Chapter 3: Down, Down, Down

May 9th, 1986

"Got another one, have you?"

The puerile cretins parted to reveal a curious babe, fresh from crying.

As expected.

It was what the creatures did- take that which was offered, with or without their king's consent. The way it always had been and always would be.

He needed to fetch the girl; leaving her could prove deleterious, and the balance must be kept. Tapping his chin, the King resigned himself to his fate.

He rose from his throne and descended from the dais while the boy goggled at his new surroundings.

"Well, old chaps, it seems you have a mortal to torment. Get going! The rest of you lot, watch the boy."

The Shimmering of the goblins flittered like ungrounded electricity through the air, and the King felt them Fade to do his bidding, their bidding, even as he strode to a window and stepped up on the ledge. He paused, as if remembering something of great import, turning back to address the remaining subjects in his throne room once more.

"And if anything happens to the child, you'll all be suspended above the Terrible Howling Gulf. By your toenails."

The King slipped from the window, out of his world and into the next. And in the transition from free fall to flight, he changed.

The only constant is change.

It was a trite assertion from a long dead philosopher. He had been younger then, but not young. Now, he was older, but not old. He was too young to be Tired, and so, he dragged his centuries along behind. Unsure if he controlled the passage of the ages, or if the ages bound him. Time he had at his disposal, but what did it matter if there were nothing else interesting in the whole of both worlds? His existence was boredom.

The very concept of flux rankled. For one such as himself, governed by Ordinances and Instruments of Fate, it was unattainable.

He ruled a vast and ever-changing empire in which nothing ever changed.

For all its tricks and shifting, the Labyrinth was the same as the day it was formed. The goblins were the same as the day he became their king. The courtiers. His subjects. The hapless, selfish runners. The wide-eyed wish-aways. The lands beyond the citadel. All the same and always the same. Monotony to the point of madness. Or, the king thought ruefully, at least to the point of awful alliteration.

When the tedium became too burdensome, he would steal time and visit the Overland. Some days, it worked to stave off the withering indolence. More, and more frequently, however, it did not. Although, recently…

The storm raged around him evidencing the flaw in the train of thought not pursued. Fetching was tedious.

His life had not always been drudgery, and even for him, the experiences and interactions had been novel and blithe. All once upon a time, before the Despair had faded into paralyzing bitterness.

His only respite was The Game. And luckily for him, The Game was on.

Until one day, this day, something was different. The thrill of it sizzled across his skin. He could taste the variance in the very air. Familiarity had given birth to something new.

Then, The Game changed.

He knew nothing would ever be the same again.

And, with dawning realization, he hated it.

"Ooph."

Sarah landed with a soft, dazed thud that left her no worse for wear. The Goblin King, however, had not been quite as lucky. The wind was knocked from him by a jolting reacquaintance with the earth in addition to the weight of an adult human woman suddenly concentrated on his the solar plexus.

"If you wouldn't mind terribly removing your elbow from my ribs?" The king wheezed beneath her.

"Oh."

Of course she had managed to land squarely on top of Jareth. At least he had not landed on her. That could have opened a whole new can of worms Sarah didn't want to consider. That is, if he had not crushed her or impaled her on one of the pointer bits of his attire that were currently digging painfully into her back. She realized then that she had not yet complied with his request and rolled off the literally put upon monarch. Sarah didn't think she had hit her head, but that might explain her delayed reaction time.

And how he in turn managed to pin bodily her as soon as she scooted away.

That was not what was supposed to happen. Hello, can of worms.

They were underground, or further underground. There was no source of light so she couldn't see him, but Sarah could sure as hell feel him. Jareth braced himself above her, the weight of his hands bearing down her shoulders, keeping her in place, but farther down their legs intertwined and- Sensory deprivation, that's all. Just my imagination running away from me. If there were light-

Well, if there were light, she might be making more of an effort to buck him off.

What was worse, almost worse, was that she could smell him. Rather than repugnant, as she felt she probably smelled after her recent foray in the Icky Swamp of Doom, Jareth smelled absolutely, ridiculously, wonderful. All magic and leather and sunshine. It really wasn't fair.

And she must be concussed because his name was slipping past her lips before she could think to stop herself.

"Jareth?"

"Yes, Sarah?" He breathed in her ear. She hadn't realized that his face had been quite so close.

She may have shuddered. Just slightly. He noticed if his dark chuckle was any indication. Sarah flushed, thankful that he could not see her in the darkness. Probably can't see me. Hopefully. Be just my luck if he could.

"It's dark," Sarah murmured smartly.

"So it is."

She could help the second shiver no more than the first.

Jareth's weight disappeared then, and Sarah found herself hauled up beside him. Her vision would have blacked due to vertigo had the environment not already been dark as pitch. The dizziness that assailed her threatened to make her sit back down. She could not see it, but it was not at all hard to imagine the smirk that danced on the Goblin King's face. The gloved hand that steadied her danced down her arm and away.

Sarah took deep breaths, bent and bracing her hands on her knees.

"Are you quite all right?"

She thought that almost sounded like sincere concern.

It didn't hurt but there was something wrong with her head. She felt kind of fuzzy. It was the same foggy feeling she tended to get several days into a cold while heavily dosed on medicine.

"I think I might have hit my head."

If she had suspected such a statement would have him tangling his fingers through her hair and subsequently having those same gloved fingers run thoroughly and tantalizingly along her scalp, Sarah would have kept her damn trap shut. If she shuddered a third time, he had the grace not to acknowledge it.

"I can find nothing."

Apparently, he'd once more moved closer while he was inspecting her. He was speaking directly into her ear again and her knees threatened to give way. It was quite rude really, and Sarah wanted a refund as her faulty knees weren't living up to their job description of faithfully bearing her weight.

This didn't escape him either, "Although..."

"Actually, you know what? I think I'm fine." She claimed, even as she felt the invisible room begin to spin around her. They were in a room weren't they? A cavey kind of room? "Awesome. Peachy, even."

She imagined the dubious look he gave her as she felt a spark of magic along her crown.

For a while, there was nothing. But then, Sarah was floating and it was glorious.

"…think."

Words filtered in then, and she could see.

"You lingered too long-"

Shiny and shimmery. The air glittered. The air sparkled.

"-nearly consumed you."

She tried holding her breath. Like dust in a light beam. She'd played this game a thousand times. Don't breathe the dust.

"-quite the scare."

She breathed once more.

But seeing. Seeing was wonderful. She watched the light glimmer across the back of her hand.

"Sarah."

He was calling her by her name, again. Had he not always called her by name? That was important, her name, because it was hers. Sarah, Sarah, Sarah.

"Sarah!"

His face wasn't happy. It looked kind of angry. And upside-down. It was really pointy too. Sharp. Like his teeth. Sarah giggled. He looked kind of like-

"And the Mists are consuming you still. You simply had to sleep in that wretched bog, didn't you?"

Oh. Sleep. Sleep sounded lovely. Maybe she would-

"No! You have to fight it, Sarah."

The words were urgent. A plea. She didn't like pleas. Did she like pleas? She didn't think she liked pleas. She liked the air. The dust twinkled and was pretty.

She reached for it.

The next time he spoke, his voice was harsh and cutting.

"Failing your quest before you've even begun. I severely overestimated you, Sarah Williams."

Failing? She couldn't fail. Especially not in front of him. There was something about that which was inherently wrong.

But she didn't know what she was supposed to do. How was one supposed to fight this light airy feeling. Was it foggyheadedness? Her preferred methods for such were sleep. And maybe, ibuprofen.

"That's it. Just like that."

What?

She realized how close he was then. He was, in fact, cradling her head in his lap, touching something cool to her forehead. A crystal?

No, crystals aren't safe. They could be snakes. Sarah hated snakes. Scarves are nice, though.

"Stop fighting me, Sarah. I'm trying to help you."

The minty touch disappeared, and she saw the sphere then, all cloudy and swirling and gray.

It was light but getting darker. Getting darker by the moment. And then the chilly pressure was back.

Why was her head in Jareth's lap? This wasn't how it was supposed to go at all. She was the heroine in this adventure. Heroines didn't need to be saved. They did the saving.

She never wanted and never asked for this adventure, in the first place. Hell, she still didn't even know what she was supposed to be doing. It was all his fault and it just, "isn't fair!"

Jareth smiled, and Sarah couldn't help thinking how nice it was when it wasn't colored by malice and derision.

It was too bad she felt too exhausted to appreciate it.

She saw the crystal float away as her eyes drifted closed. The swirling smoke was trapped within.

"-finally awake."

The difference between her first waking and the second since falling further below was much like the difference between waking late and naturally on a languorous Saturday morning and waking after being smashed into the ground by a flaming, flying toilet seat.

This latter scenario seemed incredibly likely. Why else would everything hurt?

Sarah tried opening her eyes and sitting up. Everything was so bright.

The groan was probably terribly unladylike and Karen would have been horrified, were she on hand.

Once attaining a sitting position, she cradled her head in her hands.

She had obviously not survived this hypothesized near-earth-object-falling-to-earth collision and had been sent to straight to hell.

"Come now."

She idly pondered why she had been sentenced to suffer eternally with the Goblin King as her jailer. She'd never cheated on her taxes or murdered anyone. She might be a tad selfish, but who wasn't?

"You have wasted enough time, already."

An angry green eye peeked through a gap in her fingers. His voice was grating. How could she have ever thought it sounded attractive?

But she owed him, didn't she? She suspected that whatever he had done had saved her life. Again.

After a few moments, Sarah mustered up the will to brave the light and catch his eye. Not that she needed to, he was already looking at her.

"Thanks."

It was grudging, but she said it. She didn't like feeling indebted to anyone. Especially not him.

"For what?" The Goblin King's head tilted, regarding her oddly.

Is he seriously going to pretend like it never happened?

Sarah's brow furrowed. "For- you know- saving me again."

He sniffed, disinterested.

"I've no idea what you mean. The crocodile was a one off."

He totally was.

Nothing made sense. He'd saved her. Twice. He wasn't doing it out of the goodness of his heart, and he obviously did not want to be around her. For some reason he would not acknowledge, he needed her. He should be trying to use her rescue as leverage, at the very least. But here he was patently pretending that it had never happened.

If that's how he's going to be, fine.

Sarah finally thought to take in her surroundings. Several of Jareth's crystals illuminated the space, and she was not incorrect in her earlier, cloudy assumption of being in a cave-like place.

"Where are we?"

"Below."

Sarah took a deep breath to temper her growing exasperation. They had things to talk about, that he essentially promised they'd talk about, which would be seriously hampered if he persisted in acting like an ass all the time.

"Fine. Be that way. We have things to discuss. And you still owe me a five course meal."

She didn't know that a smirk could look sad. But he might as well be the King of Incongruity, so why not? That did not mean she liked that look, however. In fact, it made for a fairly disturbing picture, and she was grateful when it flickered away to a more neutral expression.

"You'll have to settle for this, I'm afraid. The Iron Mines are taxing on my magic."

Sarah recognized the words as the concession they were. He'd told her where they were, unhelpful as it turned out to be because she had no context. But at least she had not needed to figure out how to bully their location out of him. And he had given her-

A peach. Of course it would be a peach. But Sarah long ago overcame that little fear.

That wasn't to say that she was not apprehensive.

"It's not going to make me magically agree to whatever your conditions are is it?"

"What a novel thought. I must admit that your determination to distrust me is admirable. It's not poisoned. And that's the best that can be done under the circumstances."

"There had better not be any creepy crawley things living in it either."

Jareth's neutral expression brightened considerably.

If I find a worm in this, I swear-

Sarah was leery of anything that came from him, even if he had just saved her. She was racking up quite a debt, but this had been agreed to before, or between. Well, not a peach, per se, but whatever. It was probably safe. Hopefully, safe.

For once, the peach was exactly what he said it was. The fruit was a little tart for her taste, but that was probably better than the overwhelming infusion of sweetness that the last one she inadvertently accepted from him had. She felt better, too, after that first bite, as her aches and pains slid away alongside her hunger. Not poisoned, but still magicked. It was oddly considerate.

Once she was finished, she didn't quite know how to start. She regarded the peach pit in her hand, as if it might reveal the answers she sought.

"So," she let the little word hang for a moment before settling on her questions, "What's the deal then? Why am I here, and what do I need to do to get home?"

She looked up to find him inspecting a truly fascinating section of rock.

Jareth wasn't saying anything. The silence was tense and growing even more so the longer the Goblin King seemed disinclined to break it. He told her that she had wasted enough time less than five minutes previous, but now he was the one wasting it.

Well this is awkward. Jareth seemed to be the type that needed to have the first and last word, so his apparent antipathy in this instance was disconcerting.

If she had not felt the urgent compulsion to get this Fairytale from Hell hell over with, and were the quiet not so oppressive, the silence could have been nice.

Sarah decided to change tactics. Perhaps if she could just get him talking, she could steer the conversation in the direction she needed. She bit her lip and went for it.

"You know, one time, I had to get a completely unnecessary rabies shot because of you."

His brows drew together at her non sequitur.

"And how could I possibly be responsible for such an offense?"

Sarah stood, stretching, and looked around. This was apparently safer territory in which to start, and she'd piqued his curiosity. Good.

"Goblins. You're their king aren't you? Doesn't that make you responsible for them when they wreak havoc in other realms?"

"Hmm. It entirely depends on the havoc wreaked," His tongue made a clicking noise not entirely unlike a strict school teacher about to reprimand a wayward youth, "And I'm rather more interested in learning what they possibly could have done for it to be deemed necessary that you be inoculated."

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

Sarah shrugged and started walking around the small was a passageway they could get through, but there was an identical one leading in the opposite direction. Hmm. Which way?

She glanced at him and found that he looked vaguely irked.

Realizing he had her attention once more, he spoke, "I want to congratulate them on a job well done."

Jareth mimicked her shrug of moments before. Though, his version was far more graceful and far more haughty.

Jerk.

Annoyance was beginning to cloud her purpose. She'd already lost the tenuous thread she had planned to use to get him to tell her what was going on.

"Sure, you can be all Mr. Enigmatic and not tell me jack-squat when it's important, but when I try the same over an inconsequential anecdote you get offended. That's a hell of a double standard, Goblin King."

She started toward the left passage. It seemed as good a guess as any.

"Nothing is inconsequential."

His tone was low and foreboding. He must have realized this, for when he next spoke, it was with the practiced disinterest that Sarah was starting to suspect meant he was actually very interested.

"I can't make reparations without knowing what I'm making reparations for."

"Forget I said anything. It doesn't matter."

"Upon further reflection, I don't care," Jareth called after her. "You're going the wrong way, again, Sabra."

Sarah threw up her hands and stalked back toward the right, while the king remained unmoving in the center.

The right passage was much darker than the left had been. She wouldn't be going anywhere without the king's glowing crystals to light her way.

"Can't you just magic us out?"

"Even were we not in the bellies of the mines, you are under the Geas of the Gauntlet. I can't magic you anywhere."

There it was again, the Gauntlet. Bingo.

Sarah stopped in her tracks and rejoined the Jareth in the middle of the cavern.

Say your right words, Sarah. She needed to be specific.

"So," She cringed internally, since that pithy opener minutes ago had done little to move their conversation forward. She pressed on, regardless, "This gauntlet thing. Is it a quest, or the thing stuck to my hand?"

He tilted his head in that way she was learning to hate.

"Ah, ah. Information is not free, and we've yet to establish a price."

"Well, what's the price then? And none of that funny business from before. Just tell me."

"You have something of mine in your possession, and I desire that it be returned."

That was impossible. She didn't have anything of his.

He must have read her face and the impending denial, for her soldiered on. "For my assistance, you must agree to return this object to me once you have finished your task."

Assistance. That wasn't a mistake. It couldn't be. The Goblin King was a master manipulator of words, and assistance went far beyond information. Whatever he wanted returned, he must want badly, if he was willing to subject himself to her quest. Though, she still wasn't sure that he had not set this whole thing up to begin with.

"What is it, this thing, that I apparently have of yours? I'm not blindly agreeing to give you back something, if I don't even know what it is."

He raised a brow, as though he were considering a particularly dull child. Exasperation didn't begin to cover what Sarah was feeling. Really, the only thing she could possibly have of his was… oh.

"The glove? If you want the damned thing back, then why?" Give it to me in the first place. Unless. Unless he truly hadn't and that meant someone else- Her eyes widened. Could Jareth be a pawn in this little game just as much as she?

"Yes," she nodded, "I'll give it back."

Sarah swallowed thickly at the manic exultation her acceptance garnered. Perhaps, she had made a mistake.

"It is agreed, you shall return It once your quest is completed, and in the interim I shall assist you. Ask your questions. I will answer what I can. The longer we tarry, the more your chances of success diminish."

Or maybe this could work out after all. Though now that she had his cooperation, Sarah's mind went blank. Obviously she needed to get her goal out of him, but how specific did her questions need to be?

"My first question, then. What is the gauntlet? You keep making it sound like a quest, but you also keep referring to the glove itself. So is it both? How did this even happen?"

"The Gauntlet is an ancient rite. You threw down the gauntlet, and invoked the Gauntlet's Journey with your Touch."

"You keep saying that but it was just a normal glove when I found it at the store. I picked it up then and nothing happened."

"Of course nothing happened, you foolish chit. Invoking the gauntlet is powerful magic." The look on his face clearly expressed that she should know this. "It requires sacrifice."

He didn't seem inclined to elaborate that point, so she let it be for now. Whatever the sacrifice was she'd already made it, or she wouldn't be here. There were other, more important, questions at the moment.

"You said thirteen threads. There are already two. Is there some sort of trigger? How long do I have before the rest appear?"

"The threads can come at any time for any particular reason. Unlike that piteous human facsimile of a run, the true Gauntlet is multifaceted and varied. I cannot know what dangers you will face or when."

That wasn't the answer Sarah had been hoping for. She had thought that this misadventure might have an arbitrary time limit, like the run in the Labyrinth. But if the little golden strings could appear at any time, she could be Underground for days or weeks. Or forever.

"You might want to check again. I'm almost certain you'll find another thread."

Sarah numbly turned her forearm and fingered the strands with her uncovered hand.

One, Two, Three.

"Careful, now."

The King of the Goblins was much closer than he had been, standing immediately before her and staring down at her intently.

Sarah flinched involuntarily. Apparently, the strings were razor thin and able to cut. Deeply. Great, the next time I'm in danger, I can just saw at my enemies with my forearm.

Mental sarcasm aside, Sarah didn't need to look at the digit to know that blood was already welling. Cutting her fingers twice in twenty-four hours. She must be cursed.

"Allow me." Without further warning, Jareth took her hand in his own. She half expected the warmth of magic whorling around her injured finger. However, the tongue swirling around it was a surprise.

Jareth acted perfunctorily and within seconds, Sarah's finger popped free from his mouth and Jareth's hand released hers with a flourish. Those few seconds, though, had been incredibly intimate, his eyes meeting and holding her own for the duration. But the blood was gone, leaving her finger completely healed- it was kind of gross, if she cared to think about it.

And like any sensible Above-born girl concerned for her sanity, Sarah blinked it away and decided to pretend that the interaction had never happened. He'd done the very same after he saved her earlier, so why shouldn't she get a free pass?

She projected a calm that she did not feel in the least and proceeded onward with her next query.

"So, what do I have to do to finish the Gauntlet?" She didn't like the way the word came out like a proper noun. It felt ominous.

"That, I do not know."

Great. Excellent. Fat lot of help he's turning out to be. There might have been another unladylike groan of frustration.

"Though I am bound not to tell you, I do know where you need to seek. Trust in me, and your direction shall be true."

Sarah could not immediately dismiss that she likely owed her life to the man. That was worthy of trust wasn't it? But she did not need to trust him fully or blindly. She believed that he would guide her so that he could get his precious glove back, but only so long as helping her was to his advantage. She wouldn't quite put it past him to let her fail and then pry the damned glove off her cold, dead hand, if he thought it would yield a better result.

Sarah steeled herself, resolved to ask the question she dreaded most, "So, what happens if all thirteen threads appear? If I run out of time?"

He beamed, and it was utterly unsettling before the smile fell away. He didn't answer her, not verbally, but... He already told you, remember? 'thirteen threads stand between you and certain death.' If I run out of time, I die.

She breathed deeply and sought to regain her composure. It wasn't completely his fault that she was overwhelmed by the prospect of what failure would bring.

Jareth clearly thought a change of pace was in order, as the mercurial king's next words approached playful.

"Now then, since all is settled, shall we go left or right?"

"But you already said left was the wrong way!"

He linked his arm with hers and winked.

"So I did. How astute of you, Precious."

He'd called her that, or something very nearly like that, earlier, before the ground had fallen away beneath their feet. But at the time the word had seemed a curse and not the term of endearment he was making it now. She decided not to dwell on this caprice; he gave her headache enough in regard to everything else. Like why he hadn't called a life debt on her. Is this manky old glove really so important?

Jareth set a spritely pace toward the right tunnel, only one of his crystals illuminating their passage as the other few were dismissed.

They travelled for mere minutes before Sarah noticed the skittering at the edge of the light's range. Surely, the king noticed it too, but if he did, he gave her no indication that it was of any immediate concern. His pace was set, and soon enough, they emerged in a cavern much larger than the last. The king and the girl made it several more paces before the angry shouts assailed them on all sides.

The pair were surrounded by angry little Hoggles. They obviously weren't Hoggle himself, but Sarah believed that she and Jareth had stumbled upon his kinsmen. His heavily armed kinsmen. Despite the iron forged swords, axes, and maces being bandied about, the Goblin King appeared wholly unperturbed. Jareth whispered, then, loudly and conspiratorially.

"Ah, Sabine, it appears we're going to market."

A/N: This chapter took me ages. (I, in part, blame the first section, which was the first thing ever written for this story but also the most revised.) I'll probably try to clean this chapter up a bit later, when I'm not utterly frustrated with it. Nothing that would make it necessary to come back and reread it, but for flow and readability and finesse.

Are you excited for the next part? I'm excited for the next part! Then again, I know what's going to happen, and I'm anxious to write it. Which hopefully means the wait between this chapter and the next will be shorter. Hopefully. I might, instead, take a few days to spew out the next chapter of 'Something Unusual, Something Strange.' I haven't decided.

Also, I am sorry for every reference to Sherlock I both purposely and inadvertently sneak into this. Those not so subconscious references to other things that I blatantly stitch in, I am not as sorry about. They're there for reasons. Probably not very good reasons but reasons all the same.

Chapter Title Reference: (Doesn't fit its initial inspiration, alas.) Rain it wets muddy roads/I find myself exposed/Tapping doors, but irritate/In search of destination -Damien Rice, "Eskimo"