Disclaimer: Labyrinth is not mine.
A/N: I love reviews. Thanks to LadyGrey69, ZapZapYotsuba, lonely 27, rosegoddess9, Seridano, RusholmeRuffian, hazlgrnlizzy, and Nyakai.
Chapter 14: Understandings and Realizations
"I would strongly advise you to explain yourself, Jareth." The request was anything but cordial. "You made quite the spectacle yesterday evening."
The chamber was dim, lit only by a glare of morning sun, but still the pair of men eyed each other clearly. The room was too cold to be refreshing, and the silks and marble too dark to admire, so neither took the time to do so. It was not a welcoming place; certainly not during a serious conversation. Jareth had never had the pleasure to visit the halls which made up Cael's private wing before, but quickly knew such visits were to be anything but pleasurable.
"A temporary lapse in control, Cael. Nothing more." The monarch in question waved his hand dismissively, attempting to swat the issue away and remain distant. But even he knew that time had passed when he felt a crackle of anger pierce the air. Long gone was the innocuous banter and mild sarcasm. Their relationship had shifted from friendship to formality, and the tension swept in thick as the Bog. Jareth steadied his gaze.
"I have no less than five hundred witnesses swearing you claimed the girl. You plea a lapse in control?" The High King's harsh tone and thinning stare left little room for argument.
Jareth shifted to one side and scowled. He had hoped the whole issue had been forgotten following last night's joyous debacle; there had been no shortage of wine. The last thing he needed was a royal inquisition. He recognized that look in his old Watcher's eye, hungry and determined, and resigned himself to a surely disagreeable chat. Narrowing his eyes in frustration, he spun a suitable response, keeping his posture still and chin steady to avoid speculation. Truth was a dangerous line to cross.
"My work is with mortals. The girl simply intrigues me."
"And of course her status as sole Champion during your reign holds no bearing?" It was a quick response and the High King seemed to know the answer already, stretching his words and brows wide.
"All my challengers are intriguing."
The weak reply was ignored, and the High King furthered his speculation. "I find it particularly intriguing how well-adapted this girl seems to be. Wouldn't you agree?"
Jareth didn't like where this was heading. He jerked for a second, wondering if he'd been had, before focusing on the High King's hard eyes. He was hiding something important, he decided, something regarding him. Could he possibly know about the magic? He pushed the fear aside, continuing with his evasive truths. Acknowledgment was too risky.
"A testament to her previous victory. The girl was nothing if not resilient." It was close enough to truth. He shifted back to his right leg, still unsettled by the turn of comments. The notion that he was missing something prickled his curiosity, and he was not one to sit back and accept. "Unless you possess other information, Cael?"
"When I do—and I assuredly will—you shall be the first to hear it."
The threat was obvious, as was the High King's interest in the situation. Jareth tried to keep his breathing even, but the knowledge that steps had already been taken to unveil the mystery came as a surprise. He could have sworn this issue had been settled. Sarah was running, what did it matter if she'd adapted well? The rest of the heirs were clearly pathetic candidates. Cael rarely interfered with Game proceedings, particularly matters as speculative as this. And never his own matters. Jareth pinched his lips to keep from arguing. Nothing good would come of it.
His thoughts drifted to Sarah. Cael had said 'when' regarding the news; at least he still had time. She only needed a day or so. The Game would be over then, one outcome or another. Preferably one outcome over another.
"You have not given me much choice in this matter, Jareth. I am High King above all else."
It was as close to an apology as could be expected. It wasn't wanted. Jareth understood dilemmas well enough. Everyone had priorities; his were just more personal than professional. Jareth wiped his face of emotion just as Cael offered a slim smile. But the damage had been done.
"If I may be excused, High King." Jareth spun a semblance of civility into his drawl, but he knew it sounded forced.
"Just go, Jareth. See to your intriguing girl."
He didn't look back.
It took very little time for Eran to acknowledge that although he had many strengths, navigating the Labyrinth was not one of them.
Day one of his errand had begun well enough. It had taken him a few hours to reach the Southern Gate, and mere minutes to find a way through the wall. His current guess was that the library would be close to the Goblin King, so he sought the castle. He'd turned right, tracing the inner wall with his hand until he slipped into an opening, and had settled into a comfortable rhythm of picking the first gap of every new corridor. Surely he'd come across something or someone useful. His pace was steady, his breathing calm, and his path free of obstacles until dusk. As the twin moons rose and he rested for the night, Eran was certain he'd made progress. Tomorrow, he'd decided, he'd reach the castle and find that library.
Morning had been a baffling affair. The sun rose as usual, the walls creaked with fatigue, and his journey continued. But where he'd been certain he'd been close enough to the castle to see the shape of doors and windows against the stone, he could now barely see the outline at all. Squinting only brought more aggravation. He was farther from the center than he'd been when he'd started.
Eran couldn't decide if the Labyrinth had moved, or he'd been moved. Neither was acceptable. And thus he found himself on day two— hungry, lost, and frustrated.
Eran groaned, thinking his errand was never going to end. Stuffing his feet back into his boots, he resigned himself to another day of searching. It wasn't as if he had another choice. He'd rather be trapped in the Labyrinth than return to the High King empty handed. He'd heard the stories. He knew the consequences. He assured himself it was foolish to even consider anything less than the complete story of Sarah Williams.
What could she have possibly have done to warrant this attention? To him, she'd seemed harmless. A bit high-strung and upset, but that was to be expected. She was mortal; mortals never understood the Fae ways. The realms were too different to compare and the few stories that had made it above were vague at best. And by no means were the few hours of instruction upon arrival enough preparation for a Game such as this one. He couldn't help but feel sorry for her. She wasn't meant to stand a chance.
The mortals never were.
When Eran considered the last human runners, hundreds of years before her, they'd been a laughable excuse for heirs. Clueless and tired, neither man had made it past the first stage. The High King hadn't even bothered to learn their names, let alone histories. And yet here he was, trudging through a maze which was not meant to solved, for a girl. He shook his head. It was puzzling.
Why was she so concerning? Just because she'd defeated this Goblin King? He paused as his pocket hummed.
Could there possibly be more to it than that?
"Your majesty, pleasant morning to you." Eran took care not to drop the sphere, speaking clearly at his palms.
"Eran. I assume you are near the library by now?"
"Close, sire. Perhaps a day more." Gods he hoped that was all it took.
"A day at most, Eran. More is unacceptable." A low growl came through the sphere, sounding more beast than human. "I've just spoken with Jareth. There's no doubt that Sarah Williams is more than his words. Find that record Eran. Immediately."
The sphere went dull before Eran could respond. He couldn't help but think it was better he hadn't. Not until he found that library.
"Who's there? Somebody messin' with me hedges?" A gravelly voice startled the Fae, and he turned fast to find a squatty little man pointing a spray can to his face.
Eran raised his hands in peace. "Easy there, I'm not here for the hedges."
The dwarf looked hesitant to lower his device. But it was hard to tell his expression through the brown wrinkles and dirt on his face. He wasn't smiling, at least. And he looked stiff, as if he was straining to add a few inches by good posture. The large pouch dangling from his belt appeared to be giving him some trouble, however.
"My name is Eran. I mean no harm, truly." He watched the dwarf lower his arms, and continued. "Perhaps you can help? I seem to be lost."
"I ain't got no time for helpin'. It's yeh's own fault for wishin'…serves yeh right." He shook out his arm and turned back to his hedges, angrily squirting a spot.
"I haven't wished away a child; I am on a mission for the High King. Believe me dwarf, the last thing I want is to become a runner. The last victor's in more trouble than she bargained for."
The can fell forgotten as the dwarf cried out. "Whadya mean by that? Yeh know about Sarah?"
"Sarah Williams? You know her?" Eran was just as startled.
"'Course I do! Hoggle's her friend. Helped her best that rat Jareth too". His chest puffed up a bit before dropping with his frown. "What'd he do to her now?"
Eran ignored the dwarf's plea. "You helped her through the Labyrinth? Sarah Williams?" He couldn't believe his luck.
"Hmph. Not thinkin' I could, are yeh? Hoggle's no coward. Not after meetin' her".
Eran praised whatever god had sent this dwarf to him. If he'd helped Sarah through, he'd know what her run entailed. The library may not even be necessary. His spirits rose with the thought, even as the dwarf began muttering impatiently.
"Yeh gunna tell me whadya mean 'bout Sarah bein' in trouble, or is I gunna have to knock some sense outta ya?" He raised his small fists high, giving Eran a 'just try me' stare.
"I'll tell you what, Hoggle?" The dwarf nodded. "You tell me what happened during Sarah's first run, and I'll tell you all I know. Deal?"
A calloused hand shot out in response, and the pair shook.
"Deal." Hoggle cracked a knuckle and settled on a low rock. "All began at the gate. She'd been after me fairies…"
Eran made sure to pay attention.
Sarah Williams woke with a terrible headache.
"Uhhhh. Damn it…never drinking again…" She kicked the blanket (blanket?) off her legs and pushed herself to a sitting position. Her head throbbed with the shift, and she cringed, rubbing her temples with both thumbs. She knew better than this. The drinking hadn't even dulled her dreams of spinning ballrooms and Jareth. Last night's had seemed so real, she could still smell his spicy mix on her tunic and was that a blond hair on her shoulder? She pulled it off carefully.
How in the world…? She froze, remembering. There had been drinking, a feast, bright lights and music. And spinning, no…dancing. Jareth. It all came back to her, and she groaned, letting her face fall into her hands in shame.
Nice going, Sarah. Just HAD to go and fall into his arms, didn't you?
The couch squeaked meekly as she leaned forward. She slept on a couch? She quickly glanced up, placing herself. She recognized her holding room by the ornate clock in the corner, ticking merrily away, and calmed. But she didn't remember walking back here. Actually, she didn't remember anything past the dance. Who had brought her here? Jareth? She scoffed, eying the blanket now on the floor. She was certain he'd rather lose his crown than tuck her in.
She tried not to dwell on it. Her head hurt enough as it was. She needed water. She stood to stretch, twisting her neck to loosen the stiffness found there, and looked for a sink or glass.
On the dresser where she'd pulled out her clothes, a silver tray sat. A flask of steaming tea and a bowl of brown oats had been placed in the center. Sarah moved to the tea, and took a considerable sip as she decided on the oats; she wasn't sure they'd stay down. Her stomach turned as the smell intensified, and she pushed them away, only to reveal a short, elegantly penned note.
Sarah,
I'm certain you'll want nothing after last night, but please try to eat something. The Game continues at 9 sharp.
Do try to keep from disappearing again.
-J
Sarah found the note almost…thoughtful. Not at all like his typical attitude, at least. She crumpled the note up, frowning. What was he playing at? Could he actually care?
She finished the tea, and a few spoonfuls of oats, without coming to any conclusions. But the thought that he'd carried to back to her room, and conjured a blanket, was starting to pick at her consciousness.
A long set of dongs saved her from the unsettling notion, and she turned to the door. Nine o'clock sharp.
Sarah watched the room fade around her, deep woods becoming familiar greens and grays. She came to the orchard, shriveled and fruitless, and gates wide before her. She didn't recognize the path they opened to. It wasn't surprising.
Sarah found her sack under a broken limb, and turned to the unknown. She still had four stages to beat, and God forbid she'd waste time reconsidering Jareth's motivations. She doubted even he knew what he was up to at this point. She started walking, watching the Goblin King's castle loom closer and closer.
And without warning, she fell.
"And we left her at the throne room. Let her face him alone, we did. Dunno what happened, but she got her brother back fine, and that was that." Hoggle finished his story with a toothy grin.
"Fascinating." Eran tried to absorb the lengthy tale. "So she faced him alone at the end? Anything odd occur afterward?"
"Err…called us to all to her house to party…"
"Jareth too?"
"Nah, and he's been a sore loser 'bout it all...kept mostly to himself since…" He shuffled his feet in the dirt, ignoring Eran's widening eyes.
"He was upset about the party, then?"
Hoggle just shrugged.
"And he threatened to make you, uh, Prince of the Bog if she kissed you? And he sent her a dream?" His look was searching, as if the answer was on the tip of the dwarf's large nose.
"Err…Land of Stench…an' I dunno 'bout no dream…just the peach—" Hoggle bit his tongue, knowing he'd said too much. A 'piece of fruit' was harmless; peaches meant something. And he knew the Fae boy hadn't missed his slip.
Eran lit up like a firefly, eyes bulging and jaw slack. "A peach…" It was just a whisper of a question. But words were no longer needed. The panicked look in Hoggle's face was an easy confirmation.
"Ahh, sure it meant nothin'," he urged, twisting his hands nervously, "…distraction an' all…"
"A peach. No wonder…" He trailed off. "Thank you for the story, you've been most helpful." Eran could barely contain his relief as he stretched, nodding at the fearful dwarf. The High King would be quite interested in this development.
"Now wait here you! What about yer end of the bargain? Whadya know 'bout Sarah bein' in trouble?" Hoggle stopped the Fae before he turned.
Eran's smile wavered, knowing this news would only cause the girl more trouble. But a mission was a mission, and a deal with a dwarf still a deal. "The High King is determined to learn her history, at all costs. He's convinced the Goblin King is hiding something important about her." He paused. "And now I'm convinced as well. She's more than she seems. She's more to him, even."
Hoggle's throat went dry, and he was unable to stop the boy as he bowed to him once, and hurried back the way he'd come. Now he'd done out. Sarah was in trouble with the High King himself, and it was all his fault. Hoggle's knees buckled, and he stared miserably at the dirt, unable to move. It didn't make any difference. He'd be as good as dead when Jareth found out.
Sarah fell, dropping feet first through pure night.
"AHHHHHH!" Her shrieks came naturally, even though a fall was the last thing she'd expected.
Grabbing blindly for something to slow her down, she found herself flailing through hot air, shrieking louder and louder as she realized there were no hands to help her up, or help her down, or any help at all. She twisted faster. She couldn't focus, convinced this was it; that one wrong step had killed her, falling and falling through black until she smashed every bone in her body…maybe it'd be so quick she wouldn't feel it.
The burst of white light came as no shock. She was certain she'd died already; an airy chant was throbbing in her head as the light burned at her eyes.
Fall amongst the hollow darkness,
Child of powers mine.
Come Fourth of all sins of man;
A way to leave behind.
Not to have and not to keep,
The treasures of the light.
One must always pay the price,
When wanting trades our sight.
Sarah let the words float through her mind, heart beating faster with the chance to 'leave behind'. It was too bad she was hallucinating escape in her death, she thought. She had seemed so close to winning. She let herself drift.
She was still falling, but the air had cooled, and her arms stopped flailing. Sarah barely noticed. The light was so harsh and the space too great and what good would anything do if one was gone? She didn't expect the soft thud of her feet upon ground or the chant to fade completely. She didn't expect the white light to dim. And because of this, she found herself sprawled awkwardly on a pit of sand with no idea how it happened.
She inched her eyes open, and rolled onto her side, moaning. What had happened? She'd been certain she'd lost. There had been light, angels chanting…God she was certain she'd fallen at least a thousand feet. She was underground the Underground. How was she conscious? She moaned again, sitting up, and spat out the sand caught in her mouth.
She was in some sort of cave. It was just as dark as the oubliette had been, and twice as large. A dimly lit tunnel opened up ahead of the den she'd fallen into, and the steady dripping suggested water was nearby. The walls were solid, black rock, but Sarah reasoned everything looked black in this light. She felt around for a door, or ladder, or something remotely useful but nothing looked like a way back up.
The tunnel lights flickered. Sarah tried to remember the chant she'd heard, but only 'leave behind' stuck in her head. She hadn't really been focusing; minds get a bit scattered when facing death. Was this part of the Game? She made for the tunnel, still shook up by the drop.
After a few minutes, the dim lights brightened, and the walls shimmered with bits of clear rock. Sarah reached for a large jagged piece, and yelped when the opaque edge drew blood. The walls were littered with glass, not rocks and jewels. Sarah was instantly unnerved; glass didn't form in caves.
"So nice to see you again, Sarah Williams. I was beginning to think you'd given up." The Labyrinth's voice was full of mirth.
An image of the shadowy façade instantly came to Sarah's head, and she froze. That answered her earlier question—the Game hadn't ended here. It was both a relief and a disappointment. She looked around for the shape, but saw nothing but rock and glass.
"I'm not giving up. I've gone too far to quit now."
"And here I was thinking you wanted a wait out. My mistake, perhaps, finding a flaw in Underground law." The voice sighed dramatically. "And even after I helped you land safely…"
Sarah's curiosity prickled. It couldn't be that easy. Rosalyn had been adamant about that. And she didn't fully trust the Labyrinth after that last line in the orchard. It was a dangerous gamble, but the words 'way to leave behind' still echoed strong from the chant.
"You found me a way out?" The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them.
"I've brought you there. Look ahead in the crystals…"
Sarah hadn't noticed any crystals, but she looked ahead all the same. And they were there, spread around the tunnel outcroppings like stars in the night. The tunnel light seemed to erupt from their depths, casting the warm glow which had beckoned Sarah out of the pit she'd fallen into. They weren't all glittering with mist, however, as Jareth's did. Tiny figures could be seen moving inside. Sarah moved closer and looked inside.
A pale girl, a few years younger than herself, was dancing on a stage. Her smile and grace proved she was both confident and talented in her craft. Another crystal held a woman signing book covers at a table, rushing through two copies at a time. Her eyes seemed to sparkle with pride. Farther down was a gymnast bowing to receive her medal and then a heavily made up singer, microphone swaying with the glittering dust inside. Sarah kept looking. Athletes, musicians, models…each were captured in a tiny crystal of light.
"I don't get it. These are just tiny images of people…" Sarah's voice wavered, "…tiny successful people."
"The way out is the way in."
It was so close to her memories from before. Sarah strained to process the hint. "I get out by going in a crystal?"
"Trade your place for another, and you'll be free. Just choose a crystal, Sarah, and you'll be out."
It sounded so easy. It couldn't just be to pick a life and borrow it for an exit, could it? She didn't know these people, they probably weren't even real. What did it matter? She didn't belong here, she was nothing here, and the Labyrinth's out was insanely tempting. To have whatever life she envied without a second thought…Sarah was leaning her arm forwards, eying a costumed woman receive a Tony. Until she really saw her. Her mother.
The jewels and lace had made her almost unrecognizable, but it was definitely her wide smile, her impossibly green eyes and her sleek black hair. It was definitely her strong face and her phony 'oh me?' posture on stage, as if her success was some grand surprise. It never was. Sarah didn't know what to do about seeing Linda Rhodes, formerly Williams, for the first time in five years, but she couldn't just grab her crystal. She was real, this was wrong…
"Mom?" The cry was little more than a whisper.
The Labyrinth was humming coldly in her head, making Sarah shiver as if trapped by an icy sheet, making her see nothing but the white shadow and the glittering crystal before her. Linda was holding her award now, pulling out a crinkled paper from her clutch. Sarah wished she could hear her instead of the cold cloaking her thoughts. The tiny image wasn't enough. Her mother appeared to be reading names, thanking her agent, and her co-stars of course, and the director, and her fiancé, and her supporters, and had she mouthed 'daughter'? Sarah's heart skipped a beat, anger forgotten.
"Mom?" Sarah struggled to keep from breaking down.
She'd only ever wanted acknowledgment; just a token of unconditional love. Proof her mother had actually cared. Sarah relished the silent image. Could her mother care in her own strange way?
Could anyone?
It was too much. Sarah snapped her arm to her side, yelling at the air. "That's ENOUGH. I don't WANT these crystals!"
And she ran, knocking the crystals to the ground and she raced through the tunnel. Bits of glass shattered around her feet, cracking against the rough cave walls and dark shadows. She didn't care that she'd been her before hundreds of times, seen the shattering glass haunt her dreams and nightmares. She didn't care at all. She ran. She didn't know what caring meant anymore.
Sarah knew she was running uphill when her legs gave a strain of protest, and she slowed. She hadn't noticed the tunnel had widened considerably, or that the light surrounding her was more natural than magical. But in mere minutes, she had fought her way to the surface. The sun hit her face and shook off the last sheet of cold.
"Well done, Sarah Williams. Envy was no challenge. Perhaps I have underestimated you…" The voice was still cold, but muffled, as if it was being forced far away, and then it was gone.
Sarah was left with her own thoughts; some new, and highly concerning, thoughts about Jareth. And what it meant to care.
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