An ache at the base of Sarah's skull throbs with each beat of her heart as memories swirl in her waking mind. She had always imagined being happily reunited with her family, easily falling into old patterns and behaviors. A quick hug, a joke, and a laugh. Dinner at the table. Easy banter between the four of them. She hadn't expected the hurt, the regret, or the despair.

I was angry with you…

Where did you go...

You can never go back…

It had quickly become apparent that she couldn't share what had really happened to her on that sunny day in August when she'd left home to start her own life. Her family was dealing with so much pain of their own, she couldn't bear to add to it.

You're a hard act to follow…

You'd have your degree, a career, maybe even a family…

I should be comforting you…

She had hoped to give them good news, let them know that she was fighting to get back to them, but when she found herself in the moment, it suddenly struck her that what her family needed, more than anything, was to be relieved their burdens. Jareth hadn't just given her a chance to see her family; he'd given them a chance for closure. She wonders if he knows how badly they'd needed this.

I wish you didn't disappear…

You really were a daughter to me…

I love you, Sarah-girl…

The pain brings her closer to consciousness as it begs to be addressed. She opens her eyes, and immediately regrets it. Her head is pounding, and the light from the open balcony doors pierces her skull. She groans and throws her arm over her eyes. Even that little move is agony. She wants to roll onto her side and bury her head under her pillow, protecting herself from the light, but she can't move.

She hears a light clicking sound, and can see through her eyelids when the room dims. She cracks her eyes open and can see that the doors have been covered with heavy curtains. It's Jareth's work, obviously; she'd never bothered to decorate. The man himself is walking towards her, concern written across his features. She notices that his gloves are back on his hands, and she regrets that she missed seeing him without them. He spins a crystal out of the air and transforms it into a mug. The scent of rich broth fills her nose, and her mouth waters.

She tries to sit up, but a wave of vertigo hits her and forces her to close her eyes until her head stops spinning.

"You've exhausted yourself," Jareth says quietly, setting the mug on the table by her bed. "It will take a while to recover."

"How long was I asleep?" Her voice is hoarse.

"Two days."

"I was in their dreams for two days?"

"No. I would be surprised if you were able to maintain contact with their dreams for more than just a few minutes. You've been unconscious the rest of the time."

Well, that explains why she hadn't been able to stay in her dad's dream any longer. She hadn't quite been ready to go when she'd found herself floating in that strange ethereal state between dreaming and waking.

"Were you watching?" she asks, already knowing the answer.

"Not the dreams, no." She blushes slightly remembering how she'd expressed her wish that he not enter her dreams. She's glad he respected her privacy, but she hopes she hasn't offended him.

"I feel like I've been hit by a truck," she groans. "Help me?" She lifts her hand to him and he takes it and allows her to pull herself into a sitting position.

"Is that for me?" she asks pointing her chin at the mug. "It smells good."

"Of course," he says as he lifts the mug from the table and hands it to her. She inhales the steam, savoring the aroma. She's starving, but her head hurts so badly that she feels nauseated. She wonders if she'll be able to hold down even something as basic as broth. She sips. It is hot, rich, and delicious, and she begins to feel better right away. She takes a longer drink.

"When can we get back to work?" she asks. She's in no fit state to begin right away, but she's eager to continue progressing. She had been startled by how much time had passed Above. Her family had aged considerably, and it alarms her.

You'd be in your thirties now…

It doesn't feel possible, and it plants a seed of anxiety that she can feel quickly growing. She's built her section of the Labyrinth, and she has learned a lot, but she knows she has a long way to go. How is she supposed to master her powers before her parents get old and…?

No. She isn't even going to think it. She's going to get back to work and she is going to come into her powers properly. She is going to earn her crown and then she is going to go home. It has to work out. It has to.

"It will be a few more days yet before you can begin practicing magic again," Jareth explains. "In the meantime, you should begin to work on your lure."

"What's that?" Sarah asks, puzzled.

"The item you will send Above that will give mortals the words they need to call you to them."

Your right words, she thinks. "The Labyrinth. That was your lure, wasn't it?"

"Drink," he says in reply. She takes another sip of the broth, knowing she's right.

"I suppose I'm going to need to learn how to make paper, ink, and pens, then?"

Jareth smiles at her and she can see a shadow of his familiar mischievous demeanor. He's been taking it easy with her, and it's nice to see him returning to his normal self. "Now you're getting it."

"Fine, fine…" She waves him off and takes another long drink of the hot broth.

"As you're learning how to make the materials, be thinking of what you want the book to say," he advises. "There are rules that must be followed."

"And they are…?"

"Quite simple," Jareth says.

Sarah rolls her eyes.

"Firstly, you must refer to yourself by your title. The magic will only allow the Goblin King or the Goblin Queen to be called Above. Refuse your title, and you refuse the magic."

"I guess I expected that one," she says.

"Secondly, you will be forever bound by what you write in the book."

"What does that mean?"

"It means take your time and choose your story carefully. Your lure defines the rules of your game. If you find yourself unhappy with those rules, you will not be able to change them."

She sips her broth and thinks over Jareth's warning.

"So you can't change The Labyrinth?"

"It is out of my hands," he says.

"Can I change it?"

He narrows his eyes, his gaze questioning.

"I mean, can I take your story and build onto it? Like a sequel?" she clarifies.

Jareth thinks it over before finally answering, "Will you agree to allow me to read your sequel before sending it Above?"

"Yeah, sure. I guess." Jareth is in negotiation mode, and she knows she should be more careful, but her head is throbbing and the thought of starting a story from scratch is daunting.

She sets her mug on her side table, too tired to finish it.

"I'm sorry, Jareth," she says, yawning. "I'm just so tired. Do you mind if I just…"

"Sleep," he says. "You need rest to fully recover. I'll be here when you wake."

It's a comfort to her, knowing he'll be there. She settles back into her bed, closing her eyes. A memory comes to her then. She'd briefly woken after her dreamwalk with her dad. Jareth had been sitting by her bed, just where he'd been when she'd fallen asleep, running his fingers through her hair. And then she remembers the smell of sunshine and leather as he leaned toward her, how she'd closed the short distance between them, and the feel of soft, surprised lips against her own. Her heart leaps into her throat and she's glad she's already laying down with her eyes closed. It saves her the embarrassment of having to face him.

She mentally kicks herself for being so impulsive. They'd come a long way since she'd first arrived Underground. At this point, she would count him among her closest friends. It had been just a small kiss; surely, she could defend it as platonic. He hadn't mentioned it. Maybe he'd already written it off, dismissing it as just a friendly gesture, and they could just carry on doing what they've always been doing.

There's safety in that idea, but it fills her with an emotion that she can't quite describe. Disappointment? Sadness?

What if she admitted her interest in him? What would he say? What would he do?

She's just so tired; she wishes her mind would slow down and allow her to rest. She makes a conscious effort to stop dwelling on the kiss, preferring to pull up those old, familiar fantasies that go so far beyond small kisses.

She calms, and finally, she sleeps.


Jareth hadn't been exaggerating when he said it would take a while for her to recover. Nearly a week passes before she feels strong enough to leave her room.

She still feels annoyed that the plumbing situation in the castle is so, well, non-existent. She remembers hoping for a nice Jacuzzi bath once upon a time, and laughs at the memory. Long ago, she learned how to keep herself clean using only magic, and while she could easily go indefinitely without bathing and never look, feel, or smell dirty, she prefers a good bath, and frequently. Her daily ablutions usually include going to her favorite deep pools to bathe, but occasionally, when she is feeling particularly indulgent, she summons a large wooden tub to her room, filling it with hot water so she can have a nice, long soak. She indulges in one of these baths today, preparing to leave her room for the first time since her exhausting dreamwalk.

She had found that learning the magic to do these things wasn't particularly difficult. It was simply a matter of understanding the process behind it. Unfortunately, her experiences as a mortal don't seem to count. She had understood quite well how to carry a tub to her room, build a fire, heat water, and every other tiny step necessary to have a hot bath, but until she did it on her own, Underground, the magic had remained out of reach.

After her bath, she brushes her hair until it is sleek and shiny, then wraps herself in her long piece of linen, pulling the hood over her head, though she doesn't need the protection outside her ice labyrinth. It's not a bad design, she thinks, but she knows it's time to update and polish it. The silk from the worm family has been collected, and she has made several pots of dye to eventually color the fabric she weaves from it.

During her recovery, she had decided the time had come to properly acclimate to the castle. It's been years and she still doesn't feel truly comfortable within its walls. Instead of transporting directly from her room into the Labyrinth, she begins wandering the corridors, and learning her way. In the corridor where her room is located, she finds several bedchambers, similar to how hers had looked when she'd first arrived. They're all small and simple, and clearly unused. It appears that Jareth doesn't get much company, and she wonders why he ever bothered to build them. As she moves into other corridors, the rooms become larger, grander, and more lavishly decorated. She knows it's petty, but she feels a small amount of irritation that Jareth put her in such a small, poorly furnished room when he has these much nicer rooms sitting empty.

The Castle Beyond the Goblin City is easily as complicated as the Labyrinth itself, but she has grown accustomed to navigating the twists and turns of Jareth's kingdom. What she has not grown accustomed to is the accumulated debris of years of living with goblins. As she wanders the corridors, she wonders how Jareth tolerates it. She has lived alongside him for years and he is always immaculate: boots shined and clothing spotless. She's never seen his sleeping chamber - she's not even sure where it is - but she is certain it doesn't look anything like the rest of the castle.

Her thoughts are interrupted when she steps on a particularly sharp chicken feather. Her feet are tough, but it manages to prick her, and she curses in irritation. Suddenly, she knows her next project. She'll need a broom, a bucket, and some soap.

She is grateful, and not for the first time, that she has access to these basic supplies. She has developed a deep appreciation for what Jareth must have gone through when he was in her place, trying to come into his own powers. He hadn't had the advantage of pre-made tools and materials.

She remembers the location of the kitchen and knows she'll find her supplies there. But rather than teleport directly there, she decides to continue her exploration, opening doors in each corridor through which she passes.

The corridor she's in seems to contain a series of identical rooms, each one containing a rough-hewn table and wooden chair. She checks each door, peeking inside each room to see what they contain, wondering for what purpose all of the rooms had been built. She considers giving up on the corridor entirely, hoping to find something more interesting on the next floor down.

She opens one last door and finds a study. Warm sunlight shines off the intricately carved woodwork that trims dozens of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. An enormous desk dominates the center of the space. Behind it, a comfortable-looking chair invites her to sit.

She enters the room, intrigued by the differences between it and the many others she's seen so far. She wonders at first if this is one of Jareth's private spaces, but quickly rejects the idea. The study is abnormally clean, especially in comparison to the rest of the castle - even the rooms the goblins avoid are covered in dust - but it has an abandoned feel to it, as if no one has entered it in years. The fireplace on one wall lies cold and unused, free of dust or ash. She inspects the bookshelves and is disappointed to find them all empty.

She misses books. She'd been so wrapped up in building her Labyrinth that she had given no thought to entertainment; she simply hadn't had the time. But she misses the feel of a heavy hardback novel and the smell of dusty old pages. A castle this size must have a library somewhere, and she resolves to find it.

The room is so inviting that she decides to indulge in a rest. She sits in the chair at the desk and looks around her. If Jareth never uses the room, she might want to use it as her personal study. The chair is comfortable and the light is good; she might enjoy writing her book here. She turns her attention to the enormous desk and begins opening its many drawers wondering if she might find any pens or paper in it. Most of them are empty, but in the bottom drawer, she finds something.

A book.

With a gasp and a grin of anticipation, she lifts the book from the drawer, admiring it's green leather binding. She reads the title on the front cover: A New English and Gaelic Vocabulary. Disappointed, she realizes that it's just a dictionary. Despite the title, the book has to be over a hundred years old. She looks in its pages for a copyright or printing date, but finds none.

She closes the book and look around at the room. It feels out of place in the dirty stone castle. As she studies the sunlight streaming in from the window, she realizes she can't see any dust motes floating through it. The air is clean. Too clean. It unnerves her.

Standing to leave, she picks up the dictionary and tucks it under her arm. She'll return it to the library whenever she finds it. If she's going to clean up the castle, she may as well begin with this simple task.

Rejecting thoughts of using the study in the future, she's relieved when she closes the door behind her. The room, though beautiful, is oppressive in a way she can't quite define. She continues down the corridor, opening each door and finding nothing else even remotely like the study.

She's two floors down when she opens a door that causes all thoughts of the odd study to flee her mind. Behind the door is a large room filled with musical instruments. Several large windows along one wall lend the room a brightness she has only seen in her own space upstairs. The room contains instruments she's familiar with - a grand piano, cello, violin, and clarinet, to name a few - and many, many instruments she has never seen before in her life. She wanders the room, occasionally running her fingers over the instruments, leaving long trails in the dust that has accumulated on them. What surprises her the most is the inclusion of several guitars. While most look ancient, a few are clearly modern in design. She dares not touch the older ones - "lutes," she thinks they're called - but is too tempted to resist plucking the strings on the newer models. Their notes ring out in the quiet room, reverberating pleasantly around her.

Pleased with herself, she continues exploring, but as she completes her circuit of the room, she feels drawn to one instrument above all of the others. Setting the dictionary on the floor next to the piano, she pulls out the bench and seats herself, lifting the lid that covers the keyboard. It's beautiful beneath all of the dust, with a shiny black finish and keys that she is pretty sure are made of genuine ivory and ebony. She runs her fingers over the keys, enjoying their smooth, cool feel before pressing a few. The sound is harsh, grating to her ears, and breaks the enchantment. The instrument, beautiful though it may be, has been neglected and is desperately in need of tuning and repair.

Disappointed, she reminds herself that she needs to get back to work. She needs to be learning, not playing. However, as she leaves, closing the door behind her, she promises herself that she will return to this room.

She continues down the corridor until she notices strains of music coming from below. Abandoning her exploration once again, she makes her way toward the sound and finds herself just outside Jareth's throne room. She peeks around the corner and finds, to her delight, that Jareth is playing with the goblins.

She's never seen anything like it and wonders if this is what she's been missing all these years by avoiding the castle. The little creatures are hanging off every surface of the room, completely enthralled with their king's antics. They bounce around, laughing and hooting, singing along when and if they know the words. Jareth is in the center of it all, singing and dancing to a song she's never heard before. It's an upbeat number, a rock song of all things, and before she knows it, her feet are tapping.

Jareth spots her, and with a devilish grin, he makes his way toward her, swinging his hips in time with the music. He sweeps her up in his dance, holding her around the waist with one arm, while using his swagger stick to gesture wildly at the cheering, singing goblins. She manages to keep up with his footwork while he spins her around the room. She is dizzy and giddy, but she doesn't fail to notice that he has eyes only for her. His gaze is locked on her as he continues his song, launching into another round of the chorus.

The music continues after the chorus, but Jareth stops singing, stops dancing, allowing the goblins to continue on without him. Both of his arms are at her waist now, and the look in his eyes has intensified.

She thinks she'll let him kiss her, if he wants, and she can't help but think back on the small kiss she'd given him after her dreamwalk. Could that one impulsive move have initiated this? Could he want her the way she wants him?

He's going to do it, she thinks, her heart beating faster, and the world seems to stand still as he moves one of his hands from her waist to gently cup her cheek. Her breath catches as she looks into his eyes, the way she often does in her dreams, only she notices that the pupil of his right eye is dilated, nearly matching the left. He returns her gaze, the intensity nearly burning her, before his eyes dip to her mouth. The leather of his glove feels exceptionally soft against her skin as she leans into it, just a little, and allows her eyes to flutter closed.

The music abruptly stops and Sarah's eyes fly open in time to see Jareth's look of disappointment as he pulls away from her. Baffled and slightly hurt, Sarah looks around to see if she can make sense of what is happening.

The demeanor of the goblins has changed entirely. Their singing and hooting has changed to a sinister hissing, chittering sound. No longer the little fun-loving scamps they'd been only a moment earlier, they have turned ominous and frightening. She is reminded of the goblins who teased her in her parents' bedroom so many years ago.

What did I do? she wonders.

"It's a wish," Jareth says, answering her unspoken question. "We have to go."

Several of the goblins are already gone before he gives her one last regretful look and disappears, transporting himself Above to answer the call of someone who has wished away a child.

Almost instantly, a few goblins return with an infant, who, to Sarah's surprise, they hand off to her so quickly that she stumbles and nearly falls over.

The child, dressed in only a diaper and a dirty pink t-shirt, is crying so hard that she has started to hiccup. Sarah puts her on her shoulder and begins patting her back, crooning in what she hopes is a soothing way. She's surprised when the child calms at once. She looks over her shoulder and finds a goblin making googly-eyes at the baby. The little girl begins to laugh, and Sarah is delighted. She turns to face the goblin and shifts the baby so they can both watch its antics. Several goblins are now getting in on the fun, bouncing over each other and making silly noises to make the baby giggle, and Sarah can't help but laugh as well.

She runs her free hand over the baby's fiery red hair. It curls tightly against her scalp, making her look like a tiny Orphan Annie, and Sarah thinks how beautiful it will be as the girl grows. The baby is cute in that way that babies have, and her eyes are an unusual and striking shade of coppery brown that matches her red hair. Untucking an end of the cloth that she has wrapped around her, Sarah uses it to wipe the child's tears, adding a little magic to clean smudges of dirt off her face. The little girl grudgingly allows it, her attention only momentarily diverted from the goblins who are falling over themselves to entertain her.

Sarah's good mood evaporates when Jareth returns, and she sees the expression on his face. Something has gone wrong.

He's wearing the black armor and billowing cape he'd worn when she'd first met him; the pendant of his office is settled in the center of his chest. She and Jareth had become friends since she'd been trapped here and she'd forgotten who he really was. He approaches her, every inch the intimidating Goblin King she'd met so long ago, and she wonders how she could have been so careless.

She clutches the baby closer to herself.

"Jareth? What is it?" She knows she's in denial. He was back too quickly for the wisher to have decided to try to get the baby back. She knows exactly what's going to happen next.

"Her father has chosen his dreams," he says as he reaches for the little girl.

Sarah watches as his gloved hands comes toward her, her horror and panic pushing away any sense of reason or friendship. The only thing that matters is protecting the baby.

Without a second thought, Sarah transports herself and the baby to the frog pool she found on her first day in the Labyrinth. She only paces the beach twice before Jareth catches up to her. There's nowhere to run and nowhere to hide, but she won't accept this. It can't be inevitable that every baby that ends up here is turned into a monster.

"Don't be foolish, Sarah," and he sounds more concerned than patronizing. "You can't stop this; the babe began changing the moment her father accepted his dreams over his daughter."

"You can stop this, Jareth! It doesn't have to be this way!" she shouts, desperate for him to listen and change this horrible practice. She may not know the child's name, but she can sense her potential; she's brimming over with it! "She could be so much. So much more than…"

Jareth is looking at her with pity. Why isn't he angry? He should be arguing with her, telling her all the ways in which she is wrong.

"They're happy," he calmly insists. "That's what's important. You've seen them, Sarah. The way they play. You've danced with them and sung with them. They love y…"

"They're monsters!" she shouts at him, cutting him off. She doesn't think she can stand to hear how much the goblins love her, not when she's moments away from letting another innocent child be transformed into one. "You take babies and turn them into monsters!" She's crying now, clutching the child to her chest.

"Sarah, I'm warning you…"

"You're warning me? Now? It didn't occur to you to warn me thirteen years ago?" She doesn't know exactly what he would have warned her about; it's not as if she didn't know what he did when she made that wish so many years ago. But she refuses to allow him to threaten her.

"You don't want to see the transformation," he finishes. It is then that she notices the worry in his voice.

She glances down at the infant to make sure she's alright. The child is looking back at her, but her eyes have turned a jaundiced yellow and grown larger, popping out of her head unnaturally. Panicking, Sarah screams and drops the baby.

Jareth is there to catch her before she hits the ground. With the skill of centuries of practice, he flips the baby around and against his shoulder so Sarah can no longer see her face and covers the rest of her body with his cloak. The sudden movements startle the little girl and she begins howling again.

Standing on the beach, he no longer looks like the frightening Goblin King. He just looks tired.

"It is the way it is, Sarah," he says, sounding defeated, as the baby's crying changes to a quieter hissing sound. "I can't change that."

Sarah, horrified, can hardly find her voice. "You're the king, Jareth. If you can't fix this, who can?"

"When you are queen, you will understand."

"No," she says firmly. "No way, Jareth. If this is what being the king and queen of this place means, I won't do it."


The transformation is complete when Jareth returns to his throne room, and he lets the new goblin scamper off to play with the others. Her beautiful curly hair is gone, all of her features warped until she is no longer recognizable as the baby girl she once was. She'll be happy, he knows; she's already found playmates and is enjoying herself throwing hay and chicken feathers at her new friends.

His confrontation with Sarah had affected him more deeply than he thinks he'll ever admit to her. He'd never considered the possibility of another person like him in the Labyrinth, and he never thought he'd have to justify the way things work. For the first time, he wonders how culpable he is in turning these children into goblins.

His grand scheme, the one he had forged with Warrin, allows him to take revenge on those who wish away the children they are supposed to love. He ensures those selfish mortals are punished. But he doesn't control what the magic does to the children that are left behind; he only watches over them, and ensures they are happy and entertained. Goblins are simple-minded and easy to oversee. He wonders if he could handle them if they remained human. He has doubts that keeping them human is worth fighting for, even if it were a battle he knew how to fight.

His thoughts turn to the image of Sarah holding the babe. It had stirred something in him that he hadn't felt in a long time; not since he was human himself. Desire. It wasn't the desire he'd felt at the Soirée for so many years when he was looking for a diversion - any diversion - from the life of drudgery he'd been living. This was desire for a real connection. Sarah had become a friend, but might she one day be a lover? A wife? Might she one day honor him by carrying his child?

He fantasizes about visiting her on a sunny morning as she lies in his bed, holding a small bundle wrapped in clean, white linen. She looks at him joyfully and he looks back at her with adoration. He pulls back the linen to see the face of the child they made together and is horrified to see a goblin, its eyes yellow and its thick tongue lolling from a rubbery mouth.

He shakes off the image.

He and Sarah straddle some unknown line between human and Fae. The human world had long since passed him by. He can navigate it, but it has become hard, gray, and unwelcoming. And while he knows there must be a world beyond the Labyrinth and beyond Warrin's Soirée, he has never seen it. Warrin has effectively trapped him in this tiny corner of reality; the Labyrinth is the only place where he belongs.

Jareth does not have Sarah's promise of freedom. He is Warrin's, and there is no expiration date on his contract. It's a strange thought, he realizes; he'd never felt trapped before. He has nearly limitless power at his fingertips, but exploring the Underground beyond the Labyrinth has never been an option. That might be another option Sarah has that he does not. How much more of the world is there to see?

Sarah still has an opportunity to escape. She will be her own when she completes Elga's task, if she can ever figure out what it is. He wonders how she'll find the world if she ever returns to it. Will she embrace its changes, or will she be like him, an occasional visitor who seeks the familiarity and comfort of his kingdom?

He remembers the look in her eyes as he spun her around the throne room, dancing and singing. She has worked so hard for so many years. It was thrilling to see her let loose a little and have some fun, and even more exciting to know it was he who had put that smile on her face.

Her happiness had been dashed today when she was faced with the hard reality of their situation. He had attracted a large number of diverse creatures to his kingdom, but this was still the Goblin Kingdom. He should never have let her forget it.

He thinks back on the sweet kiss she'd given him. In her exhausted state, she had let her guard down and her impulsive move had obliterated his carefully constructed walls.

He knows she would have welcomed his kiss as they danced in the throne room. She would have allowed him to move their relationship past friendship, into something more permanent, more fulfilling. The thought that she might choose to stay with him and be his queen not only in name, but in thought and deed, exhilarates him. That dream had finally felt within his grasp, just as it now feels as if it is slipping through his fingers.

Her refusal to take the crown will keep her with him in the Labyrinth, but the bitterness that he knows will develop will prevent any kind of relationship between them.

He needs to get away from the castle, away from the Labyrinth, away from the world in which Warrin has him trapped.

In an instant he is outside the Williams' home. It sits empty and dark, and Jareth knows right away that it has been abandoned. Curious, he transports himself inside.

The air is stale as he wanders the front room. Most of the furniture is still here, but it has been covered with white sheets to protect it from dust. He can see the shape of picture frames underneath a sheet covering a side table. With a gesture, the sheet moves itself and he can see a display of family photos, all but one of them taken since Sarah's disappearance. He lifts the oldest picture from the table and examines it. It's staged, taken indoors in front of an abstract background. Karen sits in the center holding infant Toby while Sarah and her father stand together, their hands resting on Karen's shoulders. It's an awkward pose, and though all four members of the family are smiling, their expressions look forced and unnatural. He replaces the photograph on the table and continues walking through the house.

There are more photographs on the refrigerator door in the kitchen. These are less formal and more genuine. They show Karen and a young Toby playing on the beach, Robert asleep on the couch, Sarah dressed as a princess. There is a photograph of the four Williamses standing together in front of a deep and impressive canyon. They are dressed for exercise, looking happy and flushed, their poses and expressions natural and happy. Another photo shows Sarah and Toby together. She had obviously taken this one herself, pointing the camera back at herself and her brother before snapping the picture. The look on her face is half joy and half concentration as she tries to ensure both she and Toby are in the frame. This photo fascinates him. He's seen this look on her face countless times, and it is only by looking at this photo that he realizes how much Sarah has aged. She doesn't look any older. In fact, she'll remain frozen forever at nineteen unless and until Elga gives her back to herself. But Sarah's eyes are different. In the photo, they are youthful and innocent. Today, they show all of the years that had passed since she'd come Underground. They've grown wiser… and harder.

He thinks he'd give her anything, and there is no more sobering thought than knowing the one thing she truly wants is the only thing he cannot provide. He leaves the self-portrait, but pulls the family photograph off the refrigerator.

When he turns to leave the room, he notices an envelope on the kitchen counter, Sarah's name printed neatly in masculine handwriting - Robert's handwriting, Jareth is sure. He lifts the envelope from the counter and examines it. It is not sealed and a single sheet of folded paper is tucked inside. Briefly, he considers reading the letter, seeing if it might help or hurt Sarah, but he checks himself before removing the paper from the envelope. He'll do this one last favor for Robert Williams; he will deliver the letter to Sarah.

She has been holding onto the idea that she would somehow make it home in time to see her whole family again, but if she rejects the crown, her chances of succeeding go from slim to none. Whichever path she chooses, if she refuses the crown and lives as a commoner in his Labyrinth for eternity or if she accepts the crown and becomes his queen, Jareth will hold the letter for her until the day that it becomes her only way of connecting with her human past. He creates a crystal with his free hand and encapsulates both the letter and the photograph in it. The crystal then collapses in on itself and vanishes.

There is another floor of the house that he has not visited, but he knows what he will find. More empty rooms, more painful memorabilia.

The Williamses have done what they should have done long ago. Sarah will always be a part of this little family and she will never be forgotten. They haven't let her go; they've simply moved on.

His work here is done. He takes a final look around Sarah's former home, and disappears.


Disclaimer:
This is a work of fan fiction. The author makes no money from this story.

Acknowledgments:
In addition to Labyrinth, this work is inspired by the Gary Jules cover of the song "Mad World" by Tears for Fears, a prompt from the Livejournal Labyfic community, and by my friend M. who will probably not read this, but should be acknowledged nonetheless.

This story has been beta'd by Aurora Kemanche and Exulansis, who've both been absolute champs in helping me write and develop this story. This fic was my 2016 NaNoWriMo project and I completed November (and all but the last chapter of this story) with a rough draft of nearly 58,000 words. These finalized chapters already clock in at close to that number, but I'm only halfway done. The feedback of Aurora and Exulansis really helped me develop ideas that were only half-baked in the rough draft and I can't thank them emphatically enough for their help.

Labyrinth is the property of Henson Associates, Inc., Lucasfilm Ltd., and TriStar Pictures.