A/N: This is important! I do not, I repeat, I do not want people to think I do not care about your thoughts. I have responded to every review that has shown up in response to chapter 9. I fear, however, that some of my replies did not get to reviewer's mailboxes because has been experiencing technical difficulties. If you have submitted a review and have not received a response, please tell me and I will write a new review reply! I wrote back! I care! I swear! I'm a feedback junkie as much as everyone else and it kills me if anyone thinks I don't appreciate their thoughts and opinions! Phew. Okay, got that off my chest. Thank you for listening to my rant. And if you are still reading after all this time, then I especially want to thank you, for your patience and for your time :)

I am sorry for my inconsistent posting. And do tell me if you think the story is becoming tiresome. I can take it.

Faith Enduring

Disclaimer: I do not own the Labyrinth or its characters; they are property of Jim Henson, Lucas Films, and Dennis Lee. This fanfiction is not made for profit in anyway; it is only further proof of my love for the movie and that I have an overactive imagination.

Chapter Ten

Upon her rocking chair, and clothed in warm hues of brown cloth, with his scratchy white hair flowing over the sides of his eyes and down his chin, he was the picture of grandfatherly wisdom ready for a long nap.

The old man puffed on a well worn wooden pipe at her desk, near an open window. The bird on top his head looked bored, and took mild interest in only the lazy wisps of smoke that drifted toward the window screen, pulled out to mingle with the cold night air. Eyes closed into contented slants, he could have been assumed to have once again fallen asleep, except each breath seemed to draw in and release new sparks of hazy ashen breath.

All this time. Right there, he had all the answers and he was right in front of me.

Sarah's hands gripped the bed cloth until her knuckles were white and trembling, as she stared, grappling with what to say. Hoggle stood next to her, his hand on her knee, as he asked with barely contained rage and suspicion, "Who are you?"

The old man lazily lifted one eye up and everyone could see that he was not the doddering old fool they had assumed earlier. It was too calculating, the look he presented, as he pulled the pipe out from the neat click of his teeth and said smiling, "Nigellen Corenous Octavian, at your service…but you may call me Nigel."

"Oi," cried the bird, "Do we have to make with the pleasantries? This group ain't such a friendly bunch if you know what I mean?"

Hoggle's eyes narrowed at the bird's hostile opinion.

"Deek," Nigel warned in a tone that left no room for argument and quite to the surprise of everyone present, Deek's feathers bristled but otherwise, he remained silent. At this point, Nigel looked at Sarah sitting on her bed, behind a safe wall of her three friends. He gave in to a moment of silent admiration, before he closed himself to further external emotions.

"Doubtless you have many questions…" he said, and everyone seemed to lean forward.

It was obvious what they wanted to know. It showed plainly on their eager and angry faces. Why were we left here? What is to become of us? How did he, the old man, fit into this scheme? Why and how were we made?

Where is Jareth?

The last one he knew to be the burning question in the valiant young lady the other three worshipped and protected. In fact, he knew that Sarah was the pivot upon which all of them now turned.

"I can see it in your eyes, what you wish to know," and at this he was speaking directly to Sarah. His eyes, she noticed, had somehow deepened in color, and for a moment she remembered a place of cold water, black starless skies, and her name echoing throughout its inky surface. Her heart started to race and her hands shook from the excess adrenaline as Nigel seemed to look into and beyond her green eyes.

"But my answer is another question," he replied.

Sir Didymous growled in the back of his throat, letting Sarah know that at the merest sign from her, he would leap into action. Hoggle, sneering, body tensing, had one hand on something hidden in his belt.

Sarah's brows came together and before she could say anything, the words, that had seemed so insignificant and confusing three weeks ago were repeated once again, "The way forward is sometimes the way back."

Nigel leaned back expectantly as if he had given them a significant piece of information.

Mouth agape, Sarah furiously blinked before stuttering, "B-b-but, my god, that is not even in the form of a question!"

Suddenly Hoggle leaped forward and to the shock of everyone present grabbed the end of the old man's beard, yanking him forward so that Nigel's wrinkled throat was pressed to the small blade Hoggle kept in one of the pockets of his belt.

"Damn it!" he seethed, "You will stop giving us the run around! Tell us what we need to kno- YEOW!!!"

Protective of its master Deek struck! Horror stricken, Sarah ran to her friend who was cursing, tears running down from pain as he tried to wring the neck of the bird that had a death grip on his nose with its strong beak. Both were growling. Struggling against each other as a thin line of red trickled down Hoggle's angry face.

"Oh my god – stop! Please, we'll do this your way, just let go!" Sarah cried but the bird's eyes were glazed over with hatred and perhaps lack of oxygen in such a death grip. Nigel did nothing to interfere but watched with calm indifference.

Then a sound, soft and low keened onward like the remnants of a dream one wakes up from and wants to desperately remember. It promised calm, safety, and was filled over brimming with regret that what once was real became lost. Hoggle's hands dropped weak and powerless as tears of another type came unbidden. Everyone felt its spell and was swept away. It was a song. And the lyrics were stars, clouds, and brittle grass growing, connecting, reaching… The bird let go in surprise as a feeling of strong earth upholding them, from underneath where the stones sing, pushed up and reminded them of…

Home, thought Hoggle and Sir Didymous, as Ludo, arched his throat for one last lingering note.

Sarah closed her eyes and felt the warm tepid air pass over her, and rustle through the dry fingers of trees. The sand gave slightly under the weight of her shoes, and the smell of baked earth and warm stones filled her lungs.

The castle of the labyrinth rose old and majestic in their minds. When it faded, and all that could be felt was the soft give of tan colored carpet and the brush of cold night air mixed with the scent of ripe tobacco, the magical effects still echoed in them. Sarah turned Hoggle away who batted away her attentions with a, "so'kay, I'm fine," as he pressed a handkerchief to his swollen nose.

Sir Didymous patted his companion on the shoulder and Hoggle looked away slightly ashamed. Sarah turned so that her back faced Nigel and she fought the pain of losing the labyrinth and the anger at this mysterious old man, a supposed friend of Jareth, who demanded she answer stupid riddles.

Why couldn't anyone give her a straight answer? Riddles! Secrets! Half told information! Did no one trust her to handle the truth? She sat back on the bed in frustration.

Feeling the tension and seeing the hard gazes upon him, Nigel raised one hand up in warning. "Believe me or not, your understanding of that one sentence is the key to all further questions." Suddenly in a grave voice that demanded attention, he tilted his chin up and said, "Jareth demanded I remind you of this truth."

A long moment followed.

So many emotions crossed Sarah's face that Sir Didymous stopped growling and Hoggle, his nose forgotten, placed a worried hand on her forearm.

Sarah tried to swallow but found her throat was too dry. Tears welled in her eyes against her will, and spilled, blurring the walls of the room, running down her cheeks and then her hands as she tried to stop the flow.

"He's not coming back," she said, stating it not as a question, but what was a strong supposition quickly turned fact. Nigel answered by dropping his gaze and because he had nothing else to do, began to draw on his pipe again.

Oh god, why couldn't she think straight at this point? And going backward to go forward? What on earth did that mean?

Betrayal burned her throat as she seemed to pull in herself, her face hidden behind clenching hands. And when the wave of hurt slightly lessened the epiphany slowly came through. The pendant was always around her. She had worn it close to her heart ever since their parting as a connection somewhat to Jareth. And right now, a warm feeling suffused her and pointed through her confused mind, what Jareth had been trying to teach her since they met.

Toby was the first pictured. An image of him in his red and white striped pajamas crying, reaching his arms out to be comforted and held rose swift and crystal clear in her mind. Karen, with her blond hair stylishly put up in a neatly coiled French roll, looking oddly vulnerable the moment she asked Sarah to shop with her for a new blouse. Her dad, who had long ago thought that she hated him for his divorce and that it was far too late to repair old grudges, began to lose that look of resignation. A feeling of love and triumph filled her, stopping her tears, and she wondered how her feelings could so abruptly change.

Ludo, Hoggle, and Sir Didymous started when she suddenly grabbed the pendant around her neck, and with a small snap, flung it onto the beige carpet, where it bounced and then landed at the feet of the old man. Nigel did not flinch.

"You," Sarah said, voice low and harsh, "and Jareth," her words stopped briefly with a gasp of incredulity, "you've both been manipulating me since the beginning! You – you bastard!"

Dark obsidian eyes lifted and Sarah could easily imagine him once a mighty wizard, the only thing missing from the picture was a wand. "The answer Sarah," he demanded, "What is the answer?"

"Fuck your answer!" Sarah shouted, her hands held in tight fists at her side as she practically towered over everyone.

Her friends looked startled but the old man's eyes blazed with a look of superiority as he set his back to the chair. "I can see it burning in you. But you refuse to acknowledge all that you have learned." Nigel paused in thought. "Sometimes," he said in emphasis, "the process of figuring out the question is most often the answer."

The way forward is sometimes the way back.

The fight leaked out of her like helium from an old balloon. What was the point anyway? How could she fight a question? An unfair question at that. How could Jareth expect this of her?

Toby. Karen. Dad.

Her head dipped. "To return home," she whispered.

Stooping down, she gingerly picked up the thrown amulet and all the responsibilities it carried. Jareth breaking the eye out with a sharp knife came to her mind as she fingered its silver and gold finish. Scratches adorned the innermost folds, evidence of the necessity to protect her dream, her friends, for…for…

"…For me to go back home. I was never meant to return to him…to the labyrinth…I was to go forward in my world, by leaving the labyrinth – choosing to go back home," she gulped. "He can't ask me of this," she protested weakly.

"Please. You must tell me where he is. You must take me to him."

"Child," Nigel asked as he doused his pipe and set it lying on its side on her vanity table behind him, "do you know how old our dear Jareth is?"

"I know he's older than me but that doesn't matter," she said starting to feel cross again.

"My dear he has seen the rise and fall of your world's civilizations."

"W-what?" and at this point her voice was a squeak of its former confidence.

The harsh glint of Nigel's eyes softened, and he almost looked kindly on Sarah's stricken face. Jareth, he thought to himself, in your need to blindly protect you have really hurt this one.

He reached out, held her hands, and like a lost child she knelt down to listen.

"Even he doesn't know how old he is my dear. He knows not his real name, nor how he came to be. Only that his purpose is to help others by being a force they must contend against. By being a villain, he helps create heroes."

Nigel smiled at her, a soft smile that seemed to be filled with pride and pain. Sarah felt like she was suffocating.

"You are young...and idealistic. One of the reasons you stood out in his mind was that you actually looked past the surface of people, and you cared for others no one else trusted. That makes you incredibly naive...but also noble. You chose to see past his evil persona and for that he was eternally grateful."

Green eyes lifted and then looked back down, trying to work past the knot in her throat, "I don't want his gratitude," she whispered, choking back tears, "I want him. I want to see him. I want to tell him how much he helped me! How much he gave so that I learned not to resent but to love! To tell him - that I - that I..."

The words hurt too much.

She loved him. How could she love him when she barely knew him? Oh but she did. Selfish, ignorant willful Sarah fell in love...with a man who left her.

Gnarled long fingers lifted her chin up so that she would hear his words better.

"He really cared about you. He has never saved a dream before. It has cost him much."

"How come you by this information Sir, if I may be so bold?" It was Sir Didymous's voice that now questioned Nigel. Proud noble Sir Didymous, in his blue hat and brazen red jacket, placed his tiny gloved hand on Sarah's shoulder, offering comfort. To this day she still could not quite comprehend that she had made him up. How on earth could a selfish girl think up someone so noble and giving?

Nigel then said matter of fact, "Unlike you and your courageous friends, I was not made by Sarah, nor was I created by Jareth. Like he, I can not recall my origin. My purpose is to aid him in whatever ways I can. I was to help you Sarah," he took out a rough but clean cloth out from his pocket and gave it to her to wipe away her tears. "The ultimate lesson here," he says to Sarah, "is for you to care for your family. To care for others. To become wiser, to learn what you find interesting with passion, and to find beauty within yourself and within a world everyone suspects is ugly. Do not destroy all he worked for by pining for him."

Sarah's eyes widened. "But...how could he ask this of me. To forget him, like some insignificant lesson in a study book?"

"You must forget him."

"Never! How can you even say that to me?"

"Because he has already forgotten you."

Sarah's mouth opened and then closed. She crumpled before the wise man's feet and Hoggle rushed to her and held her steady. Her eyes burned and her body felt as if it were with fever. She felt dizzy.

"N-no. He wouldn't..."

"He has. Not willingly of course. But a dream takes a lot of magic to become created. When it loses its purpose the dream breaks and all the magic that was used to create it rushes back to the one responsible for its creation and demise. Such a huge amount of magic all at once is like an inferno and when a fire burns it consumes. The pain wipes away all memory of that dream and all that is left is echoes of feelings much like the ash is left after the blaze."