Before anyone wants to kill either of them, consider the situation. This was bound to happen when the time came. Bear with them and us. We're tipping into the finale.

You have always worn

Your flaws upon your sleeve
And I have always buried them

Deep beneath the ground
Dig them up;

let's finish what we've started
Dig them up,

so nothing's left untouched...

~Bastille

When she'd fallen asleep, Sarah had been hot and sore and tired all over again—but this time, in a good way. A very good way. Somehow despite years of dreams, Jareth had managed to exceed all of her expectations. And somehow, she'd found herself trusting him to wake her in time to say the words and defeat him. It sounded insane, but then, she was in a faerie castle, bedding its king, as part of a contest to retrieve a stolen child. If that wasn't insane, who was she to say that trusting him was?

She woke to his fingertips running lightly up and down her spine—which was a pretty good trick, considering her head was pillowed on one arm and the other hand was toying with her hair. Sarah blinked herself to full consciousness just to figure out how he was managing that.

"You look surprised," Jareth said lazily. "You should not be. I have not yet shown you a tenth of which I capable."

Some smug undertone made her look sharply at him: Jareth, the Goblin King, sprawled luxuriously on rumpled sheets … with a livid mark on the side of his neck from where she'd bitten him, trying not to scream. And somehow, despite their very enthusiastic lovemaking earlier, he had every hair back in place. She probably looked a wreck, Sarah thought with equal parts aggravation and amusement.

To deflect his braggadocio, she made herself chuckle and roll her eyes, when all she really wanted was to snuggle up in his arms again. "All guys really are the same. You can't resist bragging on yourselves. If there's better, why not lead with your A-game?"

"Time was short," he responded, with laughter lurking under the words. "And I had no wish to overwhelm you yet. Magic has its uses, but it tends to be … extravagant." Saying that, he set his fingertips lightly on her cheek. Just for a moment, then his magic sparkled across her skin, a little glittery trail that skimmed up to her shoulder and tickled the place behind her ear, where he'd discovered she liked to be kissed. Sarah couldn't help a gasp, realizing how he'd woken her.

Jareth did laugh then, low and full of promise. Suddenly magic danced over her skin, following paths his hands and mouth had charted: trailing warmly down her spine, nipping the hollow of her throat, tracing the curve of her hip. Nerves that hadn't quite stopped singing from the last few hours were all too eager for those attentions, and Sarah found herself squirming in delightful torment, caught somewhere between ticklish and turned on.

The flickering touch of magic cupped her breasts then, pushing the balance all the way over to arousal. She bit her lip against a hiss of pleasure, her back arching unconsciously, and felt that warm caress float down her belly to run along her legs. Much the way his hands had, when he'd kissed her there, and the magic accurately reproduced the sensation of his mouth on the thin skin at the hollow of her hip. "Enough!" Sarah squeaked, hating herself for the pitch of her voice and the way she couldn't stop herself from reacting.

"Forgive me, my lady," Jareth said in that insufferably self-satisfied tone. "I have given the matter quite a lot of consideration, and the last years have been time enough to lay precise and very thorough plans."

Realization stung her, mostly because of his tone. His damned smug all-knowing tone. Her occasional fantasies about him were one thing, but the implication that he'd spent years planning exactly what to do with her … suddenly she felt less like a conquering queen and more like a fool. She knew full well what happened to humans who dabbled in the faerie kingdoms, knew all the dangers of taking a fae lover. It never ended well for the human, heartbroken by a creature that couldn't truly love anything beyond itself.

Just that quickly, her trust in him was damaged, perhaps beyond repair. Little did Jareth know how furious it made her to be treated like a trophy, and despite their talk of battles, this hadn't felt like a conquest until just now. He made it sound as if everything, including kidnapping Lucy, was just about getting into her pants. And the fact that she'd been fifteen the first time they'd met only made it worse. Perhaps all he'd wanted all along was to even the score, to recapture the chance he'd lost at a pliable human teenager. And she'd been the idiot to fall for it all over again.

Sarah sat up, crossing her arms to cover her breasts, the warm flush of pleasure dissipating into angry heat. "This really is what you wanted the first time, isn't it? The dress, the dance, all that business about doing everything for me. Even back then you wanted me to stay here and be your perfect little fairy-tale princess forever."

"I would have said, 'my queen for all eternity'. Phrase it as you will, you have the gist of my intentions correct," Jareth said lazily, regarding her with no shame and perhaps a little amusement.

She glared at him, frustrated with her choices beyond reason. Sarah knew that if her teenage self had known just how he'd make her feel, how she'd come to see him, the answer to that final question was all-too-obvious. It would've been yes a thousand times. Toby might even have liked being a goblin, who knew? At fifteen, at the cusp of her ridiculous romanticism, she would've traded her own life for pleasure like she'd just experienced. "I was fifteen. Still mostly a child, by your own admission. And that is almost goddamn predatory, just so you know." The logic was sound, something she sadly encountered more often than she'd wished in her own career, but she was all too aware that this was a different situation entirely. It didn't help to know that, in the eyes of his long-lived kind, not so long ago she would have been a wife and, most likely, mother at that age. It was no wonder it truly didn't seem to phase him.

Jareth made a scoffing sound and waved his hand dismissively. "I said the gist of my intentions, not the whole of them. Do not think so ill of me, Sarah. I am not one of these men you save your young charges from, those who prey upon naivety. I wanted you for your courage and your will, not your innocence—as should be obvious, considering the lengths I've gone to getting you back to my realm now, when you have learnt wisdom. One might pluck the peach from its branch early, but only a fool would consume it before it was fully ripe."

That should have reassured her, the admission that he wouldn't have simply taken advantage of her fluttery infatuation, but the way he phrased it still irked her. He was still talking about her like she was a prize to be won. "I'm not a piece of fruit, damn you," Sarah growled.

One impeccably upswept brow rose even higher, and his voice went low and warm. "Do you find yourself insufficiently devoured, my lady? I would be happy to remedy that."

The words called up a sudden memory of herself clutching the headboard desperately for balance as he did just that, and Sarah blushed fiercely. She looked away, and spied the clock: less than thirty minutes were left. "Dammit! All right, the distraction almost worked, I gotta give you that."

He looked puzzled, then followed her gaze to the clock. Sarah couldn't quite make out his expression, but she knew what had to be said next. As lovely as the last hours had been, she had a duty. "Jareth, give me the child," she said, reaching for her dress.

"No," he said, and there was a stormy look in his eyes as they locked on her again.

It caught her completely off guard. Time was too short to argue in, and she was nothing if not practical. Even here. So Sarah swept aside the fight she wanted to have in favor of blunt truth. "What … okay, look, you got what you wanted, and I have to admit it's what I wanted too. But I have to take her home again. You don't get to keep the child no matter how persuasive you are."

"And you do not get to come here and abuse my hospitality so lightly," he shot back. "Did you think the last hours were a mere distraction? Every time I think you've opened your eyes, Sarah, you only prove yourself more blind!"

Just like that, she'd lost her footing again, and Sarah tried to find her way back to what he really meant beneath the insinuations and half-truths. Closing her eyes, she pressed her lips together and sighed. She was so tired of hearing that, trying to guess his intentions. One minute, a shimmer of truth, of honesty, only to find it shadowed. It was their entire relationship, that image. Eyes still closed, she pressed her hand to her brow, kneading her right temple. "Come on, Jareth, what we are? When it all does fall down, what can we be? It only works in dreams, and only for so long. This was—"

He cut her off again. "I will not be your kept man, Sarah. You bridled at the notion that I wanted you solely as a concubine? Remember that my will is a strong as yours, and my pride as great. Do not expect that you can traipse home and return to haunt my dreams at your leisure, giving me nothing more than your convenience."

That gave her pause, and she opened her eyes looked at him in astonishment. That had not been the response she had been prepared for. "What are you saying?" she asked, dreading the answer. "I have to take Lucy home, you know that. Just give her to me, Jareth. Please. I don't want to fight you anymore." And that, slipping off her tongue unexpected, was a truth that surprised Sarah. It was a given, what must be done. But she found she couldn't bring herself to it, not even angry with him. She didn't want to see him beaten. Not again.

"There are laws of magic that govern this realm, as there are laws of physics that govern yours," he told her in warning tones. "They cannot be broken so lightly. The child was wished away, and must be won back."

"I beat the Labyrinth," she snapped, annoyed all over again by the implication that the last thirteen hours of near-fatal struggle weren't valid. "Please, don't make me do this, Jareth. I don't want to have to do this. Remind you that you have no—"

He had been, through most of their lovemaking, patient and thorough. Now Sarah saw how quick and how strong he could be. Jareth sprang at her, pinning his hand over her mouth. "Do not be so hasty, Sarah," he warned again.

She glanced at the clock, panic rising, and he gave an irritated growl, taking his hand off her mouth to wave it at the clock. The hands stopped moving, ten minutes 'til. "Be still, and think," he demanded.

All that came into her confused mind was a line of song. "I thought you moved the stars for no one," Sarah said in a small voice.

"No one but you," Jareth insisted. He sighed, and passed a hand over his face, visibly collecting his composure. "Now, think carefully over your choice. If you take the child and return to your world, you will face what the Labyrinth showed you: boredom and banality."

She titled her head, puzzled. "I thought the Labyrinth changed because I changed."

"It has. It answers to my will, but also to the mind of the runner. Behold." Jareth lifted a hand, turning his wrist, and a crystal ball suddenly rolled along his knuckles. Sarah looked into it, and saw the castle, the view pulling back to reveal more of the surroundings.

The castle itself had begun to sparkle again, pennants snapping in a light breeze. The goblin city had lost its brutal look, and was filled with bustling creatures again. The hedge maze was full and lush—or not entirely. Its outskirts were unkempt, but as she watched a wave seemed to pass over it, radiating from the castle and the city, slowly renewing the maze.

Sarah couldn't quite believe what she was seeing. "All this, because I slept with you?"

Jareth made an irritated noise. "No, my much-beloved and very blind Sarah. Have you forgotten so quickly what it was you said to me, at the first peak? Because you believe. The Labyrinth changes as you do. Now look, and this time, truly see."

The crystal showed her at her desk, forehead cradled in her palm, the line of her shoulders defeated. Two days ago, that had been. Jareth continued speaking. "Before you came here, you had become disenchanted. You found yourself feeling as though you could make no difference in the world, as if your work was worthless and all your efforts merely amounted to trying to drain the sea. When that foolish girl wished her sister away, you were filled with purpose again." In the crystal, she saw her own face at the moment Lucy had told her what really happened. The surprise, and then the fierce determination.

"All right, so this place has been good to me," she began, and he scoffed again, turning the crystal. In it, she saw herself again, a montage of the years between her first visit and this one. Graduating college, taking on her first case, comforting children, listening to teenagers, helping their parents. Late nights of paperwork, phone calls in the wee hours of the morning, wanting to tear her hair out with frustration but never giving up. And all the little victories that made the setbacks so worth it, like being invited to her first client's graduation.

"Good to you? This is the true gift. The Underground and I gave you yourself, Sarah. Heroine, rescuer of children, defiant and determined in the face of opposition. Saving your brother made you who you are now. Would you have wanted to continue being that obnoxious little girl forever? I think not. But when the Aboveground paled and you began to lose your way, I arranged matters so as to bring you back to me, where you belong."

"'Arranged matters'?" Sarah asked, in that very quiet and level voice her coworkers knew meant she was barely reining in her temper. All this time, she'd thought that Alli finding the book was a lucky—or unlucky—chance. If it wasn't…

"I cannot directly affect the Aboveground, as you should surely know. Placing a certain book in the path of a girl seeking one, however, is subtle enough." There it was, he'd admitted it. Her worst suspicions were true: he had deliberately put two children through trauma and very real danger, just to get her back here. And no matter what fancy phrases he tried to dress it up in, here was his bed.

"Oh you manipulative bastard," Sarah growled through clenched teeth, and got up, unable to be near him a second longer. He'd hinted at it before, but now he openly admitted the extent of his interference without a shred of remorse. Not only that, he was perfectly willing to let the Merritts drown in their grief, let Alli suffer under her guilt, and let Lucy become a goblin, just so he could keep Sarah herself. Queen or concubine didn't matter, she was a trophy to him, and Sarah felt her fury burn hotter than ever before. "That's it, we are not having this conversation naked, put your damn clothes on so I can slap you in the face without—"

Another wave of his hand, and a dress flowed into existence around her, this one wine-red. A glance down at herself showed that the arms and bodice were armored rather than jeweled, for which Sarah was glad. Jareth himself was dressed again, in black armor, his cape flowing midnight-blue. He stood facing her, arms crossed, walking the crystal ball back and forth across his knuckles with a patient expression. "What?" she snapped.

"You expressed the intent to strike me," he reminded her. "This is your opportunity."