This is a disclaimer. The reason this is a disclaimer, is because the work, known as the Labyrinth, does not belong to me. This is fanfiction, people. Meaning that I do not own Jareth, Sarah, the Underground, or any of those delightful little wonders we love about this movie. Doesn't that bite. Labyrinth is a work of Jim Henson, may he rest in peace. (Though if he knew about those mangas, from what I've heard, he wouldn't be.) It is meant as a tribute to the original work, not a ripoff. I am making no money.

That being said, what's left of this fic, is mine.

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Well, those who know me, know this is a new fandom for me. Those who don't know me, probably wonder what the heck I'm talking about. Either way... I promise to do my best. Both in staying true to character, and to updating regularly. (I'm usually pretty good at both, from what I'm told.) I hope you enjoy this... Just as importantly, I hope I have just as much fun writing it as I expected...

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'Buena Luna' was the most expensive restaurant in the whole city, and every detail spoke of it. It was vast in size, reminiscent of an old castle ballroom, with high cathedral ceilings and intricately painted murals. An enormous crystal chandelier hung amongst great swathes of crushed red velvet, realistic flickers from the now electrical bulbs cast hauntingly across the darker room beneath… Each table, solid wood, hand carved, bathed in a fragile aura of candlelight. An orchestra's murmur, cast throughout the elegant brush of color and shadow.

And then there was the food… Well, technically, neither of them had tasted the food yet. Their orders would take another twenty minutes, at least. And to be honest, the waiting was beginning to be unbearable. Adam focused rather intently on the knuckles of his hands, watching the candle's light flicker shapes across his long fingers. He needed to think of something to say. Not the obvious. Not yet.

He was aware of Sarah sitting across from him, just as silent. Without looking, he knew what he'd see… Her head bowed, tongue grasped lightly between her teeth in concentration. One hand, grasping the featureless black pen, the other, its fingers flared across the breadth of an empty page. More focused in the idea she was currently trying to work from her head, than their elegant surroundings.

Lifting his gaze, he felt a surge of frustration to see that he was right. He might as well have not even have been there… He cleared his throat, reminding her, as discreetly as possible, that they were in fact, on a date.

Sarah didn't even look up. "Hold on…" She murmured, the tip of her pen flying swiftly across the white paper… Eyes, behind their veil of brown, beautifully intense, gleaming with fervor. "This place would be perfect for the castle… The main window facing the west, the sunset casting all those colors across it…"

His lips tightened, and his eyes dropped, briefly, back to his hands. This wasn't going the way he'd wanted. Clearly she was impressed with the place, but all she wanted to do, was write about it. One of the pitfalls of dating an aspiring novelist, he supposed…

But tonight was supposed to be different.

Sucking in a deep breath through his teeth, he turned his gaze back to her again, narrowing his eyes at the girl he saw before him. Perfect lips, turned into a content little smile. Delicate features, graceful movements… Smooth skin, supple curves, long, silky brown hair. Ink smudging her fingers… That was almost a constant. Mossy-tinted eyes, lit with excitement. Pity the source of that excitement never seemed to be anything he did.

"Sarah…" He prompted, suddenly not as willing as usual to let her forget him, and fall into her little daydreams. "Can you do that later? It took two months for me to get this reservation…"

A frown, gracing her lips, and her eyes shot up in annoyance to take in her long-time boyfriend. "You know I have to write it down, or I'll forget it." She pointed out, like he was the one being unreasonable here. "The food's not even here yet… And I'm almost done."

"No, you're not." He denied, just a little more sharply than he'd intended. "You're never done." Sarah's eyes grew wide, briefly in surprise, and then her frown deepened. Adam took a deep breath, again, determined not to say something he'd regret. "Look, I know how important your writing is to you… But for one night, one date, can you put that stuff away, and just talk to me?"

Sarah made a soft sound of dismissal, and gave him a sour look. "We talk all the time, Adam. We've been dating for three years now. What is there left to talk about?"

Her words surprised him, and it felt briefly like something hot and bitter had just slid down his throat, as she seemed to imply, again, that she just wasn't interested anymore. Not in him.

His hands tightened into fists on the table, and he didn't even notice. His voice, weighted with what he should and shouldn't say, emerging in a rasp… "I'm sorry I can't be as interesting as the people in your stories." He whispered coldly, making her pause, just as she was about to turn back to her notebook, and look up in bewilderment, clearly not sure what was bothering him. "I mean, I'm only doing my best here, Sarah… It's not like I can offer you enchanted forests and time-stealing crystals, and-!"

His words broke off sharply, shortly, and he finally noticed that the skin of his hands had gone bone white. Swallowing, he pointedly didn't look at the girl again. Not yet. "I can't help but notice, that you never write about me, Sarah." He said at last, more quietly. "If that's your perfect world, then why aren't I in it?"

For a moment, Sarah just stared… There was no easy answer to that question, after all. She couldn't exactly tell him that they weren't just stories, but a part of her past she still held onto with both hands, and dreamed about almost every night. That when she went home, after this dinner was over, she'd sit down on her bed, and with a whisper of beckoning, still almost see the faces of the friends she'd made years before. She couldn't tell him, because that sort of thing didn't happen in real life. Except to her.

And even she wasn't sure she hadn't dreamed the whole thing!

"I never knew you wanted to be part of them." She heard herself murmuring as she turned back to the page, an intonation to the words that was almost dismissive. "You're always going on about how I need to spend less time daydreaming, and apply myself more. What do you care about a few faery tales, that you don't even bother to read?"

"I care, because you'd rather play with them, than spend time with me!" His voice had risen, just a little, in the otherwise mostly silent hall, and several gazes turned quickly their way, before he pressed his voice back down, into a low mutter. "Ever since I've known you, you've always had your head in the clouds, Sarah. That was fine when you were sixteen, and a junior in high school, but this is the real world. There aren't any goblins, or knights riding sheepdogs, or stinking swamps…"

"The bog of eternal stench." She corrected quietly, looking at him both defensively, and a bit taken aback. "And I thought you'd never read any of my stories?"

Adam shook his head, grimly. "That's the difference between us, Sarah. I can actually take an interest in the things that are important to you. But for god's sakes, it's just a story! And you're letting it eat up your whole life!"

For the first time, anger flared in the pretty girl's eyes, and she folded her arms across the table, over the notebook, almost like the lowering of a barrier between them. "You knew I wanted to be a writer when we met!" She pointed out, her voice an accusing, irritated hiss. "How am I supposed to do that, if I don't do my best to improve my writing whenever I can? How am I supposed to-?"

"Sarah… Lots of people want to be writers." He denied, more bluntly than he'd ever dared to be with the girl he cared about so much. "How many of them do you think actually make it?"

This time, the barrier that fell between them was more than her arms… Something distant fell across her eyes, and suddenly she was looking at her long-time boyfriend, like she just didn't care to know him at all, just then. "Are you telling me that you think I'm wasting my time?" She whispered, her voice shaking, just a little. Whatever she'd been so intent on writing, only a few moments before, now utterly forgotten. "You know how much this means to me…"

"It means too much." Adam denied, suddenly looking exhausted, frustrated, and a bit like he knew very well he was starting an argument he couldn't possibly hope to gain anything from. "Sarah… I know how important your dreams are to you, and I know this was a story that meant a lot to you growing up, but…" A pause, and a failed attempt at putting on a reasonable face, before he stated simply, "You are grown up, Sarah. And I'm tired of some childhood fantasy coming between us."

"Childhood fantasy…" Sarah echoed quietly, hurt by his words, despite the defenses she'd put up. "Is that all you think this is, just some childhood fantasy…?" The first glimpse of tears glinted in the corners of her eyes. "Adam, this is real to me! Why can't you understand that?"

Frustrated, angry at having made Sarah cry, and wondering if maybe, this was the fight they wouldn't be able to get past, he heard himself answer anyway, not sure himself why he suddenly seemed determined to make things even worse.

"…And why can't you understand that sometimes it's time to let go, and move on?" He pressed, certain he was in the right, and driving his point home because of it, regardless how much he just wanted to make up quickly, before it was too late. "Even Wendy left Never-land, Sarah! Dorothy went home from Oz, Alice found her way back through the mirror…"

A small, humorless smile turned Sarah's lips, as he shook her head, in something like defeat… Not of her viewpoint, but just in the situation in general. "And Dorothy found her way back to Oz, too." She pointed out quietly, her voice both emotionally raw, and just a little stronger than it had been, just a moment before. "Over and over, even… Until she stayed."

Adam just looked at her, something in the set of his lips, and in the weight of his gaze, that made her want to throw something at him. Hurt, defensive, betrayed. Like she was the one in the wrong here, when he was the one asking her to give up her dreams. "If you can stay in the Underground, Sarah," He said quietly, finally looking away, "Then maybe you should. That's not an option for me."

The tears finally spilled past her eyes, and Sarah smiled again, because she didn't feel like smiling at all, and because she just needed the strength to say what she was going to say next, even if that strength was only feigned. "Like you said," She whispered, her throat thick, and offering barely a breath, "Sometimes it's time to let go, and move on."

Without another word, she pushed her chair back from the table, scooped her pen and notebook up in one hand, and turned her back on him, walking away from what he'd honestly meant to be the perfect evening. For both of them.

He watched her go, feeling like someone had stolen his tongue. His jaw clenched so tightly he was afraid his teeth would chip. Something thick and painful rising up in his own throat, like tears he simply refused to shed, the way she had.

A movement beside him, as a shadow draped him in its length. Two, thin flutes of golden champagne, set precisely on the table before him, before the wait-staff turned, and walked away without a word of condolence. And Adam lifted his gaze to the glass that was supposed to have been Sarah's, and the slender, shimmering band that lay in the bottom of her drink…

She was gone.

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Sarah fumbled with her key ring, fingers still trembling from anger, frustration, pain. Her vision blurred, by tears that she wouldn't quite let fall. A small, wordless curse of relief, falling from her lips, as she found the right one, and slipped it into place, turning the knob with an angry jerk. Damn it, why did he… Why did she…?

"Honey! You're home!" Her father. Sarah blinked, caught off guard by the bright lights greeting her entrance, and quickly wiped her eyes off on the back of her sleeve, unwilling to be caught crying over… Well, anything. "How did it go?"

Her stepmother, moving past him, almost bodily, eyes dancing with excitement… Only to stop short, and look at the girl in bafflement, as Sarah's bruised red gaze refused to meet her own. "Oh… Sarah…" She sighed, looking, oddly, disappointed. "What did you do now?"

The girl cast a short, angry look at her stepmother, and pushed past both parents in the next breath, muttering irritably how she 'didn't want to talk about it.' Her father watched as she stormed up the stairs, long blue dress flowing like water over the polished wood, before she disappeared with a slam of her door, leaving both of them in silence.

"I thought he was going to propose?" Her father murmured, the expression on his face well aware that he'd missed something, somewhere along the line, but he simply had no idea what it was… Unaware that this was more or less one of his more frequently used ones. "Do you think something happened?"

"Well," Her stepmother noted, as she shook her head a bit impatiently, "It would seem your daughter said no." Clearly disappointed, she sighed, turned her back on the whole thing, and went into the kitchen, leaving him to stare after the girl, and weigh whether or not, when she was in this sort of mood, she really wanted any interference from him.

In the end, he turned away too. He just didn't know how to handle his volatile daughter's moods, never had. But it was supposed to get better, now that she was older…

Sarah, for her part, had long passed the point where she expected the man to beat down her door to try to offer comfort… But couldn't help leaning her back against it, listening, sniffling, wondering what she would do if he did. For once, she honestly didn't want to talk to him… And her stepmother! Acting as though she were the one to do something wrong!

With a muffled sob, Sarah finally drew away from the door, and pulled off her coat, throwing it randomly to one side, before she dropped, rather heavily, in front of her vanity. For a long moment, tired eyes scanned the glossy mirror's surface, and then, when she found a smudge, she reached out with her sleeve, and wiped the silky fabric against the smooth glass. Then she sat back, and looked again.

She couldn't quite remember, just when it had started getting harder, seeing her friends' image in the silvered glass. For so many years, just a thought, or a whisper, and there they were… Weren't they? It was harder to remember now. Harder to be sure they really had been there, and not just a figment of wishful thinking.

Her notebook was still clutched firmly in her left hand, she'd almost forgotten she was still carrying it, but now she loosened her grip slowly, staring at the marks in her palm made by the spiraled wire. Her lips firmed, and she sniffed stubbornly against the tears she was still pushing back. For a moment she just sat there, fingers flared against the smooth red cover… Before flipping it open, to the first page that offered itself, and began reading.

The trees, laced with phantoms of ghostly images, as lights danced like shadows around her with the endless passing of hours. She watched, mesmerized, held by the Goblin King's spell, as the sun traced its way across the sky, hours becoming minutes, as clouds fought and sparred, valiantly, to hold their place in the sky for more than a breath.

All around her, her friends lay cast across the forest floor, utterly still as his magic held them in sleep… Still as death, with not even the rising and falling of their breaths to let her know she hadn't lost them, for good this time. And yet she was unafraid… Could not be afraid. Dazzled, instead, by the kiss of his powers flowing through her body, starting at her fingertips, like tiny blossoms of warmth, and threading, with infinite care, across her resting form.

This was a curse, a punishment, to be sure, for rejecting him, so long ago… Though why he cared after all these years, for the defiance of a proud stubborn child, she couldn't for the life of her understand. And in the end, it didn't matter. Time was his to bend as he would. Magic was his plaything, as much a part of his existence as the air he breathed. If he wanted to, he could hold her here forever…

But he wouldn't. Not the Goblin King. Not him. No, knowing Jareth, it would be when the spell ended, that the trouble would truly begin…

Was she crying again? Ridiculous! She shut the notepad angrily, frustrated somehow, by the lack of a satisfying slam from the loose sheaves of paper. "And if you weren't real?" She demanded of the infuriatingly silent pages, before turning back to the mirror, about to say more… Only for her lips to pause, and fall silent, trembling, at nothing but her own unhappy features, looking back.

"Damn you, Jareth…" She whispered, just as if she believed that, after four years, the Goblin King still cared either way, what some stubborn mortal girl, thought of him. "It- it isn't…"

It isn't fair…

Wiping her eyes off on her sleeves again, she pushed the notebook away, and cast her eyes from the mirror, standing slowly, and giving a long, lingering glance around her room. When it ended on her little wooden bookend, she smiled, not because it cheered her up, but because it made sort of a twisted sense, seeing it, that she really had imagined the whole thing. Even if that was nothing to smile about.

Taking the clumsy-featured dwarf into her hand, she felt the weight of it, the unevenness of its carven surface, and allowed herself a brief, surprisingly savage, moment of grief, missing the ill-tempered creature. "Hoggle…" She whispered, softly, before turning her head, and taking in the small, stuffed fox, and still gracing the shelf beside her long row of books. Grasping the plush toy, almost desperately in her hands. "Sir Didymus…"

Toys. Just toys. She held them to her nose, and breathed in their aged scent, deeply, like this would help her see them better somehow. Turning back to the mirror, her heart thudding anxiously in her chest, with hope that they'd be waiting for her there… This time…

Only to be greeted by an empty mirror. Again. "Hoggle…" The name escaped her again, this time in a breath, as she sank to the edge of her mattress, lidding her eyes. "I need you…"

And that's what it was, after all, that left her feeling so wrung out and broken… Not storming away from Adam, who she knew, rationally, she should be tearing herself up over right now… But an empty mirror. The words he'd said, about growing up, and leaving childish things behind. When she didn't want to. When she had no choice. Why couldn't he understand?

The last thing she wanted, just then, was to talk to him. If anything, she wanted to blame him. Before he'd shown up in her life, everything had made sense. Maybe falling in love was what had cost her, her childhood dreams. Maybe Jareth just wouldn't put up with her, choosing someone else… Loving someone else.

And… she did love him. Didn't she? No matter how angry she was. Falling backwards onto her bed with a groan, she put her hands over her eyes, and wondered, briefly, if that was all it came down to, in the end. Making a choice. Her life here… Or her friends there.

"I thought I knew what I was fighting for…" She murmured aloud, grabbing her blanket with one hand, and pulling it over her face, so she wouldn't have to confront the world that waited beyond her own tightly shut eyes. "Toby, and… My dreams… The right to make my own dreams… Instead of just waiting for him to hand them to me!" She'd proven she could beat him, after all. Proven she was his equal. Proven he had no power over her…

And damned if she wouldn't give just about anything, for the chance to say it to his face, one more time.

She lay there, silently, refusing to open her eyes, and acknowledge the world beyond them. Listening. For short, maniacal laughter. Scurrying footsteps. Muffled curses. Heavy boots, in an echoing, distorted room… Footsteps she swore she could still hear at night, when she closed her eyes to try and sleep.

"Huh." It was a breath, and a sense of defeat, as slowly, she pushed the covers away, and straightened, finally opening her eyes, and regarding the old toys she'd discarded to the side. Lifting them slowly, standing, and putting each back in their place. Adam… He would call, right? That was what she should be worried about. Not childhood stories. Her boyfriend. For almost three years now.

But when he did call, what would she say to him? She pulled at her lip gently, and found herself, stubbornly, inexorably, lifting her gaze to the mirror again. Hoping as much now, as every time before, that it would hold more than empty reflections.

She was mad at him. He had no right to tell her to give up on her dreams. If writing about the Underground was all she had left, then she'd be damned if she let anyone take that away. And when he called her…

What if he didn't call her? Did she even care? Everything had changed between them… He was, convenient, familiar. Someone she was used to having in her life. But all the stuff that had drawn her to him, years before, it had all changed. He wasn't the same person.

And I am. A surge of stubbornness rose in her, a sudden, validated sense of frustration, as she realized that he in fact, had changed. He'd stopped taking drama lessons, never played his keyboard, never quoted Shakespeare or Lewis Carol to her anymore… They never went for walks in the rain, or stayed up all night to talk about silly things that had happened during the day…

How could he be mad at her for being the way she was? She was still the same person he'd fallen in love with. He was the one who wasn't.

And now she didn't talk to him at dinner, and made excuses to stay home, instead of visiting mutual friends, and spent half her time trying to be something she wasn't… When had that happened? The world was moving on without her, the people she knew, the life she was supposed to live… And she still didn't feel any different from that fifteen year old girl who, stubbornly and proudly, had stood up to a man that might not even have existed, and informed him that his Labyrinth was a 'piece of cake.'

Crossing the room, lost in thought, she found herself sitting slowly before her vanity again, and examining her own reflection, in lieu of the images she really wanted to see there. A sense of desperation washing over her, of wanting to believe, needing to believe. Looking at the girl who wore her face, and wondering if there really was a point in someone's life, when they just weren't allowed to believe in faery tales anymore.

"I wish…" She whispered, the words slipping past her lips before she ever thought to stop them… And her mouth curving into a soft, sad smile, as she reflected on the familiarity of it, feeling those words on her lips again. A wish. Well, what did she wish? For things to be right with Adam? The horrible truth was, she didn't really care if they ever made up. Even if she ever saw him again. It should have ended a long time ago, and she knew it. So what did she wish for? "I… wish." She echoed softly, still not sure herself what she wished for.

Her eyes dropped, and her lips pulled into a thin line. She examined her hands, and thought of someone else's. Jareth. Why was she thinking of Jareth? Yes, he'd been… So much of her fantasy. A beautiful man, that half of her, had wanted to win. Win her, if not Toby. But he was… What? Her enemy? Yes. Her rival. But, that contest was over… And at the moment, she'd take any proof at all that it had all been real… Even facing him down again.

A soft sound fell from her lips, not quite a laugh, and she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, though any tears were now long since gone. "You know what I wish?" She asked of her reflection softly, tired, amused, and sad. "I wish it were real. All of it. Hoggle, Sir Didymus, Ludo, Ambrosias… Even the Goblin King."

"I wish he… I wish Jareth were here, right now."

No sooner had the words passed her lips, than an immediate sense of cold and foreboding fell across her, like a ghostly shadow, and too late, she wanted to bite the words back on her tongue. Hoggle, yes, Sir Didymus, Ludo… She wanted to see all of them… but him? The Goblin King? She could almost see the smug little sneer on his flawless face, at the idea that she'd come crawling back to beg him for help… Not to mention, that the last time she'd wished anything, concerning him…!

Her breath came a little tight, the sense of cold prickling across her skin like a touch, raising goosebumps as it went. She stared in the mirror, intensely, fearfully, despite her best efforts to tell herself that she would never be afraid of him. She'd beaten him, after all. There was nothing left to fear… And yet she waited for his image. Waited for his pale, perfect features, the cascade of erupting golden hair, eyes as cold and unyielding as stone…

Waited, and saw nothing.

Swallowing, hard, she turned her head, slowly, to look over her shoulder, and scan across the various features of her room, each perfectly in place, untouched, offering no indication of the sudden presence of either goblins, or their king.

Her fingers, still splayed across the surface of her vanity, twitched, just a little, as something in her chest felt a brief, distinct pain. What was that? Was that regret? Did she want Jareth to show up, after all this time, throw her into another of his little games… Did she really want to admit to herself that she really had hoped it would work, and he would come?

The breath escaping her in a frustrated groan, she turned back around, and buried her head in her hands, her face disappearing behind a silky mop of brown, squeezing her eyes shut against the thought that this had been her last real idea of how to fix things, and it hadn't worked.

Maybe I waited too long…

A soft sound stirred her attention, not quite enough for her to lift her head, and again, the sense of something tickling across her skin, this time like an icy wind. Fingers of breath, tingling against the tiny hairs across her flesh, until slowly, the idea that this time it might not be her imagination trickled through her brain, and she lifted her head, just a little. Just enough to catch a glimpse of movement in the reflective surface before her.

"Well, it's about time, Sarah…" Intoned a familiar, smooth murmur, the words thick with amusement, and a mild admonishment. "I was beginning to think you'd never call."

Sarah got to her feet, quickly, the chair she'd been sitting on a moment before, cast to the ground in her haste, as she spun to take in the sight of the man suddenly in her room with her. Her heart, pounding away with fear, with hope, even confusion over the fact that she'd been right, and it really was real…

And Jareth stood there, pale lips curved in decidedly self-satisfied smirk, one she still saw so often in her dreams, busy adjusting the lace at his wrists, and seeming to enjoy his presence there a great deal, not quite looking at her yet.

God, he was beautiful. Her mossy brown gaze flickered across his features, taking in each one with a sort of fixated amazement. Time hadn't touched the Goblin King at all, he was exactly the same as she remembered him. Flawless, confident, radiating a sense of power and magic like she hadn't felt in years, and had begun to doubt really existed. Just smiling away, like he'd expected no less all along. Come crawling back, have you…?

An irrational anger swept over her, and for a moment she swore she was standing there in a face-off with the lanky, stony-eyed Goblin King in his tunnels, the same child she'd been then, angry, scared, daring him to make a move against her, to prove she wasn't afraid of him. "What are you doing here?" She demanded, her voice rising in pitch as her hands balled into fists, and she forgot, for a moment, that she'd just wanted to see the man, desperately, only a moment before.

Jareth chuckled, lifting his gaze from his cuffs, and standing straighter. Giving the impression, though she was taller now than she'd been the last time they'd met, of still looking down at her from some great height. "Forgive me if I'm being presumptuous," He pointed out calmly, his smug expression never faltering in the least, "But I do believe you just called me…"

"I didn't want you!" She snapped, well aware that didn't make sense, but unwilling to give an inch beneath that condescending grey gaze.

He paused at this, before continuing, smoothly, adding, "…by name, in fact." The corner of his mouth twitched, just a little, in appreciation of this fact… Before he tilted his head, just a little, and his expression became more annoyed than amused. "So what is it you want this time, Sarah? Or am I honestly to believe that you only desire the pleasure of my company, after that rather uncompromising farewell you offered the last time?"

A pause, almost a breaking in what he'd said before, before he added, just a trace more coldly, "…Before you answer, I must warn you, Sarah… Your next wish won't be free."

As if her first wish had been… But was he offering her another wish? And at what price? Did it even matter? Right then she had no use for wishes, what she wanted was to know what had happened… Why her friends had abandoned her, when to all appearances, the doorway to her world still stood open for them? If Jareth could come… Why couldn't they?

Sarah refused to back down before the Goblin King, never mind the raw power she felt coming off him in waves, never mind his, actually, very close proximity… Her eyes almost flicked down, but managed not to. "What happened to the Underground?" Was all she said to him, quietly, suddenly feeling like all she'd accomplished and grown over the past four years meant nothing at all, facing her old enemy. Like she was still fifteen years old…

For his part, Jareth didn't look overly impressed with her little show of bravery… His expression, in fact, quite certain it was all an act. "Well, that's not quite a wish, is it?" He noted, as matter-of-factly as if there were nothing at all odd about this little meeting between them, and no reason at all for them to still be at odds with each other. "But for what it's worth, I assure you Sarah, nothing's happened to it. It's right where you left it."

Right where she'd left it? Her mouth turned in a frown, not understanding. He was lying, he had to be. "Then why can't I see it anymore?" She pointed out softly, in an attempt at reason, though her words all but dripped challenge to the man. "Why can't I see my friends?

For a moment, Jareth didn't answer, his deep grey gaze simply taking her in, quite seriously, before the expression, as if it had been a mask, fell away, and he seemed utterly uncaring again, turning his attention uninterestedly to what looked, rather oddly, like a small figure of himself. "If that is your wish Sarah, I'm afraid I really must disappoint you… Returning your dreams to you is a power I simply don't have."

Sarah stared, flatly, her anger beginning to overwhelm any idea of intimidation. He was playing games with her again… But she knew how to call this bluff. "You offered me my dreams!" She reminded him bluntly, actually taking a step forward in her vehemence. "Why would you do that, if you didn't have the power to give them to me? You told me I could have them!"

"Hmm." Turning his attention, rather grudgingly, from the Jareth doll in her window, the Goblin King considered her at length, a trace of scorn to his gaze now. "Yes… And do you perhaps recall how that little encounter ended, Sarah?" He prompted, coldly. "As I remember it- And my memory so rarely fails me- You informed me that I had no power over you."

No power… Was that what this was all about? He was still angry over losing? "What does that have to do with anything?" She demanded, wanting, at least, to make him admit that this was all his fault, so at least she would know-

"It has to do with everything." The Goblin King interrupted her thoughts, looking irritated again, this time as if she were simply being a thick-headed idiot who couldn't see the obvious. "I am the Underground, Sarah. The Labyrinth is shaped to my whim… Did you really think you could deny any power I might hold over you, and then simply continue to gallivant about in a magical playground of my creation, with nothing changing?"

He gave her a short, reproachful look. "Of all people, Sarah, I wouldn't think I'd have to warn you, to be careful what you wish for."

To this, Sarah had no answer… As much as anything, because his words made devastating sense. She found herself leaning back against her vanity for support, looking at nothing at all for a moment, her chest too tight to breathe… And then her gaze flicked to the side, landing on her red notebook. Was that, really all she had left?

She lifted her eyes to him, miserably, not even considering that this too, might be a lie. "You mean, I can't go back?" She whispered, her words barely a breath. "I can never see my friends again?"

A trace of a sneer snaked its way across his lips, just for an instant, as his expression dripped with false sympathy, staring her down the same way she remembered, like he found her pathetic efforts so amusing… "Oh, make no mistake," He assured her, not even attempting to hide how much he was enjoying her frustration, "You still have that power Sarah. I gave that to you, and I've done nothing to take it back.

Sarah shook her head, too desperate to be angry at this familiar game of cat and mouse. "Then why…?" She pleaded, lifting her eyes to him in confusion, her hands balling the expensive fabric of her dress up in tight fists… Her pride suddenly the last thing she cared about, for maybe the first time ever, standing against him. "Why?"

The Goblin King looked, briefly, put off step by his long-time annoyance's sudden vulnerability… But his response was, oddly enough, to finally grow genuinely angry, though his next words were, admittedly, very controlled, and very unimpressed. "Because Sarah," He explained softly, advancing on her one, challenging step, well aware that she had no place to back away to, "Every little girl who loves to dress up in frilly costumes, and play with her toys, always has one, final thing in common." He stopped, only when he was staring down at her directly, his next words, undeniably bitter. "They. All. Grow. Up. And that is one thing, Sarah, I could not protect you from.

He had her backed into a corner, physically, but that wasn't what had her feeling so suddenly trapped as he held her gaze, refusing to let her turn away. Standing close enough to let her smell him… And he smelled of oiled leather, very old lace, fragrant musks, and the subtle scent of sweat. He was, as ever, overwhelming, and Sarah shook her head, determined not to fall to one of his tricks. "When have you protected me from anything?" She whispered defiantly, pretending, for now, that she didn't need his help.

But she couldn't have predicted his response, sudden, furious, nothing at all like the calm, collected antagonist she still remembered so clearly. "I have protected you from more than you will ever know!" He snarled, his beautiful features actually contorting briefly in rage, as her eyes widened in disbelief at the sudden change…

And then his face calmed, and after a moment, his expression was bitter, but no longer out of control. "More than you will ever know." He echoed softly, as if she might have missed it the first time, "…But not this time. If you want your dreams back, Sarah, you'll have to find them again yourself."

It took more than a moment for her to think clearly enough to answer… The goblin king moving away from her now, as if for some reason, he simply no longer cared to be in her presence. Poking, with one finger, at her dwarven bookend. As if the little trinkets in her room were all so, fascinating, to him. Or as if he were simply deliberately no longer looking at her. Either way, despite his retreat, the impression rolling off him in waves, was one of not being willing to yield so much as an inch to the girl.

"How?" She whispered finally, certainly not doing anything as rash as claiming the distance he'd offered… relieved for the chance to breathe again, without being overwhelmed with his otherworldly presence… At least as much. "How do I…?" For the moment, this was all she could say.

Briefly, Jareth paused, in his exploration of her toys. Not quite looking at her, as he answered, his tone once more deliberately indifferent. "I can think of one way, Sarah…"

Her reaction wasn't planned, she recoiled, almost visibly, much to the apparent amusement of the goblin king, whose mouth twitched, despite never having quite looked in her direction. Low anger quickly built in her chest, a familiar stubbornness that refused to give way before his infuriating games. "I'm not giving you power over me, Jareth." She denied flatly, somehow more certain of herself again, now that they were on familiar ground. "Not again."

Jareth made a small sound of contempt at her show of defiance. "You're assuming I ever had power over you, Sarah… But very well." He finally turned back, and faced her, his expression revealing nothing at all. "If you are so determined to refuse my assistance, then there remains only one thing I can do to help you."

This was where things would get tricky… Where the Goblin King offered to 'help.' "What?" She pressed warily, well aware that whatever game he intended to play, it wouldn't be in her favor.

The goblin king just sort of tilted his head, looking briefly amused, and a bit bitter, as if there were something particularly satisfying about the answer he was about to offer her. "Why, send you back into my Labyrinth, Sarah. Let you find your own lost dreams within it…" His tone dropped a little here, as he added, pointedly, "And let you find your own way out again."

"My own way out?" Sarah echoed, still not sure how she'd gotten out the last time… Or why it wouldn't work the same way twice.

"Do you really believe that the Underground is something a simple mortal girl can traipse into and out of whenever she wishes, without risk of consequence?" Jareth was beginning to sound a bit impatient. "Sarah, that you escaped there once was nothing less than a testament to your own stubbornness… And I cannot guarantee that if you return now, you will ever find your way out again."

For a long moment, Sarah just stared at him. Her dreams were, in the Labyrinth. She could believe that. She could also believe that Jareth would do whatever it took to convince her that she needed him… for whatever reasons. Which meant she couldn't trust him. "You're still trying to trick me, aren't you?" She demanded softly.

Jareth returned her flat stare, his answering smile, for the moment, utterly humorless. "And therein lies your greatest miscalculation of our entire little game, Sarah…" He whispered, almost more as if to himself than to her. "You've always assumed I was trying to trick you."

There was no sane answer to that… But none of this was sane. And she really didn't care. All she had to focus on was one thing… "I want my dreams back." She repeated, stubbornly.

"Then you'll have to earn them." Jareth countered, without missing a beat. "Just like anyone else." And then a pause as, with a sort of slow deliberation, he went on, murmuring, "Or did you think your dreams were different, because they were born of magic?" When she gave no immediate response, he smirked, and straightened. "Magic doesn't make things simpler, Sarah. Only more dangerous."

"I'm not afraid." She countered without thinking… An instinctive response to, after all, an old enemy. "Not afraid of your Labyrinth… And not afraid of you."

"No, you never are, are you?" He mused, not batting an eye at how she'd seemed to feel the need to express that lack of fear for him, without first being threatened. "Then, does that mean you've made your decision? Knowing that you may never be able to return to your world, or your family… Or any part of your human existence?"

She didn't answer right away. Not because she didn't know the answer… Not because she wasn't willing to take the risk, to get back what- what he must have stolen from her… But because there would be no going back, once she made the decision. And there was no telling what tricks the goblin king would have up his sleeve this time.

Jareth though, took her silence to mean something different… And looked scornful. "Not so certain now, are you?" He mused, clearly not impressed by her internal struggle, or the risks she was weighing. "You've changed, Sarah… I can't say it pleases me. Where is that young girl who once stood up to my labyrinth so fearlessly?"

This sparked a fire in her. "I had no choice!" She snapped, her hands unconsciously balling into fists… Which was only made worse when the goblin king, once again, smiled at her reaction.

"Well… you do now, don't you?" He pointed out softly, and as if he were being just oh so reasonable…. Followed by a short pause, and a pointed, "So what will it be?" With that familiar low challenge in his voice, a condescending humor at the thought of this mere snippet of a girl, taking on his Labyrinth…

But this time Sarah didn't rise to the bait… She was too lost in her own thoughts. She turned slowly, regarding her red notebook, tracing her fingertips across the bent cardboard cover, slowly. Her dreams… Or her life here? With no promise that she'd ever actually have either one again. "Give me some time to think." She whispered, more than she really expected the goblin king to offer, based on their past together. "I just…"

When she said no more, Jareth regarded her with a long, studying look of his own, as if weighing whether or not his old antagonist were worth the trouble… And in the end, the answer he gave her offered no indication what he'd decided. "Time I can give you…" He agreed flatly, "But not much. A forgotten dream dies quickly, Sarah… The longer you wait, the greater the chance that you'll never recover that part of yourself again."

Sarah continued to stare at her notebook, for upwards of a minute… Then lifted her gaze to the mirror, to herself, and to the gaze of the goblin king standing behind her. "Give me an hour." She said simply… As if somehow, she could wrap up all she needed to do here, say all the goodbyes she needed to, and accomplish all the things she might never have the chance to do again, in one hour.

"Agreed." The Goblin king granted shortly, if without hesitation. "But Sarah?" Something in his tone grew warning… and oddly, something else, something she couldn't put her finger on. "This will be your last chance. Don't waste it." A short pause, and pointedly, as if she were lucky to get this much, and should damn well know it, "There won't be another."

"I won't need another." She denied flatly, as if she were feeling even a tenth of the bravado she was trying to give off… But it was wasted, as she offered the words, turning back to the king… Who was no longer there.

Clenching her teeth, she stood for one moment, undecided what to do next. Friends, school… That job she had painting murals for the community theater… There was really nothing she could do about any of them. Not in one hour. Adam? Adam. He was the last thing she wanted to think about. And having long since learned just how fair things really were, she didn't feel nearly as bad with the idea of simply not saying goodbye, as she knew she should.

That really just left her family… No. In truth, that really only left Toby. It wasn't that her father and stepfather didn't try, but a chasm had grown between them over the years, and she wasn't a fool enough to believe it could be repaired in one hour… or that it should be, if she really wouldn't be coming back.

But to that four year old little boy, she was a big sister, and hero… Hanging on her stories of the Underground, begging for games she still did her best to hold onto… Adoring her the way very small siblings adored their larger ones, still at that age when they were so certain that they wanted to be just like them someday.

Listlessly, Sarah looked around her room, and without much need for thought, began digging in her closet for her old high school book bag… Still crammed full of papers, an old sweatshirt, and an indistinct smell that came from years of use, carrying far more than textbooks and assignments. Dumping it all out on the floor, she stood for a minute, trying to think what she'd need… And turned towards her chest of drawers, deciding that, above all else, the things she'd probably need most were food, and a change of clothes. Just in case. And if she really couldn't think of anything else…

An oversized red sweater seemed good, as did a pair of rather worn jeans. Then an old pair of sneakers. Two pairs of socks. And then she turned to what she would be wearing when she agreed… And for nostalgia's sake, found herself looking down at a familiar cream colored blouse, one she hadn't worn in years. For good luck, she told herself.

Slipping down the stairs was easy, she didn't know how long she'd been in her room, it didn't feel late to her, but now the house was still, silent, and dark. No sign of her parents. Probably they'd decided to retreat, and argue her failings in their bedroom. That was fine with her. It meant no awkward questions… No uneasy lies, about how this wouldn't be goodbye.

She choose her next supplies logically… A few granola bars, three apples, a thermos with water and ice, and two peanut butter sandwiches, with sugar sprinkled on top.

As she stood there, trying to determine what else would be useful, and reflecting that she didn't have the first clue where to find a suitable length of rope, in case it was needed- most likely it would be, simply because she couldn't find it- her gaze fell on a slender, serrated steak knife, left out of its usual holder. Her fingers close around it slowly… And then, with a glance to make certain she wasn't going to stick herself, she slid it into her belt loop, and then, with a bit of afterthought, fastened it in place with a bread bag twist-tie.

Adding a ball of yarn from her step mother's knitting basket as she went to return upstairs, this too was stashed in the safety of her backpack… And common sense, regardless of how she tried to avoid it, was beginning to trickle its way back into her thoughts. What was she thinking? She was going to traipse off to some magical world in search of a lost dream… All on the promise of the goblin king, who, it might be noted, she had no reason to trust, never mind that she was still having trouble realizing again, that he had in fact answered after all these years…

People didn't do these things! She wasn't thinking clearly, and it was going to get her killed, or worse… She didn't know for certain yet what was worse but, well, she did remember that smell very clearly, all these years later. And if the Bog of Eternal Stench was the least of her problems…

This isn't real. I'm not really preparing to run off to some magical kingdom, and match wits with the Goblin King. I'm going to wander around the house until I go crazy, waiting for someone to show up who-

Who wasn't even real. That was it, wasn't it. Did she, really not believe anymore? Was that what he was talking about? For god's sake, she'd just been in the same room with the man!

She stopped in the hall, leaning against the smooth white paint, and closed her eyes, trying to get her thoughts in order. She'd been so stubbornly hanging onto her old beliefs, and now, getting a chance to have all that back, she was doubting now? "I have to go." It was a soft, sort of belated realization, when she'd already determined that she was in fact, going… But the reason for it hit her a little harder now. It was true. Her dreams were slipping away. And this was her last chance to get them back.

Straightening from the wall, she looked down, and the knob of the door leading to Toby's room. Almost hesitant to turn it, go in, and say goodbye. How could she say goodbye? He was probably sleeping anyway.

A twist, a gentle push, and she stepped into the nursery. Toby, now in his little racecar bed… Still clutching Lance-a-lot to his chest. Surrounded by so many more of the toys she'd passed on to him over the years, only holding onto those that meant most to her… The ones that reminded her of her adventures that night.

She didn't wake him. She dropped the backpack to her side, and knelt slowly to the floor beside his bed, watching him without a sound. Soft, blonde curls, framing his face. Lips pursed in thoughtful sleep. Utterly still, save for the subtle twitch of his eyes, as he dreamed.

In the end, this was all she did for the remainder of the hour. She didn't want to do anything else. Didn't want to reflect on anything else she might lose. She just watched the little boy she'd dared the dangerous labyrinth for once before, lost in his innocent dreams.

"A-hem." The Goblin King pointedly cleared his throat once the hour was up, and Sarah turned in surprise, not having realized he was there. And conflicted, again, on seeing the man that, only moments ago, she hadn't been completely certain was real. "Well? Are you ready, Sarah?"

"I'm ready." Sarah agreed, only a little more confidently than she actually was. She'd meant it. She wasn't afraid of him, or his Labyrinth. She would be back. She'd beaten the Goblin king once before.

She could do it again.

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