A/N: I know, juggling two stories at once is not a wise idea. I've done this to myself so many times I don't know why I'm not learning. I think I'm an addict for stories. Anyway, this is another Labyrinth fic. Damn my need to write about Jareth these days. Hope the obsession goes away sometime soon (don't look at me like that). I'll still work on my other one, don't worry.
Disclaimer: I don't own the movie Labyrinth, it's characters or its music.
Jareth, the Goblin King, was resting. It had been but an hour since that minx had broken his Labyrinth, broken him. He lay on his bed, staring at a stony ceiling, not wanting to feel, to think, to see. If he could, he would wish death upon himself, but too many fae had unwillingly faded from such wishes. A doctor had already seen him, shook his head, and wandered away, not saying anything. He and Jareth both knew that there was no magic or medicine that could mend him right now. They both knew it had to be waited out.
His bed was round, large, and built more for comfort then for looks. Various cushions, furs, fleecy blankets and pillows were pilled upon each other until they formed a warm and inviting heap. He lay there in the middle, his left arm stretched out to one side, staring blankly at nothing, but his mind providing images.
Love me! He kept thinking, love me, please. No one could love me like you. You mortal who's flame shines so bright... love me like no other could... won't you?
No. No, no, no.
He moved onto his side, shutting his eyes, willing the images, the thoughts, the hurt to just go away. His hands lifted to his face. He smeared away the makeup on his eyes until his fingertips were gray and blue with it. He could still smell her, almost taste her on the back of his throat like some fine wine bottle that had been opened for him, set out, but couldn't be tasted. Damn it. Damn him. Damn her.
His breath was coming ragged. Water pooled on his cheeks. He hadn't cried in centuries.
He missed her already.
Sarah lay listening to her heartbeat. Her father and stepsister were already asleep, Toby was as well. Being bounced around with a bunch of goblins had to be tiring on the poor thing. She had taken off her vest and her jeans. Her poet shirt came to her knees. She thought it looked good on her. She had. She did. She rolled onto her stomach and stared at her array of toys. Books, stuffed animals, costumes, toys. Dolls that she had dressed up over and over again to make them look like characters from her fantasies. A wooden doll with a blank face stared at her from her vanity. It wore tight pants, black riding boots, a red poet shirt and a black vest. She had done is subconsciously after getting back from the Labyrinth. She stared at it, a part of her wanting to tear it apart, a part of her content to just stare at it. Her heart ached, and she wasn't sure why.
It was only three more days until her sixteenth birthday. Her father kept asking her what she wanted. Over and over and over again.
I want him, papa, she thought, I would gladly wander that cursed Labyrinth for all eternity if I could see his face again.
No, another voice, sterner, in her head immediatley responded. He took Toby.
You asked him to.
And I asked him for Toby back. He would have saved himself a lot of trouble if...
"Shut up," Sarah whispered. She buried her head in her pillow and counted the seconds until she had to come up for breath. By the time she had she had cooled off a bit. She stood up, taking the Jareth-doll from her vanity and opening her bedroom door, slipping quietly down the hall, down the stairs, and out onto the wrap-around porch. She kept walking until she reached the woods by her house. She set the doll down at the base of a tree and stared at it. In the moonlight she looked even more frail then she usually did when wearing an over-sized shirt. Her eyes shone with determination.
"Goblin King."
Jareth heard it like a lovers whisper, heard it like a voice in the back of his head, Goblin King.
Sarah knelt by the doll, the ground wet, immediatley coating her knees with dirt. "Goblin King," she whispered, and touched the dolls head.
Jareth felt her fingers run through his hair and he shut his eyes. You're imagining it, he tried to convince himself, You're imagining it, damn it. But he couldn't mistake the sound of her voice.
Sarah bent down and kissed the smooth wooden head of the doll. "Come to me." She said so quietly that if it hadn't of been for the slight wind, the command would never have made it to Goblin City.
Jareth was torn out of his world like a giant fist had enveloped him and dragged him through a brick wall. He gave a loud, shuttering cry before he found himself face down in the sweet-smelling earth. He looked up, his face smeared with dirt, and saw Sarah kneeling next to him, eyes wide. She looked so tiny in her dress, so damn innocent. He clenched his fist.
Sarah was silent only a moment, "I called you." She whispered, "I didn't think you'd come." She paused, hesitated almost, "I missed you."