Disclaimer: The characters and settings in this story are the property of Jim Henson and are only used for fan related purposes. The title of the story, as well as the lyrics included, are from the Nightwish song, Sleepwalker, and are used to set the tone of the story.

Sleepwalker

Part Four: A proposition
End of innocence, unending masquerade…

At first, Sarah wasn't all that confident that her impulsive wish had been granted—or even, for that matter, overheard. And, if it was, was it possible to wish one's self away? Or would he consider it cheating?

Not that he's above cheating, she recalled, snorting to herself as she gazed back stubbornly in the vanity's streaky mirror. I haven't had a peach since la—

—wait. What was that?

There was a noise, a quick snapping sound and a barely stifled giggle. A loud hushing hiss followed that, then more short laughs, twitters and snickers came from behind her and then… nothing. If she strained her suddenly sensitive hearing, she could make out the sounds of her family going about their daily lives, entirely oblivious to the hasty wish that Sarah had just made.

But it couldn't be a foolish wish, could it? Not when she wasn't alone in her room any longer.

Her heart began to beat double time, thumping against the walls of her chest, but she refused to turn around. She refused to acknowledge the presence that invaded her sanctuary. She was far too busy thinking: The goblins, they're here. But where is he? Where is their king? Jareth…

A strange feeling washed over just then and she had to work hard to bite back a scream. She settled on gasping out loud, breathing heavily next when the sensation that she was being ripped apart didn't pass. An odd pull was calling on her body; it seemed as if some force was trying to carry her away while gravity kept her in place. Her head felt as if the pressure was building to the point that she wouldn't be surprised if her brains leaked out through her nose and then, as quickly as it came, it was gone.

Panting again, Sarah raised her hand and soothingly rubbed her temples. I see, she told herself, struggling to get her breathing back under control. It's a matter of 'who does the labyrinth call for'? Does it take me away to the castle beyond the Goblin City? Or does it let me remain to face off against the Goblin King? A wry, satisfied smile spread out across her face. On nothing more than a whim she had made the pronouncement without thinking it through at all. What, now, would happen?

As long as that pain stayed far, far away, Sarah was quite certain she could handle anything that would happen next…

She remained at the vanity, stubbornly refusing to turn around and search out the cretins and scoundrels that were presently occupying her room. Through the reflective glass, she saw one scamper under her bed; another had ducked inside her closet. She continued to grin to herself as she waited. Where is he?

It was mid-afternoon, closer to early evening, but her room seemed to dim at the mere thought of the Goblin King. Before she could react to the sudden loss of light, there was a tap at the window. A frantic, insistent tapping that caught her attention and directed her gaze at the window—

—the owl was there, knocking at the glass.

The Goblin King had come.

She slowly turned her head away from him, choosing to keep her eyes on herself—but the Sarah in the mirror wanted nothing more than to confront the King. Nevertheless, she waited. He was already playing with her, acting as if he was asking her permission to enter when they both knew full well that, by invoking him, she invited him into her home.

There was a final tap before the window gave with a whoosh of magick-filled air. It popped inward—just as it had on that fateful night—and the owl soared in; however, unlike that time before, he glided gently into the room rather than being propelled onward by a gust of wind and glitter. Once he had touched down on the lush carpet, his form began to shimmer before he began to morph into the form she knew all too well. The glitter came, too, a small shower of sparkle that appeared in her room when he did, floating gently behind him as the king began to change.

Sarah watched him safely through the confines of the mirror. Her eyes never shuttered as he transformed. When she was younger, she had lifted her hands in defense and had missed the change and she'd always kind of regretted not witnessing it firsthand. It was amazing, she begrudgingly admitted as she watched, absolutely fascinating as the white feathers of the bird formed into blond hair, the sharp beak formed into a perfectly sculpted nose…

She couldn't help but gulp when he straightened, once again back in his own skin. She had forgotten just how awe-inspiring he was.

The Goblin King was taller than ever and, though she had grown a bit herself since she was fifteen, she felt diminutive compared to him. His hair, that wild blond mane, was effortlessly styled, framing his thin face, drawing attention to his differently colored eyes. His lips were pulled into a smirk that, if she'd been confronted with it head-on rather than through the reflection of the vanity's glass, would have caused her blood to pulse franticly in her veins. The point of his canines hung just a touch dangerously over the edge of his lip and Sarah was beginning to wonder if maybe her wish had been just a little too hasty.

Just like the last time she had seen him, he wore clothes that suited his lithe frame perfectly: a low-cut shirt with billowing sleeves, a tight vest keeping the blouse in place, tight grey breeches, matching leather gloves and boots. On anyone else, such attire would be laughable. But on him? Though she would never tell him otherwise, Sarah knew she wouldn't have him any other way.

She focused on his appearance for a beat too long and, when she realized that she was basically ogling the Goblin King, Sarah blushed. Here she was, trying to find a way to rid her from life and she was watching him with as much attention as a schoolgirl with a crush. She refused to turn around just yet, if only because she would rather take a dip in his dreaded Bog of Eternal Stench than let him see the stain in her wan cheeks.

He stood directly behind her, watching as her intensely as she watched him. When he spied the pink dusting of her cheeks in the mirror, his lips curled into a wicked grin. Jareth didn't need any spells or magick to know what the girl was thinking. Maybe, he thought, it had been better to wile away the time while she matured in order to confront this young woman now.

It was quite the moment for the pair. She, with her back to the one being she feared (adored?); he, within reaching distance of the one he desired (wanted to defeat?). Neither moved, neither spoke. They just remained frozen, as if time had stopped.

Then, from beneath the bed, another giggle broke the heavy silence: it was a goblin, and an obviously excitable one at that. With that sound, both of the room's occupants suddenly remembered what they were there for.

Why Jareth had come.

"Sarah."

At last, she turned to face him. She'd been wondering if he would remember—what would she have done if he hadn't?—but, beyond anything else, she wanted to hear his voice again. When he spoke, her risk, so far, had been vindicated.

He was the voice. The very voice that had haunted her dreams, haunted her nightmares, for weeks. Just as she had thought, it was he, the Goblin King.

She knew it.

Sarah shook herself slightly, steeling herself for what would happen next, before slowly rising up from the vanity. He still loomed over her and she tried not to be intimidated—or, at least, let him see that she was just the teensiest bit intimidated. Instead, she tilted her chin slightly upwards so as to give off an air of confidence. Stubbornness was second nature by now. "You came."

"Why, yes," he said drolly, only the tiniest hint of his grin lingering around his thin lips. "Someone called upon my subjects… upon me. As you know, I am bound to come when called."

Her chin wavered. He sounded so cold, so emotionless as he spoke. He didn't seem concerned that she was the one who made such a risky wish—or was this just another one of his games? She refused to let him get to her so early. "I did it," she confessed recklessly. If he wanted to play that way, it was fine by her. "I called you. I made the wish."

He bowed his head in her direction, momentarily losing his stature. But when he spoke, he sounded as disinterested as ever. "Shall we go through the witty banter and faithless promises that I offer to all that I steal from? Or, as we are more experienced in these manners, shall we get straight to the terms?" He lifted his head slightly, the darker of his eyes twinkling like mad. His right hand was raised and with an almost inaudible pop, he gripped a crystal loosely with his fingertips. "I'm sure I still have a dream or two I can offer you, Sarah."

"No," she replied, the clarity of her voice surprising even her, "I think I've had enough of your dreams."

She heard an outbreak of twitters and whispers coming from the goblins and knew that they hadn't expected such boldness from the girl. I thought they would have learned not to underestimate me. I've beaten the labyrinth once before to save my brother. This time I'll beat it to save myself. She waved her hand outwardly, not touching the crystal but close enough that he pulled it back. With a second pop, it was gone. "Goblin King, I—"

"Jareth."

Sarah paused. She had her speech planned; she knew what terms she would demand. However, his interruption surprised her. "I'm sorry?"

"Jareth. My name is Jareth. 'Goblin King' is just my title."

I know that, she thought as her blush returned. I was just trying to be respectful. She could feel the warmth in her face and wished that she had waited until it was darker to invoke the man. Then again, if she had waited, she doubted she would have ever done it. "Jareth," she amended, feeling awkward addressing him in such a manner; she had never called him by his first name before and the strange name sounded foreign in her voice. "I have wished myself away to your Underground."

His playful smile returned. Without one of his crystals to occupy his hands, he was now standing before her, legs spread, arms crossed over his pale chest. His billowing shirt was cut low, a v-shape directing her eyes lower—before she could blush again, Sarah reverted her eyes, trying her best not to look any lower; instead she settled on watching the long fingers that stretched his gloves, the darkness of the leather a fitting contradiction to his white skin. He was more intimidating now than he had been before, and, dare she think it, attractive.

Sarah gulped and, just like that, all the words flew out of her head. When she made her wish, she hadn't expected it to be this hard facing him. "I… I wished myself away…"

"But?" The Goblin King was experienced enough in these matters—and, by now, he knew Sarah well enough—to expect a "but".

He was right.

His question prompted her memory. "But I want another chance at the labyrinth first."

He let her statement hang in the air for a moment before replying. One of his strangely shaped eyebrows quirked, though it was almost hard to tell. "The law says that, should a child get wished away, the one doing the wishing has the chance to recover the babe by running the labyrinth. Given that you have wished yourself away, it seems fair that you should get the chance to save yourself. But why go through so much trouble? If you win, you return Aboveground, without anything to show for it." He paused again and tutted at Sarah. "Unless there is something you want in return?"

Sarah began to feel indignant at his words. It had seemed like a good plan to her when she called out to him but, now, it seemed such a childish thing to do. The very way he spoke to her reminded her how Karen treated her—and how much she hated being belittled. In fact, she was so preoccupied by the condescending tone that Jareth had adopted that she actually glossed over his used of the word 'fair'. She should have known to be wary when the Goblin King decided what was 'fair'—it never was except for in his case.

But she didn't notice the word or the way his grin, if possible, turned even wickeder. Scowling slightly, she mimicked his stance, her arms crossed over her chest. She reached up on her toes, trying to close the substantial gap in height between the pair. "Of course," she tossed back, defiantly. "If you win, I remain in the Underground. You want to make me a goblin, fine. But, if I win…"

"Yes?" He was still grinning at her; however, the grin was nothing more than a façade. Her words stung, though he would never admit it. Not in front of his subjects. Does she think that I would transform such beauty into a goblin? A miniature fairy maybe, or a beautiful flower, but not a goblin. Though I'd much prefer her to stay as she is…

Sarah, however, was not privy to his thoughts and, as such, her scowl deepened. She was trying to be responsible, trying to make a deal with him and he treated her as nothing more than a silly child who was wasting his time. She shook her head. "When I win, I want to forget everything. Forget you, the labyrinth, everything. I want to forget the Underground."

If not for the centuries of training he had, keeping his face straight—attending Council meetings tested the abilities of all those involved, whether staying awake during frivolous talks or remaining stoic during ridiculous topics—Jareth would have surprised her. His heart almost skipped a beat. This was unlike anything he had expected when he realized that it was Sarah who called for him.

She wants to play… for her memories? Either I win, and she belongs to me, or she wins, and I lose her forever.

Of course, there was no way she could win. The moment she set foot into the Underground he would have her… but this wasn't how it was supposed to happen. The magick he painstakingly set would have to be twisted and transformed, spun inside out until his castle was the destination and the starting point.

Still, there was no choice for him. He had invested too much thought, too much time, too much energy into Sarah Williams to ever let her get away from him again. Not when he was the dreamweaver and she just the unsuspecting sleepwalker.

After a moment that seemed to last forever, he nodded. "You'll have thirteen hours. Is that fair, Sarah?"

She set her jaw, trying to look more confident than she felt. She hadn't missed the word this time and his use of it rattled her. But, after years of wondering just how that one nighthad been possible—at least I know I definitely did not imagine it… unless I'm having some sort of relapse now…—and weeks of terrorizing nightmares, Sarah was willing to do anything to become normal. Maybe, then, when she went away to college in a few weeks, she would finally be accepted. She would finally be free.

I have to win.

She knew he was waiting for her answer; the way he hesitated to whisk them all to the Underground made her feel as if he was offering her the chance to change her mind. Sarah scoffed loudly. I will win. "Thirteen hours, Jareth? I'll do it in ten."

End Note: So, that was the next chapter. I want to reiterate how much I really appreciate the reviews you guys are leaving for this story. It really puts me in the mood to sit down and work on this when I see what the people who are reading this think about the story. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter.