Jareth steps into the room and watches as Warrin settles himself into his chair as if he is holding court. Jareth is accustomed to this ritual, and though he is becoming impatient with it, he knows better than to show his irritation. Warrin lives for the dramatic, and Jareth prefers confrontations he isn't guaranteed to lose.
"Jareth, my love, your Labyrinth is coming along very well. Very well, indeed!"
Jareth bows his head briefly, feeling the glow of pleasure at the praise. Warrin has been difficult to please, but Jareth's Labyrinth is beautiful and complicated, the result of many years hard work.
Warrin continues, "But Jareth…" Jareth braces himself. He knew there would be some criticism. "A castle? Isn't that a little too ostentatious for goblins?"
"As King of the Goblins, I deserve a palace. And the Labyrinth deserves a grand finish." After the grief he'd been given over dressing himself properly, he finds it hard to believe Warrin would want anything less for the Goblin King or his Labyrinth. "The castle will be a beacon over the Great Maze. Runners will be able to see it, but they will not be able to reach it!" Jareth can see the finished castle in his head and has been shaping the quarried stones to match his vision. The work is painstaking and exhausting, but he knows it will be worth the effort.
"Have you given thought to your book, dearest?" Warrin asks, his tone wheedling.
A ha.
Jareth realizes now what Warrin actually wants. He's bored and eager for mortals to begin running the maze. But before any mortals can be called to the Labyrinth, Jareth must first create a lure. Jareth had decided long ago that his lure will be a book to entice the imagination, sow discontent, and make mortals wish for something more than life had yet granted them.
Jareth smiles, showing his sharp teeth. "It is an old tale I intend to tell. One of the Goblin King and the dreams he can grant… for only a small price."
Warrin laughs heartily. "Very good, my love! Do not spend too long building this castle of yours. I wish to read your story!"
"As you wish," Jareth assures him. "But first, I find myself desirous of company." He begins to walk toward the doorway that will take him to the Grand Ballroom.
He is nearly through the door when Warrin speaks again. "Would your brother be jealous, do you think?"
Jareth freezes. He hadn't thought of Gerald in… he doesn't know the last time he'd thought of Gerald. Or Osanna.
"Your kingdom awaits you, King Jareth. And time is passing faster than you think."
Jareth looks back at Warrin sitting in his chair, a smug smile on his ruddy face. What did time matter? He had all the time in the world.
"It seems as though hardly any has passed at all," he says pointedly, before turning his back on Warrin and shutting the door behind him.
His embrace has become familiar, her head nestled in the crook of his arm, his body pressed against her side. His free hand skims her bare skin, ghosting over her breasts and belly, warming her while paradoxically raising goose bumps. She relishes the feel of his body against her, but his leather and silk keep them separated, when all she wants is to be closer.
She loves looking into his eyes. She feels she'll never get tired of their mismatched beauty; one black pupil always more prominent than the other. The windows to the soul, she's heard, but when she doesn't try to see to the bottom of their depths, she sees only herself reflected back at her. She wonders if that means she is a part of him.
The glade is quiet, but she can hear the sounds of insects and birds in the trees around them. The thick foliage of the woods blocks most of the light but for what shines down directly over them. It is almost as if they are spotlighted in the center of the clearing, and though they are in the open, she does not feel exposed or threatened. He is with her, and she knows no harm will befall her. This is his world, and all obey him.
He raises his hand to brush her hair from her face. He cradles her cheek in his hand and leans in ever so slowly to take her lips. She closes her eyes in anticipation, but his kiss never comes. His hand, his embrace, his body, have vanished, leaving her cold and alone on a soft bed of grass. She looks around the glade, but he is no longer there.
He is gone, but there is something new… the smell of cooking suffuses her senses. Her mouth waters; it has been ages since she's eaten anything that's been cooked. She wakes when her stomach growls, and is shocked when the scent of food doesn't fade along with her dream.
"It's for you," Jareth says, indicating a large silver breakfast tray on a small, intricately carved table that sits incongruously next to her spot in the tall grass. He leans against a nearby tree, his long, brown jacket blowing slightly in the breeze, facing away from her as if respecting her privacy. She isn't surprised that he is able to appear noiselessly next to where she has bedded down, but is still irritated by the intrusion. She can feel herself blush, memories of her dream still fresh in her mind.
Sarah begins to reject the food, but Jareth interrupts her. "Eat, Sarah. You haven't had a proper meal in months."
Months. She feels the shock starts in her face and quickly drop to her stomach where it ruthlessly blooms into fear. How could months have passed without her even realizing? She can't even recall how long it has been since her disastrous trip to the Fae Soirée. Her parents must be worried sick. And what about poor Toby? Before worst case scenarios can begin to tumble through her imagination she forces them into the mental compartment she keeps for things she can do nothing about. She can only deal with here and now if she wants to retain her sanity.
She decides to focus on the food instead. Food she can deal with, and it has been so very long since she's eaten good food. She creeps up to the table, takes the tray, and settles back into the grass, setting the tray on her lap.
Eggs over-medium, thick slices of buttered toast, and grapes. She reaches for the toast first, takes a large bite, and holds back a groan as it hits her tongue. She thinks there may be nothing better in the world than salty butter over warm, toasted bread. She dips her toast into the egg, breaking the yolk, and takes another bite. No, she thinks, happy to be proven wrong. This is better.
"Let's discuss time," he says, turning to face her. "It is not easily manipulated. Just as much of it passes Above as passes here." Sarah looks up at him, eyes wide, wondering what point he is trying to make. "You have a small window of opportunity to return to your home," he continues, "and I will not watch you waste it. When that window closes, time cannot be reordered, and you must live with the consequences."
Sarah glowers at him, her mouth too full to respond.
"When you first arrived, I explained to you what you need to do to return home. I did not create the rules, and I cannot change them." He pauses before adding, "But I can help you."
"Why?" Sarah asks, her words muffled because of the food she has shoved into her mouth. She swallows and tries again, "Why would you help me?"
"I do not wish to be a pawn in someone else's game," he explains.
Sarah's eyes widen. She understands that he is talking about Warrin and Elga and wonders how either of them would be able to use Jareth as a pawn. He seems too powerful for such a fate.
"When you harness your powers and accept the crown, you will have the freedom to come and go as you like, travel where you like, and be with whom you like. But coming into your powers is a long and difficult process."
"How long did it take you?" Sarah asks.
"Longer than it should have," he says, looking into the distance. "Your experience will be different because you will have a teacher."
Sarah raises an eyebrow. She noticed he hadn't answered her question, and she suspects the reason is she wouldn't like the answer.
"You?" she asks.
"There is no one else."
She knows that Jareth doesn't offer anything for free. Even the meal he has served her has given him the opportunity to talk without interruption. Figuring it best to know exactly how she'll be paying for his help she asks, "What do you want in return?"
Jareth's expression transforms into one of shrewd contemplation, almost as if he hadn't expected the question.
"In exchange for my help," he begins slowly, "you must come live in the castle."
The thought of stone walls around her makes her feel claustrophobic and she grimaces.
"It is unacceptable to have the Queen living as a wild thing in the Labyrinth," Jareth explains.
Sarah quickly takes stock of herself. She'd kept the shift that Jareth had given her, but she has worn it so long that it has torn at the hem and turned a strange shade of brownish grey, despite countless dunkings in the clear streams, ponds, and lakes of the Labyrinth. She raises her hands to her hair and feels the knots in it. She often uses her fingers to untangle it, but the tiny elves who dance through it while she sleeps ensure that it is hopelessly snarled every morning. She truly has gone feral. Still, she's unsure about living in the filthy and airless castle.
"Can I think about it?" she asks, unsure and hoping he won't demand an immediate answer.
He nods, and she senses he is about to leave.
"Wait, Jareth! I have a question."
"Yes?"
"My friends. I've been looking for them for… well, I don't know how long I've been looking. I feel like they're close, but I haven't seen them."
"They're here. You will sense those you've met and you'll be able to transport yourself to anyone you know. Eventually."
He leaves the "With my help" unspoken. They both know she needs him.
"Think it over," he finishes, and with that, he fades away.
From his perch in the tree outside the Williams home, the view into Sarah's old room is clear. It is unnaturally clean. He remembers what it looked like before, and he doesn't think Sarah ever kept it quite as neat as it now sits. The dolls, toys, and posters that had hung on her walls have been removed, but the bedclothes and furniture remain the same. The room has been kept free of dust and the floor has been cleaned. Jareth wonders if Sarah was the one to remove the decorations, or if it had been done after her disappearance.
Sarah's parents are having a quiet conversation in the kitchen below. He tunes them out, not out of any sense of respect for their privacy, but rather because he doesn't care about their conversation. When Karen starts shouting, though, he finds he can no longer ignore them.
"Damnit Robert, wake up! This is a good opportunity!"
Jareth's eyes flash to the kitchen window below. Robert is seated at the table, a cup of coffee before him while Karen stands at the kitchen island, waving a piece of paper in the air.
"I can't take it, Karen." he says, his voice tired and resigned. He folds his arms on the table, looking ready to collapse.
Karen's tone softens. "A change of scenery may be just what this family needs. It's only for a few months, and you could use the promotion. You've been working for this for years."
Jareth quickly pieces together the parts of the conversation he had ignored. Sarah's father has been offered an opportunity for advancement, but he will be required to move to accept it. Jareth looks on, curious.
When Robert does not reply, Karen adds in a pleading tone, "Don't waste this."
"We have to be here when she comes back," he finally replies, lifting his hands to scrub at his eyes with his fingertips.
Karen's face drains of color. Jareth knows what she will not say, what she dares not say. Karen knows Sarah isn't coming back. The hopes and ambitions she's dreamed of for her family are fading before her eyes, and her sense of compassion will not let her do anything about it.
Robert's arms fold back to the tabletop, and he looks out the window. His expression changes to one of keen interest as he sees the white owl in the tree. As he stands to get a closer look, the owl spreads his wings and takes flight.
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fan fiction. The author makes no money from this story.
Acknowledgments:
In addition to Labyrinth, this work is inspired by the Gary Jules cover of the song "Mad World," by Tears for Fears, a prompt from the Livejournal Labyfic community, and by my friend M. who will probably not read this, but should be acknowledged nonetheless.
This story has been beta'd by Aurora Kemanche and Exulansist, both of whom I'd like to thank for their friendship, time, ideas, and general awesomeness.
Labyrinth is the property of Henson Associates, Inc., Lucasfilm Ltd., and TriStar Pictures.
This chapter has been edited to comply with the posting standards of fanfiction dot net. The original can be found on AO3, but I think I actually like this version better.