Chapter 8

It was late the next day when Sarah heard the front door of the apartment slam and then footsteps pound down the short entry hall, coming her way.

Snapping shut the book she was reading, she hastily shoved it between the couch cushions and affected a look of boredom just as Vera appeared in the living room, positively beaming.

"Sarah!"

Sarah frowned at the state of her. Vera's capri's were wrinkled beyond salvaging and so was her blouse. Her hair had come out of its bun and hung lopsided on the side of her side. Her low-heeled shoes were irreparably scuffed. The sight of her there, whole and well, both relieved and exasperated Sarah.

"Where have you been all night?" she demanded. "I was starting to worry about you. I tried to call but your phone was off. I thought maybe Rasson had gotten to you. I was this close to getting Jareth to come."

Vera had the grace to look contrite. "I'm sorry, Sarah. My cell died and I just didn't think... But, Sarah, I had the most fantastic night! I met the most amazing guy!" She grabbed Sarah by the arms and gave her a shake to punctuate the statement, loosening a grudging smile from her roommate. Who could stay mad when faced with so much enthusiasm?

"As long are you're okay…" said Sarah, and Vera nodded happily.

"I am. I'm fine. I'm great!" And unable to wait for the standard questioning to start, she supplied, "His name is John Smith."

"John Smith? Seriously?"

"I know, I know, I said the same thing. But he has the best sense of humor about it. Really, he just has the best sense of humor, period!"

"And you stayed out with him all night? On a first date?" Sarah gave her a look of mock reproach. Vera laughed and slapped her shoulder.

"It wasn't like that! I met him at our coffee shop after I got off work—you know how I like to stop there on my way home sometimes—and we just stayed there talking until it closed, and then we took a walk through the park and we just have so much in common and—Sarah, look what he gave me!"

She tugged down the collar of her shirt to reveal a small cameo pendant on a black lace choker. The image was one of a woman dressed in period clothing, posed in mid-swoon. Hand to her forehead, head tipped back. Instead of being pure white like cameos usually were, this one had a pinkish tinge to it, like it had been carved from the inside of a seashell. It gave the woman's face a flushed appearance, which only added to the affect of her weakened state.

"Wow," said Sarah, taken aback. "That looks… really old. He just gave it to you?"

"Don't worry, it's not real," Vera reassured her. "I wouldn't have accepted it if it was. It's just some costume jewelry he got from an old production he worked on. Remember that theater I was telling you about? He's an assistant prop director there." She gave the cameo a loving pat. "His boss was making him throw out a bunch of old stuff. That's were he was going when I met him. He had a whole case full of things like this. Anyway, he thought I might like it."

"Well, he sounds like a… great guy," said Sarah, a little speechless by her friend's exuberance.

Vera pulled out the twisty that held up what remained of her bun and worked a hand through her tangled strands of hair, massaging her scalp with an appreciative groan. "Sooo?" she asked, dragging out the word with a sly smile.

Sarah eyed her warily. "So, what?"

"How'd it go with His Highness? You two make up okay? I assume so if you were going to go to him for help."

Sarah almost pulled out her book again just so she'd have something to hide her face behind. "Yeah. Yeah, um… we made up okay."

"Good!" Vera flicked her twisty at the heap of goblins sprawled on the floor in front of the television, napping. It landed on the potbelly of the middle one, who woke with a snort and raised its head to look blearily at the stretchy piece of fabric. It picked it up, and, after a half-hearted sniff, ate it and went back to sleep.

The two girls looked at each other. Sarah shrugged. "Probably should've expected that."

"You're right." Vera sighed, but immediately perked back up as she said, "Well, I have to go freshen up. I promise to meet John in an hour!"

She headed off towards her bedroom. Sarah clambered farther up on the couch. "Hold on—You're going back out again? You've been up all night! Aren't you tired?"

"Surprisingly, no." Vera turned back to her friend a grin that stretched from ear to ear. "I'm too excited to be tired. John wants to take me out to dinner. Oh! We should double date sometime! You, me, John and the Goblin King. It'll be fun!"

Sarah grimaced. "I said we made up, not made out."

Vera came back over to the couch. She leaned over Sarah and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "They say the one always leads to the other."

This was the only problem with Vera getting a guy, and it happened every time. As soon as she got involved with someone, she became convinced that it was perfect and wonderful and the solution to everything, and that everyone else needed a partner too. Sarah always tried her hardest to stay out of Vera's path during the first few weeks she started dating someone, to avoid this very thing. Congratulate her and then get out of her way—that was Sarah's strategy. Get out before Vera could latch on and try to drag you down the road of blissful romance with her.

"Not this time," said Sarah. "Did you forget what I told you yesterday? The man is an arrogant ass."

"But didn't you also admit that he had his good points, and that you should be making nice with him?"

"Your definition of 'making nice' is not the same as mine, clearly."

"Isn't it?" Vera reached down, and before Sarah could figure out what she was doing, had pulled her book out from between the couch cushions. She held it up, hand on hip with her eyebrow cocked, her grin turning smug. Sarah's face turned the same shade of red as the book cover. She snatched it away from her.

"I was feeling nostalgic, so shoot me. It doesn't mean anything."

"Uh huh," said Vera. Her expression turned serious. "You know what's better than even gratitude or leniency when it comes to making up with someone, Sarah?"

"I'm sure you're going to tell me."

"Honesty. Particularly—" She tapped the worn cover, just above where glossy gold letters read, The Labyrinth, "—being honest with yourself."

"Well aren't you just full of wisdom today."

Vera shook a finger at her. "Snarkiness will not save you from the truth."

"Will it at least save me from more of your relationship advice?"

Her friend gave a dramatic sigh and headed back to her bedroom. "I can see my skills are wasted here."

"Your meddling, you mean," Sarah grumbled, and Vera winked at her before disappearing into the other room.

Two hours later, Vera was gone and Sarah found herself alone once again in the apartment. Unfortunately, she had nothing to do today and nowhere to go. She called home, deciding to spend some time catching up with Toby, but he had friends over and they were playing video games. Though he was polite enough not to hang up on her, the constant exclamations of, "Aw, man, watch where you're shooting!" and, "Kill it! Kill it!" grew annoying fast, and she eventually gave up.

She rifled through her book some more, but catching Vera smirking every time she'd picked it up had killed her desire to read it.

I could just go to the Labyrinth. Visit Hoggle and the others again

Sure, she had just seen them yesterday, but they wouldn't mind. And once Rasson was captured, Jareth might not be so keen on her visiting anymore. She shouldn't waste the opportunity while she had it, should she? No, of course not. And if she saw the Goblin King while she was there… well, that wouldn't be the worst thing, she supposed. They had made peace, after all. Sorta. And if she was going to be honest… maybe she wanted to see him again. Just a little. Not that it would break her heart if she didn't see him…

Sarah sighed. One thing she could be honest about—she was an absolute mess.

Going to the Underground won't help that, she thought, but still she found herself grabbing her shoes and jacket and rousing the goblins from their dreams.

One nausea-inducing trip later, she stood in the Underground, this time in the middle of the hedge maze. Just like last time, the goblins took off the second they got their bearings. Sarah started to let them go until she realized that if she lost them, she could be stuck in this maze with no way out for quite a while.

"Hey! Come back!" she called, but the only things that returned were their snorting giggles.

Sarah hurried after them. Unfortunately for her, the goblins weren't confined to traverse the maze properly like she was. They were so small they slipped through the branches of the hedges easily, with only the rustle of leaves and smothered snickers to give away the general direction they were headed in. Above the day was cloudless, the sun huge in a sky that was an unnaturally pale shade of blue. It was cooler than it was yesterday, and Sarah was glad she had brought her jacket.

She chased after them what felt like hours, but was probably only a few frustrating minutes. Eventually a new sound arose to drown out the noise of her goblins' chattering. It was still the unmistakable cacophony of goblins, but these sounded like they were, of all things, singing.

Sarah turned a corner and stopped. She had a reached a courtyard of sorts. Bushes framed a wide, cobbled area complete with stone benches and a fountain the looked like it had been broken for several months at least. No water flowed from it and what remained at the bottom was stagnant and green. The statue on top was that of a unicorn reared back on its hind legs. There were cracks spider-webbed across its flanks and down its long neck, and the tip of its horn was missing.

That was all she managed to take note of, because then she spotted the goblins, and she didn't dare take her eyes away.

They filled the far side of the courtyard, mashed together as they sang and danced and jumped and clapped, and in the middle of them all was Jareth, dressed all in black leather, singing along—no, leading them in the song. He would sing a verse and then they would copy. Sometimes one would get it wrong and the others would laugh and jeer, but then they'd sing the verse again, the wrong way, and the song would go on from there.

The sight of so many goblins, with their clawing hands and screeching voices, running wild around the courtyard, had Sarah's heart rate tripling and she stumbled back, prepared to flee. It was too much like the time she had fought off the goblin army. The smoke and swords and cannonballs; the axes, and lances and deadly sharp spears. She was okay with the three little goblins Jareth had given her. They were tiny and quiet and acted more like lazy cats than anything else. They might have their mischievous moments—like running away today—but they lacked that cruel teasing and manic (sometimes sadistic) troublemaking that the others of their kind seemed to take fun in, like the ones before her now. Sure, they were only singing, but when the lyrics included—

"Rip the wings right off a pixie, replace them with a bat's to fixey!"

Well.

She started to back away slowly. She was mostly hidden by the bushes and could still slip away unseen if she was careful about it. She would just have to find the way out of the hedge maze on her own. Her goblin deserters she'd deal with later.

One of the little cretins in the courtyard had climbed up onto the unicorn's back. The angle made the slope steep, and as it was reaching for the equine's mane it lost its footing and fell right into the nasty water. Water that, even from where Sarah was standing, smelled as foul as the Bog of Eternal Stench. The goblins all saw and stopped their singing to laugh. Jareth did too, throwing back his head and roaring.

The sound froze Sarah in her tracks. She had never heard him laugh like that before. It was a hard, almost violent thing that boomed from deep inside his chest, knocking Sarah's poor heart completely off rhythm. Even his laugh was boastful, somehow, the sound a declaration that no one could possibly be more amused than he was. His magic lifted and shimmered, buoyant in his jubilance, so light Sarah hadn't even noticed it flowing around her until that moment.

The goblin jumped out of the fountain, screeching and dripping wet, and Jareth punted it. It soared through the air with a high-pitched "Wheee!" and the others cheered as it crashed into a hedge and stuck there. Jareth laughed again and returned to singing. The rest quickly joined back in.

"Which way, which way, to get away? The day grows late and I dare not stay. Don't ask the dwarves, don't ask the doors, Don't ask the Sphinx, she only roars!"

Something bumped into the back of Sarah's legs, knocking her forward a few feet. When she caught herself and looked behind her, she saw her flighty trio there, grinning at her in a way that made her uneasy about them for the first time. Their eyes were shining and they were darting glances at the craziness going on in the courtyard. Was mob mentality getting to them or something, she wondered?

The biggest one suddenly puffed out his potbelly, lowered his knobby, bald head, and charged her like a tiny, ugly bull, hitting Sarah in the shin and forcing her out from behind her hiding place.

"What are you doing? Knock it off!" she hissed. The second one charged her then, and then the third, forcing her back and back and back. She was so busy trying to fend off their attacks that she didn't notice how far she was moving into the courtyard until she was almost right on top of the mad singing party. By the time she looked up and realized it, it was too late. She'd been spotted.

Still singing, the goblins swarmed her. They stepped on her feet, jumped impossibly high into the air so they were right in her face, and grabbed any and every inch of her they could reach.

One landed on her shoulder, tiny hands clawing at her hair, and Sarah screamed and smacked it off. It disappeared back into the throng, cackling.

"Let go! Get off of me!" she cried. She tried to back up and tripped over a goblin's tail. The creature gave a gurgling yelp and scurried out of the way. Panic threatened to overwhelm Sarah. She had to get out of here. Had to escape—

Gloved hands caught her by the shoulders and tugged her back against a familiar, leather-clad chest. Immediately the goblins retreated. They didn't cease their antics or their singing, but they were no longer grabbing at her, trying to climb her or pull her down.

Breathing hard, she forced herself to still and looked up into the amused face of the Goblin King.

"So nice to see you again, Sarah," he said. "And so soon. Are you all right? You appear a bit… flushed."

She jerked away from him. The second there was space between them, the goblins were on her again. Sarah shrieked and slammed herself back against Jareth. His arms immediately wrapped around her shoulders.

"It's best to stay close to me, precious," he whispered in her ear. "I can't guarantee your safety otherwise."

He was making fun of her. She could hear it in his voice. But she couldn't make herself move away. Between what she knew was irrational fear and irrational desire—she was stuck.

"Call them off," she said.

"Call them off? But, Sarah, they're only having a bit of fun. You should join us. You like to sing, don't you?"

"Sing! Sing!" the goblins cheered, and she saw her goblins cheering too, near the back.

Little traitors.

"I don't sing," she said.

"Then shall we teach you?" asked Jareth.

As if on cue, the goblins broke back into song, this one about "—a Fae named Bob./ Whose life was hell after a trip to the Bog."

After the first verse, they paused and waited for her to repeat it like Jareth had with them. They stayed that way, nearly fifty of them, utterly silent and completely still. After a moment, Sarah repeated the words grudgingly, anything to make them stop staring at her. They whooped and sang another verse, and again paused when they reached the end. Sarah huffed and repeated that one too.

"Why, Sarah, you're a natural," Jareth teased as the goblins went on to verse three. (How many verses were there anyway? And what kind of chorus was comprised solely of repeating, "Stinky, stinky, stinky, stinky!" over and over again?) Sarah couldn't even turn around to glare at him because his arms were still tight across her shoulders, preventing her from moving back, and his lips still hovered far too close to her ear for comfort. She could feel his every exhalation against her cheek. If she turned her head…

After singing back the seventh verse (which ending with, "Bob the Fae stunk for another day."), the goblins started to dance again. It was more a mess of jumping and tumbling over one another than actual dancing, but they seemed to be having fun doing it. Sarah, who was gamely singing along by this point, sucked in a breath as she felt Jareth start to move behind her, a sort of easy sway that shouldn't have made her cheeks heat—but did.

"Don't forget, you need to dance too, precious," he murmured, and taking her by the hand, he twirled her out into the crowd of goblins, scattered them like startled chickens. The singing continued, but Sarah was too busy trying to keep her feet to focus on the words. Jareth pulled her back in only to catch her by the waist and whirl her around again. Not once did he let go of her hand.

It was nothing like the last time she'd danced with him. This wasn't a carefully orchestrated waltz he was leading her through. Here the steps were wherever they happened to place their feet, sidestepping goblins and cracks in the cobbles every other turn. Jareth's smile was luminous on his face, his oddly pointed canines winking at her from his parted lips, and Sarah felt herself smiling back in return as the moment overtook her and she lost herself within the joy of it.

In all the dreams she'd had of her and the Goblin King over the years—and she shamefully admitted she'd had quite a few—she'd never dreamed of having fun with him like this, laughing with him like this. Not having to second-guess things, not having to worry about his intentions. Just being able to enjoy his presence, a presence that was for once absent of all cynicism and condescension. She forgot about the goblins, forgot about the wisdom of keeping her distance, and for once let herself enjoy what felt like an impossible daydream come true.

It wasn't until her legs turned to rubber and her breath refused to return to her that she finally—regretfully—said she could dance no more.

Jareth slowed immediately, though he didn't release her, and glared at the goblins who were pouting vociferously.

"Well?" he said." You heard her. Get lost!"

Their grumbles as they moved away broke whatever spell had fallen over Sarah, and she tried to disengage herself from Jareth's hold without him noticing. He did, of course, and though he let his arm fall from around her waist, he did not release her hand.

"I… I should really be going now," she said, avoiding his eyes as she tried to tug herself free. The lines from the earlier song came back to her: Which way, which way, to get away? "Thank you for the dance. It was… nice. But it's getting late, and I came here to see Hoggle…"

"You're here for the dwarf again? Why am I not surprised?" Still, he did not let go. She tugged harder.

"Is spending time with me really so horrible, Sarah?" he asked. "You were having fun a few minutes ago."

"That's because you were being nice, for once."

"I can be nice, Sarah."

Her response to that just popped out. "You can also be cruel."

Silence. Her gaze skated over his and stuck. From his darkening expression, he did not like her throwing his words back in his face.

"As we've previously established, precious, so can you."

"Maybe. But my cruelty is unintentional."

"What's said is said and what's done is done!" Jareth snapped. "Intentions mean nothing once the action is made or the words are spoken!"

She sighed and dropped her gaze, letting her hand go slack in his. After a moment, she admitted, "You're right. Intentions mean nothing. Only the actions matter."

Instead of taking his victory like she thought he would, her words seemed to make Jareth more frustrated.

He took her hand in both of his own, turning it over to trace the lines on her palm with one gloved fingertip. "Am I to forever be your villain, Sarah?" he asked her quietly.

"I don't want you to be," she said. There, Vera. How's that for honesty? "I just don't know how to take you."

"You may take me any way you wish, precious."

She smiled a bit at his teasing innuendo, but then sobered as she said, "I don't know how to trust you."

Even now, she was waiting for the other shoe to fall, or maybe the trap door to another oubliette. Even this flirting of his scared her, because she couldn't trust he was being sincere about it despite the sincerity that shone from his eyes, as if trying to blind her into believing. Despite not knowing what he had to gain from it, besides what he couldn't possibly want.

"You can trust me to do whatever you wish," he said.

Whatever she wished, indeed. That should have sounded romantic, but she knew that not all wishes were good ones, like her mistake with Toby. Some wishes shouldn't be granted. Sometimes a wish should stay a wish, for better or worse.

"Everything that you wanted I have done. You asked that the child be taken—I took him. You cowered before me—I was frightening. I have reordered time. I have turned the world upside down, and I have done it all for you!"

"And if those wishes aren't in my best interest?" she asked.

"I know what you are getting at, Sarah. But did your time in the Labyrinth not make you a better sister, a better daughter, a better friend, and an overall better person in the long run?"

"Are you seriously trying to say it was all for my own good?"

"No, it was for mine. I am merely pointing out some of the pros of our late relationship, since you seemed so focused on the cons."

"Maybe I wouldn't be so focused on them if someone hadn't taken it so far!" exclaimed Sarah, this time all but ripping her hand from his. "You know, I accepted years ago that it was my fault Toby was taken, not yours. I made the wish, as you said. But it's you that's turned me into the basketcase that I am! If I'd just had to solve the Labyrinth—But no, you had to keep coming back to screw with me in the most horrible of ways. The cleaners, really? Your goblin army and that giant metal robot thing that nearly took off my head? Not to mention that trick with the damn peach! My wish or not, was any of that necessary? Is it really so shocking that after all that, I wouldn't want to… accept your offer… there… at the end. That I wouldn't trust it?"

"Perhaps not. But I had a job to do, Sarah. And quite frankly, you were getting on my nerves." He said it so matter-of-factly, with not even a smidgeon of apology to soften the statement.

"Excuse me?" spluttered Sarah.

"'A piece of cake' you called it. Do mortals not have that expression, 'do not pull on a sleeping tiger's tail'? You disrespected me inside my own Labyrinth! And worse, it was for something that was your own doing! I am a Fae and a King, I do not take such insults well."

"You are also," said Sarah succinctly, "spoiled rotten."

Jareth's eyes flashed. The magic condensed around her, no longer lightweight but heavy and tingling in a way that made Sarah think of exposed live wires and lightning storms. When he echoed her, "Excuse me?" it came out quiet and dangerous. But Sarah was too irritated to listen to the warning in his voice. He'd had his say and she would have her's too, damn it!

"Mortals don't wind up in the Labyrinth as much as you'd like me to believe, do they?" she said. It had been obvious, though she hadn't put it all together until after the fact. The False Alarms plea that it hadn't been able to give its warnings in "such a long time". The bird-headed man's surprise at seeing a young girl around. The firies hadn't even known what she was!

"And on top of that, I was doing well. It cheesed you off, so you took your temper out on me, cheating like a child would just so you could win."

Just when Jareth's expression was starting to look truly thunderous, Sarah sighed and finished in a murmur, "You were as spoiled as me." Wanting her mother to stay when it would have made her unhappy to continue on in such a loveless marriage, wanting all of her father's attention when he'd spared as much as he could—more than she probably deserved back then.

"And I can't even say you were worse than I was, because look what I did to Toby." There were still nights when she suffered nightmares about what might have happened if she'd failed. Though oddly, she hadn't had any since meeting Jareth again, which was the exact opposite of what she would've expected.

It startled her when Jareth took back her hand. His anger was gone. He looked as tired as she suddenly felt.

"We are two goblins in a bog then," he said.

She huffed a laugh and wrinkled her nose. "Hopefully we don't smell as bad, though."

Immediately he responded, "I never smell."

Sarah could have told him that he did smell, heavenly, but that would have done nothing but stroke the Goblin King's already overinflated ego and make him think she cared, which she didn't. He just happened to smell good and she just happened to notice it. It was merely an objective observation on her part, that's all.

She sighed again. Who was she fooling? Certainly not herself. Or Vera, either, apparently.

Abruptly, Jareth stepped forward and pressed her hand to his chest. Even through the thick leather, she could feel the heat of his skin, the beat of his heart.

"Despite how it may have seemed at the time, I never would've hurt you, Sarah," he told her solemnly. "Or let you be hurt. If you trust nothing else, I hope you trust that."

He was giving her that look again. That look that begged her to believe him. And maybe it was because of the dance they'd just shared, or because of the argument they'd just had, or because out of all the things he wanted her to believe, this was something she could actually conceive of being true, but she found herself faltering for the first time.

"Jareth, I…"

"King! King!"

They both turned to see an extremely obese goblin come dashing into the courtyard. Even if it hadn't been running towards them in a panic, Sarah still would have stared. It was about knee-high and layered in rolls upon rolls of fat, with thick, stubby legs and feet bigger than her own. Its head was bigger than hers too, and had two tiny horns that stuck out at weird angles above its pointy ears.

The goblin collapsed backwards onto the cobbles when it reached them, gasping for air so hard it's stomach jiggled. Sarah couldn't help but be concerned. It looked like it was about to pass out. (The green skin didn't help.) Jareth, of course, was unfazed.

"What is it, Gort?"

Over all its puffing and wheezing, it only managed to get out one word, but that was enough.

"Rasson."