THIRTEEN HOURS

A Labyrinth Fanfic

A/N: Hello my fellow Labyfans! This is my first Labyrinth fanfic. And my first attempt at smut. I make no excuse for this smut, just that the movie and David Bowie (forever the Goblin King) inspire that side of me for some odd reason.

I'm freaking out a little about the smut, but I'm sure that you wonderful people will either critique kindly, or just walk away from the fic, shaking your head and muttering, 'Well, that's half an hour of my life I'm never getting back.'

I've been heavily influenced by the many other fantastic Labyfics that I've read over the years, but this one in particular was a strong influence: 'In Dreams' by I Took the One Less Travelled (ff dot net) and on AO3 'In Dreams' by ITookTheOneLessTravelled. Read it if you want HOT J-on-S action *fans self*. I was also influenced by a paranormal romance series I read years ago and one book in particular: 'The Immortal Highlander' by Karen Marie Moning. Robin Goodfellow as a hot Highlander Fae with invisibility issues except to one un/fortunate law student? Yes, please!

Okay, I can't put it off any longer. *takes deep breath* It's a four parter, and goes Plot, Smut, Action Plot, More Smut. Because apparently I can't write smut with no context.

One more thing: MUM DO NOT READ PAST CHAPTER ONE PLEASE. I love you.

Disclaimer: I do not own Labyrinth or Jareth or his indecently tight pants.


PART ONE - Reunion

It was thirteen hours after Sarah solved the Labyrinth when she first noticed her socks were missing.

Not just one or two.

All of them.

"What a bizarre thing to go missing," she mumbled to herself as she checked under her bed again. Leaning back on her heels, she frowned for a second, until she heard a snickering from her partially open drawer. She whipped her head around at the sound, only to see the draw slam shut after some beady yellow eyes.

She sighed. Looks like some of the party-goers had decided to hang around. Pulling herself off the floor, she trudged bare-foot to the door. Turning around once more to narrow her eyes at the room, she said loudly, "I don't appreciate having to beg for socks from my step-mom, guys."

Snickers answered her, and she tried not to grin as she closed her bedroom door to find her surprised step-mom.

Thirteen days after Sarah had solved the Labyrinth, she noticed the owl again. A rustle of feathers above her head as she walked to school had her snapping her eyes up and around as she met its steady gaze.

Sarah's eyes widened. Was that- him? She looked around, shuffling her feet awkwardly, then pointed sharply at the bird. "You can't have him, I won him back!"

The bird blinked haughtily at the young woman, who turned tail and ran.

Thirteen months after Sarah had solved the Labyrinth, her friends disappeared. She sat frozen in front of her dresser mirror, the unbelief occasionally punctuated with a plead for them, begging them to come because she needed them.

But they never came. Not that day, nor any other day after that.

Thirteen years after Sarah solved the Labyrinth, the Goblin King came visiting.


Sarah Williams - for one year Davis, but not anymore - poured out her clean clothing from the laundry basket all over her king-sized bed. A bit big for a single woman living alone in a smallish city apartment in Manhattan, but she put her foot down in the divorce when Steve took off with all the New Zealand Rimu bookshelves.

Now she had nowhere to put her boxes and boxes of books, but at least she had a great big bloody bed.

She began to pull out the towels and fold them and chuckled a bit when she remembered the letter she received that morning from a young fan.

'Do you have lots of servants because my Mom said that you get money from all of your books that you sell so you must be rich because your books are really good.'

Sarah instinctively shied away from the spotlight, particularly after a certain incident when she was fifteen that brought her and her baby brother to the attention of a magical Goblin King. That's why, when at the tender age of eighteen, still broken hearted over the disappearance of her Underground friends, she wrote a fantasy novel under a pseudonym and secretly sent it off to half a dozen publishers.

H.D. Ludo was as famous as she was reclusive. So now, ten years after her first novel was published, and thirteen after her adventures in the Labyrinth, her sixth novel about a young man's adventures in the Underground, battling the forces of the Unseelie Fae and falling for a mysterious and beautiful Seelie Warrior Queen, was being released with much fanfare that night, and of course, the expected speculation about the true identity of the author.

Sarah was not taking any chances that the Goblin King could find her again so easily.

She was also uncomfortably aware that being a magical Goblin King, he should have no trouble finding her anyway.

Shaking off the unwanted thoughts of the King who stirred her lady parts more at fifteen - an immature fifteen at that - than her husband of eleven months and three days did, she began packing away the folded clothing and turned her thoughts to more pressing matters, such as what style she wanted her hair to be in for tonight's book launch.

Sarah may have staunchly refused to be known publicly as the world famous author H.D. Ludo, but it gave her a bit of a perverse thrill to be among those who were brutally honest about her work because they had no idea they were actually talking to the author herself. And, surprisingly, she got some of her best ideas from their honest opinions.

Snatching up her handbag, she gave one last lingering look at her childhood dresser mirror and smiled sadly.

"I still need you. All of you," she whispered. Tearing her eyes away, she left the apartment for the hairdressers, not seeing the mirror ripple like water.


Sarah thanked the cab driver as she handed her fare over with a generous tip, and waved off his protests with a smile as she carefully pulled herself out of the back seat. The book launch was being held at a recently renovated hall, brought back to its late nineteenth century glory just around the corner from the New York Public Library. It was a swanky affair, far too swanky for Sarah's tastes, considering her books were aimed at older children and young adults, but her publicist - one of the few who knew Sarah's identity - insisted.

So Sarah stubbornly insisted on a having 50 tickets set aside for a competition open for eight to eighteen year olds to attend the launch.

Gathering her long sapphire blue skirt in her hands, Sarah made her way up the stairs and into the glittering entrance. A big smile stretched across her face at the sight of dozens of awed children and their gobsmacked parents dressed in their Sunday best, each clutching a copy of the new book. She could even spot a few kids tucked up in corners, ignoring the world as they delved into the first chapter.

Retrieving a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, Sarah sipped happily and looked around for anyone she recognised. She blinked. A unique hairstyle passing the book sale table on the far side of the hall caught her attention.

Blonde. Wild. Very eighties rock star.

She shook her head. No. She hadn't heard hide or hair from any citizen of the Underground since she was nearly seventeen. No Hoggle, Sir Didymus, Ludo, sock-stealing goblin, let alone Goblin King.

She sighed a little sadly, but then caught the eye of a local up and coming author, who she had become friends with via her frequent visits to the library, and shook off her melancholy mood to go talk to her.

Later in the evening, when the speeches were over and most of the finger food had been devoured, Sarah's eye caught on the wild blonde mane once more, and fuelled with too much alcohol and too little food, she set off after it.

Her heart began to pound as she picked her way carefully through the thinning crowd, trying not to stumble on her heels or over the long hem of her dress.

Where did he-? Ah! Sarah skittered over to one of the corridors leading, she presumed, to more rooms at the back of the hall. Her heels echoed loudly on the wooden floors as the music faded away behind her. She stopped short at the end of the corridor, where she was presented with three doors, one to either side, and another right in front.

"Right," she muttered, contemplating the carved wood of each. At least none of them tried to talk to her. She firmed her jaw and turned the handle of the one in front of her.

The room was dark and empty, about half the size of her apartment. She softly closed the door behind her. She smelt no dust, so it must be in use regularly.

But not tonight.

Tonight, it housed the Goblin King.

The head of wild hair turned, and she came face to face with the man whose eyes she would never admit haunted her dreams. His mouth split into a wide smile just this side of psychopath.

"Hello, Sarah."

Any bravado on behalf of the drinks she had consumed that night evaporated, and she felt froze like an animal caught in car headlights as she stood there, gaping at a man who should not even exist.

Gone were the feathered cloaks and fancy cravats, the Goblin King was dressed impeccably in a slim-fitting tux, plain black, although she could never really ascribe anything to the man as plain. He took some swaggering steps in her direction, running a gloveless, long-fingered, pale hand down the front of his suit, drawing her attention to first his tie - a skinny tie, silk, the exact same shade of sapphire as Sarah's dress, she noted hazily - then to his narrow hips and-

Well, his trousers certainly hadn't loosened since their last meeting.

Sarah snapped back to reality - and her eyes back up to his face - as he continued to prowl closer. There was no other way to describe his movement. He stalked her like a big cat, his unusual eyes a burning caress up and down her suddenly heated body.

Sarah cleared her throat. "Ah- hmm, h-hi," she stuttered with all the elegance she possessed at that particular moment. Then she turned on her elegant heels and ran for the exit.

Throwing herself against the closed door, she pulled it open for a brief, beautiful second, before a hand slammed it shut again, ripping the handle out of her grip. Spinning around to find herself inches away from a bemused Goblin King, she instinctively turned her head away, threw up her hands and shrieked, "You have no power over me!"

The words echoed around the room for several long seconds, then Sarah realised that she wasn't touching anything. Blinking her eyes open cautiously, she turned her head back to the last position of the Goblin King-

Her hands were currently residing in his neck and left shoulder. He looked somewhat disgruntled.

"Wha-?" Her mouth dropped, and she pulled her hands back in, inspected them, then threw a half-hearted backhand through the exasperated fae's perfect cheekbones. Nothing. It was as if he wasn't there.

"Sarah," he sighed, startling her with the voice that had haunted her dreams for thirteen years. "Do try to control your violent tendencies."

He was still leaning over her, both hands resting on either side of her head. Indignantly, Sarah raised her chin, holding back the urge to shiver at the feel of his warm breath against her face. "Still around, I see, Goblin King?" She spat. She waved a hand through his bicep. "Sort of."

"Oh, yes, precious Sarah," he murmured back, a sly grin twitching his mouth. "You could not keep me away. Not tonight of all nights."

She cleared her throat uncomfortably. He may not be able to touch her, but his presence was enough to make her break out into a sweat. "And why is tonight so special?"

He leaned closer to her ear, and her skin goosebumped all the way down her arm. "It's our anniversary, Sarah," he said softly, "Thirteen years today we met. Well," he leaned back with a smug grin, "thirteen years since you last saw me."

Her mouth dropped open again, and she poked him in the chest, possibly losing some of the effect when her hand slipped right through the solid looking flesh. "So you did stalk me, you pervert!"

That made him take a step back. "Pervert?" He sputtered indignantly. "I think not, little girl-"

"I was a little girl-"

"You were a young woman-"

"I was FIFTEEN and had no idea you were putting the moves on me-"

"Moves?! Let me assure you, precious, that you will notice when the Goblin King puts the moves on you!"

His last statement echoed through the empty room. Sarah was suddenly struck by the ridiculousness of it all. She must be dreaming. She's got to be. A somewhat hysterical laugh was rising in her chest. She slapped her hands over her mouth to keep it silent, but it was too late. A snort escaped.

If it was possible, the Goblin King looked even more put out. "You're laughing at me."

Eyes wide, trying look as innocent as possible, another snort escaped from behind her hands and she shook her head in denial.

"Don't lie, precious, it's unbecoming."

With a droll look, she dropped both hands to cross her arms over her chest. "Unbecoming to whom?"

His gaze had dropped to her chest as well. "My eyes are up here, Goblin King." She rolled those mentioned eyes. Men. Immortal or otherwise, they seemed to share rather similar traits.

Beaming a disarming smile, he leaned close to her again, imitating the pose he took on in that tunnel, all those years ago, one arm resting near her head, another perched on a narrow hip. "Sarah, please. You know my name." His deep baritone rumbled through her, and she felt what little assurance she gained from the not-being-able-to-touch-her thing, slip a smidgen. She could feel his name press on the tip of her tongue, wanting out, ready to be exposed to the cool air of the dark room, but she bit it back.

It suddenly didn't seem right to address a magical creature by his name. And not right because he was royalty and she was not, oh no, Sarah was no royalist.

But because words have power.

She eyed him suspiciously. "No, I don't." She lied. Then she pushed herself off the door and walked right through him.

"Come, come, precious," he said in a reasonable voice. "After all these years? You could have not simply forgotten." Sarah turned back to him with both hands on her hips. He was standing in an uncanny echo of her own pose.

Or, she thought uncomfortably, she was echoing his.

Dropping her hands she lifted her chin up into the air. "I don't believe we know each other well enough to start using first names," she said haughtily. There. Let that appeal to his old-fashioned sensibilities. If he had any.

The Goblin King's face went blank for a moment, then the light went on in his eyes. "Oh, Sarah," he purred as he stepped closer to her again. "You clever, precious thing, you. So you haven't forgotten lessons learned in my kingdom, then?"

She refused to say anything.

He smiled wider. "Sarah..." He drawled.

"Why can't I touch you?" She snapped, refusing to rise to his bait. She turned slightly with a sound that came out a little like a 'hurrk' and leapt back when the Goblin King suddenly appeared at her side. "Don't DO that!" She gasped, hand over her wildly beating heart.

He shrugged one elegantly clad shoulder. "Why should I not? It's not as if you can feel me-"

"And just why is that, Goblin King?" She demanded, still slightly startled.

"We have no power over each other, precious. 'My kingdom is as great' tra la la and all that." He waved a hand dismissively. "But that's not important," he said, fixing her with a slightly triumphant look. "What is important is that fact that it's been thirteen years since your journey to my Labyrinth, and your-" his lips twisted a little with distaste, "victory over myself. The magic that protected you is beginning to fade, and that is why I have come to see you tonight." He finished his speech with a small bow and a cheeky grin.

Sarah was so confused. "Wait, magic protection? How was I protected?"

The Goblin King ran a long fingered hand down her arm, and she shivered from the heat that she could feel coming off him, but couldn't feel on her bare arm.

"The protection that keeps me still from touching you, Sarah," he said huskily. "The protection that keeps you from seeing what's really in front of you." She shivered again, refusing to acknowledge why she was reacting to him. She took a step away from him, eyeing him warily.

"Is that why you came tonight, Goblin King? For some sort of revenge?"

He grinned again, the pale light of the room catching his sharp teeth. "Oh, Sarah, how I have imagined this moment for years. The moment when the magic broke down enough so I could see you again in my preferred form," he spoke softly and hypnotically, running a hand down the front of his suit again as he began to circle her. He stopped behind her and leaned down and whispered into her ear, "What I would do to you, precious."

Starting as his warm breath touched the skin of her exposed neck, she pulled away and whirled back to face him. Trying not to show how his closeness affected her, she took a deep breath to calm herself. She looked him up and down with a false bravado. "But you can't touch me, can you, Goblin King?"

He scowled. She smirked.

"As enlightening as this reunion has been," she said airily, "I think it's time for me to leave." She turned her back on him, gathered up her skirt and made for the door again.

As her hand touched the handle, she flinched, still on edge, as his voice cracked through the still air. "If you believe that I am the most dangerous thing the Underground has to offer, precious-"

He trailed off, leaving the threat hanging. Sarah's stomach dropped. "What do you mean?" She asked, turning back.

He was gone.

Of course he was.