Chapter One: Aftershock
Sarah lay prone on the floor of her kitchen, her head against the cool tile, gagging at the memory of what she had done. An effervescent chorus of her colleagues' well-meaning gabblings rippled through her thoughts.
Of course they won't blame you for it, dear. They couldn't - it happened so fast.
Honey, it would have required superhuman levels of concentration to stay calm and notice everything in time - of course you're not to blame. Can't blame yourself for being human.
It doesn't matter that a few button presses would have saved them - how could you have known that?
And from her ever-reasonable supervisor, That was clearly a 3-sigma event on the fault tolerance scale - it was so far beyond what the system designers ever expected. We've never trained for anything like that, anything that happens so fast. It's not your fault, Sarah.
But that was, quite simply, a lie.
She had possessed the quick-thinking to deduce what could be done to save those people and act. But she had, in that icy, alien moment of decision, chosen not to. She had chosen to let them fall to their deaths. Those innocent people, out on a vacation skyway tram ride, now dead. Very messily dead.
And she had watched their faces in that interminable infinity stretching out now in her mind's eye. She saw their horror of realization as she looked out at them, a mere 30 feet away - close enough to see but not close enough to reach. She remembered the agony of the parents as they clutched their children to them, faces pale with knowledge of sudden mortality, looking at her - she who had the power to save them, but who was plainly not saving them for some unknowable reason.
She had watched them as the last cable strands broke with a harsh metallic twang and their plummet began.
And in that awful, incomprehensible moment, she had enjoyed it.
She gagged again, sobbing into the floor as the whispered words scraped out of her. "What the hell is happening to me?"
Time passed, and at last her mind was somewhat still.
She opened her eyes to see a pair of elegant black leather boots crossed comfortably in front of her. Jareth lounged against the wall of her kitchen, inexplicably regal even sitting on cold tile. His expression was curiously unreadable.
"You," she breathed raggedly, "What are you doing here?"
He arched an eyebrow, and took breath to speak.
She cut him off as horrifying suspicion flooded her mind. Her voice was quietly venomous. "Did you do this?"
The look he gave her was two parts exasperation, one part arrogance, and one part something unrecognizable. He exhaled evenly before speaking. "No, Sarah - as you have rightly thought all night, you did this."
She closed her eyes briefly as that sordid flicker of hope sputtered out. "How long have you been here?"
"Long enough to see."
Self-loathing welled up, a hideous, raw agony pooling in her chest. He reached a gloved hand towards her, brushing the line of her cheek. She hissed at the contact, drawing back from him.
He withdrew his hand slowly, measuring her with his gaze. "You don't believe you deserve comfort at all?"
"I'm a monster. I deserve nothing." The words were quiet, aching truth.
A grimace twisted his features momentarily before he spoke. "I should tell you that when I said that you were the one that did this, that does not mean you were completely independent in your decision-making."
Her eyes riveted to him, terrible hope and rage rekindling. "What precisely do you mean?"
"The Labyrinth has marked you as one of its own ever since you declared yourself my equal. You know this, of course?"
She nodded slowly, the burn of rage warming her chest, breaking through the murk of misery.
"The Labyrinth is a fae thing, and though it has a capricious temperament, it strictly adheres to its own rules. And one of those rules is balance, Sarah. Absolute balance."
Impatience flashed through her. "So?"
A half-smile flickered across his lips at her display of temper. "When your childish petulance and selfishness were stripped away after our first...delightful encounter, you were so much kinder in nature, so much more generous and giving of yourself." His voice slid through her, liquid and cool. "You were so genuinely good, Sarah. To put it simply, you were far too good. And you were that way for quite some time."
She stared at him, hideous realization cracking through her.
He nodded at her expression. "Absolute balance, Sarah. Had you but asked, I would have told you that an earthquake was coming. It was only a matter of time. And the longer it was delayed, the longer it went without any relief from the pressure...the more catastrophic it would be."
The words trickled out of her, simmering and slow. "You mean to say that I did...that thing...that evil thing...because the Labyrinth needed me to make up for how good I've been since I left?"
He nodded again, his eyes holding hers.
The rage boiled within her, molten and viscous, even as her voice held deceptive calm. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me?"
He sighed, closing his eyes briefly. "I am a fae thing too, Sarah - I have my own rules that I must abide by. You did not ask...until now. So I could not answer. Until now."
The rage erupted from her then, and she flew at him in violent fury, slashing and screaming wordlessly. He defended her flurry with deft ease, holding her wrists firmly as she burst into frenzied sobs, words flooding from her in a hoarse moan. "You knew this was coming, and you didn't tell me...goddamn you...you didn't tell me..."
Her rage-fueled strength spent itself at last, and she collapsed into him suddenly, hollow with grief. "Why didn't you tell me?" she whispered.
He laid her wrists down gently and enfolded her in his arms, feeling the hot wetness of her renewed tears on his skin as he stroked her hair. His lilting voice held chords of bitter frustration and the whisper of sorrow. "Would that I could have, my love."
The beat of his heart was a soothing rhythm against her ear, a subtle promise of his presence. She opened her eyes slowly, feeling the weight of his arms around her and the warmth of his skin against her cheek. She didn't bother to protest his touch - they were clearly far past that now, so she let herself enjoy the simple pleasure of being held by him.
There was really only one thing that concerned her. "How do I stop it from happening again?"
His voice flowed smoothly around her as his thumb traced a slow circle on her shoulder. "The best thing I've found is to do small balances at fairly frequent intervals."
The simple implication billowed between them as she inhaled the wintry shadow-fey scent of him. "You know from personal experience, don't you?"
"I do."
She let that thought waft through her mind for a moment. "Does the Labyrinth do this to all its creatures?"
"Only those of sufficient status." He ran a leather-clad finger along her cheek. "Another perk of declaring yourself my equal."
She breathed slowly, gathering her calm, even as she savored the feel of the supple leather against her skin. "What has it done to you?"
"Well, for one," his voice drifted lazily around her, "haven't you ever wondered how the goblin king could fall in love with a teenage girl, just because she said so?"
She froze, and then sat up abruptly to look him in the eye, mortification and fascination flashing through her.
A wry smile glittered for a moment as he closed his eyes. "What, you thought you were so utterly captivating in your own right when you were fifteen? The Labyrinth is capricious, as I said. But that doesn't make its effects any less potent. And I had been rather detached and cold for quite some time." He opened his eyes then, holding her gaze in his. "Thus, my balancing. I have made sure to keep my natural inclination towards aloofness in check since then, particularly where you're concerned."
She blinked, as pieces snapped together in her mind. "So all those times you've appeared over the years, tempting me...?"
That wry smile flickered again. "For our mutual benefit."
She pressed her hands to her face, closing her eyes as she shook her head slowly. "Un-fucking-believable."
"Is it?" His hands gently pulled hers away from her eyes. "Did you really think there would be no lasting consequences from your little adventure? Surely you've read enough of Faerie to know better than that."
She let out a slow breath, pointedly ignoring how distracting it was to feel her hands held in his. "Of course, it's just - well, let me just state this explicitly to make sure I've got it all correct."
He inclined his head.
"One: By nature, you're a cold, heartless bastard."
A truly puckish smile sparked across his lips. "As you say."
"You go on being that way so long," she continued, ignoring the way her eyes were drawn to those terribly mobile lips, "that when the Labyrinth finally balances you, it ensorcells your regal, icy heart to a bratty fifteen-year-old mortal girl who's got a good adventurer complex."
The puckish smile burst into a full-blown grin. "Again, as you say. So eloquently, I might add."
She took a measured breath before continuing. "Two: So then I, in my infinite fifteen-year-old wisdom and in the course of my self-directed quest, declare myself your equal. Since you, in your besotted state, have oh-so-conveniently altered the Labyrinth to obey my will, the Labyrinth dutifully sits up and takes notice, as it were."
He nodded again, clearly enjoying her soliloquy. "As it were."
"I'm then entered into its official magical ledger of Things That Need To Be In Balance, and so it starts keeping track of me from that point on. And, post-adventure, I've lost my bratty side and gotten a hearty dose of adventure, so I'm just plain old good. And the good side of the ledger gets too tall, and boom! Evil act of sufficient vileness to balance out everything good I've ever done since I was fifteen. Is that about it?"
"That is, as you say, about it."
She stared at him for a moment, before continuing softly, "Then, I repeat: Un-fucking-believable. We have made an unbelievable mess."
"Have we?" He tilted his head in that distinctly avian fashion of his that was utterly arresting.
Her eyes slid along the planes and angles of his face before she could stop them. "Oh yes - you and me and the Labyrinth. And stop looking so damned amused about it." She jerked her eyes back up to his. "I mean, you're in love, by fiat, against your will, with me. I've just perpetrated something unspeakably evil and nearly had a psychotic break because of it. And the Labyrinth - ha! The Labyrinth has gotten its ridiculously powerful sovereign ruler tangled up with a mortal who's now walking the line of psychosis thanks to its interference, and we should all know how well that turns out for everyone concerned. But, well, at least the Labyrinth didn't break its precious rule about balance." She closed her eyes, shaking her head as she muttered, "Fucking Faerie."
Her eyes flew open as she felt the warmth of his breath along her knuckles. She watched his mouth hovering just above her skin as he spoke, tantalizingly close. "And at least we're never bored," he murmured before pressing his lips to the back of her hand.
It was intoxicating, the feel of his mouth against her hand. And then on her knuckles, sliding down to the sensitive flesh between her fingers. He looked at her with those crystalline eyes all the while, studying her reaction.
After a moment, she remembered to breathe. "What the hell are you doing?" She tried to pull her hand from his, but he held it in an iron grip quite at odds with the heated gentleness of what his mouth was doing.
She absolutely refused to admit that a part of her was thoroughly savoring that contrast. "I said, what the hell are you doing?"
One eyebrow arched."Working within the parameters we've been given. Quite enjoyably, I might add."
Incredulity flared through her. "What, you get to be the attentive lover, and I get to be what - seduced? Which counts as wicked in the Labyrinth's little magical ledger? And the Labyrinth gets some imbalance purged from two important denizens, so it doesn't eventually force them to do additional things leading to their insanity and its ultimate unbalancing and demise?"
"Yes," he replied simply, as he kissed in between the flesh of her fingers again, trailing moist heat along the lines of the fingers to the knuckles.
She blinked at him. Well, it was a fair point, actually.
"How precisely," he said, in between thoroughly distracting actions with his teeth, "are you feeling at this moment?"
She paused. "Honestly?"
"We're in this together, after all," he replied, doing things with his tongue and breath that were sending shivers racing up her spine.
She considered, doing her best to engage rationally, even as he worked his way down her palm. "Flustered. Excited."
He was at her wrist now, with hot breath and the barest hint of teeth, and those glorious raptor eyes still watching her. "Slightly embarrassed," she continued. She swallowed, becoming significantly more aware of the feel of him curved against her, the heat of him against the underside of her thighs. Honesty...this thing required honesty.
"Particularly enjoying my current position in your lap," she said, tilting her chin up, willing the embarrassment to recede.
A decidedly wolfish smile played along his lips, as he continued his way slowly down the inside of her forearm, still watching her as his lips and teeth and breath and tongue did wonderfully disconcerting things to her skin. She held his gaze for a moment before saying softly, "Extraordinarily tempted to touch you. Feeling that that's rather wrong of me." She made a face and shook her head slightly. "You're the goblin king, for heaven's sake."
"Excellent," he breathed, drawing the hand he had been kissing to the side of his face. "Do it. Touch me. Wherever you want."
"I..." Coherency drifted away from her as she felt the line of his jaw, tracing from just below his ear to the corner of that thoroughly wicked mouth.
A sly smile touched his mouth for a heartbeat, curling beneath her finger. "Succumbing to temptation is quite assuredly wicked. Even if only slightly."
She nodded, rationality thoroughly assuaged, and let her hand drift back down along his neck, to that remarkably fine collarbone and shoulder, along the length of his arm until she reached the supple leather glove. With the ghost of a wicked thought, she began to slowly pull it off, keeping her eyes locked on his.
His eyes widened, but he made no move to stop her. His hand emerged from the confines of the leather, pale and exquisite and unspeakably enticing.
In a movement the mirror of his earlier one, she brought his naked hand to her lips and breathed gently along it, her mouth hovering just above the pale skin.
His eyes closed as he inhaled suddenly, his head tilting back slightly. "And how..."
"Mmm?" she encouraged, touching lips to the delicate bones of the hand and the knuckles and the long elegant lines of the fingers.
He breathed and tried again, even as she found a spot along his wrist that made him inhale sharply once more. At last, he managed in a fairly even tone, "How do you feel now?"
She considered again, applying breath and the hint of teeth to that vulnerable spot as she watched his reaction to her touch. "More than slightly wicked."
"Very good." It was a purring whisper. And then, with sudden predatory grace, he was on top of her, pressing the length of his body against hers, holding her wrists above her head with the ungloved hand as he breathed into her ear. "And now?"
It was a moment before she could speak. "Rather definitely wicked."
"Very, very good."
And there were no more words after that for a good long time.
They lay stretched out in her bed, illuminated by the early morning's light, legs entwined, her head cushioned comfortably in the crook of his neck. The wintry shadow-fey scent of him surrounded her, infused her. She luxuriated in it, and in him, for another moment before sitting up enough to look at him directly.
He looked back, one golden eyebrow raised in question.
"So," she began in a conversational tone, as her fingers traced lazy circles on his chest, "how often would you say these balancings need to occur?" She cast an eye at the minor wreckage of her bedroom - the overturned nightstand, the vanity's contents strewn on the floor after being swept off in delicious haste. The kitchen and den hadn't fared much better, if she recalled correctly. "Practically speaking," she continued, a wry half-smile growing even as she attempted to maintain a serious face, "I'm not entirely sure my apartment could take this kind of thing with any frequency."
"Mmm," he replied, as his fingers trailed along the curve of her waist, "the key is the overall balance, really. Regular minor wickedness is an excellent antidote for all those kindhearted activities you seem to enjoy so. Not to mention any guilt you refine over time."
She raised an eyebrow. "Refining guilt?"
"Let's just say I'm knowledgeable in this area. Imbalances are created different ways, and absolute balance is a delicate thing to maintain."
"Ah." Rationality was trickling back into her thoughts, whispering questions.
"Last night's...engagement," he flashed a thoroughly self-satisfied smile, "is a tad more excessive than is probably required on a regular basis, strictly speaking. It should hold us for a bit."
Her smiled mirrored his, rationality silenced for the moment. "Should?"
Mischief glinted in his eyes. "Well, one can never be sure. Capricious nature of Faerie realms, and so on. I believe your precise words were...oh, how did you so eloquently phrase it? 'Fucking Faerie'?"
"Ha! Quite literally, it seems."
His eyebrows lifted appreciatively as his sly smile surfaced again. "Indeed. Well, practically speaking, how many selfless, sweet, and generous things do you intend on doing in the near future? Let's start with that."
Her brow furrowed in mock consternation, as her hand drifted lower, fingers walking down the lines of his ribs. "I'm really so terribly nice these days."
His own fingers began a languid stroll along the taut line of her hip, meandering inward. "Hmm, too true. Regularity is definitely advisable, then." His voice was velvet-soft with intent. "Immediately."
Logic hauled her up short for a moment. "But if it's regular, would it feel so wicked?"
"That depends on how overdeveloped your sense of propriety is. We will simply," he said, his hand moving boldly with a deft rapidity that made her blush, "have to explore what feels wicked to you."
"Ah," she managed after a sudden inhalation, "and I imagine such an investigation would be thorough and ongoing."
A very genuine smile glittered back at her. "Of course. I do have my own balance to think of."
Author's note 1: The inspiration for this came from a drabble by unrund in the labyfic livejournal community, with the idea that the most pure are the most susceptible to being twisted by the Labyrinth. The seeds of the rule of absolute balance came from there.
Author's note 2: I originally thought of this as a oneshot, but a few reviewers have noted the unresolved feel of it, and upon reflection, I agreed wholeheartedly. As such, I've been working on follow-up chapters.
