Disclaimer: These are always mandatory when dabbling in fan fiction. If there is anything at all that is reminiscent of the 1986 fantasy film Labyrinth, then it probably belongs to Jim Henson, et al., including (but not limited to) the characters of Sarah Williams & Jareth, the Goblin King. Any other characters are the property of this author and will be noted. Also, the title of the story, as well as the lyrics included, are from the Nightwish song, Sleepwalker.

Sleepwalker
A place between sleep and awake,
end of innocence, unending masquerade,
that's where I'll wait for you…

She had said that he had no power over her but it did not last.
Three years later, Sarah finds herself up against Jareth for the second time.
But this time the stakes are different: she's now running for her freedom.

Part Twenty Five: A stench to remember

It was still and quiet along her chosen path and she had the vaguest idea that she probably should have gone to the left rather than the right but, as per her new outlook, she was not one to question the decision of her penny. Almost stubbornly, Sarah half-walked, half-jogged forward, all in an attempt to outrun any lingering doubts.

After leaving the Forbidden Forest and entering into the core of the labyrinth, Sarah had heard nothing but the sounds of her feet padding hopefully across the cobblestones. The sound of the echoing chimes seemed to ring repeatedly in her ears, drowning out her dogged steps, even though it had been a full forty minutes since the last time they rang; it was so quiet that the foreboding chimes, an ominous memory, seemed to play continuously through her mind.

Though the reminder was an annoying one, she felt it was better to focus on her auditory sense—even if the sense was conjuring up the ring of a chime that had long since passed—than her sense of smell. This path, including the split that had led her down this road, was not the one she had taken in the past but there was no denying that, just in front of her, she was quickly approaching the Bog of Eternal Stench.

She could see it in the not too far distance and, as she hesitantly slowed her pace but kept nevertheless moving onward, she could hear the faint popping sound that accompanied the Bog of Stench and the stench-filled bubbles that constantly rose from within its murky depths. With every step—which were getting slower and slower as her breathing became shallower; she couldn't fight the pretense anymore and her fingers were tying in vain to pinch her nose—the scent was becoming unavoidable, overpowering.

The stench was unbearable, and the continued heat made it worse. Whether or not Sarah was blissfully picking and choosing her repressed memories, she was convinced that the magnitude of the rancid smell was far beyond the one she remembered. Tears had sprung to her eyes, she was fighting back a gag or two as she strode purposely on; she could actually feel her olfactory senses shutting down as she faced the Bog.

In a desperate attempt to focus on anything but the horrible, horrible stench, Sarah rested on her heels for a moment, taking the chance to get her bearings as she looked around her. The area looked just as it had the last time she was Underground, she noticed; not much had really changed.

Remnants of her first journey through the labyrinth were still standing. She could see that the ledge that had collapsed under her and Hoggle's combined weight was still broken, bits and pieces of the fallen masonry partially jutting up from the Bog's muddy, thick surface.

Also, as she peered even further into the distance, Sarah could make out the makeshift rock bridge that her old friend, Ludo, had created for her. A wistful smile curved her thin lips at that memory, the memory of the hairy red beast crying out, calling to his 'friends', the rocks. Ludo, loyal and friendly if somewhat frightful looking, had been able to convince the rocks that lurked in the hidden depths of the Bog of Stench to rise to the surface in order to create stepping stones for the young mortal girl to cross the Bog's width; she had done so, then, without a single toe dipping into the smelly water.

While the rocks, dirty and covered in moss and lichen, remained in the same place they had assumed those three years ago, Sarah couldn't help but notice that the ancient bridge—which, like the ledge on the outskirts of the Bog of Stench, had fallen apart beneath her feet; it had been, she could only assume, another trick of the Goblin King's—had not been repaired since she left the Underground.

Somewhere, in the back of her mind, that fact sparked a bit of interest. When she first started this second run, everything had seemed so different. The clock was different, the gate was different… even the dwarf patrolling the entrance was not the same. But then, with the obvious exception of her encounter with Alva in the Forbidden Forest, things were slowly beginning to match her first run through the labyrinth.

She had found herself in an oubliette—again. She, perhaps foolishly, had accepted a peach from the Goblin King and had taken a bite—again. The fireys were, regrettably, all too familiar, as was the Bog of Eternal Stench. Not to mention that she had encountered Jareth far too many times already.

That, in and of itself, was something else for her to worry about. It seemed as if every time she thought she was getting somewhere in the labyrinth he was there—distracting her, too, always a distraction. From the invasive mind-reading trick to the stunt pulled with the glass coffin to that last tension-filled meeting in the oubliette. Jareth was effortlessly siphoning her allotted time away from her—and he didn't even need to re-order time again to do it.

Vaguely—and she cursed herself for it—Sarah wondered what the Goblin King was doing at that very moment. It had been quite some time since they last met and, honestly, that worried the girl. She could only imagine what trickery he was currently working on now that she had made it so far as the Bog of Eternal Stench. Or, maybe, he was watching her, waiting for her to let him in again.

After all, she knew, it was following her crossing of the Bog that poor Hoggle had taken the opportunity to present her with Jareth's gift—that damn peach—the last time…

The idea that perhaps he could be, at that moment, watching her, planning his next move, sent a rush of hot feeling through her. Whether it was anger or… or something else entirely, Sarah wasn't sure, but she did know one thing: if he was watching her, she didn't want him to see how much he—or, rather, his labyrinth—was affecting her, how much it was all getting to her.

Slowly lowering her pinching fingers from her tired nose, with the airs of one who had no idea how those blasted fingers had gotten there in the first place, Sarah tried to look as if the foul stench wasn't bothering her in the least. She willed some color back into her flushed cheeks and suavely ran her hand across her frizzing hair, praying that the action would leave the strands smooth; it didn't work, of course, and it left her looking like she had stuck her finger in an electrical socket.

A determined, if shaky, expression was struggling to control her obviously exhausted face. Sarah placed her hands in her back denim pockets, letting out a quick, relieved breath as she did so.

Despite the nerves that had descended upon her at the thought that Jareth might be watching her, she felt confident. With the rocks still in place across the Bog, forming a quasi-bridge that spanned across the murky water, all she had to do to continue on her journey was to carefully make her way over them. Then, as quickly as she could, she could flee into the next part of the labyrinth.

She wasn't too nervous. Whatever came next, it couldn't be worse than the terrible odor of the Bog of Stench.

With a bounce in her step that had been absent for most of this run, Sarah approaching the Bog. However, she had only taken three or four steps when she stopped suddenly, her green eyes alert and wide. She did not turn her head just yet, but she did not need to. The hairs on the back of her neck was standing up, standing at attention, and she could hear—amidst the ooze and the pops that emerged steadily from the Bog—the audible sound of someone—or some ones—trying their absolute best (and failing) to be silent.

Sarah gulped, out of some sort of reflex, as her hands began to tremble slightly. It was her nervous system starting up, preparing her body either to fight or flee. It all depended on her pursuer's next move.

Because, she wasn't sure when it happened or how, she wasn't alone anymore.

It was all a great show and, if the stakes had not been so dire, Jareth thought he might actually enjoy watching a challenger run their course for once. It was rare to find someone who was quite the match for his labyrinth, making it as far as the Bog of Eternal Stench, and rarer still that they could surpass such a foul part of the maze; most of the capable contenders, if they ever got so far, were bested by the ripe and horrid odor of the Bog.

But not Sarah.

Oh, she was pretending that it was nothing, standing on the outskirts of the Bog, but he knew better. The cost of her lie—even if she was lying to herself—was written all over her face. It was difficult to breathe, and her color had never been so wan before; she had let herself pause for a moment, not too far from the Bog's festering edge, and she looked as if she was ready to faint.

He watched her, watched her every move with the steely edge and fixed gaze of a bird of prey. Nothing could interrupt his focus now that she was back in his sight; not even Sarah herself could steal his attention from watching her every step.

Jareth was not quite sure what had happened to the girl while she was disappeared from his crystal but, apart from a quickened step and that repeated determined glare, she did not seem any different to him. He could only hope that the labyrinth had not interfered more than it should, not given away any information that Sarah had no claim to.

If there was one thing that the Goblin King had learned after centuries of lording over the maze, the challenger was worthy of nothing, be it aid or information or even mercy. They were attempting to conquer the labyrinth because they needed to, not because he wanted them to or even cared if they did. With the single exception of Sarah, he had never been so interested in a run before—as long as he received his spoils, his prize, in the end, what did it matter?

Almost absently, Jareth reached up and flicked one thick strand of hair out of his face. He needed all of his concentration to witness what was going to happen now; from Sarah's body language and the cues she was unknowingly giving him, he knew that further pawns were being utilized to the best of their ability. They would not harm the girl—even if it was an order, one he could never give, he knew the creatures were too attached to the idea of a queen that they would never lay a claw on her—and they were too, well, stupid to do anything but slow her, but it would, at least, be slightly entertaining.

Besides, if Sarah was going to be the Goblin Queen, she needed as much experience handling his subjects—including the ridiculous Goblin Army—as she could get.

"Hello?"

There was no response but, to be honest, Sarah was not expecting one. If whoever was surrounding her, following her, wanted to be known, they would have approached her; they would not, in that case, answer her call. Unless…

"Hello?" she said again, louder this time, as she removed her hands from her back pockets and placed them assuredly on her hips. Letting her gaze look first to her left, then to her right, she tried to spy her would-be pursuers. "Listen, I know you're out there. Why don't you just show yourselves?"

She was proud of herself. Her voice had not wavered once; she sounded much more confident than she actually felt. She just hoped that her bluff paid off, that her hunch was right. Otherwise, she would be in trouble.

Her words were followed by an obvious quiet, made even more obvious by the fact that even the faint rustling of leaves had paused. It was a manufactured quiet, an unnatural silence. There was no doubt in Sarah's mind that she was not alone—and, by the size of that enforced noiselessness, there were quite a few… somethings around.

That's when she heard it. Somebody sneezed.

Sarah whirled around, her arm extended and her finger pointing wildly. Her body was running on pure adrenaline, reacting with the fight response. It had been unnerving enough to wonder if the Goblin King was watching her every move; it was even worse to know that there really was someone watching her secretly.

"Ah-ha!" she cried, not even thinking once that it could be some wild, man-eating beast lurking somewhere she could not see. "I heard that!"

The invisible sneezer, when confronted with Sarah's disapproving finger, was not sure was he should do. Orders were orders and Captain Glik had told him that he was not to do anything until the Captain said 'Charge!'. Then, when the Captain said 'Charge!', he was to join all the other goblins in the Goblin Army and do his best to try to waylay the Lady. But, of course, that was before the Lady, herself, had turned on him. And, with the Goblin King's favored lady standing not more than a few feet away from his position, there was only one thing he could do.

"Um—charge?"

Though the word was not really yelled, and it was said more like a question than an explicit order, the goblins heard the word and—with the exception of one—they all revealed their location to Sarah. They had, per Captain Glik's orders, surrounded the mortal girl and, they were, as one, suddenly charging toward her. They had the element of surprise on their side and, while Sarah stared in utmost surprise that a majority of the Goblin Army was rushing her, they were doing exactly what Jareth wanted them to do.

The only goblin that remained hiding was Captain Glik. As far as he remembered, he was the one in charge—he was the one who was supposed to say 'Charge!'—but the voice he heard had not been his. He puzzled over that for a few seconds more before realizing that an order was an order, no matter where it came from. Then, jamming his dented, misshaped helmet onto his head so that he wouldn't lose it, Glik raised his weapon and joined the fray.

Author's Note: Wow, those were some really kind words about the last chapter. I hope that you guys enjoy this one as much as that one. It's a little shorter than I wanted it to be but I thought I'd save the next scene I have planned for the beginning of the next chapter—it'll be interesting, I tell ya. And we're getting so close, too!