A?N: Just a heads up everyone, this is a little longer than my previous chapters and I'm not entirely satisfied with how I wrote/typed it. Please tell me how to make this better in a review or private message; cuz I'm so tired right now, all the sentences are blurring. And if I've let you down with this story I especially want to know!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Labyrinth. This story is only a reflection of my love for the movie and its characters.

Title: Rising From Ashes

Chapter 6: Broken Pieces

"Go away."

Jareth blinked, speechless for a moment.

For one treacherous moment, her words affected him, and caused his heart to sink.

Her gaze had broken away in shame as she waited for his wrath. She had expected him to shout and curse like the first day she awoke and turned away from his aid.

The turn of her head, so careful and calculated in its affliction, wounded him more than he would have liked to admit. She expected anger. Jareth realized that perhaps in the past when he knew with certainty that she was strong, that he would have shouted at her. Hell he would have shook some sense into her. It was the danger of the situation and the pain that both parties were drowning in that caused him to act so dispassionately.

"No," he replied, "You are mistaken if you believe I will just walk away."

Her head dipped and she realized she was nodding to sleep. Her brows furrowed and she turned to look at him quizzically.

Jareth lifted his eyes to stare into green eyes fast closing in exhaustion.

"Sleep Sarah."

His voice was soft and his accented words caressed her like a tender farewell. Gentle magic, she realized too late, as slight warmth submerged her into a dreamy fog.

"The juice…" her words trailed off and she could hear music playing at the edge of her consciousness.

He didn't answer but watched as her mouth parted slightly, and he saw the almost imperceptible flick of her tongue. As if she desired one last taste of grape before descending into slumber. Or, his heart madly hoped, one more taste of their first kiss.

Sarah slowly slumped against the bed's headboard with a sigh, its wooden etchings of leaves and mahogany colored blossoms, an angelic framing for her dark hair. Her eyes were dreary slits that slowly lost its focus of the King who stared with disappointment and enduring sympathy.

Gloved hands pulled her shoulders away from the wooden forest and its embankment of pillows, into his embrace. His face was resigned and his soul was sadly calm, as he held her. Her cheek rested against the supple black material that covered his shoulder and slipped down the top of his arm a little. Slender pale arms draped down her side hapless and awkward enfolded by the strength of his leathered grip and silent meditations.

Reluctantly he laid her back against the bed, her head on top pillows as visions of a dance weaved behind her closed eyes.

It was an underhanded trick. Much like the time he ordered Hoggle to give Sarah the enchanted peach.

While it was true he could not force himself into her mind or dreams without her consent or verbal acknowledgment of his power over her, he had some leeway if she accepted something from him. Food or drink was no exception within the labyrinth. It was a shaky contract. The dream would not be substantial for long and if and when she decided to end its hold, she would have the ultimate say, just by acknowledging that she had the power to do so. Dreamers always had, in this case, the upper hand.

He sat himself in a distant corner and looked at Sarah one more time before settling into the spell. Closing his eyes he felt the gentle release of one dimension and the warm invitation of another.

A breeze blew across his face, and suddenly there were the sounds of laughter, bodies moving under heavy gaudy outfits, and the clink of wine glasses. He opened his eyes and it was as if he stepped back through time. He did not see her yet, but he knew she was there, lost amongst the sea of ugly masks and sparkling charm.

For all its weight and sad impression, this shared dream was precious and personal to him. Gold and diamonds worthless compared to its bittersweet eloquence.

He fell in love in this masquerade ball. Under strings of pearls hanging from brass chandeliers, his heart had stirred when she appeared and exalted with her cautious acceptance of a dance. Mutual attraction sparked as her white gloved hand grasped his and they swept together between other couples, tracing a pattern into the floor that his mind would never forget. He fell in love that day…and on the same day felt the acute pain of her refusal.

Of course it was his job to seduce her. Of course she had to refuse him to save her brother. But in a world where black was black and white was white, that particular moment was a wonderful blur of gray. Logic and perspective lost all relevance the instant her hand touched his.

"Sarah," he breathed.

Like Moses before the red sea, the crowd parted before him. Eyes stared behind feathery fans and masks in the direction of the girl. Sarah, sat on a chair alone, the pastel material that was her dress fisted in her hands as her head hung low. She was not surprised to see Jareth before her.

She looked up with wet dazed eyes and saw him dressed exactly as he was that night she bit into a not so innocent peach. His wild hair streaked with blue matched his navy blue sequined jacket. The sapphire broach nearly hidden by the old fashioned ivory ruffles cascading from his lapel. But his face lacked that familiar arrogant luster as he gracefully extended his hand, palm upright.

Music, soft and achingly sweet drifted and set the crowd behind him moving.

"Dance with me Sarah."

He saw her consider, balancing her despair against his expectations and feelings. In the end she knew how much this moment cost him.

Her hand took hold of his and he placed his other hand on the small of her back. Sarah's every action and her demeanor spoke what she dared not physically say as Jareth held her and they gently swayed on the dance floor.

I'm so sorry.

He hushed her and moved his hand from her back to cradle her head. She tilted her face so that it rested against the warm pulse of his throat and Jareth closed his eyes savoring the soft cool feel of her cheek. Both did not know when they stopped dancing. All they knew was that it was a precious moment, and moments like those never last quite long enough.

He did not have to say it. The words were there between them, she could feel it.

As the world falls down…I'll be there for you.

She suddenly crushed him with a desperate hold and his arms equally tightened around her.

"Tell me…" he choked as he buried his face in her hair.

Tell me how to save you.

Her hands clutched the back of his jacket and he could feel her nails dig into the material. The words left her trembling.

"There is nothing inside," she gasped, "if you truly understood – you would not have anything to do with me!"

Shocked and hurt at her mistrust he growled.

"How can you say that!"

Violently she pushed herself away from him.

"Don't you see?" she said, her voice rising in pitch and volume.

It felt overwhelming, her guilt and frustration. A small part of her wanted to push the envelope and show him some extent of her personal demons. Show him what a fool he was for not realizing how unworthy she was of him.

She grasped one of the puffy sleeves of her dress and with an angry cry tore it with a savage rip. The music stopped and dancers around them stepped back. All that could be heard was Sarah's grunts and the ripping of clothing as she shrieked, "This isn't me! This isn't the REAL me!" Amongst the crowd apprehension and fear for the young woman laced the air.

She had torn off both sleeves and flung off one of her hair decorations when Jareth caught her wrists above her head.

"S-stop this! Stop it Sarah!"

Sarah fell on her knees and let out a low hysterical laugh.

Jareth felt a warm slick substance in his hands around his beloved's wrists. He released one of her hands only to stare in horror at blood dripping off his glove. His eyes were wide and his heart thundered in his chest as he stared at Sarah before him. She had taken over the dream, causing it to reflect her chaotic state. Her hair flowed down limp and unadorned. Instead of a dazzling dress a simple white nightgown became her only apparel as her hands bled a crimson carpet beneath her knees.

This is who I really am, she thought. But instead of satisfaction for showing her beloved a hint of what he was getting himself into she felt the familiar emptiness and regret.

The King dropped before her. He lifted her chin and rubbed his thumb under her jaw. How he ached at the look of fragile beauty displayed before him. Her ashen skin, gaunt face, and the dark rings under her eyes like bruised skin, refined his resolve to that of frantic helplessness.

"Don't. Don't Sarah…"

Mismatched eyes narrowed, ached with pain and confusion. They begged:

Come back to me! I will love you, protect you, and cherish you always!

Her voice was cold and emotionless as she said, "No more illusions Jareth." The power of her gaze startled him even as her tears fell, "That girl is no more."

The use of his name, uttered by her lips, with such hopelessness…it was like his whole being was assailed by sharp points of pain. A hush grew around them as dancing couples disappeared, one after the other, like a mist assailed by an errant breeze.

He gathered her to him again, shaking.

"I refuse to believe that."

It was only a whisper but the power of his conviction reverberated through her body and into the empty hall, rippling the entire dream.

Her heart mellowed its frenzy beat as a wave of concern for the Goblin King rolled through her. She allowed herself one moment to linger in his embrace as her cheek roughly pushed into the ruffles of his shirt. She listened to his heartbeat, a loud erratic lullaby under her ear, and something fractured in her at his pain. It was better this way she decided. He did not have to waste himself on someone like her…all she had to do was eliminate the corrupted factor.

Her whole being sighed as her hands gently pushed against him. Two red handprints marred his white shirt as she whispered into his ear,

"Please take care of Melody for me."

Sarah sadly smiled, resigned as she uttered, "I wish the Goblin King to never enter my dreams again."

"No – Sarah!" He meant to clutch her shoulder but the dream was already unraveling. The walls and mirrors shattered in a ring of sparkling dust.

This time it was the Goblin King who fell past the scattered fragments of the dream, and beyond his outstretched hand his gaze never wavered from the lonely figure sitting demurely on a shiny picturesque world now falling apart.

His dream self slammed back into his body. It was so sudden he nearly hit the back of his head on the wall from its impact. Grasping the arms of the ornamental chair, his knuckles were white and his jaw clenched tight. His body vibrated with a multitude of emotions he could barely keep in check, and all he wished for the moment was an outlet of some sort to vent it all out.

Intensely, he stared at her prone form, lying peacefully on his bed, like a flower that had already bloomed and now waited for the wind to sweep away its fallen petals.

He seethed within. Hating her. Loving her. Wishing for something he could not put into words.

Someone – help me! I can't bear it anymore!

Suddenly as if in answer to his plea, a soothing numbness stretched through his body, like long bony fingers reaching to grasp him and pull him under. Mentally exhausted his body succumbed to the promise of respite as his body relaxed under the drug like haze.

"I wish…" he hissed to the curiously cool air and the curtains lifted as if by a magical hand. Though it was a bright day, the lighting of the area dimmed to a certain degree.

There was an air of hushed expectation, as the room waited for his next words. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

Behind the fluttering curtains a silhouette came into view with an aura of deep potent magic and malice. Its eyes shone with intelligence and craftiness as it strode toward the Goblin King, cocked its head and smiled.

"Hello Jareth," said Hoggle.

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A/N: Yeah, that was my sorry attempt for a cliffhanger. In a way I am angry at myself. I have written four different versions of this chapter but this one was the only one that somewhat clicked with me. Ever since I first started this story, the ideas have dramatically changed. And changed and changed yet again. I will finish it. I promise you the reader that I will not forsake it, but its flow and pacing I believe will leave a lot to be desired. Despite my ramblings, you have read this far, and you will never know how much I appreciate your patience with me. Thank you.

PS: You didn't miss anything. I'll explain what happened between Hoggle and the Gray Witch in the next chapter (I'm such a lazy writer) :-P Then finally – finally the real story can begin.