Disclaimer: I do not own the labyrinth or its characters. This is a one shot that reflects my love for the story and the fact that sometimes I have a restless spirit and an overactive imagination. In no way do I make any profit from this or any of the other stories I submit here.

Summary: The world of mankind has many realities, most of which are ugly. And in the face of such heartbreak Sarah must look back, and return to a world where the word "impossible" does not necessarily apply.

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. . .Then suddenly I feared the cars,
The streets you cross, the days you pass.
You hold me as a glass holds water.
You can be shattered like a glass.

"The Dangerous World" by Naomi Replansky

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Title: All That May Come To Pass

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I dreamt he was there.

His back was to me and I could hear the whine of the faucet as warm water gushed out and over his soapy hands. The light spilled in, turning the gauzy yellow rose patterned curtains translucent as it highlighted the outer edges of his hair white. He was washing coffee mugs…our coffee mugs. The light spilled around him and threw a large rectangle of light upon the floor, with his scrunched up shadow in the center.

My throat tightened, useless, as I reached for him, the light glinting off my wedding band in tiny colorful pinpoints.

Into the box of light, my shadow entered and embraced his. Only then did I feel safe and whole…when I felt him in my arms, safe and there, there, there, there. His voice floated to me, like something from a distant memory.

"How about a ride to the park today?"

I prickled at the idea but couldn't exactly remember why. So instead, I thought back to all the times we had gone to the park. Jareth…so serious and yet, often times so innocent. He saw the world with almost childlike wonder, fascinated by cars, amazed by things we as humans take for granted. He's beautiful in this world. Especially when he looks up at the sky, surrounded by dark green grass. It's his eyes; they look content, almost sleepy, as if he owns the park…as if he owns the world.

"We'll need to stop for gas," he said by way of a reminder and it broke my momentary daydream.

The unease threatened to overwhelm me at that sentence and I really could not recall why, so I pushed it away. I was happy here. Jareth was here, so everything was okay. He was always here, wasn't he? I felt like there was more, and that if I thought beyond this moment I would lose him. So I held him tighter, pressing my face into his back, between his shoulder blades. The fragrance of lemon dish detergent mixed with the scratchy scent of ivory linen, and for one moment I could not fathom one without the other.

"I like this shirt," I whispered, feeling his smile, his amusement in the way he moved or paused.

"How about that station with the small deli inside?" he asked as he turned in my arms. Warm, soapy fingertips pressed into my back and it felt silly and good, like the innocent kiss he placed on the top of my head. The unease returned at the mention of the station. I tried, really I did, but I could not seem to follow the strange feeling.

"Sandwiches by the lake," I murmured absentmindedly.

He looked at me and his expression was very mild, one side of his lips just slightly curling with good humor. It was only for me, an expression so subtle no one else would have known that inside he was practically dancing.

"Perfect," he whispered; and he could have meant the idea but I felt the word like a sweet caress.

I suddenly realized how different he looked as a human, how his eyes had lost that stern look over the past year. The authoritative air he carried about himself, especially in his speech and harsh stride, had lost that tense edge.

He pulled me to his chest and I exhaled all my troubles into the buttons of his shirt. I was so happy…so content.

And then it happened, the spike of horror as I heard a bell chime, the kind made by small rust colored bells tied to the corner of an old door.

The panic rose like a wave as my perception changed to that of one floating away, and I saw myself holding onto Jareth in our kitchen. The scenery should have changed but thankfully it did not. Instead the sounds, the horrible words and noise accompanied what I now realized was a dream…and… a memory… in strange discordance. It was like watching one channel on TV on mute while the sounds of another channel came through.

I gasped, dying for the reassuring warmth of his chest, for the steady heartbeat that was seconds ago, under my ear.

A loud slap and angry voices and I needed to wake up, to escape this hell, to escape the sounds that tortured me with its hideous accuracy. And yet…oh god, I did not want to leave the sight of us, together again.

"Don't touch her!" came Jareth's voice, and I felt it, like a bolt of lightning, why I didn't dare to dream. It was that little sound of painful surprise he made stretched out like a hiss. It was the moment we both realized he did not own the world…could not control his destiny.

I could not bear it any longer. I pulled away from the dream, watching the dream "me" hold Jareth by the kitchen sink. We slowly faded away even as I could hear another part of myself screaming.

My eyes snapped open and it was dark and the only sounds I could hear were angry inhalations bordering near hysterical sobbing. The living room, I had fallen asleep in the living room again. It was warm, stifling even. Ever since… I stopped that thought instantly; I have always kept the kitchen window closed.

Oh God…

No more, I could not bear to see that square shaped patch of sunlight embrace my floor. The curtains were replaced with a thicker darker cloth, shut tight and effective as a nailed down plank of wood. The smell of old books simmered during the day heat and soon I knew, would overwhelm.

I wondered vaguely if I had a fever. Closing my eyes, I focused on bringing myself back to calm. The loss of the dream tightened everything and my fevered face was only mildly cooled by the two damp trails running from bloodshot eyes.

Breathe. Just breathe.

It worked. The pulsing ache behind my eyes and in my ears slowed to something almost normal. Sitting upright, I pulled away from the overstuffed recliner cushion and waited for the stillness in the room to draw me awake. I slumped forward, too dazed to catch the book in time as it made an oppressive thud on the beige carpet.

Jareth…

If only we did not leave the apartment that day. If only we did not stop at that particular gas station. If only he did not come to my world. If only. If only…

I don't know how long I stared into space, wishing for some form of absolution, praying for something I could no longer define.

When Jareth gave up his role as Goblin King and came to my world to live at my side, I knew things would be different. I just…I just did not expect the irrevocability of that decision.

It was simple and horrifying.

No magic. Jareth was human in everyway, exhausted, cold and wet from rain, as he knocked on my door with nothing more than the shirt on his back and a hopeful look. He never did tell me how far he walked…how he came to my world. For a while I was devastated by what he gave up. Completely at a loss with what seemed like flippancy at the time, but what I now realized was calm acceptance…or indifference, it was hard to tell with him.

"I have you now, so what does it matter?" he had said, the night we made love, when I held tightly to him, pathetic and alone in my fear. That was his answer, as he pulled me even closer and tugged more blankets over the cold dread in my heart.

Finally human, there was now no link between his world and mine. The proverbial door to the Labyrinth was not just closed; it was as if it never existed. The finality of what he had done humbled me then. Now…now…

Mortality…how raw the word became…how ugly…

I grasped the fallen book and placed it and all its little paper tags and bookmarks on the coffee table. I had gathered all that I could from that one. After turning on a nearby lamp, I reached into the large cardboard box next to my chair and extracted another large, ornate book, thicker than the previous one. It was titled: "The History of Labyrinths and Subsequent Folklore."

I will find it, that faint voice inside my heart said; somehow, I will find a way back to the Labyrinth.

And, I told myself even as I shook with desperation, I will stop it from happening. I will save him. No matter the cost.

Fingers clenching, digging into the books delicate pages, I settled in for another long read.

- .- .- - .- .-

It was the wrong box. I did not find the book I was looking for but…

The amulet felt heavy in my palm. My finger slowly traced the gold and silver arches and I could not stand even if I wanted to. It was too much. I clasped it with both hands and slumped onto my side by the old cardboard box, curling around the otherworldly talisman as if for warmth.

Why Jareth? Why me?

You were a King… a man of power. You could have had any girl. None could touch you; no one could harm you…

That night, god, oh god…

"Do you love me?" he had asked, and his eyes were bright, serious...

"Yes," I whispered - mouth dry and head so dizzy that if we were not on the futon I would have collapsed. His hands ghosted down my face and rested on my jaw, drawing us together. His touch burned and I felt the heat of all his thoughts and all our longing in the kisses we slowly traded back and forth.

He looked so sure, so calm and collected, but his fingers fumbled with the buttons of my blouse. Love you, love you, love you, my mind repeated as he nuzzled my throat. When it was my turn, I nearly ripped his shirt off. When I saw it resting there on his chest, catching the faint light that filtered in through the bedroom window, I stopped, struck by what he was now and what he had given up.

He understood my expression and we looked at it together for one indefinable moment.

Solemnly, he sat up and lifted the amulet over his head, placing it neatly on the floor.

Gold and silver intertwined. The symbol of his birthplace, of his world, his authority…

"Jareth," my voice wavered, and I was suddenly afraid of his love. He pulled me to him and we laid there in the dark, hearing our breathing slow.

"I have you now," he said into my hair. His hand caressed my back, not out of passion but in slow soothing circles. "So what does it matter?"

Now… Through my tears I looked at the room, empty but for all the books and notes and boxes and boxes and boxes –

"I have you now, so what does it matter?"

I clenched eyes against the familiar burn and suddenly the pain changed.

"You - you idiot! You stupid fucking idiot!!!"

I knocked the box over. Papers, knick knacks, normal things flew out and with a strange scream I did the unthinkable and hurled the amulet as hard as I could.

There was a loud crack and it was that, and that alone, that broke the momentary insanity. Horrified, I scrambled to the wall. It was intact but one side of it was damaged by a long winding fracture that separated the gold arc from the silver.

I wrapped the silken cord around my trembling hand, and as if in a trance, felt myself sink down to the carpet, shaking, unraveling…

Jareth… I have failed... failed - Jareth I have failed. I should never have dreamed…

The tears came slowly, blurring the room, blinding me to all except what was no longer there.

Jareth on the couch, reading a newspaper and drinking coffee. Jareth standing in front of the window looking out into the darkness as the rain tapped against the glass. Jareth turning toward me, taking my hand, pulling me in close to whisper, "Do you remember?" as we danced in lazy circles.

Do you remember, Sarah?

For a long while I laid there, with my back to the wall, hearing only the memory of his voice. I was shivering and not entirely sane.

"Please…" I whispered, unable to hear myself, unable to feel anything but the pain of his absence, "help me… I must go back… Somebody..."

I fell asleep. Or maybe I passed out, all I know is… when I dreamt… it was the first of what I would later call the "Three Dreams."

- .- .- - .- .-

We were pulling up into the gas station and the one thing I kept thinking was how nice the weather was that day. The leaves on the trees beyond the parking lot were vibrant green and between the spaces danced golden light.

What a beautiful day for a picnic. One of these days I will bring some pencils and draw in the park, I thought to myself whimsically.

I pumped the gas as Jareth hummed a tune from the latest top ten.

"You know," I said as I gave the pump one last squeeze, "you have a great voice. Maybe you should become a singer." I looked over my shoulder and saw his amused smirk.

"Really Sarah," he drawled, "do I strike you as one who sings folk songs in a small secluded coffee shop?"

"Oh no," I said quite innocently, "I see you as a rock star!" I smiled really much too broadly for such a little joke but there are times I see these little scenarios all too clearly that I can't help myself. He smiled in that patient way which meant he was rolling his eyes at me as I walked behind him, as I described how he could dye his hair red and wear gold boots as he sang all over the world.

I was so into my silly story that when we walked into the store I did not really notice the beat up red car in front or the young man inside it wearing thick sunglasses, nervously fingering his cigarette.

The moment I stepped beyond the door I heard the three rusty metal bells jingle. The delicate sound of them ringing against each other brought me back, and I screamed within my head to turn back, to take Jareth's arm and run. I cried, angry at my helplessness as I saw my arm touch him on the shoulder, heard the insignificant words falling out of my mouth in a pleasant unhurried voice, "Do you want to split a bag of chips?"

I can't stop this! Someone – anyone – help me! Stop this! I can't – oh god, don't make me see this again! No! Oh god, he's coming, any moment now – stop him!

My heart thundered with the knowledge and every second, a horrible agony, filled me with such rage and horror. I knew what would happen next. He would come in, a wisp of a man, a tall lean dark blur in the bright sunlight before the door shut us all in.

I ordered two sandwiches and Jareth came up next to me after grabbing to bottles of water from the fridge at the back of the store. Behind my smile, mixed in the small interchange of jokes, I was gasping inside, clawing at my tears, waiting for everything to fall apart.

The door moved. I heard the bells.

NO! Don't come near him you god damn –

Shocked. No other word could best describe me that moment. The dream had finally ceased its hold on me and I fell to my knees in both surprise and stunned relief.

My voice came out a squeak and a weak gasp, "Hoggle?"

He grasped one side of the door and pointed at me. The light was too bright behind him; I could not see what his mouth was forming.

"What? What are you telling me?"

He staggered in and the door clicked behind. Now that he was inside I could see him in the stores lighting and I could tell he was not well.

Too surreal, it was an instant where one best describes as a "bend of perception." I knew I would never forget this moment, where I could see and feel the grit of white tiles under my sweating palms, hear the slow whoosh of the rotating fan behind the deli counter, but find that no one occupied this store, this room, this dream save I and the unspoken presence of my friend.

With one finger he gestured a round circle and nothing he said came through, it was as if he were part of a silent movie. I quickly crawled to him as he fell to his knees, his mouth forming over and over again one word.

"Hoggle what –" my hand passed though him and he seemed to be fading away in front of me. Suddenly a gush of blood burst from his large nose. When his wrinkled hand wiped at it he looked surprised. It was bright red and it dripped onto his brown vest.

I was nearly hysterical, crying, asking what was happening.

His eyes half shut with pain and exhaustion, he waved to get my attention. With one finger he painted with his own blood a small circle on the floor tiles. At this point I could barely see him, he was near complete transparency. His finger trembled and with the last of his strength he drew a wavy line and a symbol of a triangle that looked strangely familiar.

He faded away completely.

"Hoggle! No, don't go! Don't leave me!"

My eyes snapped open and I felt bewildered and even more lost than usual as I sat up and looked round at the ashen walls of my apartment.

"Hoggle," I whispered as I wiped fresh tears from my eyes. What was that? A dream…or was it real?

And something about that word, the strange power of it…

Real…

A strange energy seized me, I was practically delirious!

Never take things for granted with them, not with the labyrinth!

A single word buzzed into my fevered brain: Contact. Somehow, Hoggle did it! He made contact! He had somehow breached the impenetrable division that separated my world from theirs.

My left hand throbbed and I looked down to see the fractured pendant wrapped around my hand, too tight to allow comfortable circulation. I suddenly remembered the blood and hoped fervently that Hoggle was all right. But even concern for Hoggle took second place to the sensation I had felt so rarely since Jareth's passing…hope.

I quickly drew the symbols Hoggle had risked so much to communicate to me, on a small pad of paper that had tumbled out of the box I had thrown during my fit. It would take me many days before the symbols would make any sense. But at least for the moment I understood one. With his own blood Hoggle had drawn a triangle with a smaller circular symbol in its center…a rendition of Jareth's pendant.

- .- .- - .- .-

A/N:

Thank you so much for reading. There is more to come, I've just been a wee bit busy. I have not abandoned "Faith Enduring" I'm just letting the ideas stew for now, but rest assured I love the concept too much to just forget it. I really appreciate everyone's encouragement and patience with me lately – especially Anij and Spitfire21 (You too are the best). Anij – thank you for looking over most of this and helping me out with some of the dialogue – you kind of help bring my insanity level back down to "manageable" when I'm attacked by a flurry of DPB.

orientalbunny