Disclaimer: I don't own the Labyrinth.


Jareth realized where the wish was taking him long before he got there, and it nearly knocked him out of the sky. He had come this way many times, long ago, and could have flown here with his eyes closed. And while he knew from experience that much could change in the mortal world in thirty years, Sarah's home and the land around it seemed almost untouched by time. He felt a strange anticipation growing within him, a bittersweet longing that clutched at him ferociously.

He knew it could not be Sarah that called, the spell cast by her own words had ensured that he could not even hear her if she did. But someone had called him from her house and, as he got closer he realized, from her room. It could just be coincidence. Mortals often changed dwellings many times in their lives; Sarah may live far from here now. It could be that someone entirely unconnected to her had taken up residence here.

But that was unlikely. The kind of energy and imagination it took to summon a being from the Underground was rare, and becoming rarer every day. The chances of such a one occupying the same home and not being somehow connected to Sarah were very small. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears, and struggled to maintain his composure. Regardless of who the wisher was, it was best to do things by the book. He flew to the window, forcing it open with his mind. Just as he flew into the room and began to shift away his owl form, a sudden and terrifying thought passed through his mind. Who was the ghost that haunted this place?

He pulled himself to his full height, his figure casting a shadow against the far wall that even he found menacing. As he always did, he cursed mentally the surge of power that accompanied his arrival and invariably knocked out the electricity. In days of old the candles of a room might be blown out, but a simple wave of the hand would bring them to life again. Yet he had never had the time or the inclination to study the workings of electric lights, and so in these days he was generally forced to make his introductions in the dark.

His eyes adjusted quickly to the dimly lit room, and a cursory glance told him that everything was exactly the same as the last time he saw it. He knew this was not normal; change was an integral part of this world, nothing stayed the same for thirty years. He knew this meant something, something important, but he hadn't the time to think on it now.

He could make out the figure of a girl standing petrified by the bed. She was staring at him with wide eyes, but in the darkness he could not tell if it was him she was afraid of, or the spirit in the room. He could sense the presence of the spirit, but as of yet it had not made itself known. In the half light he could see her cock her head sideways, an innocent gesture whose familiarity knocked the wind right out of him.

"You're really here." She said, her voice full of wonder. "I almost doubted that you were real, but here you are." As she spoke, she moved closer to him, her fear obviously forgotten and replaced by wonder. Another step, and the moonlight caught her hair, setting it ablaze with red fire. A vision from his dreams flashed through his memory: a beautiful red haired girl with her mother's eyes, sitting on her father's throne.

The world seemed momentarily to stop, and start once more off balance. No wonder her call had seemed special; this was the child he had dreamed of. Could fate really be so cruel? Had she been given to Sarah anyway, fathered by some simpering mortal? Jareth's stomach lurched, and he fought to keep himself from reaching for a wall to support his faltering weight. It would not do to show such weakness in front of the girl.

She came closer, and he realized he was being inspected. He stood rigid as the girl studied his face in the pale moonlight, her green eyes leaving no doubt in his heart that she was who he suspected. She looked into his eyes, and he saw a wave of sadness pass over her face. Sadness mixed with…was that pity?

"Why have you called me, Rose?" he was somewhat surprised by his ability to speak. Her shimmering eyes snapped back to his.

"How do you know my name?" she asked.

"It was my mother's name." He answered simply, as though that should explain everything.

She shook her head, confusion evident on her face. "No, it was my grandmother's name."

"That's what I…" He stopped himself from finishing the sentence, suddenly confused himself. "You mean your father's mother's name was Rose?"

Rose shook her head again. "No, my maternal grandmother was Rose." She said.

Jareth narrowed his eyes. That made no sense at all. He growled in frustration, chastising himself when he saw the girl jump back. "Tell me your mother's name, child." He demanded.

"My mother was Christine Williams, sir." Rose answered, and then anticipating his next question continued, "My father is Toby Williams." Jareth's mind reeled. Toby? Toby was her father?

Give me the child you have stolen…

Jareth did nothing to suppress his laughter at the cruel irony of it. His heir had been unwittingly taken by the child he himself had been forced to steal. But though it was humorous in sickening way, it left one question burning in his mind. Why not Sarah?


The black clad figure stood before her, just as he had in her vision, silhouetted by the moon. She stood frozen for what seemed like an eternity, fear and uncertainty gripping her heart. There was a feeling building inside her, as though the invisible river she had sensed earlier were threatening to carry her off. She held firmly to the bedpost, watching him and feeling his eyes upon her. She had forgotten about Sarah, forgotten about her father who she was sure was waiting for her just outside the room. For the time being, no one else existed in the universe but herself and the Goblin King.

Finally, her curiosity won out over her fear, and she moved closer to him. As he came better into view, the magnificence of him made her long to reach out for him, but she held her ground. "You're really here." She said, ashamed at how childish her voice sounded to her own ears. "I almost doubted that you were real, but here you are." She moved closer still, but stopped when he seemed to gasp at the visage she presented. She paused, momentarily, waiting for him to speak. When he did not answer, she renewed her approach, inspecting the man who had stepped out of her vision.

He was as beautiful as she remembered, and as terrifying. Time had done nothing to temper his majesty. A closer look at his face showed her that things had changed, however. She knew nothing of the man before her, nothing of his life or his people. But somehow, instinctually she knew that he was older than time itself, and that his kind did not show age as humans did. Still, his face was older, much older than she knew it should be. While in her visions he had seemed a man in his thirties, if she saw him walking down the street she would swear he was in his fifties at least. It was intuition that told her this aging was unnatural, and her heart ached for him. Sarah's sadness had taken her life relatively quickly, his was draining it from him a little at a time.

"Why have you called me here, Rose." His voice was as she remembered, but his words took her aback.

"How do you know my name?" She asked.

"It was my mother's name." he told her. Her mind reeled. His answer made no sense, and yet a part of her responded to the words as though they were the most natural answer he could have given.

She shook her head, trying to clear it. "No, it was my grandmother's name." she told him.

"That's what I.." he began, and in her mind she knew what he was going to say, knew it and suddenly understood what he truly meant. Before she could respond he continued. "You mean your father's mother's name was Rose?"

Rose shook her head again, this time trying to restore her own sanity. What she was thinking couldn't be true. It wasn't possible. "No, my maternal grandmother was Rose." She answered.

He took a step toward her, and for a moment she was afraid he would grab her. He growled, and she shrunk away from him, momentarily terrified once more. The look on his face told her he hadn't meant to frighten her, but when he spoke again his voice was demanding. "Tell me your mother's name, child."

Her eyes were wide as she answered. "My mother was Christine Williams, sir." She told him, and knowing as she knew her own birthday what he would ask next she continued, "My father is Toby Williams."

The Goblin Kind stood perfectly still, staring at her through hooded eyes. Then he began to laugh, a humorless sound that spoke of intense loneliness. The sound of laughter when there is no one else to get the joke.


"Can it truly be?" his question seemed to be directed at something unseen. He raised his arms above his head in helpless frustration, and lightning crashed outside the window. He clenched his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, willing himself to regain his composure. Finally, his original purpose for coming forgotten, he asked the question that was burning his mind. "And where, young Rose, is your Aunt Sarah?"

Before Rose could answer, the spirit he had sensed spoke at last. "I'm here, Jareth." The Goblin King spun on his heel, coming face to face with the spirit of the woman he had longed to hold for three decades. His heart, already broken, shattered into a thousand pieces as he gazed upon her ghostly form.

"Sarah." The word was a moan, a broken heart made audible. "Oh, Sarah, what has happened to you?" He reached with gloved fingers to stroke her face, clenching his fist in anger as his hand passed right through her. Sarah did not speak, but raised her wrists toward him. Once again the ugly red gashes appeared, and the Goblin King let out a mournful sob. "Oh no, no…" his words were cut off by his own tears, and he fell slowly to his knees weeping bitterly.

Sarah stretched out her pale form and ran her fingers through his fine blond hair. He looked up at her, leaning into her frigid touch. "You are the spirit that haunts this place." He said. "It was you that Rose wished away."

Sarah nodded. "Only because I knew her wish would bring you here, and I have waited more than thirty years to see you again."

"In this place?" Jareth asked. "You have been here, alone, all this time? Why did you not cross over?"

"I couldn't." She answered. "Not until I found you again. And that took time." With these words she glanced toward Rose, and Jareth's eyes followed, nodding as understanding sank in.

"I'm here now, love." He said, turning his gaze back to Sarah. She put her finger under his chin, lifting his face so that she could see it fully. Her heart ached at the change in his timeless features.

"Oh, Jareth, look what I've done to you." She whispered. "I never wanted to hurt you. I was just a silly child, I didn't know what I was doing. I'm so sorry." Her eyes sparkled with ghostly tears, but he shook his head.

"No, love, the fault was mine, and mine alone." He told her, his own tears returning.

"I said the words, Jareth." She said, kneeling now to face him. "I banished you from my life, I destroyed our destiny."

Jareth wanted nothing more than to hold her and tell her everything was okay, but he could not touch her. His heart ached at the sadness in her eyes. Was it possible that she had suffered more than he all these years? The thought was unbearable. "No, Sarah. It wasn't your fault." He raised his hand and produced a crystal. Rolling it across his fingers, he flattened his palm and the crystal became a small red book, the word "Labyrinth" written across its cover in gilded letters. "I gave you the words." He whispered, and suddenly her eyes shone with understanding. He released the book into the air. "Can you ever forgive me?" He asked, his voice a strange mixture of loneliness and hope.

Sarah smiled softly. "I've waited all these years to ask you the same question." She said.

Jareth tilted his head. "Oh Sarah…." He sighed, closing his eyes. "I stopped being angry with you along time ago. It's myself I can't forgive."

Sarah touched him gently on the cheek, and he opened his eyes at the coolness of her unearthly touch. "You must forgive yourself, Jareth. I can't pass over until I know you are at peace."

Jareth shook his head. "There is no peace without you, Sarah. You are all I have ever wanted." He stood, a sudden determined smile gracing his lips.

"What are you saying, Jareth?" Sarah asked, her voice laced with fear.

Jareth caressed the place where her cheek would be, smiling softly. "Let us cross over together, Sarah. The way it was meant to be."

Sarah stood quickly, her pale face made even more so by her fear. "No, Jareth! You cannot! I should never have taken my own life…" before she could finish Jareth interrupted.

"Many things were done, love, that should never have been." He said. "But do not fear for me. My kind live or die at our own choosing. It is our will that keeps us alive in this world, and our will that moves us on to the next." He met her eyes, and when he spoke next each word was slow and deliberate. "I choose to be with you."


A/N: Okay, okay, I know I said this was the last chapter, but it was running really long so I thought I should break it up. The next one is the last, I promise. Thank you for all the wonderful reviews. Please leave me some more.