Hello, readers! Here is the last installment: Christmas Night! I had fun writing this one, but it had its difficult parts, some very difficult parts. Tomorrow is the last update! It will most likely only be a small epilogue, something to finish things off, wrap up loose ends, finish an incomplete song…

On another note, I assure you that I didn't originally plan the little exchange with Mr. Scotts. I had something different planned, but apparently our Goblin King saw something I didn't and he took action. I was contemplating refusing him a chance to do his own thing, but when I saw what was going on, I allowed him his moment. I'm quite proud of him!

On another, completely random note, I had feared that I wouldn't get a white Christmas. I woke up to clear skies and no snow. Then, when we sat down to eat at four, I looked out the window and there was SNOW! :) It's only some light flurries, but I'll take it!

Disclaimer: I don't own 'Labyrinth'


Christmas Night

Deep silence fell between the two. Not a whisper of breath. Muted heartbeats. The woman turned around, her hand falling from the forgotten piano.

He stood in front of her. Barely three feet away. If she wanted, she could've reached out a hand brushed her fingertips against his shoulder. He had traded his previous black ensemble for clean black dress shoes, simple black slacks and a white, long-sleeved, button up shirt which he had rolled the sleeves up to just below his elbows and left the first three buttons undone, displaying a firm, pale chest. His black gloves were ever present.

And so were his eyes.

Those eyes. His mismatched eyes that burned so fiercely.

But his face. It was still duller, lacking.

"Y-yes," she tripped out, her vocal chords briefly forgetting how to work properly.

He cocked his head to the side and smirked. "Fancy meeting you here, Sarah."

The way he said her name. Dear God, this man is something to fear.

"What are you doing here?" she questioned in as harsh a tone as she could muster.

He gestured to the piano behind her with a flourish. "Need I explain?"

"You're working here?"

"Come, come, Sarah," he scolded her, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm surprise at you. Perhaps I've given you too much credit. I'd expect you to be a touch cleverer."

It all clicked into place then. She was surprised at him for not hearing the gears linking together. He was working here. She just happened to get a last minute job.

"You did this, didn't you? It was all you, wasn't it! Can I no longer expect to do anything for myself without you rushing in to take care of it for me? I didn't even say 'I wish'. How could you go and do something—,"

"Sarah," he warned.

"No, I don't even want to hear it."

"Sarah, I have been generous. But that ended when you refused me. I have done nothing for you. You did this all on your own, precious."

His endearment for her slipped over her and sent unwanted shivers down her spine. Precious. She opened her mouth to send him a scathing reply when the door opened across the room and burly man with thick, red curls stumbled out.

"It's six o'clock. Anyone who walks through that door now is late!" he cried in a voice that Sarah knew as Mr. Scotts. "Mr. King," he continued, "please head to your piano and be sure all is in order for your performance, and please, stop flirting with my workers."

The proud King smirked at Mr. Scotts and clasped his hands behind his back. "I shall do so this very instant. However, I cannot give you my promise on the latter matter." His eyes flicker slyly over the blossomed woman next to him.

Mr. Scotts guffawed at his remark and waved a hand at him, "Be on your way then! There's too much busy work for those antics now."

He gave the man a brief nod and turned away. He took slow, deliberate steps towards the piano behind Sarah. He passed too far for him to touch her, but so tantalizingly close that she could feel the warmth of his skin and her resolve crumbling.

"Sarah!" Mr. Scotts barked at her. "If you would stop ogling the piano player for a minute, you could come over here and learn the rules for the job it appears only you and Alli are serious about."

The man's words and the snicker behind her induced a pink flush to blossom up her neck and over her cheeks. Stepping off the stage, she walked with a confident air to Mr. Scotts. She stopped in front of him and he raked his eyes over her. He gave a small grin and nodded.

"You'll do fine. Remove your coat." The moment her eyes began to widen, he hastily continued on, "So that I can ensure you are dressed appropriately."

Sarah nodded and unbuttoned her coat. She slid it off her shoulders and held it in behind her back so that he could see her black dress pants and black blouse.

He gave her a stiff nod. "It'll do. Follow me. We have to clean this place and put up some holiday decorations before eight. Quickly now," he turned on his heel and disappeared through the door.

With a quick glance over her shoulder at the mismatched eye man, she followed Mr. Scotts through the door. She tried to focus on his instructions, but the only thing that managed to stay in her mind was the image of the lithe man, standing over the piano clutching music sheets in his hands so tightly they were beginning to crease.


A present for Toby. A present for Toby: a small phrase that quickly became Sarah's mantra for that night. The crowded room was suffocating her. Every time she had to deal with a drunken oaf or a lecherous comment or an intrusive caress, she smiled and politely excused herself chanting away.

A present for Toby.

A present for Toby.

An oily man slid up next to her and draped an arm over her shoulder. His stale breath washed over her face.

A present for Toby.

"Hey, sweetie. 'Ow 'bout you'n'I get ou' o' tissss 'ell 'ole?" he sloppily slurred into her ear.

A present for Toby.

She flashed him what she hoped didn't look like a strained smile and said through clenched teeth, "How lovely! Why don't you sit down and I'll find somewhere to put this tray down?"

He gave her a slow wink and stumbled off.

Sarah blew a stray tendril of hair out of her eye. Alli had advised her that it was best to let them think they were getting what they wanted. "They pass out within a minute of their request," she explained. So far, her words had not failed the newbie.

Tucking the tray under her arm, she wove her way in between the sticky, sweating bodies and slipped into the kitchen.

Which wasn't any calmer.

Darren and May, the two chefs, yelled at each other as they flew around the kitchen perfecting their concoctions for the night. Other servers also crammed into the small room for a brief reprieve from the demands outside in the lounge.

As Sarah set the tray down to refill it with drinks, the strands of a plaintive piano melody washed over her.

That song.

It briefly turned into a gayer tune, but as she set the tray on her shoulder and made her way back into the undulating throng, teeth clenching disgust and nervousness entered its notes. Steeling herself against the sway that his song had over her and plastering a smile on her face, she entered the bray once again.


The night was dragging on and every fiber in her body was threatening to give out on her. The smoke infested air was clawing at her lungs and throat and weariness pulled at her eyelids.

A present for Toby.

Once Sarah deposited her last drink in the sausage link fingers of a pot belly man smothered in a couch, she turned onto her heel and slammed her face into a firm and partially exposed chest. The exhausted woman bit back a yelp of surprise.

"Well, well, precious. How are you enjoying the evening?" His warm breath brushed across the top of her head, rustling loose strands of hair.

Unconsciously she gripped the tray tighter in her hands until her knuckles glowed white. She dared to look up and meet his glittering, laughed creased eyes with her own firmly set ones.

"What? No retort? I really am disappointed in you." He lifted a leather clad hand and traced her cheek with one cool finger. "Where's that fiery passion? That blind confidence?"

"It's no longer blind," she bit out.

He threw his head back and gave a deep throated chuckle, flashing sharper than normal teeth. For a moment, his face shifted and showed the man she knew underneath before it reverted back to its duller form. His mismatched eyes—ever the same—refocused on her face and he said with a smirk, "In confidence perhaps, but in several other areas, I fear that you, dear Sarah, are still as blind as your fifteen old self."

Sarah momentarily pushed aside the insult to ask him a question that had been nagging at the back of her mind. "Why do you look so different? So human?"

"A glamour, my dear. Nothing more," he drawled.

Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted as the pounding music shifted into a slower Christmas ballad. Green eyes scanned the room and observed the multiple couples latching onto each other to sway together until they ended their round on the man before her.

The Goblin King stood before Sarah, his power and confidence dripping like honey from his frame. He wrapped his long fingers around her cold hands and pried them off the tray.

She opened her mouth to protest, but a stern glance from him kept her silent. He removed the tray from her hands and set it on the ground, leaning it against the wall. Taking her hands back in his, he led her into the center of the throng of people.

Her eyes never leaving his stunning frame, she protested, "I have to work. Did you get this job for me for the sole purpose of torturing me?"

He turned on her, eyes blazing, as he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her flush up against him. Holding one of her hands at eye level, he smirked at her and stated, "I informed you earlier that I had no intervention in you getting this job."

"Bu then how are you so conveniently here?" she retorted.

"I never denied intervention on the aspect of myself getting this job."

She furrowed her brow and glowered at him which only led to him chuckling. He leaned in and pressed his forehead against hers, his warm breath gliding over her face. "Don't do that, precious. It ruins your beautiful face."

The beautiful woman in his arms clamped her mouth shut as he pulled her tightly into him and led her through the movements of his sinuous dance.

As they continued their dance in a solidary bubble, Sarah became increasingly aware of the leering eyes and lecherous comments that began to turn her way. Her bright eyes turned to those of her partner's and saw a hard glint had steeled his eyes. He was aware of them too. The out-of-place woman began to pull away from the man who held her firmly, but he simply tightened his grip in response.

He bent his head towards her, his lips grazed her ear as he whispered so only she could hear, "What do you say, precious, shall we leave this intrusive company? I'm not in a mood to allow you to part with me mid-dance again because of an uncomfortable situation."

"B-but I have to work," his precious stumbled out.

"Do you forget who I am? Such a trifling matter is easily remedied," he calmly told her. He pulled away from her and drew her to his side. He entwined her arm around his and led her from the rapidly increasing tempo of the undulating movements of the crowded dance floor.

As he pulled her towards the door, Mr. Scotts voice broke over the music, barely audible to those not within five feet. "Where are you two hurrying off to?"

The Goblin King turned towards him, teeth bared and eyes flashing. "Ms. Williams is taking her five minute break."

Mr. Scotts spluttered out, "She doesn't get one. We're short."

The King quirked an eyebrow and glanced over the Lounge's occupants. "They seem to be content. Five minutes with one less server won't devastate them." His eyes hardened and became cruel as they fell on Mr. Scotts. "You, however, may briefly fall short in your ability to fulfill your perversion."

Mr. Scotts blanched and gaped, flailing like a fish out of water.

"If you wish for me to play a last number, I suggest you allow Ms. Williams five minutes to rest. I'm sure playing up to your fantasies are exhausting her."

"Well, I never—,"

"Come, come, man!" he scolded. "You may say nothing out loud, but your intentions are not lost on me. Perhaps on her because her blindness, but not on me. And if, at any part of the rest tonight, you continue on so rashly, don't put it past me to thrash you within an inch of your life," he hissed out through clenched teeth, his voice feral and dangerously low.

The woman on his arm stood mouth agape, staring on in horror and confusion.

The burly, red-headed man came to his senses and pointed a short finger at the King in front of him. "You," he hissed. "If you want to be paid for this job, I suggest you shut your damn mouth and get back to that piano."

The King smirked. "Your money holds no value to me."

A dark glint flickered in the fumed man's eyes. "Then what about the girl? You've got a soft spot for her, eh? Not too fond of sharing? If you don't get on that damn stage and play another effing song, you won't want her after I'm through with her."

The smirk fell from the King's face and a dark glower took ahold of his features. He withdrew Sarah's arm from his, and for a brief moment she was afraid that he was going to leave her.

And leave her he did.

He stepped away from her.

And punched Mr. Scotts square in the gut.

Mr. Scotts doubled over his fist and let out a rush of air. The King leaned over the crumpled figure and whispered in his ear. "You dare lay a finger on her and I swear to you that the living torment you will experience will have you begging for a death that I won't grant. I won't be that merciful on you."

With a harsh jerk, he removed his fist from the man's gut who then tumbled to the floor in a tangle of limbs. He turned back to Sarah, mismatched eyes blazing, and rested a gloved hand at the small of her back. "Where's your coat?" he asked impatiently.

"The kitchen," she muttered, still in a state of shock.

He gave a curt nod and led her to the kitchen. He slipped the coat over her small frame and brought her back into the Lounge. His eyes focused on the door ahead as he quickly strutted across the room and ushered Sarah out the door into the cool night air.


The brisk night air bit at Sarah's exposed skin and sent shivers throughout her body as her teeth began to chatter. A warm arm enclosed her shoulders and pulled her into a warm body. He didn't say anything, and she didn't say anything. He just held her close and she just enjoyed the waves of heat that his body was giving off.

The silent night was punctured by several lower snickers.

"Is that the girl?" questioned a rough voice from somewhere to her right.

"Shut up!" hissed several other voices in unison.

Sarah jumped and looked around them and saw nothing but shadows. She pushed the voices to the back of her mind and snuggled back into the warmth.

"Kingy's with the girl!"

"The girl who ate the peach?"

"The girl with the dream?"

"Yes, now, SHUT UP!" hissed a commanding voice.

"Do you hear that?" the woman whispered to her companion who let out a deep chuckle.

"I fear my subjects don't like being left alone for long spans of times. I daresay they were rather curious as well."

A shadow darted across the sidewalk and dodged behind a bush. "So, we're surrounded by goblins?"

"Is that not what I just said, precious?" he asked in response.

Sarah fell into an embarrassed silence, and the two continued their journey down the sidewalk. With each step, she became further aware of his arm draped possessively around her shoulder, of his calm and steady breathing, of the warmth that was pouring off him that was so wonderful in comparison to the cold air that nipped at her. Tucking a strand of chestnut hair behind her ear, she cleared her throat and stepped out from his arm. She took a few quick steps away from him and turned back to face him.

The Goblin King had his hands resting on his hips, head cocked to the side and an eyebrow raised to his hairline. His eyes blazed in the darkness.

She turned her eyes to the sidewalk, and she stuffed her chilled hands in her coat pockets.

"Thank you. Enjoy the rest of your night."

"Sarah—," he pleaded.

"No. It was nice see you, but as you said, I don't need you anymore."

"Sarah," his voice took on a hard edge.

"'What's said is said', right?"

He took a step and closed the distance she had put between them. He placed a finger under her chin and tilted her face to look at him. His eyes looked down into hers, blazing with an intensity that stirred fear in Sarah's heart.

"Sarah, don't," he began harshly, but she had enough of him, enough of his antics.

For Christ's sake, couldn't he just leave her alone? His help was appreciated but she didn't need it!

"'Don't defy me'! Hmm? Well, guess what, Jareth, your games are growing old!"

A strange look fluttered across his eyes, but Sarah paid it no mind, she continued on, everything built up finally spilling over.

"I defeated you! You have no power over me! So why can't you leave me the hell alone?" Sarah tried to swallow a lob that was lodged in her throat. Tears burned her eyes and the face of the King before her blurred.

"Why?" she choked out. "Why can't you just leave my head? Why can't you just leave me alone? How is it that you never fail to flash through my mind every day? What did you do to me?!"

Everything broke. Every dam. Every wall. Every pushed aside thought and memory. The distressed woman broke into a fit of heavy sobs.

Fierce hands seized her shoulders and pulled her into a warm chest. Sarah grasped ahold of the shirt that cloaked it and buried her face into it. Strong arms wrapped around her and a heavy chin rested lightly on top of her head.

"Shh-shh-shh," a quiet voice chanted above her. "My dear, dear Sarah, you have been lonely for far too long, standing on your own, not allowing anyone to help you. That was all I ever tried to do. You had such a burden on you that you suffered through silently; all I wanted to do was relieve you, if only for a brief moment."

"You took my brother," Sarah mumbled into his shirt.

His chest shook with a small laugh. "Yes, precious, but you wished it. I only wished to give you what you wanted. I know too well what it is like to have an impossible burden on you but to have no one to help share the yoke. I, too, know what it is like to be lonely and desire someone so fiercely to share your life with."

"But—," Sarah started to protest, pulling away from his arms.

"I may be a well-off man but I live a lonely life, Sarah," he stated, rubbing a black clad thumb under her eyes removing the wet trails the tears had made across her face.

"But you have the Labyrinth, and the goblins—," she said, unconsciously leaning into his touch.

"I assure that those pests hardly qualify as company. They have their moments of entertainment of course," he hastily proclaimed loudly as the bushes began to quiver and exclaim "Kingy no loves us!", "but they certainly do not—stimulate—the senses. They don't stave off the loneliness that claws at my heart, precious." He grasped a strand of her hair gently between his thumb and forefinger and twirled it.

Sarah bit her lip as his words began to sink in. "So the song—,"

"Was nothing more than that, but I played what you desired, what I desired. I played our dreams, our hearts, our souls."

"The wonderful thing about a song is that, if played the right way," she began.

"It can show you your dreams," he finished. He gentle took the strand of hair in his fingers and tucked it behind her ear.

"My dreams," the flushed woman whispered.

He leaned forward and gently pressed his lips against her forehead sending thrills through Sarah. "Our dreams," he responded. "They are so alike," he whispered warmly against her skin. "They are entwined, entangled, impossible to separate."

A cacophony of snickers and whistles broke the two from their bubbled moment. The man whirled to face behind him—eyes aflame—and firmly declared, "Be quiet or I will bog every last one of you!" He turned back to his companion with his eyes still blazing.

Sarah stepped away from him, and the King's eyes dimmed. For a moment he looked as he had back when she said those damned words. Taking a shuttering breath, she steeled herself for the words that she knew had to be said. "You had no power over me when I was fifteen, and to this day you still don't. But, despite that, you—you stayed with me. You may have had no power, but that didn't drive you from my side, even if your presence was less than desirable at times. You never did anything, but you stayed there, for support. And for that, for not leaving my side, I thank you—Jareth."

As his name rolled off her tongue, the man's gaze softened and he held out his hand for hers. "And I never will leave it. Shall I bring you home, precious?"

With a fluttering heart, the tear-stained woman clutched onto the lithe man's hand, never looking more beautiful. Side-by-side the two walked down the street to Sarah's apartment as gentle snowflakes began to float down.


Sarah's keys jangled as she opened her apartment door and flipped the light on. She glanced over her shoulder at the man who stood there. "You can come in for a moment, if you want to."

Jareth gave her a gentle smirk and stepped into the apartment behind her, shutting the door as her did so. As Sarah shrugged her coat off and hung it on the nail on the side of the door, he wandered across the living room to the old piano that sat in the corner against the wall. He tenderly ran a hand over the old keys, a small crease between his eyebrows distorting his perfect face.

Sarah walked up behind him and explained, "I found it about a year ago, beat up on a curb down the road. I took pity on the old thing. I tried to fix it, but I couldn't pay the price and I didn't trust the man."

The blonde man hesitantly pressed down on one of the keys and a jarring note shook the apartment. "Old and neglected, much like myself," he remark. He turned his head to face the woman standing at his side and whispered, "It, however, had the fortune of being cared for by your loving hands."

Light flush crept across her cheeks under his blazing gaze. She reached out a hand and lovingly stroked the keys.

"I only wish that she was able to play again." Sarah eye's widened as the words fell from her mouth.

I wish…