Abducted Chapter 1, a labyrinth fanfic

Abducted

a/n: one-shot. don't own it, just the plot.

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The parking lot was seemingly empty enough. Orange streetlights clung to the pavement in oval spheres, hardly illuminating the concrete space. There wasn't much Sarah Williams could do, though. The only space available in the freshman parking lot, just her damn luck, was concealed at the very rear corner, shrouded front and side by bushes and trees, and inconveniently half a mile from the front of the lot. She'd spent too much time griping at her step-mother to even pay attention to the clock, leaving the woman in a fitful of tears as she'd marched triumphantly out the door after another blue-string battle of wits. Toby had bawled at her dramatic exit, pudgy fingers outstretched for one Lancelot, whose stuffed arm she hadn't even noticed poking out from her laundry basket. She hadn't meant to upset him, but had been too worked up over Karen. But now, as Sarah huffed and finally eased her car between a gnarled oak and spotless convertible, she came to a most vile conclusion.

Karma was a bitch.

She glanced at her backseat. Mountains of clothes, food, and electronics piled high, hardly easing Sarah's bad mood. She groaned and slammed her head against the seat. Since college, she'd developed a nasty habit for packing up her entire room every weekend for home. Just in case, she'd explained to many an ex who had helped "move her back in".

But she was alone now. Thank God. No nagging boyfriends pushing for the final plunge in relationships. They all wanted the same thing, and it was most definitely not her heart. But it hadn't mattered much to her at the time. Sure, kissing was grand, conditional love was almost grander, but each one had reminded her of someone else. It was a natural magnetic force, pulling her against the tide of logic and into the sweeping waves of dating. She craved him. Five years, and she still itched for that birdbrain of a man. So she tasted each lukewarm affair. Nothing measured up. And, with a distressed sigh, Sarah guessed it never would be enough. Fingers tightened reflexively on the steering wheel.

Liar.

An involuntary groan of frustration blew out her lips. She hated her subconscious.

It takes one simple name for it to be enough. C'mon, quit torturing yourself. Just say it. Say. It. Go on.

Sarah bristled. I'm not breaking first.

You will. If it's one thing or another, he'll make sure you do.

The loud jingling of keys echoed in the lonely car. I made him up. Figment of—

Figment of your imagination, my ass. If I had one, that is. Speaking of which, ever heard of Jenny Craig? Could really do wonders—

"Shut up!" Sarah hissed at the quiet glow from her dashboard. There's a time when a girl learns to let go. I gave up, so why don't you? Five years, and I get what I regret. What's done is done, right? It's better to pretend it never happened.

Sarah, dear, you have an excellent imagination, but even you couldn't create someone that wickedly delicious. The voice seemed to pout. Be selfless for once.

Sarah snorted. That means a load coming from you.

Want me to say it, then? If the epitome of sexy can move stars, surely he can read minds. Jar—

"NO!!!" Fingernails dug into her scalp. "I swear, if you so much as think his name again, I'll make sure Jareth tears you out of my head and dumps you into the Bog himself."

The voice was triumphantly quiet.

Shit.

Shitshitshitshitshitshit—

Sarah nearly jumped when her phone exploded in song. She ripped it open and shoved it against her ear, still hissing curses at her brain.

"Sarah!"

She let out a long breath of relief. "Ash? What's wrong?"

"Well, it's like one in the morning, and I'm just kind of wondering where the hell my roommate is?!" Ashlyn screeched. Sarah rolled her eyes, slinking further into her seat.

"Calm down, it's not that—"

"Have you owned a watch recently? Do you remember how to tell time? Because, I'm pretty sure, when the hour hand is on the one, it means—"

Sarah glanced at her dashboard's digital. Her eyes widened. "Damnit. Look, Ash, I'm really sorry. I just pulled up. Promise."

"Want me to come help?" But the offer was given hesitantly.

Sarah wiped a rugged hand over her face and shook her head, as if Ashlyn could see her. "No. I got it. I'll see you in a few."

"Look, just be careful. You know we're on a creeper alert, since that sophomore nearly got abducted last night. And two more sightings today. I don't want to have to hunt you down and kick some fifty-year-old perv's ass, okay? I have a freaking eight a.m. class tomorrow, Sarah. So get your ass in so I can get some sleep. Or it's going to be in some hellishly hot water." The phone clicked and Sarah pocketed it, glaring out the windshield. She had to be the biggest dumbass in the history of Illinois. Little hundred-twenty pound Sarah Williams would never be able to stave off a fat, hormonal, serial-killer-in-another-lifetime kidnapper.

Sarah afforded one last glance out her window before shoving it open. A cold blast of wind bit her face, hair blinding her. Suddenly numb fingers fought for the door handle, blindly ripping out her pillow first. She reached in for her bag but froze when a sixth sense kicked in.

Sarah Williams was most definitely not alone anymore. She could feel a gaze boring into the back of her head, heat radiating from the body that was suddenly too close for comfort. An echoing heartbeat pounded in her ears, and it was all she could hear aside from her labored breathing. Now or never. Fight or flight. Endorphins kicked in, forcing locked muscles to reflexively snap into place.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Sarah let out an animalistic snarl and whirled on her victim, letting the feathers of her pillow fly as she smashed and beat the abductor. Her fist caught a square jaw. With hardly a look, she whacked the pillow as hard as she could into the head, and took off running.

She didn't have the air to scream for help. But she had just enough brain power to cry out for someone.

Don't be stupid. Another voice, different, this one condescending.

"Stupid?! Stupid would be rejecting a friend's offer to escort me at one in the morning. Oh wait. That was me," she sarcastically grumbled, feet tripping as she ducked behind a large four-wheeler and hid.

Exactly my point. Sarah, look at yourself.

She obediently glanced up at the side-view mirrors of the truck.

You can handle this. Just own up. He'd kill you if he found out you'd been too stubborn and pride-stung to call. But that's a risk worth taking, since he obviously hasn't bothered with you in five years. Why start now?

Sarah frowned. "I shut him out—"

There was a loud scuffle directly to her right. Squeaking out a mild curse, Sarah crouched down onto all fours and crawled around to the front of the vehicle, awkwardly rushing across the aisle until she was tucked away behind a Toyota.

She huffed. "I shut him out five years ago, without any fast pass back into my life. I didn't expect him to find a loophole in it, or want to find one. I just…" Sarah trailed off, her heart working faster than her brain. She had singlehandedly turned his world upside down and crushed it within thirteen hours. He'd offered her the world, and she'd denied him till the very end. He had been generous. She wanted a villain, he gave her one. She wanted an adventure, he gave her one. "He moved the stars, for shit's sake," she mumbled bitterly. And she wanted his help now? No. Jareth was a ruthless King, and she would not give him the benefit of the doubt. He'd find some way to twist her words back on her, bind her with a deal.

God! You are so Goddamn stubborn.

Gravel scraped a car or two down from her. Sarah wasted no time in jerking up from her crouch and sprinting, weaving in between the cars until she'd broken free of the lines of vehicles. Nothing but wide open greenery was spread between her and the locked door of the dorm. She could feel the adrenaline coursing through her, pulling at her tired limbs to make her move faster.

One moment, she was free, and the next her foot caught on something and she was skidding across the ground. Her skin screamed at the grass burns, cheek freely bleeding from a cut she'd gotten on impact. She didn't have time to stay still, but she couldn't move.

Sarah. Get up! Run! Do something!

But it was too late. There were footsteps, somewhat muffled from the turf, calmly heading towards her. No running. Just a brisk walk. And then hands were at her waist, pulling her off the ground. Sarah fumbled wildly, thrashing against his paralyzing grip. One hand had moved to wrap itself possessively around the base of her hairline. If he found the right nerve, she'd be done for. With a final lurch, she used the momentum of her dead weight to throw them both off balance. She landed atop him. Fingernails struck their target, and a pained grunt bit past her ear. Her elbow made contact with a rib. Just as she launched herself to her feet, a pair of gloved hands snagged around her stomach and wrenched her backwards. Sarah finally managed to suck in enough air for one word. She knew, at this point, she was too far beyond rethinking the mistake; her mind was already made up.

"Jareth!"

And suddenly, the gloves were pulling at her jaw line, effectively stilling her screams. Sarah fought blindly. And finally broke free.

She took off running for the door again, attacker chasing after her. Sarah's heart raced as fidgety fingers fumbled with the keycard, casting anxious glances over her shoulder. He was running at her with breakneck speed.

Adrenaline overtook her body, forcing her fingers to be still long enough to jam the card into the slot, twisting it until she'd swiped the right way. Sarah threw herself inside. The door crashed behind her, a defeated fist following its close. But Sarah didn't turn back. Jareth hadn't come. He hadn't come. He would never come.

Sarah Williams didn't stop. She would never stop running.

Ashlyn had already been dead to the world when Sarah had torn through their room, quivering as the shadows seemed to gather and pull around her. So she quit the room hurriedly, escaping with nothing but a towel, soap, and shampoo. She'd be damned if she'd let a little creeper frighten her out of clean luxuries.

The shower's scolding heat couldn't be hot enough. It tore at her broken flesh, but Sarah paid it no attention, viciously scrubbing her skin with soapy fingernails. Dirt. Blood. Hair. She watched it all swirl down the porcelain drain, itching for hotter water. When her body was spotless, aside from the bruises and cuts, Sarah let her back hit the damp wall and slide down. She curled beneath the assaulting spray.

"All these years, and I never thought he wouldn't…"

Her conscious voices sighed, but neither offered any condolence. They both knew the Goblin King had refused her. But it was a fact better left unsaid. Sarah Williams had never bothered with the idea that perhaps, one day, when she'd truly needed him, he would reject the girl. Five years had passed, and she'd seen him—she'd swear—that white owl circling overhead, sweeping in and out of her life as easily as the wind. She toyed with the fantasy of him following her, watching over her, protecting her. It had made her giddy with satisfaction, that while she had crushed his heart, he still held on, waiting for the day when she was ready for him.

As dark waves of depression crashed over her, Sarah slid her eyes closed, tilting her head back into the stream. The mist was gloriously suffocating. She grinned, suddenly, her mask slamming back into place. What did it matter that the Goblin King hadn't come? She'd won again. Without his help. If he'd refused her, then surely he had watched long enough to see. His little Sarah Williams had indeed grown up, and no longer needed him or his world.

Sarah opened her eyes—or, she thought she did. Pitch darkness still surrounded her. She hadn't even noticed the water shut off, skin chafing from the damp cold. Sarah panicked. She shot out of the curtain, fingers grappling for her towel as she jerkily wiped the remnants of shampoo and soap from her hair and skin. Wavy, wet curls clung to her bare neck and shoulders, cascading and freezing instantly in ice. "No," Sarah grit her teeth against the white clouds escaping her lips. "No. Not now."

She wrenched the stall door open, shoe-less feet slipping on the frozen puddles that flooded the showering room. Sarah went down hard.

"Sarah…"

Her nails clawed, pulling her and the towel along the slick surface until she'd made it out into the hall in a heap of snow and ice. She rose to her feet, eyes sliding over the darkened hallway. Though the electricity was out, the emergency fire lights dimly lit the poster-covered walls. Six doors down and she would be dorm-room free. Sarah took a somewhat-confident step in the right direction and then halted.

The yellow light directly above her doorway had just flickered and gone out.

Heart drumming loudly in her ears, Sarah pulled the towel closer around her, glancing behind. She'd called him earlier, damnit. He had no right to pick and choose when he would answer her call…did he? Exasperated, Sarah hovered against the wall. It wasn't fair.

Another light, closer to her, exploded in darkness.

It wasn't him. It wasn't. Sarah's nostrils flared in utter rejection of reality. No. Jareth was dead to her.

Something hot and burning pressed at the back of her eyes. She blinked it away fiercely. Her heart ached, physically breaking and pulling back her lungs into a heaving pant. Pain licked through her entire body, seeping into her veins and ending at her head, threatening to crack from the dark emotions forced upon her. Sarah didn't want to feel this. This wasn't her. Inhaling sharply, she charged the gradual darkness. But she never had the strength to brace against the gale of wind that slithered around her arms and waist—inevitably hurling her against the cindered walls. She was held there for a moment too long before sliding to the frozen flood. Snow was billowing out of the showered hall, building around her as it threatened to hold her captive. Sarah fought it off. But the ice was clinging to her skin in blue sheets. It slowed her down as another tornado wave barreled at her with maddened speed. "Stop it!" she screamed.

"Sarah…" the gale breathed menacingly.

She whirled to her feet again, towel nearly forgotten as she tripped her way into the fluorescent emergency lighting. But just as she breached the darkness, two lights down, the illumination flickered, silhouetting a lithe figure with unruly hair, arms folded, head cocked, and eyes glowing crimson, before blacking out. Sarah twisted herself mid-step. She was too late.

The wind snagged her, twisting round and round until she was levitating a foot off the ground. The shadow before her paced with slow and measured steps, taking his time in those sickeningly familiar knee-length boots. Sarah's eyes trailed further up, to the tight-fit pants hugging the sharp curves of his thighs. A black button-up surrounded his snug waist, un-tucked and unbuttoned, exposing a chiseled chest that rose and fell with the jagged snarls spitting through pointed canines. His hair laid untouched, save for the black spikes twined with the gold, mirroring his rage. And then Sarah noticed the feathers. Unlike their final encounter, the plumes were not sewn into his outfit. They were stuck all over him, drifting to his feet, some shifting as they were swept up by the snaking wind that supported Sarah's suddenly weak body.

Concealed in the darkness, Jareth took a crisp step towards her. The air tightened its hold violently as the girl struggled to breathe. "Well, what have we here?" The sneer echoed as the memory of Labyrinth's tunnels blazed at the fringes of her core. There was no mocking in his tone now, though; only resentment.

"Let me go," Sarah all but screamed. She twisted her head to the side, away from Jareth's accusing glare. But the gale snaked its way around her neck and through her hair, twisting it back none too gently.

His voice was deadly calm. "I already have. Twice. That's more than generous, don't you think?"

"You're too late. I saved myself."

Somehow, she knew that brow of his rose in delicate sarcasm. "Yes, I can see that."

The windstorm died down slowly, allowing Sarah's feet to touch ground. She'd nearly forgotten her immodest appearance and could feel Jareth's gaze raking over her, mildly amused. "Just let me go, and I swear I won't ever call you again. It was a mistake, and I didn't mean it—"

"Ah, but isn't that what got us into this delicious situation? Do not take for granted that you called me, precious Sarah. And I have rushed, set aside my kingdom," he hissed, "for you. Is this not to your finicky tastes, Sarah? Should I have come galloping upon a white steed, declaring my undying envy for a thing I can never have?"

"The only ass that came barging back into my life tonight was you," Sarah spat, tugging the towel tighter. She backed up into the darkness, which had seemed to grow hands of its own, shoving her back towards Jareth. Sarah chanced a glare over her shoulder at it. "It was a moment of weakness, nothing more."

"But if you turn it this way," he repeated, another solid step closer, "it does not suit you." Jareth paused, inspecting a gloved hand. "Tell me, Sarah, you aren't used to being vulnerable, are you?"

She rubbed at her arms absently, hardly paying attention. She had to find a way out of this.

"No? Neither was I." Jareth paused, eyes burning into her. Sarah nearly wilted under his stare. He was completely vexed, patience waning with her continued silence. Her verbal spirit had dwindled considerably—and he hated her for it. Sarah knew he wished to see that spoilt little girl again, with a temper to match his own. A will power all her own. For my will is as strong as yours… Sarah felt a cold shiver race through her bones, settling as a dull ache in her abdomen. "Ah, ta, ta, I know that look. And it won't work, so wipe those words from your venomous tongue. Sarah, really, it is rude…" he trailed off to gesture grandly with his hand. A chair appeared behind Sarah, and she found the darkness shoving her back into it, strapping her in. Her head connected roughly with the illusion.

Suddenly, Jareth was there—right there. Fingers braced over her tied wrists on the armrest, filed teeth seething as he searched her face for signs of remorse. When he found none, he settled for her fear.

Sarah returned his gaze defiantly, hardening against his attack. She wanted to hate him, despise him, hurt him the way she'd been left to hurt. Five years wasn't long, but it was long enough. Her dreams, her imagination—everything had vanished when she'd rejected him. Sleep was evasive, and love was even harder to come by. Sarah now found herself shaking uncontrollably before him, teeth clenched as the past washed over her in waves upon waves of regret. She'd taken her brother back from him, but it had cost her dearly in denial of her dreams.

But then, Sarah blinked. She studied his face, hard. Its perfection had been mauled. Three red lines were enflamed just above the right arch of his brow. His lip was cut. No blood, for that would mean he was mortal. But they were cuts nonetheless.

His heady scent cleared as recognition dawned on her pallid features.

Sarah Williams exploded in laughter.

Jareth paled in bitter shock, concern dressed as contempt dancing in those mismatched pools of his. He leaned back from her, folding his arms carefully as he no doubt contemplated what to do with his mortal, whom he'd clearly driven into madness. Jareth's face darkened. "Are you daft?" he questioned irritably, visibly bristling at her humor.

Sarah doubled over, as much as she could despite the dark restraints. Her sides ached, but for an entirely different reason now. She gasped, biting her lips to keep her face from splitting open with amusement as she nodded towards the feathers. "Were you mangled by a chicken, Jareth?"

Utterly perplexed, Jareth narrowed his eyes. "I have not even dumped you in the Bog yet, and here you are positively reeking of insanity. You, Sarah Williams, are mad." He straightened up, tugging at his sleeves before regarding her icily. "And it was not a chicken. I merely forgot how you can manage to command anything to your defense—I underestimated your pillow."

Sarah grinned.

Jareth sighed. He reached forward, capturing a tendril of ice in his leathered fingertips. "Do you really think me so cruel?" Agitation was brewing in those mismatched eyes of his.

"Just as I can be so cruel." Her tone fell solemn. "Five years can do a lot to change a person's perspective, you know," she whispered. "Each year you became more spiteful, more vengeful, in every shadow waiting to…to…" Sarah blushed, looking away. "Well, I never really got that far in my head. And when I called—there was no blast of glitter, no mocking, just watching." She shuddered, remembering how his eyes felt raking over her back at her car.

"I do not wish to frighten you. But you should never defy me, Sarah. It breeches the King within and pushes to punish. I am not used to such blatant defiance, girl," his voice hardened. He let go of the dripping strand he'd been holding. "But then I remember I have no power over you. Did you know that striking a King is punishable by death, whether or not you constitute as my subject?" Jareth's face turned feral with crisp amusement.

"You would do that?"

The King in question scoffed angrily. "If you portray me as such a tyrant, then I will be said oppressor, if only ever to please you, Sarah Williams."

Sarah's face fumed. She recoiled into the darkness' chair, balking away from Jareth. "It was you, then? You've been taking those girls?" She watched the cool indifference break to reveal a flash of disgust, but she ignored it, wanting to push him over the edge—to give herself a reason not to trust her oldest adversary. "God, Jareth, did kids get boring for you? Five years turn you into a perverted bastard or something? Kids are one thing, but innocent girls… Did you hurt them? Hey, Goblin King! Answer me. What did you do to them? Was it not enough to take from me? But you had to go and steal from them because you lost me?" She didn't sound like herself anymore, but she didn't care. Sarah was too busy relishing in the utter hate that was unsteadily shadowing his face, as the air around them crackled with electric bolts. She dug her heels in as her long tresses pulled and rose around her. Knuckles turned white, Sarah leaned forward, voice low. "Did you rape—"

"Enough!" Jareth roared. Everywhere, glass shattered around them, walls vibrating as Jareth's emotions threatened to crumble the entire building to ash. The cinders around them rattled and moaned. Sarah refused to look away from the immortal before her, even as fear began to root itself around and dig into her body. Jareth was circling her, biceps pulsing as he tried to grasp the absurd calm emanating from Sarah. Leather squealed in protest. His eyes were now one solitary color: black.

"You want a war, Sarah? Then you shall get your war." Every word had been carefully annunciated. His fingers twisted and pulled at the air, a crystalline sphere now resting in the palm of his hand. Jareth gazed into it longingly before hurling it with all his strength at Sarah. She flinched. But no impact came.

The crystal hovered before her, fog swirling in its depths. Sarah cracked an eye open. She relaxed somewhat stiffly.

But then the crystal lowered, towards her chest, as strands of light broke its surface, tangling in her hair, around her neck, like the darkness. It caressed, and Sarah fought to regain control against the eerily soothing crystal. Like fingers, it reached down, settling over the left side of her chest. It hissed before snapping the barrier of her skin and penetrating inside.

Sarah could only scream his name. Jareth watched from behind his apathetic mask, ignoring the pull of her call.

The darkness and light released her after a moment, hovering as she collapsed on all fours to the ground at Jareth's feet. He glared down his nose at her making no move to help. So she pushed her hair back, quivering at his feet. "What did you do to me?"

"Generously granted another wish."

Her chest was heaving. "I didn't wish for this!"

Jareth snarled. "You wished for me—so I came, as you expected me to come, and I took as you expected me to take." He crouched down before her, elbow on one knee as he held his chin and mouth. Narrowed eyes were accusing her.

Sarah flung herself away from him, ignoring the dull ache that had risen in her chest. His gloved hand caught her ankle. Jareth slid her back to him as he continued to scrutinize her mockingly, nose scrunched and brows nearly pinched together. His upper lip was pulled up and back from his teeth, curled in repulsion. "Let it go, Sarah."

"Let me go, Jareth," she bit out, back of her wrist pressed to her mouth. Her vision was pulling and stretching, the corners fraying into a haze of darkness. Her stomach twisted as the room spun around them, Jareth still above her as he watched magic take its feral grip on his mortal. Sarah fell limp as energy tore at her skin. She arched her back. Jareth reached for her face, but she flinched away, glaring at him through hooded eyes as she lost all control. Growling, Jareth's insistent hand found its way to her cheek, stroking softly. His gloved fingers flitted around to the back of her ear, cupping it and giving it a gentle tug before tangling at the base of her hairline.

"Relax," he ordered. The command stunned her rebellion, and Sarah Williams obeyed. Jareth bowed his head to the crook of her neck. His hair raised goosebumps along her arms and neck as it tickled and pricked. He pressed his ear to her chest, listening.

And just as quickly, he was pulling away from her, leaving a dull emptiness within and around Sarah Williams. Jareth now held, within his gloved fingertips, the glass sphere, fog replaced with an emerald and violet essence. As he drifted out of reach with it, Sarah found herself leaning towards it, a magnetic force dragging her with him. "Give it back, Goblin King."

A solitary brow rose. "You know not what you're asking, precious."

"It's me—mine." Sarah rose shakily to her feet. "I don't know what it is, but it's mine, a part of me, and it's only fair—"

"Do enlighten me on the fairness of you ripping out a piece of me five years ago, Sarah, because I am dying to know how me returning the favor is not fair. An eye for an eye, is it not?" Jareth raised the crystal to , face falling as he looked within.

Sarah was visibly shaking. "Is this your grand revenge, Jareth? You take my heart, and then plan on shattering it into a million pieces, only to throw it back in my face? What you couldn't have willingly, you take—"

In a moment of blind rage, his arm snapped back, muscles screaming as he threatened to hurl the crystal at Sarah. His whole body stayed poised to strike, eyes darkening dangerously. "Mine," he threatened. "This is mine. Finders keepers, hmm?"

"You didn't find it."

"It was offered freely."

"Damnit, Jareth, nothing is free!"

He nodded approvingly, making his way closer to Sarah. "So we have grown up, haven't we?" Jareth turned to stare back at the crystal in his palm. He frowned, voice hollow. "It is broken." The reverence and shame in his tone bit at Sarah. Of course it was broken, she thought. What else did he expect? A brand new, never-before-opened-out-of-the-box organ? But something was still drumming in her ears, and she realized it wasn't the organ that was missing—it was a part of her, only her heart in the sense of the misused word. But still…

She cleared her throat. "How am I supposed to live without a heart?"

He glanced up at her, distracted. The glint in his eyes was raw with emotion, rooting her to the spot with his gaze. "You don't."

"So that's it, then? You take my heart and it's all over? How am I still alive then, Jareth?" Her anger was bubbling up, shaking as she backed further into the darkness, closer to her door. It was mere inches away now. Jareth followed her like prey. Sarah's back met her door. Jareth's arms came up to either side of her face, trapping her in as he pressed the full length of his body against her. He watched her carefully, growling.

"Because you still have mine."

a/n: so I needed a break from His Har Har Lee, but now I've got a knife at my throat for my betrayal…and our lovely clown's muttering something about getting my priorities straight…damnit. But ah…don't tell him, this may not be a one-shot. Depends on demand.

Reviews most welcome. Thanks for reading.