'And you're not much of a lady,' he answered briskly, looking her up and down in one long, lazy glance. 'But we make do.'

She glared at him, thinking over his words. 'You're trying to trick me -- you'll ask someone else to do it, or--'

'Such an untrusting child,' he sighed, rolling his eyes. 'You wouldn't be much use to me,' he continued, 'if you were dead.'

She eyed him suspiciously, trying to work out where the catch was. 'Promise me that I won't be harmed in any way -- by you or by anyone else.'

'I assure you, Sarah, that no harm will come to you.'

She still felt uneasy, chilled by his words. 'Then what would you do to me?'

He gave a sneering laugh. 'Oh, the things I've longed to do to you. I've often thought of leaving you in an oubliette, or having you take up post as the guardian of the Bog of Eternal Stench. Or perhaps appointing you as cleaner of the goblin cesspits. I can't honestly say I've decided which I would prefer.'

'I'd... I'd have to stay in the labyrinth, then, if I lost?'

Jareth inclined his head in a nod and she pressed her lips together, looking away as she thought it over. She wanted the dreams to stop, she wanted to be able to move on with her life -- if she lost and she had to stay here...

'For how long?' she asked hesitantly.

'Until I bore of you, I suppose,' he said nonchalantly.

'And when might that be?' she asked, her fists clenching at her sides.

'I'm a very hard man to please,' he answered with a smug look.

She glowered at him and his non-answer as she thought it over. Sure, he said he wouldn't actually hurt her, but he'd humilate humiliate and degrade her, wave her over all his subjects and show them what happened when they upset the Goblin King. He could torture her without ever laying a finger on her. And, looking up at his lazy smirk, she knew he knew that too. But then, she had defeated him before, hadn't she? And she was older now -- wiser, more experienced. If she had bettered the labyrinth once, she could do it again -- still, there was no harm in being cautious, especially dealing with Jareth.

'I'll agree on three conditions,' she said eventually, and he raised his eyebrows in surprise. 'First, no harm is to come to me or to any of my friends.'

He waved his hand and gave a consenting nod.

'Second, no one is going to put me in an oubliette.'

Jareth gave an amused smile. 'I assure you, Sarah Williams, you're impossible to forget.'

'Is that a yes?' she asked firmly, refusing to be distracted now. She knew how tricky Jareth could be; if he didn't technically agree then he didn't technically have to follow her rules.

'Yes.'

'Third, I'd need to have a place to live, a house.'

'You weren't nearly as picky last time,' he smiled. She raised her eyebrows at him, and he nodded again. 'Agreed -- but I shall determine where this home is and, while you have ruled out any of my oubliettes, I'll remind you that the Bog of Eternal Stench remains an option.' He spoke quickly, before she could interrupt, 'Now here are my conditions: first, as before, you have thirteen hours in which to solve the labyrinth. Second, as you aren't retrieving a baby this time, you shall be declared winner if you manage to reclaim this.'

He twirled his wrist to produce a perfectly round crystal ball. She thought it was empty at first, but when he turned his wrist again, she saw that, hovering inside it, was the ring she had given to the Wiseman in the labyrinth all those years ago. She opened her mouth to ask him where he had gotten it from, but instead inclined her head and said, 'Agreed.'

He nodded and, as quickly as it had appeared, the crystal was gone.

'Lastly, on the very slim chance that you manage to defeat my labyrinth, Sarah, you must agree to forfeit all the powers you have over it. You will stop returning to this place in dreams, but you will also no longer have the ability to contact any of the inhabitants here. Your memories of your time here will seem like a dream, and you will eventually forget them.'

'No,' she breathed, the thought making her stomach twinge. 'No, that's horrible.'

Jareth shrugged. 'That's the agreement.'

Sarah frowned, crossing her arms across her chest. She didn't want to have to come to this place every single night, but not being able to remember any of it... She wanted to be able to move on with her life, but those memories were still a part of her, a part of who she was. And so much of her had been shaped by her experiences in the labyrinth -- would she forget all of that, too? Without those memories, would she be a different person? She swallowed dryly, thinking back to how headstrong and selfish she had been before and wondered if she would even like the person she would be without the labyrinth.

'If you don't agree, then I can't make the offer,' Jareth said sharply. 'I can't take one power from you without taking the others. It's simply not possible. No human can leave the Underground and still retain memories of their time there -- you were the exception to the rule.'

She looked confused and he exhaled with tried patience. 'As I told you before, when you realised--'

'That you have no power over me,' Sarah supplied, enjoying the dark look on his face and the feeling of control she had when she said it.

'Yes, that. When you realised that, you took away any control I or the labyrinth had over you, and you were therefore able to keep your memories.'

She looked down, pressing her lips together in thought. Was that what happened to people who lost the labyrinth, she wondered. They forgot all about it? Forgot about the things they had seen and the children they had given up? The thought sickened her. And the idea of losing her memories... But then, she reasoned, it wasn't as if she would lose all of her memories. Just the ones of the labyrinth. And if the alternative was having to come here every night, trapped in the closing walls again or having to face Jareth...

'Come, come, Sarah,' he said, his voice crashing through her line of thought. 'Make your choice.'

She faltered, biting her lower lip, still weighing the options in her mind. Behind her, she could hear Jareth give a laugh of delight. 'One would almost think,' he drawled, 'that you would rather lose than win. Perhaps you'd rather forfeit now and save us both the bother?'

A wave of anger surged up inside of her at his words and she whirled around to face him. 'Fine! I agree to your terms,' she said viciously. 'Because when I win, it will be a pleasure to have no memory of you.'

A dark expression flashed across his face and he shot out an arm. Sarah instinctively winced, bracing herself for a strike, but when she didn't feel his hand against her face, she opened her eyes to see him standing stiffly, his arm held out, waiting to shake her own. Timidly, she slid her hand into his, feeling the leather, thin and cool, under her skin.

'Then we are agreed,' Jareth said brittlely, and then he was gone. Blinking, Sarah realised she was gone, too. At least, from where she had been. Now she was standing on the orange, dusty plain she had stood on, all those years ago, the entire maze spread out in front of her, the castle looming portentously in the centre. It all looked so familiar, but at the same time, there were so many things she had no memory of. Large, dark areas of forest had spread around the sides, and she could see the fog that hung heavily in the twisting, turning maze area, spreading out to the hedge maze and tinging the borders of the Goblin City. The labyrinth of her childhood had seemed painted-by-numbers, everything dressed in vivid primary colours, but now it was just grey, the fog drowning out everything. The castle itself seemed to have changed the most, though. It was larger and more intimidating than she remembered it, almost foreboding, all dark stone and tall, spiralling turrets.

She groaned loudly, running a hand through her hair. What had she agreed to?

She had blurted out the words without thinking them over, Jareth just made her so angry -- and excited and scared... How was it possible for one person to provoke so many emotions, all at once? But then, she supposed, Jareth wasn't really an ordinary person. She wasn't sure what he was.

But, with a sigh, she realised now wasn't the best time to mull it over. 'Come on, feet,' she muttered, setting down the dusty slope.

--

When she reached the bottom of the hill, Sarah walked around the stone entrance of the labyrinth, looking for the way in. How had she gotten in last time? She couldn't see a door -- had there been one before? No -- no Hoggle had made the walls open for her, hadn't he? It was when she first met him. She cast her memory back, trying to remember, but the memories were vague and fuzzy. She had been a little overwhelmed and surprised by it all at that point, it hadn't quite seemed real yet, as if she had been somewhere outside her body, watching it happen to someone else. It hadn't been until she'd heard Toby, his cries echoing unnaturally close, all around her, that it had really sunk in -- it was real, it was really happening. And standing there, years later, she couldn't help but feel the same way. It was as if this was just another dream. It looked so familiar and yet, in so many ways, it was something entirely new. Her mind suddenly threw up a memory of when she had first come home for the Christmas holidays after being away at college, and driving through the town she had grown up in, everything looked just the way she had remembered and yet old stores had closed down and new ones had sprung up, and it was all completely different at the same time.

She shrugged off the thought quickly. She had only been in the labyrinth once before, even if she'd dreamed of it after, and she was never, never going to see it again after this so there was no point in trying to work out what was the same and what was different. All she needed to work out was how to get inside.

She frowned, concentrating on the memory, trying to recall all the details. They had been by a pond, she remembered that because Hoggle had been, well, relieving himself when she first met him. And he'd been spraying fairies. She remembered the righteous anger that had surged up in her, the cruel, ugly dwarf attacking the beautiful, defenceless little creatures. (Although the feeling had faded pretty quickly once one bit her.)

She ran around the wall, a few metres in each direction, trying to find the pond again, but there was no sign of it, or of where one had been. It was all dry, dusty sand everywhere she looked -- no plants, no water, just dirt. She sighed, pressing her lips together. Well, she knew the labyrinth could change things around, so maybe the pond had moved, but the way in still had to be around here somewhere. It had to be. She stood close to the wall, pressing her hands against the lichened stone to feel for an entrance, someplace where the stone indented or she could push it forward. Feeling nothing, she began to walk slowly around the wall, her hands trailing along it as she went, probing and prodding at it, but she couldn't find any sort of way in. Frustrated, she began to move faster, trying to move her hands higher and lower, trying to feel any sort of difference in the stone. She even doubled back and moved the other way, with the thought in her mind that it might be like trying to find the edge on a roll of sticky tape, but she still couldn't find anything. She walked around it for so long, growing more and more impatient, her feet already sore and threatening to blister, that she was beginning to think she'd walked the entire length of the whole damn labyrinth already. Eventually she gave a groan and wiped the dirt and moss off her jeans, kicking at the wall in frustration. How much time had passed already and she wasn't even in yet? This was useless! Although, maybe -- maybe it was part of the game. Maybe it was one of Jareth's dirty tricks, maybe you couldn't find the way in unless you lived in the labyrinth or something. Oh, that would be just like Jareth, to make an unsolvable puzzle! She hadn't been able to find the entrance last time, either, and if Hoggle hadn't been there...

But -- Hoggle had been there. Just when she was feeling like giving up, just when she was wishing for someone to help her. (Just like now.) If it was true, if she really could control this place...

She swallowed dryly and looked around, concentrating on Hoggle, wanting him to appear, but nothing happened. Squeezing her eyes shut, Sarah concentrated on the memory of his face -- the big nose, the warts, the wrinkles -- and tried to will him there. She opened her eyes again, almost hopefully, but she was still alone. Should she say something? Like an incantation? But, no, she hadn't said anything last time. If she had really done it last time, it had been subconscious. She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, feeling foolish, then -- thinking it was worth a try at least -- she began to shout. 'Hoggle! HOGGLE! Is somebody there?'

She stood still, straining her ears for an answer but all she could hear was her voice echoing. If anyone was there, if anyone could hear her, they weren't answering. No, if she was going to find a way into the labyrinth, she would have to do it herself.

She looked up at the wall with trepidation. How tall was it? Eight feet? Ten? Tall enough that this wasn't going to be easy anyway. Resolving herself to it, Sarah stepped forward and, reaching up, found a stone in the wall with a gap she could -- just -- get a grip on. Holding it with both hands, she felt along with her foot until she found an edge she could step on, and hoisted herself up. The stone was uneven and slippery with moss and lichen, but Sarah eventually worked her way up to the top of the wall and threw a leg over, sitting atop it for a moment as she struggled to catch her breath.

And then she looked down at the other side. A wave of vertigo suddenly hit her and she clung desperately onto the wall, gasping. While she was only ten or so feet above the ground on the wall outside the labyrinth, she was easily three times that above the other side. Peering through the thinner patches of mist that rolled through the maze beneath her, she could scarcely see the ground. 'That's... That's not possible!' she gasped, gripping tightly onto the wall.

She clung on to the stone, her fingers white with the pressure. If she slipped now, if she lost her balance... Her stomach squirmed with the knowledge of what she had to do. Finally, with a deep breath, Sarah held her grip on the wall and swung both her legs over the edge, feeling for secure footing. She blinked, surprised, when her foot touched on solid ground. Gingerly, she set both her feet on it, testing it with more and more weight until she finally let go of the wall. Turning around, she saw that she was standing on the ground and the walls around her suddenly seemed very tall again.

She stood, staring around in amazement for a moment. She remembered, with a quiet smile, what the little worm had told her: 'Things aren't always what they seem in this place.'

Thinking back on the hidden ways out of the seemingly endless corridor that the worm had showed her, Sarah moved quickly and, feeling along the walls, she almost immediately found a passageway. Even up close, it looked like a solid brick wall but it led out into a large stone maze. Sarah felt a pang of anxiety as she remembered the dream she had had about this part of the labyrinth, the walls closing in on her, and she moved quickly, trying not to think about it.

--

How many hours had she been trapped in here last time, she wondered? However much time she had already lost trying to get inside the maze, she could probably make up for by just remembering that this part of the maze moved -- a lot. There was no point trying to find a pattern or work out a path, the walls transformed, joining together and pulling apart behind her back. The knowledge made her uneasy, but she tried to push the memories of her dream out of her mind.

Suddenly, the wall in front of her pulled back like an automated door, and an old man, his head bowed down, shuffled towards her. He carried a splintering cane, a long white beard flowed from his chin, and he wore a live bird on his head as a hat. Sarah recognised him as the Wiseman she had met before, the one she had given her ring to in exchange for advice on how to solve the labyrinth. As the walls changed around her again, dust rising from the ground as they moved, she felt an uneasy prickle twinge down her back and decided to approach him again.

'Excuse me, do you know the way to the castle at the center of the labyrinth?'

He stopped, blinking, and looked around, as if he was surprised to hear a voice other than his bird's.

'Oh,' he said after a moment. 'A young girl!'

'Yes,' she answered. He was an older man, she reasoned, and maybe he hadn't heard her very well. She spoke a little louder this time: 'Do you know the way to the castle at the center of the labyrinth from here?'

He used his cane to push himself up a little straighter and, after adjusting his robes for a long moment, said: 'So -- what can I do for you, young lady?'

Sarah, near shouting, said again: 'How do I get to the castle?'

'The castle?' he answered, drawling the word slowly as if savouring every syllable.

'Yes.'

'You want to get to the castle?'

'Yes!'

'Well, young lady, you will find it at the center of the labyrinth,' he announced, pleased with himself.

Sarah stared at him, aghast. The bird perched on top of his head, leaned over and squawked, 'She knows that, you ninny!'

'She what?' the old man asked, blinking in confusion.

'She already knows the castle is in the center of the labyrinth!'

'Then what's she asking me for?' the old man cried, throwing his hands up in the air. Grasping his cane, he began to hobble away, muttering about 'the youth of today' under his breath.

Sarah watched him go, astounded. He had seemed like a Wiseman when she was younger, some kind of omniscient sage like there was in every fairy tale. Somebody who simply knew everything because you needed them to. Maybe he wasn't that clever after all -- maybe he never had been. Maybe she had seen it in him because she'd wanted to. Or needed to.

With a sigh of disgust (at him or at herself, she didn't really know), Sarah began to walk on.

--

It was difficult to tell how far she had walked within this part of the maze, as the stone constantly fluxed and changed around her -- she didn't really walk with any direction, she just walked, trying to find anything familiar, anything that looked like a way out. She didn't know if it had been minutes or hours until she found something else she recognised: the walls pulled back to reveal two tall doors, decorated with large, intricate door-knockers, sunken into the stone at the end of the path. She had seen them before, although they had been in a different part of the labyrinth last time, and she ran towards them, eager to leave the changing stone maze. They looked just as she remembered; grotesque bronze faces, scowling down at her from the solid wooden doors. She stood in front of them, hesitating, before reaching up a hand to pull on the large bronze ring one held in its mouth. It had told her last time 'knock, and the door will open'. But nothing happened. She tried again, bringing it back down forcibly, and, when nothing happened, she moved across to the other door, knocking on that. She frowned.

'Um -- excuse me?'

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, waiting for a response, but the door-knocker stared back at her, unmoving.

'I... I need to get through the door.' Nothing. She blushed, feeling foolish for talking to a door. Somewhere, in the back of her consciousness, she knew that door-knockers couldn't talk. She knew that inanimate objects were just that -- inanimate. They couldn't think, and move, and answer, even if she needed them to.

'Are you talking to me?'

The voice had come from behind her. Sarah whirled around, but there was nobody there. Uneasy, she peered around the corridor, trying to find the speaker. It was only when the voice came again -- 'Over here!' -- that she saw him, the little blue worm she had met before, sitting in a groove in the wall.

'Oh, no. I -- I need to get through these doors but--'

'They won't open.' It was a different voice -- thick with an accent she didn't recognise and a distinct note of amusement -- and it was directly in her ear. She clumsily tried to turn to see the speaker and step back from him at the same time, tripping back into the wall.

An old man stood in front of her, a long hooded cloak shadowing his face. She couldn't see his expression as he spoke: 'It's past the fourth hour. What's a young girl doing out in the labyrinth, all alone? Defenceless? Why -- anything might happen.'

There was a sharp edge to his tone that worried her, but she hesitatingly answered: 'I need to get to the castle at the center of the labyrinth.'

'Do you really?'

'Why won't the doors open?' Her voice sounded small.

'They only open if you want them to.'

'Well, I do want them to and they're not opening!'

'He's right, you know,' the little worm called beside her. Nodding towards the door-knocker with the brass ring through its ears, he continued: 'He's usually a mile a minute. Only thing that'd keep him quiet would be if someone running the labyrinth didn't want him to talk. The doors can only open if the knockers are awake.'

'Obviously,' the old man said, 'the labyrinth can sense that you don't really want to leave this place and so it's keeping you here. Making all your wishes come true.' She could hear the sneer in his tone although she couldn't see his face.

'Well, there must be another way out!' she cried.

A crystal orb appeared beneath the long sleeves of the old man's cloak and he threw it forward. Sarah quickly leapt out of the way, thinking at first he was throwing it at her, but it struck the wall at the end of the corridor and smashed, revealing two doors and the guards she had met the last time she had been in the labyrinth. She whirled back around to see Jareth leaning against one wall where the old man had stood, the cloak discarded at his feet, watching her with amusement.

'You.'

'Me,' he grinned.

'Your Majesty!' the little worm cried, astonished. 'What an honour! May I offer you a cup of tea? The missus makes the best brew in the Underground, I dare say!'

Jareth ignored him, his eyes locked on Sarah.

'Why are you helping me?' Sarah asked suspiciously.

'The gratitude you give me so abundantly is all the reward I need,' he said, his tone packed with sarcasm.

'But if I make it to the castle at the center of the labyrinth, then I win,' she said, watching him warily.

'If you find the crystal then I'll send you home, that was the agreement,' he corrected. 'But I'll win either way. If you don't find the crystal, then you become my subject, for me to do whatever I please with, and if you do find the crystal, then I gain the power over you to return you to your own world and I never have to see you again. Frankly, I'd be happy with either option.'

At his words, something seemed to click into place inside her head. 'Wait.' She looked at him, her nostrils flaring. 'If I win, you gain power over me?'

He looked at her, expressionless. 'That was part of our agreement, yes.'

'No! We agreed that you would stop me coming here at night!'

'Yes,' he said offhand, as blasé as if he were discussing the weather. 'By taking the power off you. Stripping away your powers gives me control over you, Sarah, it's simple mathematics.'

'Are you saying you can only stop this thing, this power, if you have control over me?'

He smiled as if genuinely delighted that she had finally worked it out.

'So whether I win or lose,' she continued vehemently, 'you still have power over me?' She glared at him, letting out an indignant snort. 'No, no way. Game's over. I'm not doing this.'

'If you choose to forfeit the challenge,' he said, taunting, 'then I win by default.'

'That wasn't in our agreement!'

'Oh, Sarah, that's in every agreement.'

'But -- that's not fair!' she cried, ignoring his derisive laugh.

'Should you win,' he smiled dangerously, 'you will cede your powers to me, and you will no longer have the ability to call upon the goblins or return to the Underground. We, however, will have the ability to visit you; our roles reversed. But you can rest assured,' his smile turned into a sharp, degrading look, 'that I shall have no desire to see your arrogant little face again, so you needn't worry on that account.'

'Oh, I'm arrogant?' she cried.

'Quite.'

She opened her mouth to say -- or scream -- something at him, but he waved his hand dismissively to silence her. 'I believe myself far above stealing young girls away in the night, if that is your concern.'

'You steal babies!' she cried over the top of him.

'I take the children I am asked to take,' he corrected, 'as it is my duty to do so. I said no harm will come to you, and it won't. Really, Sarah, when are you going to begin trusting me?'

She glared at him, struggling to think of a retort but he just gave her an infuriating smile and disappeared. She growled lowly and -- ignoring the little worm's reprimands for talking in such a manner to the king -- marched back towards the door guards, who were sniggering behind their shields.

She folded her arms, watching them warily. They looked just as she had remembered -- heads on the top and bottom, like a face card, and three pairs of hands each. The last time, they had given her a riddle, telling her one door led to the castle and the other led to certain death. She had no way of knowing which was which except by asking them, but one told the truth and one lied, and she could only ask them one question to find out which door to take. It had seemed like an unsolvable riddle back then. How could you establish who was lying when you only had one question? How could you trust which door to take? She had remembered a similar puzzle in a story she had read about a forked road leading to Paradise on one path and Hell on the other; she had never been able to figure it out, sitting in her bedroom idly reading the book, but when she was placed in the situation, when she was faced with the gravity of it all, it suddenly seemed to make sense. She had been so proud of herself when she worked it out, so confident in herself -- and she could do it again, she was sure. Jareth had promised not to hurt her, so neither door could lead to certain death -- she just had to think logically and she'd work it out.

She stood, watching the guards for a moment as she waited for them to tell her the rules; instead, they giggled behind their shields, glancing at her shyly.

Finally, she spoke first: 'What am I supposed to do?'

'Oh, is it a riddle?' one of them, the head poking out of the bottom of the red shield, asked.

'We're meant to ask her the riddle, Alph!' the one in blue answered, a hand reaching out to shove him.

'You never let me have any fun!' Alph griped, pushing him back.

'We're meant to be working!' Alph's top head reprimanded.

'We're always working!' the bottom head whined.

'Well, it's our job,' the one in blue snapped.

'We don't get paid!'

They began to slap at each other, top and bottom heads shouting at each other, trying to hit clumsily over their shields. Sarah stood, awkward. After a moment, she cleared her throat loudly enough to catch their attention. They turned to face her for a moment, the heads on top looking exasperated, the ones on the bottom out of breath. Before she could speak, the one in blue reached over and poked the red guard and the fighting broke out all over again.

'Hey!' Sarah cried, running over to separate them. 'Look -- just, tell me how to get through these doors.'

'Well, first you need to turn the handle,' the top head of one in blue answered sarcastically.

'Ralph! You're meant to give her the riddle!'

'I gave the riddle last time!'

'No you didn't, you liar!'

'You do it!'

'No!'

'Why not?'

'I don't know it!'

'We've been telling it for fifty years, how can you not know it?'

'Not that riddle!'

'We don't know any more riddles!'

'I don't even know the first riddle!'

'But she's the one that was here before; we can't give her the same riddle!'

Sarah had lost track of which head was talking now. She leapt out of the way as Alph began to beat the handle of his spear down on Ralph's head. Ralph's bottom head retaliated by biting at Alph's knees as Alph tried to aim a kick at Ralph's backside. She stood back, watching them for a moment, not sure what to do. They were like bickering children, siblings fighting over the slightest thing. She tried to call their attention back a few times, but they were more interested in fighting with each other than giving the riddle now. Eventually, she stepped over them and crossed over to Ralph's door. Was this the one she had chosen before? She hoped so. Quickly, she swung it open and jumped out of the way, holding her breath as she waited for something terrible to happen. When nothing did, she cautiously walked through on tip-toe. The door slammed shut behind her -- she could hear a muffled ruckus, as if Alph and Ralph had rolled straight into it -- and she carried on. She couldn't believe it. They had seemed so intimidating before -- a life-or-death enigma -- and now... Now they were acting like children! How could things be so different this time around? Alph and Ralph were infantile, and the Wiseman was just a crochety old man... She would be almost grateful for Jareth to take away her memories of the labyrinth now. He was ruining them all anyway.

--

At the end of the passageway was a dark forest. The trees were thick and close together, and it didn't look as if much light made it through the branches. Sarah's feet ached as she trudged her way through, trying to see the castle on the horizon through the darkness. She stepped carefully, watching where she went and trying not to make too much noise. The last time she had been in one of the forests of the labyrinth, the Fire Gang had appeared and had endeavoured to take her head off -- she didn't really feel up to meeting them again. Although, she frowned, her last time running the labyrinth, she had met a lot of interesting creatures, good and bad. And -- she'd made friends. Hoggle hadn't been at the entrance this time, and although she'd seen the door-guards and the so-called Wiseman, they were the only people she had seen. Last time, the maze had been full of goblins, soliders soldiers, talking door-knockers... This time, the only person she'd really met so far was Jareth. And... he was the King here. Was it possible that he was... preventing anyone from helping her? Or -- could he be punishing her friends for helping her last time? He'd said something about losing some respect after she beat him before and he had seemed angry -- could he be retaliating by punishing the people who had helped her? Could he have thrown them in oubilettes, or the Bog of Stench, or could he have...?

She bit down on her lip, trying not to think of the things he could have done. Just because she hadn't seen her friends didn't mean they were in any sort of trouble -- did it? In all the dreams she'd had, she'd never seen them. And it had been years since she'd called for them in her mirror. Anything could have happened to them, and she had no way of knowing about it. And, worst of all, it would be her fault.

She swallowed, wishing they were there, wishing she could talk to them, or that she had made an effort to talk to them before, in her mirror. She'd had her reasons not to, of course; she thought that the more she thought about it during the day, the more weight she put to her experience in the labyrinth, the less of a chance she would have to stop the dreams. But still -- they were her friends, and she had pushed them out of her life. And now--

A twig snapped loudly somewhere to her left, and Sarah froze, frightened. She had been walking for hours and the woods had been quiet until now -- she hadn't even heard the buzz of an insect. Without realising it, Sarah held her breath and peered into the dark trees around her, trying to make out a shape, a creature, hoping it was a friendly one. There was a rustle of dry leaves behind her and she turned again, standing awkward and stiff and she tried to see who, or what, was moving. The next noise came to her immediate left -- oh God, it was right beside her! She screamed as hands grabbed at her. She could feel something pulling at her legs, ripping through the seams of her jeans, grappling for flesh. She kicked out, trying to shake it off, and a voice reprimanded, 'Hey lady! What you do that for?'

'He wurn't hurtin' nobody!'

'We just wanna play!'

She gasped and looked down -- she was surrounded by a group of tiny red and orange creatures, no bigger than mice, and as they climbed up her shoes, swung onto her shins and her knees, she recognised the grinning faces of the Fire Gang.

'You!' she cried, trying to shake one off her leg.

'It's us, baby,' declared the fiery dangling from her elbow.

'And look, it's you, too!' another one cackled.

'But -- but you're tiny!' She tried to move around them, careful not to step on any of them as they grasped for her ankles, pulling at her socks and shoelaces.

'Ain't you got no manners?'

'They don't let you say "tiny" no more, you gotta say "not that big"!'

'Nobody never told you that size don't matter?'

'It's not what you got, it's how you use it!'

'Yeah, we know how to use it!'

They let out a collective laugh. Sarah stared at them, shocked. When she had met the Fire Gang before, they had been almost as tall as her and -- juggling their heads and pulling off their limbs and switching body parts -- they had seemed big and bold and intimidating. She didn't understand how they could be so different now. For a wild moment, Sarah thought she must have grown much taller -- like Alice in Wonderland -- and she frantically tried to remember if she'd eaten anything, but no, she hadn't eaten since she had come here. Looking down at them, Sarah realised she wasn't any bigger than before, they were smaller.

They were about the same size as the field mice her dad had found in the basement one fall. She remembered being so upset when Irene took it upon herself to catch them in traps -- 'Oh for goodness' sake, they're humane, Sarah! -- because, in the back of her mind, the mice had brought her one step closer to the pumpkin carriage, and the fairy godmother, and Prince Charming. She had, truthfully, seen it as an infestation. She had hated the scurrying noises and the holes bitten through the boxes of her mother's old clothes (although, she had reasoned at the time, if Irene hadn't insisted on putting Mom's clothes down there in the first place, it wouldn't have happened) but getting rid of them was just one more imaginary hurt from her step-mother, another thing she had done just to spite her.

Sarah was shocked out of her line of thought when a hand grabbed at the loose material around her knee and yanked hard, trying to bring her down to the ground. It didn't work, she was too heavy, but she heard a distinct tearing noise and another bout of laughter. She moved to swat them away and was surprised to find, not one set of hands, but several. Standing on the forest floor, the Fireys had all taken off their arms and put together a haphazard pole, with fingers clutching elbows, to reach her. She blinked in amazement -- they had terrified her before, pulling out their own eyeballs, stretching out their tongues, ripping off their heads. But now, watching them stand armless as they tried to guide a shaft of squirming hands and what she suspected were feet, it seemed almost laughable. Looking down at them as they scrambled about her feet, Sarah remembered what Jareth had said about the creatures of the labyrinth taking form from her own thoughts and wondered if she had made them this way, if her subconscious mind was making them seem so small. Was it like a dream, a real dream? Was the labyrinth sending her subliminal messages? After all, they had seemed so big, and strong, and scary before -- scratching at her face, tugging at her hair, chasing her, intent on taking off her head -- and now... It was as if the problems of her youth were smaller and less significant now -- like heated, blown up arguments over field mice -- and maybe they were. She had grown up a lot since she was last here. And soon she would be able to put it all behind her, once and for all.

With renewed confidence, Sarah stepped over the Fireys and walked on. Within a few steps, she was too far ahead for them to catch up with her, and she didn't look back. Their shouts and cries soon faded into nothing, but the thought still haunted her: if all of this was taken subliminally from her mind, if everything meant something, what did it all mean?

--

The little light that made its way through the gnarled branches was dim now. Sarah stifled a yawn as she tried to work out how many hours were left but time moved so differently here that it was hard to tell. She was almost beginning to wish for Jareth to show up, just so long as he brought a clock with him. She had been walking through these woods for hours -- she was certain of that, although she didn't seem to be getting any closer to the castle -- and her body was protesting the journey. She could feel the swell of blisters on her feet, and the sharp pain where the skin of her heels had ripped against her shoes. The muscles in her legs felt heavy and tired; her neck tight and tense. The pain was next to nothing compared with how hungry she was, though. She hadn't eaten or drank anything since about four or five in the morning -- although she couldn't tell how many hours ago that had been. Ten? Twelve? Long enough that her body was noticing it. That was why the little brick cottage she had stumbled upon, alone in the middle of a small clearing, had seemed like a god-send at first. She was hoping the owner would be kind enough to give her something to eat and let her use the bathroom (please, please don't let it be an out-house) before she had to carry on, but when she drew closer to it, it became obvious that the owner wasn't the type of person who liked unexpected company. A wooden fence, postered plastered with a series of 'Keep Out' signs, guarded a well-tended garden and she could see keyholes for several locks in the front door. She supposed that someone living alone in the middle of the woods was someone who didn't want to tolerate neighbours, but the heavy shutters completely blocking any light from the windows seemed a little much. After a moment's hesitation, Sarah walked up and chapped on the door anyway, hoping they might be more friendly than they seemed, but if anybody was in, they didn't answer. She sighed, resolving herself to a long, hungry journey. She walked around the side of the house and stopped, frozen, when she saw the peach tree.

It was thick and crooked, standing a good few feet taller than she was, but the branches were so laden with fruit that they drooped down to just within her arm's reach. Pink flowers blossomed out around the fruit. A gentle breeze pulled some petals loose and spun them through the air in a burlesque dance. The scent of the peaches caught on the wind and surrounded her, and she winced. She had been wary of peaches for years now, ever since the first time she had come to the labyrinth and she had eaten a drugged one. She eyed the tree cautiously, not sure if she should really be eating another one. She wasn't even sure she could -- the smell was making her feel queasy. But then, she wasn't very likely to find anything else to eat in this place, and it could be hours and hours yet until she reached the castle. She frowned, struggling with the choice. Hoggle had told her that Jareth had given the drugged peach to him to give her -- this, she reasoned, was a tree growing on someone's private property. It couldn't be drugged; it couldn't have the same effect on her. Her stomach gave another growl and, feeling light-headed from having so little sleep and running so far through the labyrinth, she made her decision. Reaching out, she plucked a plump, fleshy one from the tree. She was surprised at the weight of it in her hand. It was perfect; not too firm and not too soft, and perfectly formed, too. She eyed it suspiciously for a moment, a thought at the back of her mind warning her that it was too perfect, and that nothing was what it seemed in this place. But, no -- no, she was just being paranoid because of what had happened last time. Wasn't she? There was no way... Was there? She sighed, impatient with herself. She needed to eat, she really did. Just a few bites would give her the energy she so desperately needed at this point to make it out of the woods. Resolving herself to it, Sarah brought the fruit to her lips and, trying not to take notice of the smell or the taste, trying to hold back the overwhelming rush of memories, bit deeply into it. She paused for a moment, as if waiting for the sky to suddenly fall, but nothing happened. Relieved, she began to chew on her mouthful slowly, growing more and more confident, and then swallowed. And then she collapsed.

--

Sarah was walking through an empty ballroom, her footsteps echoing loudly all around her. How had she gotten here? She couldn't remember. What was she doing again? She couldn't shake the feeling that she was forgetting something, as if she was meant to be looking for something but she didn't know what it was. It was as if she were in a dream; she knew she had a purpose, but not what it was. It was blurry and undefined in her mind. Trying to remember what it was felt like trying to catch smoke, and whenever she caught a hold of it, it disappeared immediately, melting away from her. But she felt light-headed and too tired to worry about it now. She was sure she would remember what it was once she saw it.

The room seemed eerily familiar. Chandeliers, dripping with expensive-looking beads and jewels, hung just above her head and tall metal candelabras, with jewelled strings stretched across them like cob-webs, blocked the floor. Sarah looked around in quiet awe. The entire room was monochromatic, as if all the colour had burned away and all that was left was just a blur of grey. There wasn't even any discernable black or white -- only shades of grey. The room was drenched in shadow. Flickering flames barely lifted the darkness but there wasn't much to see. There were no doors or windows, just smooth wall all around her, decorated with torn veils and strings of beads. She crossed the floor slowly, taking it all in. The tall heels of her shoes tapped loudly against the stone floor as she went and the noise filled the room, as if there were hundreds of dancers.

She caught a glimpse of movement in the shadows at the back of the room and ran towards it, thinking vaguely that she had found what she was supposed to be looking for. A woman, dressed in an elaborate white ball gown, stood in the shadows, regal and proud. She was beautiful. Her neck and wrists were weighted with pearls and a delicate jewelled crown rested on a bed of hair strewn with silver. Sarah took a step towards her and the woman took a step, too. Sarah stopped, and then, for the first time, noticed it was just a mirror. She looked critically at her reflection, trying to see something she recognised, but the face was like a stranger's. The reflection seemed older than she was, more mature. Something in her posture, in the way she held herself. It didn't look anything like her. Sarah gave a sigh of disappointment, and her reflection, trapped inside an elaborate silver frame, sighed back. She began to turn away, thinking she should check the rest of the room for a door or a way out, but she stopped, frowning, and looked back at the mirror. Something wasn't right. It took her a moment to realise that her reflection wasn't turning with her. She raised a hand to touch the glass, thinking it couldn't possibly be real, but the surface was cold and solid under her palm. She began to trace her hands around the frame, looking for a way to open it as the reflection inside watched her with a quiet smile, folding its arms across its chest. Startled, she pushed at the glass and then began to pound on it, looking for a way inside, but it was just a normal, flat mirror. The reflection inside gave a soundless laugh and waved at her.

Sarah turned to walk away, unnerved, but there was another mirror right behind her. Had that been there before? She couldn't remember. She recognised the reflection inside this one, though. It was definitely her, but a younger version of her. It looked fourteen or fifteen, maybe. It was wearing a cardboard crown, cheap plastic pearls, and too many layers of thick, uneven lipstick. It was almost a mockery of the first mirror. Sarah stood rooted as it mouthed words she couldn't hear. She caught movement from the corner of her eye and turned to see another mirror, another reflection. It was younger, a lot younger, sitting on the bottom of the mirror and staring up past Sarah, into the mirrored surface at its mother behind it, who was brushing its hair and talking lowly. She turned quickly, trying to move past it, but more and more mirrors stood behind it, blocking her path. Reflections young and old, laughing, screaming, shouting, crying. All were wordless, but it was all directed, she knew, at her. Tears prickled at her eyes as she tried to shove her way through the mirrors, not caring if they broke, not caring if she hurt herself, but there were too many of them now. They were surrounding her, walling her in. She became frantic, kicking at the frames, clawing at the air behind them, desperate for a way out -- and then, as suddenly as they had appeared, they were gone. All but one. Sarah stood, breathing heavily for a moment, eyeing it warily. She wasn't reflected in this one. Instead, a man stood inside, tall and imposing. Long blond hair, streaked with blue, fell to his shoulders, and he was dressed in a brilliant, grandiose suit which sparkled as it caught the light. She didn't recognise him -- he was holding a mask over his face, which came to his cheeks and then cut off to show a sneering smile -- but she felt as if she knew him. (Was this who she had been looking for, she wondered idly.) She walked forward, watching the unmoving reflection curiously. She reached out a trembling hand to touch the glass, but there was none -- her hand came to rest on his chest. She pulled her hand back quickly, as if he'd burned her, and fell back a few steps in shock. His smile grew wider -- at her touch or her fear, she didn't know -- and he revealed a row of sharp, white teeth. They stood, watching each other silently, and suddenly it all felt very familiar. Her mouth felt dry. She hesitated for a moment and then moved forward again, stepping through the mirror frame. She raised a steady hand to take the mask off of him. He simply stood, still and compliant, as she took his hand in her own and pulled it down to his side, slowly revealing his face. First pale, smooth skin, then striking blue eyes, one pupil so much larger than the other that the entire eye looked dark in comparison. She knew him. She knew she knew him, but she wasn't sure why or where from -- but, then, it didn't seem to matter. He watched her with an infuriating half-smile that seemed to say everything and tell nothing at the same time, and it fascinated her. With slow, deliberate movements, he turned his wrist over so her palm, which had still been resting on top of the soft leather of his glove, was now nested in his. He kept his eyes locked onto hers, silently watching for a reaction as he slid his long fingers over the back of her hand, clasping it firmly in his. She never took her wide-eyed gaze off him as he deftly wrapped his other hand around the small of her back and drew her against his body. Her hips were pressed close to his and she could feel the heat of his skin through the thin material of her gown. He began to step in languid, smooth movements, leading her across the floor without ever taking his eyes off her face, gliding across the room. In an easy motion, he pulled out his arm and twirled her away from him. It was only when he spun her away that she realised they were dancing across the stage of an empty theatre. Had they been here the whole time? She didn't know, and as he gently pivotted pivoted her back on her feet, pulling her back against his chest, it didn't seem to matter. He bent low, his hair grazing across her cheek, and whispered in her ear, but it was hard to concentrate on what he was saying. She could feel his breath tickling against her neck and was all too aware of his hands on her body, holding her to his warmth and the soft drum of his heartbeat. His lips felt warm and dry as they brushed against her ear, forming kisses with every word: 'You little liar.'

She stiffened -- had she heard him right? He felt the movement and pulled her, roughly this time, closer to his chest.

'You feign such naivety, and yet here we are in your erotic, if banal, fantasy.'

She tried to pull away from him, but his arms were around her like a vice.

'I was hoping you would have progressed past the virginal dress. One would think you're playing the part of the blushing bride. The crown is a very nice addition, though, I must say. Almost fit for a queen. Which, I assume, was the intention.'

She tore out of his grip and stared at him, shocked by his insults. His name suddenly crashed into her head: 'Jareth!'

Smiling, he inclined his head in a contemptuous bow. 'So tell me, Sarah, when the proof is all around us, why do you pretend not to want this? Where would your fancy take us next? Hm? I do wonder.'

She pushed away from him and, grabbing up the hems of her dress, ran as fast as she could across the stage, his laughter echoing behind her. Tears welled in her eyes and she rubbed at them frantically, trying to see a way out of this place through the haze. A long mirror stood in front of her in a gilded frame, and she could see Jareth's reflection behind her own, sweeping towards her. Instinctively, she leapt through it, but this time, instead of a room, there was just darkness and the sensation of falling and falling although she didn't know what she was falling into...

--

She woke up with a jolt. Breathing heavily, her heart pumping furiously in her chest, it took Sarah a moment to realise she was lying in the mud at the foot of a large peach tree. The tree was nearly bare, most of the fruit had fallen all around her and burst open, the pulp and sticky juice covering her jeans and shoes. She blinked in confusion, trying to remember what had happened. Had that been real? Was any of this real? She didn't even know any more.

'Why, it can't be! My Lady!'

She blinked and tried to push herself up to look around, but a face suddenly sprung up in front of her, grinning widely. She fell back again in surprise but, as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished. Confused, Sarah pulled herself off the ground and stood. Looking down, she saw Sir Didymus was kneeling at her feet. He rose -- his diminutive frame barely coming to her knee -- and grinned. She stared at him, shocked at first, and then she began to laugh with delight. 'Sir Didymus!' She rushed forward and swept him into a tight hug. 'What are you doing here?'

'Why, it is my sworn duty to patrol these grounds, my Lady,' he said, momentously. 'I have taken an oath! As there no longer stands a bridge to guard, I have sworn, with my life's blood, that none shall pass through this forest without my permission.'

She tried not to giggle as he puffed out his chest with importance.

'May I have your permission?' she asked, remembering the fiasco that came with not asking the simple question sooner last time.

'Yes, my Lady,' he answered, bowing again. 'But to whence dost thou travel without an escort?'

'I need to get to the castle again, Didymus.' She looked at him and, remembering his love of 'noble quests', asked, 'Could you... take me there?'

'It would be an honour, Lady,' he answered.

'Thank you, noble sir,' she replied quickly.

'But -- my Lady,' he began, his one good eye wide with shock. 'You are injured! Who has done this to you? The scoundrel, I'll--' Words seemed to fail him at that point and he began to demonstrate just what he would do with a series of growls and lunges with his sword.

'I'm fine, really. It's just some bumps and bruises. I...' She frowned, wondering what had happened to her. 'I think I fell. I don't know, I was eating a peach and--'

'A peach, my Lady?' Didymus gave her a long, critical look. 'One would think, Lady, that one would have learned one's lesson about eating strange fruit.'

'But it was growing in this person's garden,' she sighed, gesturing at the tree beside them, 'and I thought--'

'You ate fruit from this tree, Lady?' Didymus asked over her.

'Yes, and--'

'Why, but this is valiant Sir Hoggle's garden!'

'This... this is Hoggle's garden?' Sarah turned, examining the house -- the shutters, the locks, the little garden -- and admonished herself for not seeing it sooner. But -- after giving her that drugged peach last time -- she was surprised that Hoggle hadn't taken a disliking to them just as much as she had.

'Yes, my Lady. I was here only yesterday to meet with Brother Ludo and Sir Hoggle, and no tree stood on this land, I would swear my life on it!'

She glared at the tree as another swollen fruit fell to the ground, smashing into pulp. Another trick of the labyrinth then. Jareth may not be able to hurt her or her friends, but he could certainly make himself a nuisance. She frowned as she thought it over. If Hoggle hadn't grown that tree, if the labyrinth or Jareth had put it there, did that mean he had planned for her to have that dream? And -- and if so... Had it been real? Had he really been there with her?

But that just brought up more questions. If it had been real, if he'd been dancing with her, so close she was sure he'd been about to kiss her at any moment -- butterflies seemed to rise in her stomach at the thought, but she tried to ignore them -- then why had he insulted her? Why had he ruined the, well, romance? Not that she wanted to be romantic with Jareth, of course not! He had kidnapped her brother and sent the Cleaners after her, and... and she shouldn't be attracted to him.

He had told her before -- and she still didn't know if she believed it, but he had told her -- that she could control the labyrinth. She didn't know how, but he'd said so. And he'd said that he and the labyrinth were connected, hadn't he? So... So, in her dream, could she have subconsciously made him insult her so she'd remember who he was and wake up? Her head had felt so hazy and she was going along with him so easily, but maybe -- latently -- she still knew who he was and knew she didn't want to be, well, romantic with him?

It was difficult to admit, now that she was awake and away from it all, just how far she had been willing to go along with him. Just what she had, well, wanted to happen. Had that really been her? Had she really been willing to give up so much, so easily? Or -- maybe it was another trick of Jareth's. Maybe he had been trying to seduce her and then her subconscious took over and made him speak like he normally would? (Or, her stomach sank at the thought, was it more likely to be the other way around?)

She couldn't begin to understand Jareth or how she felt about him. It was a confusion of raw emotions she didn't want to untangle. But she would never have to, she reminded herself. Once she solved the labyrinth, he would be out of her mind, and out of her dreams, and out of her life forever.

And frankly, it couldn't happen fast enough.

--

Didymus walked ahead of her up the little stone path of the cottage and chapped loudly on the door. She could hear a gruff voice grumbling inside, but she couldn't work out what it was saying. Eventually, the door swung open. Hoggle stood silently in the doorway, obviously surprised at first, but he quickly recovered and looked at them with a bored expression.

'Oh, it's you.' He turned away, walking back into a small kitchen. 'You'll be wanting in, I suppose.'

'My Lady has bequeathed my services as guide and protector on a noble mission to the castle!' Didymus beamed, trotting into the house as if he hadn't noticed Hoggle's mood. 'And she requests yourself and my brave Brother Ludo to join us in our quest!'

'Oh, has she?' Hoggle groused.

'Indeed!'

'Hello Hoggle,' Sarah said softly, smiling at him. If he had heard her, he ignored her completely, but she was just relieved to see that he was all right. Jareth had dumped them both in the Bog of Stench when she'd kissed him in gratitude, she was glad to see that he hadn't done worse after he'd helped her to the castle.

'Ludo's through there,' he muttered, gesturing towards an adjoining room. 'Eating half my cupboards, and probably the furniture to boot.'

Didymus ambled in, but Sarah stayed, watching Hoggle as he busied himself at the kitchen counter, putting a kettle onto boil and then returning to some half-chopped vegetables. He deliberately kept his back to her, not saying a word.

Eventually, she stepped forward, speaking softly. 'Are you mad at me? For not calling you?'

'I won't say I wasn't... hmm... well, I won't say I wasn't in any rate.' He threw down a tea towel and turned around to face her. 'You said we was friends, Sarah, an' I believed you.'

'We were! We are friends, Hoggle!'

'Then how comes you never called fer me? Or you never came ta see me all them times you came ta the lab'rinth?'

'How do you know about that?'

'Oh, the whole kingdom knows about it! The goblins don't do nothin' but prattle on about how you keep callin' fer Jareth.'

'It's not on purpose!' she cried at the expression on his face. 'I keep having dreams about it and he's in them--'

'Oh, is he?'

'It's not like I want him there.' She talked quickly, not stopping to consider whether or not that was true. 'I don't even want to have the dreams! That's why I need to solve the labyrinth, to stop them!'

'Well, you can forget about askin' me ta help you. I don't want none of your jewellery and none of of your plastic, an' nothin' you can say can change my mind.'

As he reached out to take the kettle off the boil, she realised he was still wearing her plastic bracelet -- the one she had given him years ago -- on his wrist. He saw it too and quickly pulled it off, thrusting it towards her. 'Here, you can take this back. I ain't your friend and I don't want it no more.'

'You are my friend, Hoggle,' she sighed, following him as he moved around the kitchen. 'And I'm sorry, but -- but I have to leave, don't you see? I can't keep dreaming about this place.'

'Well, I ain't helpin' ya to the castle so ya can go ahead an' forget all about me. No. If ya want help, ya can look someplace else for it.'

Ludo burst through the door, having to duck to stop from shooting through the roof, and bellowed, 'Sawah!'

Before she could say anything else to Hoggle, Ludo had grabbed her up in a crushing hug, smothering her face against his thick, coarse fur. 'Sawah fwiend!'

Hoggle made a disgusted noise.

'Come, my brothers in arms!' Didymus exclaimed. 'It is time we began on our long and arduous crusade!'

'Well, you can count me out,' Hoggle griped.

'Sir Hoggle,' Didymus cried, astonished. 'You mean not to accompany us on our quest to the castle?'

'I mean ta stay just where I is. An' I've told you before, you ninny,' he grumbled, 'I'm a habity creature--'

'You mean a "creature of habit"?' Sarah interupted.

'Oh, yes, yes,' he sighed, 'one of those, too. An' I ain't goin' on no quests.'

Ludo stared at him, his whole body drooping. 'Ludo sad!'

'But-- but, Sir Hoggle!' Didymus stammered.

'Hoggle, please.' She looked at him softly, imploringly.

He huffed, and folded his arms.

'Please,' she said again. 'I need you.'

He frowned and then threw his hands up in the air. 'Well I ain't goin' all the way to the castle. An' this don't mean that I forgive you.'

She grinned as he stood up and threw her arms around him in a hug. 'But it does mean that we're still friends,' she said happily.

'Oooh, give me that,' he said grumpily, snatching the bracelet back off her. That was the closest she was going to get to a proper exchange of apologies, she knew.

'Well, what are we waiting for?' he asked impatiently, shooing them all out of the door.

--

Sarah stood with Hoggle and Ludo, explaining more about the dreams and why she needed to stop them, as Didymus called for his 'steed', Ambrosious, and tried to mount him. Ambrosious was not a horse but a large, fluffy English Sheepdog. In fact, he was strangely reminiscent of her own pet dog, Merlin. As Sarah told her friends about what Jareth had said, she wondered if it all really was an effect of the labyrinth. Was her mind transposing her own memories onto this place? She didn't feel she could take anything Jareth said at face-value, but the proof of it seemed to be building up against her.

Didymus led their way through the forest, Ludo behind him practically bulldozing a path through the thick trees. As Sarah looked at her old friends, she couldn't help but wonder why Jareth had never punished them. She had made it one of the rules of their game, this time, that he couldn't hurt them, but as King, what had stopped him from punishing them before? He had said that, although they looked different for her, they were the same personalities; surely siding with her, their treason against the King, was still their own choice? It couldn't have been because she'd, well, expected it, could it? No -- no, it couldn't be. After they'd found her, after Hoggle had given her the peach, she had given him his things back and fully expected him to want to leave. It had been his choice to come with her, definitely. They must be making up their own minds, making their own decisions. But that made even less sense: Didymus had said that he had taken an oath to guard the forest -- she assumed that meant from Jareth or from one of his sub-ordinates at least. That meant he hadn't forgotten about them. So why hadn't he punished them? He didn't seem like the forgiving type.

Had it... Sarah swallowed; a tight feeling in her stomach. Had it been because she had wanted them to be okay? She may not control them but Jareth had said he was her slave. If she didn't want them to be harmed...

'Be sure of thy foot, my Lady,' Didymus called, snapping her out of her thoughts. 'This is treacherous ground!'

She nodded in agreement, but she doubted he could see. Night had fallen on the Underground and the sky was sheer black overhead. Scarce beams of moonlight occasionally broke through the tangled, intertwining branches, which were, themselves, barely a noticeable shade of black darker than the sky, but it was difficult to see anything but the blackness surrounding her. There was something primitively frightening about walking through the dark, she found. Walking into the unknown. Anything could be right ahead, waiting for her, and she wouldn't know until it was much too late. Maybe it was a childish fear, the way children are afraid of monsters in the corners of the room at night, but it wasn't one she could escape easily. She took small steps, trying to find her footing, but she stumbled a few times and grabbed a hold of Hoggle's arm to steady herself. He made an impatient noise every time, something between a sigh and a groan, and carried on, not waiting to see if she was all right. The darkness didn't seem to affect him. Maybe he could see better through it, living in the labyrinth, or maybe it was a passive sort of revenge.

Every now and then, they found a clearing, a place where the trees gave way and let the moonlight through. The sky was near black but she could make out the distortions of clouds sliding across it, a little lighter against the sky, giving the impression of ink blotted across wet paper. She could see the stars so clearly, flickering spots of silver light burning brightly in the sky. It was beautiful. Did the sky look like this in her own world? The sky back home was so polluted with artificial light that you could barely see the stars at night time. Were there really this many? Or was this just another fancy of the labyrinth? Or of her own mind?

The thought worried her. As she thought back on all the interesting people and strange creatures and incredible things she had met last time, as she thought about the Wiseman who wouldn't help her, and the door-knockers which were just door-knockers, and the sheer nothingness all around her now, she began to wonder: in giving up the labyrinth, was she also giving up her imagination? Her dreams?

She had thought, confronting the labyrinth again, that she would have to face all of the wonders and terrors that she had before. See shadows of the past which had haunted her dreams for so long spark back to life. Face her beloved remembrances and release them. It wasn't at all as she had expected, none of it was. Everything seemed so little and insignificant now, spectres of the things they had once been.

Was this the person she was without her silly dreams and childish stories -- a girl, walking through the dark, with no idea of where she was going? Or -- was that what she had always been? Had she invented the rest, the drama, the fantasy, to help her pretend there was more, more to her, more to life, than just this? What was the labyrinth trying to tell her? What was she trying to tell herself that she found so hard to face?

She didn't know the answers. She wasn't sure she wanted to.

She tried to pull herself away from that line of thought, looking for a distraction. Hoggle was uncharacteristically quiet walking beside her. Was he still angry with her? She sighed, pushing her hands into her jean pockets. She didn't want to leave this place with him angry at her, barely on speaking terms. They would never see each other again and it didn't seem right, somehow, to part badly. She looked down, trying to see him in the darkness, but she couldn't make out his expression in the failing light.

'You're being pretty quiet.'

He gave a grunt. She waited for a few moments, hoping he would say something, anything. They walked on in silence.

'I have to do this, you know,' she said finally, although she didn't know how to convince him it was true. Still no response. 'Hoggle, please.'

He sighed. 'What do you want me to say? I ain't happy about it, and I ain't goin' to pretend I am neither.'

'Don't you see? I need to do this. I have to stop the dreams, Hoggle. It's not that I want to forget this place, it's just... I've got to.'

'So you keep sayin'. Don't know who you're tryin' to convince, though.'

'What do you mean?'

'Just what I said, is all.'

Sarah suddenly felt very tired and very unsure. 'I told you about that dream with the walls closing in,' she began, still struggling to see his face in the poor light. 'I could really get hurt if I don't stop them, and...'

'I'm helpin' you, ain't I?' he muttered, his tone harsh and sharp.

'I know, and I'm grateful, I am, but... You've got to understand--' She stopped, thinking over the words, weighing whether or not she should say them before drawing a deep breath and blurting out: 'I need to grow up.' She faltered, hesitating when he didn't respond. 'I mean, I have college and my job and...'

She trailed off and he said nothing for a long moment. The air between them was thick with tension, with the things said and left unsaid.

'Just seems to me,' he said finally, in a tone of voice she didn't recognise, 'that you keeps sayin' that. But then the doors won't open, and the walls trap you in, an' the labyrinth's fallin' over itself to keep you here.'

She folded her arms across her chest almost defensively. 'That's just part of the game, though, isn't it?'

'You tell me,' he spat. 'You is the one playin' it. All I'm sayin' is, if you keep dreamin' about this place, and it won't let you leave, maybe there's a reason for it.'

'But I have to--'

'Oh, "have to" nothin'!' he cried. 'You is just the same as you always was, Sarah. Actin' all smart as if you know it all when you don't know squat.'

'Oh, and I suppose you know me better than I know myself now?' The words tumbled out much louder and sharper than she meant them, and when Hoggle next spoke, his tone carried a defensive edge: 'I ain't sayin' that. I'm just pointin' it out to ya because it's about time someone did.'

He increased his pace, marching ahead of her, and she let him go. How dare he? How dare he? Just what was he trying to say? That she was still a child? Or still childish? He didn't know her at all! They hadn't talked in years, how dare he make presumptions about her! How dare he act as if he knew the slightest thing about what she was thinking, feeling! (She hardly knew herself any more.)

Sir Didymus's voice, shrill with outrage, carried over easily to where she stood, a few metres behind the rest of the group: 'How darest thou speak in such a manner to a lady! Especially a fair maiden of such bravery and wisdom as my Lady Sarah! She is kind, and pure, and of noble birth!'

Hoggle gave a loud, indignant snort.

'Sir Hoggle, if thou were not my friend and my comrade on this daring quest, I would challenge you to a duel this very moment to defend my Lady's honour, I swear it!'

'I ain't gonna apologise,' Hoggle sniffed. ''Cause I ain't wrong, and you all know it. If ya ask me, she don't really want to leave this place at all. Probably makes her feel special comin' here all the time. Talkin' to kings. She still don't want to face facts.'

'Sir Hoggle--' Didymus's tone was notably clipped '--I am quite certain I do not follow your meaning.'

'Oh, maybe she wants to feel all grown up but her world's all work and she don't like it, so she's turnin' ours into her own little fairy story, all being courted by kings and happy ever afters. You know this place grants wishes. The labyrinth's keepin' her here 'cause she don't want to go. Maybe she thinks she should, but it don't mean she wants to. We can half kill ourselves gettin' her to the castle in time, but she won't get out of here, you mark my words. Not 'til she's proper ready to go.'

Ludo said something, a low mournful noise that Sarah couldn't understand, and with a grumble, Hoggle carried on ahead. Sarah stayed where she was, feeling weak and tired as her anger fell away. Something in Hoggle's words rang, horribly, sickeningly true. Was it true? If the labyrinth could take form and make challenges from her mind... It was too horrible a thought to pursue, but the little nagging voice at the back of her mind was becoming impossible to ignore. Of course she was attracted to a world of magic and interesting creatures, but... But surely...

Was it really her doing this? All of this? Had it been her all along? Was she forcing herself to grow up, just to please her dad, and her tutors, and to put this, the labyrinth, safely in the past? The thought wasn't as frightening as the thought that she didn't really want to. What did she want? Jareth's words sounded in her mind, mocking and cold: You want so many things. Wanting them and not wanting them all at the same time.

She swallowed dryly. What Hoggle had said about Jareth, about her enjoying being with him... It was ridiculous, of course it was! She didn't want Jareth! He was her adversary! He kidnapped her brother, for God's sake! And Jareth wasn't courting her... Although... Although that dream had been, well, romantic. And... And up until he'd insulted her, she had... She was ashamed and reluctant to admit it, even within her own head. somehow putting words to those niggling little thoughts and feelings she didn't want to process would give them form and substance, would make them more real. And much, much harder to deny. She had enjoyed it.

--

'The castle lies yonder, my Lady!'

The sky seemed to lighten as they walked out of the forest, the thickly packed trees now ebbing into short, thin-limbed saplings, light falling freely over their branches. A grassy hill, the grass moist and springy under her feet, sloped just as the woods ended and, at the bottom, she could make out the all-too-familiar gates leading into the Goblin City. Sir Didymus charged straight ahead, with Ludo at his side. Hoggle, she found, was dwindling his pace again, just a few steps in front of her. He was deliberately staring at the ground, refusing to look at her. Was he sorry, now, for what he had told her earlier? Or just angry, still? After a moment's hesitation, she reached down to tap his shoulder. He turned around sharply.

'Hoggle, listen, I'm... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you.'

He pursed his lips together and said nothing, giving her the distinct impression that he was physically holding in an insult. Finally, he let it out with a quiet sigh, and looked at her for the first time in hours. 'I don't have many friends, you know. There's only you and those two--' he jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards Didymus and Ludo -- 'an' they don't count for much. Half a brain between 'em, maybe. An'... an' I don't like the thought of losin' any of ya.'

She nodded and pressed her lips together, not really knowing what to say. Hoggle eyed her warily.

'Look, I said what I had to say, an' it's said an' it's done with now. No one can make ya do anythin' ya don't want to do.' He stopped to roll his eyes dramatically. 'Not you of all people.'

She let out a laugh and began down the hill again, Hoggle walking at her side, to reach the others.

They stood at the gates of the Goblin City, the goblins milling around them, watching them with mild interest but -- thankfully -- not taking up arms like they had last time. She frowned, watching them, wondering if it could be a trick. He'd said that, last time, she had expected a battle and maybe that was true -- but she was half expecting one this time and there didn't seem to be any signs of one. Or -- maybe it was because she didn't want a fight. She was tired, a headache pounding from her lack of sleep, her muscles protesting the climbing and hiking they most certainly weren't used to and her feet throbbing with blisters. Was this her subconscious controlling the labyrinth? Or -- controlling Jareth?

They walked through the city gates in distrusting silence, each of them carefully eyeing the goblins bustling around them, waiting for a battle call, watching for any sudden movements. But none came. They made it to the castle without incident. Ludo easily opened the doors of the castle and they stepped into the cold, empty hallway, their footsteps echoing throughout the corridor. Sarah turned to face her friends and gave each of them a long, tight hug, especially paying attention to Hoggle, who blushed and looked away.

'Thank you -- all of you. But I need to do this last part on my own.'

Didymus nodded and, although Hoggle looked like he wanted to object, he said nothing. She felt as if she should say something to him, a proper goodbye. She was about to say 'I won't forget you', but it wasn't true. She was going to forget all of this once she found the crystal. All the bad bits, all the good bits. She pressed her lips together and looked at Hoggle, searching for the right words. 'You'll always be important to me,' she said finally. 'And -- and I'm sorry. I wish I didn't have to forget all of this.'

'It's past eleven o'clock,' Hoggle muttered quietly and she nodded.

'Thank you.'

'Good-bye Sawah,' Ludo managed, as Didymus dropped into a sweeping bow.

She held back tears as she turned away and began up the staircase that led into Jareth's throne room.

The room was empty apart from the throne itself; Jareth was spread across it, his legs over one arm, his back against the other, looking into an empty crystal he was spinning in his fingers. He didn't look at her as he spoke.

'Another wish, Sarah? When are you going to admit it? You don't really want to forget this place. You don't really want to forget me.'

'You don't know,' she answered harshly, 'what I want.'

'Yes, I do.' He waved his hand as if he was brushing off her objection and stood slowly to his feet. 'I know your inner most secrets. Your darkest desires.' He began to step towards her in a slow, deliberate pace, his eyes -- burning with intent -- locked onto her own. 'I know all your wishes, even the ones you don't dare make aloud. After all, you made me what I am.'

'But...' She faltered, finding it hard to understand what he was saying. He was staring at her with those distracting eyes, and his body was so close, too close -- the over-powering scent of leather and spice -- and her stomach twisted uncomfortably, her heart pounding furiously in her chest. She frowned, forcing herself to concentrate, to understand his words. 'You said I see you exactly as you are.'

'And you do. Powerful. Handsome. Frightening.' Closer and closer still. 'Don't you understand yet? I am everything I am for you. You want me to be a villain, and so I am. You want me to be cruel and manipulative, you need it. You need me to huff and puff and perform the part of the pantomine foe so you can dress up and play hero. You need me to be the sinner so you can become a saint.'

'No, I--'

He shot out a hand and pressed a gloved finger against her lips to silence her. He cradled her chin in his hand, his thumb stroking softly across her cheek. He leaned in close, and his voice was a low, sultry murmur. 'Don't deny it, Sarah. You can't deny me, just as I can't deny you' -- she swallowed dryly as his voice dropped an octave -- 'anything.'

He leaned in closer, his body barely pressing against her, testing and teasing.

'You want this. You want me to be dark and seductive. You want me to charm you and entice you and be oh so very tempting. You want me to fulfill the secret romantic longings of a young girl's heart, and so here I am.'

He was closer now, so much closer. And a voice at the back of her mind was telling her it was too close, far too close, and it was all a trick and not to listen, but when he was so close to her (oh, so close that every whisper of his lips just caught her own in a gentle caress; when she could feel his warm, soft breath against her cheeks; and his fingers were lightly smoothing over her hair, the strands slipping through his gloved fingers, his palm resting so comfortably at the base of her skull), it was hard to pay attention to it. To anything. His words washed over her easily, and she stared at him, her lips parted, her breathing shallow, waiting... 'I am your slave, Sarah, don't you see?' he growled lowly, his lips tracing the words against her own. 'I am slave to you and your every challenge of the labyrinth, as is the labyrinth itself. Just as the maze changes, just as the inhabitants take different form, so must I do as you wish.' He tilted his head, watching for her reaction as he drawled carelessly, 'Has no one ever taught you to be careful what you wish for?'

In that moment, he seemed to transform. His eyes which had been soft with promises now seemed black and cold, his face was all sharp, harsh planes and his whole posture seemed stiff with purpose. Or had he been like that the whole time, just talking to her so seductively that she hadn't noticed? Instinctively, she moved to take a step back, but the hand that had caressed her hair now seized a handful of it roughly and tugged her back forward. One hand clamped at the back of her head while the other gripped her around the waist, forcing her forward, pressing her body tightly against his.

She could just see a glint of ferociously sharp teeth as he hissed: 'Just -- in case -- you get it,' and then his mouth was upon hers in a bruising kiss.

It was brutal and punishing; his lips were pressed hard against her, forcing her mouth open. His tongue penetrated her mouth savagely, and she whimpered as she tried to push him away, but he was too strong. It shouldn't be like this, not when he was only doing it to hurt her -- but she found herself kissing back anyway, trying to soften the kiss, to turn it into something different.

He broke away, shooting her a look of disgust, of contempt.

'Can you imagine, Sarah,' he asked, his voice low, his eyes flashing with anger. 'How it feels for a being as ancient and powerful as me to be duty-bound to fulfill the hapless fantasies of every snot-nosed half-wit who challenges my labyrinth? To have to become a thing they fear and desire? I was forced -- forced -- to seduce you. It was your will, and I was bent to it. It was a distraction to stop you from reaching the child, but one you devised yourself, the dreams of a young girl... Did you honestly think, all this time, that I actually wanted you?' He gave a cruel sneer. 'You were fifteen! I have clothes with more maturity and experience. Oh, but you wanted romance. You wanted dancing, and gentle seduction, and a proposal of marriage. So you got it. I hope I haven't tarnished the memory.'

He pushed away from her and, with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.

Sarah fell to the ground and cried.

--

She sobbed, long, hard, aching sobs, until the clock behind her chimed. She stood to her feet, rubbing at her eyes to clear her vision. It was twelve o'clock. She swallowed, pulling herself together. She needed to find the crystal. She needed to concentrate and get through this, or else...

Or else it didn't bear thinking about. How would she get through it, being stuck here with him? What would he do to her? She couldn't begin to work out how she felt about Jareth. He was wonderful and terrible all at once, because you couldn't have wonder without terror to compare it to, to know what it is. And -- and maybe she had made him that way.

She knew, although it was hard to admit, even to herself, that she was only so upset because so much of what he had said rang true. She had wanted a dashing prince as much as she had wanted a cruel adversary. She had wanted a real fairy tale adventure, and she had got it. But if it had all been her, if he'd never really meant the things he'd said, if he'd never really wanted her...

She rubbed stubbornly at her eyes, trying not to think about it, but she couldn't banish the line of thought from her mind. She had felt so beautiful and so powerful with the attention of a magical king on her -- as if she was special, as if, just for once, she was the only person someone cared about.

She had dated boys, kissed and fumbled and done all the things that teenage girls did, but it had never felt right. They had never felt right. She never got butterflies in her stomach, or sweaty palms, or breathlessness when they just shot her a look. Jareth was everything she wanted, even if she didn't want to admit it. And to find out that it hadn't been real...

He didn't want her. He didn't love her. It had all been part of her stupid, childish dreams. And it wasn't fair. Not on either of them.

--

Sarah found him lounging leisurely against a staircase in the room that looked like an M. C. Eischer Escher drawing, impossible staircases, defying gravity, running up and down at every conceivable angle. It took her a few moments, battling confusion and nausea, to get used to running up and down the stairs, trying to work out how to reach him. Finally, breathless, she reached the level he stood at and, trying to seem confident and unaffected by what had happened earlier, said, 'Give me the crystal.'

'What makes you think I have it?' he asked, pushing himself off the staircase.

'You said I would win if I found the crystal and--'

'And I never said the crystal would be in my castle. You were simply taking it for granted. Really, Sarah, do you take me for a simpleton? I make an effort never to use the same hiding place twice.'

'But -- you tricked me!' she cried.

'Yes,' he answered simply, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. 'I did. Because you wanted me to. I told you before, I am a villain because you wish it, Sarah. If I tricked you, it's because you wanted me to. If I hid the crystal from you, maybe it's because you don't really want to leave this place. Maybe you would rather fulfill your fantasies of living with the Goblin King.'

'Or maybe it's because you're a cheating bastard!'

He threw his head back and let out a throaty laugh. 'Such words for a young lady.'

She stared at him, shaking with indignation. 'Where is it?'

He moved around her again, aimlessly tossing an empty crystal back and forth in his hands, deliberately riling her. 'Where is what?'

'Where is the crystal?'

'It is back at the beginning of the labyrinth. It was behind you when you started, you never once looked at it. Such a pity.'

'What?'

He stood in front of her, grinning, pleased with himself. 'They say ignorance is bliss, I didn't have the heart to tell you.'

His entire chest began to shake with laughter as she pushed past him, looking at the clock on the wall -- it was twenty minutes to thirteen o'clock. She would never make it.

'It isn't fair! It isn't fair!' she screamed, and he laughed even harder behind her.

'Oh Sarah,' he smiled, 'whenever will you learn? Life isn't fair, the labyrinth isn't fair, and I most certainly am not fair. But don't worry -- I'll have years and years to teach you.'

She pressed her lips together and looked away. She wasn't going to cry, not in front of him.

'Tick, tock, tick, tock,' he breathed slowly in her ear, circling her like a shark. 'Time is running out, dear thing. I would run if I were you.'

Tears stung at her eyes and she closed them quickly, refusing to let him see how upset she was. That was it -- she had lost. She would never be able to make it back to the beginning of the labyrinth in time and he knew it. It had taken her over twelve hours to get here! She choked back a sob. So this was it; it was over. She had lost and now she was going to be stuck in the labyrinth for... for who knew how long? What would he do to her? What ways would he find to humiliate and degrade her in front of her friends and his subjects? If she was under his rule then he wouldn't be under her power, subconscious or not, and he wouldn't have any reason to hold back. She blanched, trying not to think about it. Instead, she concentrated on her family and her friends. Would she ever see them again? She thought of her father and wondered what he would do when he realised she was missing. How long would it take for people to notice she was gone? Would her room-mate notice? Oh God, why hadn't she gotten to know her better? They were like ships passing in the night, they didn't speak much and she didn't know Sarah's dad's number to call. The university wouldn't react to a student missing tutorials; it wouldn't be until she didn't turn up for her exams that they'd send a letter out. That would be weeks, months even! But -- her work would call her dorm when she missed a shift though, wouldn't they? And then people would realise. Oh God, what would they think? What would Toby think? What would they tell him?

She thought of her family and the tears became harder to control. If you forgot about the labyrinth when you left, did it work the way around, too? Would she begin to forget about her family and friends? Would he keep her here until she'd forgotten her old life all together?

'In eleven minutes and forty-six seconds,' Jareth trilled somewhere behind her, 'you'll be mine.'

She whirled around to face him. 'No.'

He raised an eyebrow at her and grinned. 'Unless you're hiding wings inside that shirt, Sarah--' he paused, eyeing her up and down before continuing, '--which is doubtful, then I think your chances of reaching the crystal now are quite slim.'

'You keep telling me I control this place,' she said, stepping towards him. 'So this is it. I'm taking control. I refuse to stay here, and I'm commanding you to send me home.'

'Such pretty words,' he drawled, 'but you're wasting them. We have a binding agreement. You can't leave this place until the game is over, which is when you find the crystal or we reach the thirteenth hour. You agreed that if you lost you would stay here and I agreed to send you back to your world if you won. And you don't appear to be winning.'

She glared at him, clenching her fists. There had to be a way, there had to be. Words had power here if you meant them, if you just chose them right.

'I wish,' she began, closing her eyes, concentrating on saying the right words. 'That the crystal with my ring in it was here, in this room.'

'No you don't,' Jareth leered.

Sarah swallowed hard. It was almost true. There were so many things she would miss once she left this place, so many things she didn't want to let go of. But she had to let go. It was finally time. Pushing all thoughts of Hoggle, and Ludo, and Didymus from her head, Sarah thought instead of her dad, and Toby, and her life at home -- all the things she would miss if she were forced to stay in the labyrinth, all the people she would never see again, all the things she would never have a chance to do. And -- she thought of Jareth. It was hard to admit that she had, well, feelings for him, whatever they were, but it was even harder to realise that he didn't return them. If she had to stay here with him, he would torture her. He took pleasure in shattering her dreams. And she couldn't let him do it any more.

'Yes,' she answered, opening her eyes. 'I do.'

She turned around, and there it was, her ring sitting inside the little round crystal, floating perfectly in the middle of the staircase room.

And finally, it all made sense. She understood. She had the power -- she always had -- she had given herself the power a long time ago. In realising and in saying the words, she had taken it from Jareth and from the labyrinth. But, not understanding the power, she hadn't been able to control it. Until now. She could control the labyrinth. Wishes came true here, because it was shaped by your mind. If you just wished it, you could make it happen.

She turned to face him, standing tall on the staircase above him, and his eyes flashed with something that was almost regret. He suddenly looked very old and very tired. 'Sarah,' his voice was a whisper, 'don't defy me.'

She tilted her head, watching him for a moment through half-closed lids. 'I asked for the child to be taken, and you took him,' she said thoughtfully. 'I cowered before you and you were frightening. You reordered time. You turned the world upside down. And you did it all because -- because I expected it of you.'

He watched her intently and she didn't recognise the emotion on his face. Worry, maybe? Or -- sadness?

'And -- and it's not fair. So... I release you.'

She said the words and meant them. For a moment, Jareth stared at her, wordless, and then he was gone. And for all the times he'd said it himself, taunting her and chiding her, he finally realised the truth behind the words: you should be careful what you wish for. You might just get it.

--

She was sprawled across rough, cold stone, her head spinning, bile threatening to rise in her throat, and she lay for a moment, trying to shake off the feeling, until she realised something wasn't right. She shouldn't be here, not in this place. She tried to push herself up, her hands scraping against the rock, but a wave of dizziness hit her and she fell back to the ground again. Her eyes screwed shut, Sarah lay for a moment, breathing heavily, as the world seemed to spin and shift around her. Something about this felt almost familiar, but, no... No, she had never woken up outside before. And she was sure she would remember feeling this sick. Finally, the feeling faded and she slowly sat up again, blinking in the bright sunlight. She was on the concrete just outside her dorm building. What had happened to her? What had she been doing? A nauseous pang of worry rose up in her stomach as she realised she couldn't remember. She must have tripped on the stairs and hit her head on the ground -- that was why she felt so bruised and sore all over. That had to be it. She wondered vaguely if she should go to the E.R., make sure everything was all right, but nothing felt broken and she couldn't have been out for long. It was clearly morning, and she was sure if another student had seen her, they'd have woken her up or called for an ambulance or something.

She stood, her legs trembling, and quickly grabbed onto the stair railing for support. Did she have classes today? She wasn't entirely sure what day it was. She drew in a deep breath and tried to focus on something, battling down the sick feeling in her stomach. Her eyes eventually focused on the little silver ring wrapped around the middle finger of her right hand, and she frowned. She had bought it with her allowance years ago from a thrift store somewhere -- she thought she'd lost it. A fuzzy, niggling feeling of déjà vu lingered in the back of her mind, and she could almost remember something, something that seemed important. Nameless places, faceless people. She couldn't grasp hold of the details, the memory at the back of her mind, hiding just out of reach. She felt as if, if she could just grab a hold of it, if she could just remember what it was... But then, as such thoughts often do, it slipped away, lost forever like a dream upon waking. She shrugged it off -- it couldn't have been that important -- and took another deep breath. Screw her classes; she felt too sick and if she had hit her head, it was probably best to lie down and recover for a while.

Slowly, she moved up the stairs to go back to her dorm room. Was she meant to be working tonight? Maybe she'd just phone in sick and sleep off the nausea. She felt tired, as if she hadn't slept in years. She was definitely ready for a very long rest.

As she walked inside Sarah thought, in the distance, she could hear the shrieking of an owl.