One Hundred Lives
By Agent Malkere
Disclaimer: Labyrinth does not belong to me - I'm just playing in the sandbox.
In a hundred lives, she has wished the child away. In a hundred lives, she has run the Labyrinth. And in a hundred lives, he has been everything she has expected him to be – everything she has needed him to be.
Jareth is so tired of living up to her expectations. He has been her teacher, and he has been her villain, but he loves her so well, because in that first life, when the Labyrinth was still wild and young and new, she had called on him to be her hero. In that first life, they solved the Labyrinth and saved the child together. That was what she expected of him, what she needed of him. In that first life, she learned to hope, and when she left the Labyrinth, she took both the child and Jareth's heart with her.
She is the only one to have run the Labyrinth more than once. Each time she passes through, with each new lesson she learns, a little more of her remains behind, permeating the very foundations of Jareth's kingdom. With each life, she remembers a little more. In her ninety-ninth life, after she has saved the child for the ninety-ninth time, she writes down her story as a book.
In her hundredth life, when she is named Sarah, she finds the book and is entranced. The words ring with truth that she does not remember, and Jareth watches from afar as she builds her own Labyrinth outside the Labyrinth. So many of Sarah's lives have walked the twisting paths now that it is impossible to say who shapes whom. Or perhaps it is simply that Sarah and the Labyrinth shape each other. Part of Jareth rejoices, because never before has she remembered him so well. And part of Jareth despairs, because in her ninety-ninth life, she had expected – needed – a villain to stand against, and, book in hand, Sarah will expect a villain in this hundredth life, too. Jareth is heartily sick of being her villain. He has played the villain in too many of her lives now as she has expected him to. As she has needed him to. He loves her too well to disappoint her, though.
Jareth only has as much power as she allows him. It has always been that way. She left with his heart all those centuries ago but never gave hers in return. Her kingdom is as great as his, because it is the same kingdom.
And then Sarah wishes the child away for the hundredth time.
Jareth plays the villain she expects him – needs him – to be. His castle crumbles as she takes his power away, and the child is saved – the lesson is learned. But this time is different. This time she does not simply leave a part of herself behind when she goes. This time Sarah takes a piece of the Labyrinth with her as well. Her memories are clear – not foggy and dream-like – and the friends she made follow her back to the human world along the clear lines of her memories. And Jareth, he watches from afar, because with "I need you – all of you," she has inseparably linked the Labyrinth she has created in the human world to his Labyrinth in the Underground. He keeps his distance, though, because that is what she expects of him. After all, Sarah has allowed him no power over her. Still, Jareth loves her, and this is more than he has ever been allowed before, so he watches.
Sarah has been dreaming of the Labyrinth for two years now, but they aren't memories of her journey to rescue Toby. Oh, sometimes she dreams of that, but more often than not she dreams of other journeys to save other children she has wished away. In each dream, the Labyrinth is a little different. Jareth is in every dream as well. Sometimes he's as she remembers him – a villain, a tyrant, someone who must be stood against. Other times he seems to be guiding her, giving her hints and advice as he casually strolls along the tops of walls and hedges and tree branches, appearing and disappearing like the Cheshire Cat.
"What is this place?" Sarah asks in one dream where pools of ocean appear without warning in the paths of the Labyrinth and she can taste salt in the air.
"It's what you expect it to be," Jareth tells her from where he lounges on a bolder, "what you need it to be."
Sarah huffs in irritation and puts her hands on her hips.
"What does that make you, then?" she asks.
Jareth smiles, sly and mischievous and entirely fae,
"I just told you."
And then he's gone, leaving Sarah to puzzle out how to get past the water on her own.
Jareth never calls her Sarah in these dreams. For every variation of the Labyrinth, it seems, there's a different name, and even though none of these names are "Sarah," they are still all her name.
In the oldest dreams, where the Labyrinth has densely grown trees instead of hedges and walls of roughly hewn limestone and granite, Jareth calls her Anwen, and he's neither villain nor guide – he's her friend. For all that his face never ages, Jareth's eyes seem the youngest when she is Anwen. And when she and Jareth save the child, whose name in this dream is Kynan, Jareth smiles and kisses her forehead.
"I have to stay here, but if you ever need me or the Labyrinth again, all you have to do is wish."
In every dream, Sarah remembers that there is something she needs from the Labyrinth, something she needs to learn or reclaim. Sometimes it's courage, sometimes perseverance, sometimes her own power, sometimes compassion. Each time she runs, she learns. Each time she runs, the Labyrinth reflects her lessons.
After two years, Sarah thinks she finally understands.
Few things in the Labyrinth are what they seem – why should she have expected any less of its king? But it was what she had expected of him – needed of him – when last she ran the Labyrinth. She's changed since then. She's no longer certain what she expects, but perhaps she finally has an idea of what she needs.
Sarah sits down in front of the mirror that connects her to Hoggle and Ludo and Sir Didymus and all the rest of the Labyrinth. She stares at her reflection for a long moment.
"I don't need you to play the villain for me any longer, Jareth," she tells the glass. "I don't need you to play any parts at all. I just need you."
Between one breath and the next, there he is, sitting on the edge of her reflected bed. Jareth stares back at her with a face un-aging but eyes so tired.
"You do?" he asks. In a hundred lives and a hundred Labyrinths, she has never heard him sound so vulnerable.
She remembers Sarah's villain, Keelan's ally, Charlotte's guide, Anwen's friend.
"Yes." Sarah turns in her chair and looks Jareth directly in the eye, and she smiles. "I do."