Disclaimers: Own the Labyrinth? That's funny, really, you should become a comedian.

A/N: A million hugs to the my wonder- beta Bluebell. Trust me, she's awesome.

Sarah felt the ground spin and fall from beneath her, gravity becoming something entirely too complicated as she spun and fell into darkness. On instinct, she tightened her hold on the smooth, sleek material of Jareth's cream poet's shirt, knuckles white with tension. It was over in a moment, but to Sarah, it was a moment too long.

Feeling her knees buckle and fail to support her weight, feet suddenly met ground and her stomach's meager contents threatened to spill. She clung to Jareth as if her very life depended on it. His rock-hard chest rumbled a bit in a short chuckle of amusement. She straightened when she felt that; no way he was going to take satisfaction at her expense.

Momentarily forgetting the situation at hand, she glared at him, fire lighting within the deep jade. And then those furious eyes found Greggs' body, limp but suspended in time, and the anger and spirit faded from her. She brushed back a rogue strand of hair, her lip trembling again.

Light footfalls snapped her from her dive into grieving.

"Sire, have you any idea how hard it is-" the feminine voice broke as a light gasp sounded.

Sarah turned to the noise. It was the red-headed beauty she had seen in her dream, looking exactly the same, save for a new dress that properly covered all of her assets.

"Jareth!" she hissed, coming directly to the body in his arms. Hostile, green eyes followed the delicate hands that caressed Greggs' face intimately. "Did you do this to my poor baby?"

"And just who might you be?" Sarah asked, her voice cold and clipped. The lady with the red curls either didn't seem to notice or pretended not to.

"I'm Frieda, his aunt... Gods, I haven't seen this angelic face since he was seven," she whispered brokenly.

Sarah winced with the truth, feeling foolish.

"He told me about you," she said to Frieda, her tone now friendly and warm if not sorrowful, "He loves you and misses you quite a bit."

Frieda looked at her for a moment, and Sarah saw pearly tears glisten on her flawless cheeks. She nodded.

"What happened to him?" she asked quietly, directing her question to Sarah.

"Ladies," Jareth cut in dryly with a tense edge, "I do believe he needs to see the healer. So Frieda, if could you got fetch Colwyn, I'd be eternally grateful."

"Yes, Sire," Frieda curtseyed and gave a lingering gaze to her unconscious nephew as she fled.

Jareth set Greggs down on a nearby cot as Sarah marveled at her surroundings. The walls were lined with shelves, jars of all sorts of things collecting dust. Some had crushed herbs floating in some sort of sludge while others contained light glowing brightly, if not erratically, in their glass cages. The air smelled slightly damp, but the sharp, electric feel (which Sarah somehow knew was the feel of magic) and smell of herbs covered any unpleasantness. Candles flickered lightly, casting shadows throughout the room while giving a pleasant smoky touch. While the variety of new smells and sights should have frightened her, they gave off the opposite effect of calm and quiet.

She decided they were inside something of a medicinal room.

Returning to her beloved, she clutched his frozen hand in her own, pressing it to her lips. He looked so immensely wrong without breath entering and leaving his strong but lean chest. His breath was often what calmed her at night after she had dreamt another of those horrid dreams once a week. The visions were always steamy, that was true enough, but in the past year, some delicately gorgeous woman replaced Sarah's spot atop Jareth, and it was only the rhythmic rise and fall of Greggs' chest that had placated her.

Now, she laid her head across his stilled body, fighting off the urge to simply melt into it and trade her life for his. Jareth coughed awkwardly, but she said nothing.

Upon hearing a wheezing cough as dusty as the shelves, she reluctantly sat upright to meet the source of the voice.

He was old, that much she could tell, with a kindly face crinkled like wasted parchment. His thick, slightly wavy white hair fell neatly from his head and rested on his surprisingly straight back. He had a sense of magic about him, and Sarah knew he was the healer.

"Lady Sarah?" he asked, a look of amusement crossing his face.

"Yes, sir."

"I hear your ill fiancé brings you back to the castle at the centre of the Goblin City."

"Yes, sir."

"Please child, call me Colwyn... Now, let me see this young mortal Frieda told me of."

Sarah gestured faintly at Greggs, his body still frozen in time.

Colwyn came forward and looked at Jareth.

"You may release him from that time, your Majesty. The Labyrinth will hold onto his life; she will sustain him... Besides, we both know reordering time for such a long period is taxing on you," his blue eyes flicked towards Sarah, and she had a feeling that last part was for her benefit.

She took the hint and watched discreetly as Jareth relaxed and let out a long breath. She supposed she hadn't noticed his discomfort until now.

"Now," Colwyn addressed the other three, "While I'm sure I would enjoy your company, I'm afraid you must leave me to do my work."

Frieda looked at her nephew and nodded, finding Sarah's gaze to in an unspoken invitation to follow. She, too nodded after a sideways glance at her now breathing beloved. She left the medicinal room in silent despair.

A certain Goblin King stayed behind, a torn look on his face.

"When I said 'you must leave me,' I meant all of you," Colwyn added sternly, blue gaze hard and sharp.

"I... Is there anything I can do?" he queried gently, his smooth baritone unusually soft and hesitant as he looked at Greggs with a mixture of resentment, amazement, and a bit of pity. Colwyn straightened, a small gleam of amusement in the corner of his eye.

"One moment you're planning his lengthy, painful demise. Now that he's here, you're doing all that is in your power to save him. You... You really lover her, don't you?" A small smile played on his thin, aging lips.

Jareth stiffened dangerously, crossing his arms stubbornly.

"I'll have you know that Sarah is my ten-year adversary. He," he gestured to Greggs, "is my subject now, and I ensure the health and safety of all my subjects, born Goblin Kingdom citizen or not."

"Of course, your Majesty. Of course," Colwyn chuckled as he looked at the gauze covering the young man's wounds.

Jareth turned on a leather heel to leave with a flourish.

"I believe it was you that said love changes everything," Colwyn called after him.

"No," Jareth stopped for a moment in the hall, his whole body language changing into something different entirely. Something neither of them were all that familiar with.

"Sarah changes everything."

His king, Colwyn decided, sounded beaten.

A/N: Sorry this is so ridiculously short and almost pointless after a while of waiting. I promise things will go 'boom' very soon, just trust me.