Disclaimer: Sigh. Labyrinth still isn't mine, sad as that is.
A/N: As always, please review! You people really make my day.
Chapter Four: Chicken Soup for the Goblin Soul
Jareth didn't look up at the knock on his door, his full attention immersed in recording the grades from his history tests. "Enter," he called, following the line to make sure he put the correct grade with the correct person.
"Jareth" Arthur Peables entered the office, his normally jolly face drawn with concern. "Have you seen Sarah?"
"Sarah?" The blonde man immediately put down his pen, focusing on his friend and colleague. "What's wrong?"
"I've had her for two semesters, and she's never missed a class. Now all of a sudden, she's missed two, on either side of a weekend. I just thought maybe you might have seen her."
"No, I haven't," he murmured. "I thought perhaps she was burdened with school work, so I left her alone." Jareth didn't add that her fear had been so visible that he'd felt it better to give her time. Arthur didn't really need to know that. "She missed tow classes? Just your classes?"
"I don't know," the creative writing professor admitted. "I don't know her other professors, and it isn't like high school where we can cross-check attendance. However, I don't see my class being the one she chooses to skip, if that's what this is."
"This is true." Rising to his feet, Jareth closed his roll and folder, slapping his pen against them. "I'll check on her."
"You know where she lives?"
He gave Arthur a long, flat look.
"Right. Silly question."
"I'll let you know if she's alright."
Arthur was left alone in the office after his blond colleague rushed out. He shook his head with relieved confusion. "He really must care for her, then."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sarah clawed her way reluctantly to awareness, vaguely aware of a sound that shouldn't be. The pounding continued so she rolled off the bed, her hair in a tangled mass about her pale face. Her long legs were bare beneath the hem of the faded men's dress shirt she'd stolen years ago from her father, but she didn't really intend to open the door. She braced herself silently against it, one eye against the spy hole.
It was Jareth.
She frowned, resting her forehead against the wood. Had she ever given him her address? She didn't think so, but it was Jareth, so she couldn't really be sure. Starting to move away, back towards her bed, she was arrested by his muffled voice.
"Sarah, I know you're in there."
She said nothing, staring at the knob.
"Sarah, please let me in," Jareth pleaded, somehow managing to retain his dignity in the action. "I know you're there, so please let me in, let me see that you're all right."
Didn't vampires have to ask permission to come into a home? She didn't think he was a vampire, not at all, but there was a sense of inviting danger…hell, she was tired. She couldn't even think straight anymore.
Her hand moved to the dead bolt, unlocking it before she could think better of it, and opened the door only enough to show her face, the rest of her still hidden behind it, "I'm fine," she told him, but her voice didn't come out as steady as she would have hoped. "I'm just tired."
"You're more than tired," he disagreed, trying to meet her gray-green eyes. "Sarah, talk to me."
"I'm fine," she insisted.
"Sarah."
Giving way to just the slightest hint of power in his crisp voice, she backed up and allowed him to enter, closing and locking the door behind him. Her voice was barely a whisper. "I'm fine."
"Arthur is worried; he said you've missed two classes in a row." He looked around him with interest, sliding his hands into his pockets. The apartment was tiny, a studio that was nonetheless laid out to make the most of what little space there was. To his left was a miniscule kitchen with lots of cabinets, a drying rack on the counter holding a few bowls, plates, and glasses. There was another door on his right, partially open to reveal a bathroom decorated in green and cream. Ahead of them, before the sliding glass door leading to the small patio, a queen sized bed took up much of the area, the covers tousled in cocoons against the headboard that had its back to the window. Resting between pillows and the wall, a whit tiger poppet guarded the room. A smallish tv with its accessories sat on the bar between kitchen and room, placed so that the headboard could provide support while watching.
What was truly impressive, though, was that nearly every available inch of wall space was covered in papers, most of them filled with her neat handwriting, others bearing detailed sketches of faeries, goblins, and all manner of Otherworld creatures. It was a writer's haven, a construct of ideas and half-developed thoughts written down in the midst of an inspiration.
"I've been sleeping most of the weekend," she admitted, aware of his scrutiny. "I've just been so tired."
"Physically tired?" he pressed keenly.
"That too," she mumbled.
"I pushed you too far, didn't I?"
Sarah blinked at his question, for it held a curious kind of matter-of-factness to it. It was almost more of a statement, a simple acknowledgement of a mistake. "I don't-"
Jareth cupped her face in his hands, softly kissing her forehead. "I'm sorry, Sarah. I keep forgetting how very innocent you are."
She blushed and brushed ineffectually at his hands. "I'm not-"
Pushing her gently against the wall, he touched his lips tenderly to hers, not pressing, not threatening, simply moving his mouth against hers until precious fire scalded her veins. "You are innocent, Sarah," he breathed against her ear. "That's not a bad thing."
Keeping her eyes closed, Sarah let her head droop onto Jareth's shoulder, her breath short and quick.
"Have you started to feel more rested?" When she mutely shook her head, he smiled slightly, raising one hand to smooth her hair. "Then I shall give you the cure my old Nurse gave me."
"And what's that?" she asked disinterestedly, when it became obvious he was going to say nothing further without prompting.
He scooped her up in his arms, carrying her over to the bed and tucking her into the nest of blankets. "A guarded sleep," he answered with a chuckle, tucking the tiger into her arms. "Sleep now, Sarah. I'll keep your dreams."
To her great surprise, she found herself drifting off in the rather questionable safety of his arms. Over the weekend, her dreams had been haunted with screeching white owls and falling towers. Blessed relief, for once, the dreams did not come.
Jareth continued to stroke her hair long after she fell asleep, finding simple pleasure in gently smoothing away the knots. It was a puzzle, though distinctly less challenging than one presented by a person, and he had always rather enjoyed puzzles. He cast about for something to occupy his mind that wouldn't awaken the young woman in his lap, his sharp blue eyes falling on a paper clipped handful of pages sitting atop the laptop on the nightstand. He picked it up and pulled away the clip, tracing a slender finger over the handwriting.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
1-2-3 Not It!
Sarah Williams
The seven year old pouted when the small hand came down lightly on his back, but he obediently stopped. "Olly olly oxenfree!" he called, and a dozen heads appeared in different points around the room. "I'm It now," he told them, covering his eyes and beginning to count.
The human and goblin children scattered amidst the staircases. Upside down, rightside up, sideways…each and every staircase was traversable, if only from the correct perspective. It might have been where MC Escher had received his inspiration, standing in a corner and watching the young of two races defy basic laws like gravity in an ancient children's game.
Reaching twenty in a roundabout sort of way, the human Brian pulled his hands from his eyes. "Ready or not, here I come!" He charged up the stairs before him, flipping down the far end to dun down the underside of the case. There weren't a lot of places to hide in the room, not really. Hiding was simply a question of always being on the other side of the staircase. He could hear Julie's muffled laughter, but that too far away, and even though he could see Weezla's head peeking out at the far end of the room, but he'd never get there in time to keep the goblin from running elsewhere.
Leaping across to a new platform, he peered over the edge, finding no one on the other side. Looking up, he found little goblin Gragle winking at him cheekily before racing to the other side of the above stair.
Finally, Brian managed to catch Carter by the ankle, passing off the reigns on Ithood.
Jareth smiled as he looked on from the doorway, watching Carter chase down Gragle with swift efficiency. It always reassured him to see the children wished to him thus enamored. The children were often saved from uncaring families by the callous wishing away, their mothers or sibling, still mystic and young enough to believe in goblins and faeries, unwilling to navigate the labyrinth to reclaim the child. When their game was finished, they would rush out to the labyrinth in a tangle of limbs and laughter, or perhaps return each to his or her goblin parents.
He glanced down at the fragile, beautiful girl clutching his hand, her face still bruised despite being healed and fed. She might have been six, though she looked younger, huge grey eyes staring at the goblin and human children playing upside down and sideways. "Would you like to play with them, Alais?" he asked gently.
"I'll fall," she whispered, tightening her grip on his much larger hand.
"You'll learn not to," he assured her. "And it's never the fall you should fear, only the inconvenient landing. Luki!"
A goblin boy with green-brown eyes came cautiously to the Goblin King, keeping part of his attention on the It Gragle. "Your Majesty," he piped, bowing low.
"Alais wishes to join the game, Luki, but you will have to teach her to walk the drops."
Luki's long, flexible ears, normally kept flat against the back of his head, unfurled and waggled at the human child cheerily. "Alais," he pronounced carefully, holding out a clawed hand. "Luki!"
The beautiful child looked up at Jareth, terror written into her pale face, so he knelt before her and smoother her white-blonde hair back from her cheek. "Do not be afraid, Alais," he told her. "They will be your friends now, and they will not hurt you."
Swallowing hard, she nodded and bravely took Luki's hand, allowing him to lear her up the staircase closest to them.
Jareth smiled tightly, staying to watch the game progress. So many human children came to him broken and battered, the fairy tale belief and innocence extinguished forever. Even if the geis of the labyrinth had not been upon him, the Goblin King could not have refused such neglected angels. He didn't ever turn them into goblins, of course, that was quite impossible, but he always hoped that by telling the wisher that, she (it was almost always a she) would be willing to brave the labyrinth to take them home. Only once had he not been disappointed. Only once had a young girl seen it through, succeeded in taking back her brother from an ill-thought wish.
She would forget, he knew, as would the boy; it was the way of the labyrinth, to defend itself from the curiosity of mortal minds. Watching protectively over the mix of children, at little Luki bringing timid Alais into the game, he wondered if maybe they wouldn't be better of if they could recall. Such broken, desperate angels, and they had only this tumbling down city to repair them.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sarah awoke slowly, her nose coming to alertness before any of the rest of her. Something smelled delicious. Her eyes blinked open, peering out from her customary nest of blankets, and she felt distinctly turned around. Why was she facing her headboard? She twisted around so that she was back to the wall, the tv in her line of sight, and saw Jareth standing in her kitchen.
"I thought you might be hungry," he said without turning to her. "Would you like some soup?"
She frowned, sitting up and feeling the blankets slide into a heap all around her. "I don't have any soup in the house."
"No, you didn't, so I ran to the Einstein's on the corner. Do you like chicken noodle?" When she nodded nutely, he ladled the meal into two large soup mugs, bringing her one and settling on to the bed next to her. "Are you feeling better?"
"Yes," she answered, surprised to find that it was true. She was still tired, but it didn't run as bone deep as it had. She sipped carefully at the lightly steaming broth. "How long did I sleep?"
"You needed it," he replied obliquely. Jareth gestured around the apartment with his spoon. "Has it always been your habit to create a hidey-hole for yourself?"
"Hmm, my own little oubliette."
"Oubliette?" he repeated, lifting one highly arched eyebrow.
Sarah really didn't believe that he needed the clarification but she gave it anyway, wondering if there was still a way she could be wrong. "Oubliette, from the French oublier, to forget, meaning "little forgotten"," she murmured. "It's a place you're sent to be forgotten."
"Does it work?"
"I don't know." She laughed mirthlessly, hands twitching against the warm mug. "Sometimes I feel as if I never left."
"You have not been forgotten," he breathed into her ear, and she decided it was best for her own peace of mind that she not reply.
"You know, I used to believe it was all real," she mused, running one finger along the rim. She could feel his arm tighten reflexively about her and chose to very carefully press forward. "It took years for Dad and Karen to convince me that it wasn't, and even then, I'm not sure they ever really succeeded."
"Life isn't worth living if there isn't a little magic to it," he sniffed.
"Magic has its drawbacks," she said flatly. "I'd prefer to keep twelve hours."
Jareth set aside his mug on the nightstand, placing hers beside it. Leading her by pressure on her shoulders, he repositioned her to pillow her head against his left shoulder, the rest of her sprawled across her lap. They sat in silence, him stroking her hair until drowsiness reclaimed her, resting bonelessly against his chest. Eventually, his crisp voice softly broke the stillness. "Do you ever wonder what it would have been like, if you had stayed?"
She considered the question sleepily, meeting his eyes, but he wasn't giving anything away. "Not anymore," she answered finally.
"Because you grew up?"
"Because I'm beginning to think I'm still living it." She was perversely pleased to see a flicker of something-concern? Fear?- cross his face, even if it was only for the briefest of moments.
Jareth kissed her fiercely, and whatever small victory she had just won melted away with her helpless acceptance of it. She knew it was within her to fight, but she just didn't want to. As frightening as it was, it was also exhilarating, fire racing through her. She was not safe in his arms, that much she knew, or at least not safe as she formerly defined it.
She was not safe, but she was secure in a way, secure in the sensation of falling. At least until she landed.
Jareth pulled away, feathery blond hair falling over them both as he regained control. "I should let you sleep," he whispered.
"I'll only dream."
He produced a crystal sphere, pressing it into her hands. She didn't ask where it came from, nor did he offer. "Dream then," he ordered simply. "And I shall watch them as they come, letting only sweet ones by."
"Liar," she murmured, but she was already falling asleep, hands cradling the crystal to her.
He pressed a soft kiss against her temple. "I never lie, Sarah. I may bend the light, but I do not lie."
