A/N: Uggggh this took too long. Grad school plus a massive continuity error in this chapter that had to be painstakingly fixed. Hopefully, I managed to scrape up all the mess.

I hope you all enjoy and I promise the next chapter will not be nearly so much of a wait.


The next morning, Jareth was gone. In his place was a note.

'Forgive me, precious. I had to take care of some business. Go about your day as normal. I will be watching. -J'

Okay, they had to talk about his phrasing. 'I'll be watching,' could be taken so unbelievably wrong without proper context.

Also, what the hell did he mean by 'go about her day?' Wasn't she supposed to trust no one and be on high alert?

Her questions and the lack of answers danced around in her head from the time she scarfed down a cold cereal breakfast to the end of her Advanced Mythological Theory class. Sixty minutes of valuable class time went into staring at empty notebook pages, counting the lines, counting the spaces, and not looking for any more goddamn shadows.

It was a shame. The bits and pieces of Professor Prince's lecture that leaked through the fog were like stepping into a well-worn storybook. Something about the parallels between the Greek and Norse creation myths. Oh well, Jessie or Chelsea would just have to give her the play-by-play later.

As everyone was packing up to leave, Sarah sluggishly returned her neglected notebook and unused pens to her bag. Ronnie wasn't in class today, so no one had cared to notice how exhausted and nervous she knew she looked. She'd have to pull herself together before Jessie walked by and definitely noticed. Fumbling with her makeup case, Sarah checked her hair and eyes. She'd put on an extra layer of concealer this morning, thinking it would make her look like she'd gotten a full night's sleep. Mostly she just looked like a clown.

"Miss Williams," the posh, male voice almost made her swallow her tongue until she realized it was just Professor Prince, "may I please speak to you for a moment?"

Jessie's dark head poked out of the crowd from five steps below and cracked a grin that made Sarah want to melt into a puddle. She muttered something Professor Prince couldn't hear and waited for the bulk of the class to disperse before climbing down the stairs.

"Someone's popular," Jessie remarked.

"Shut up," Sarah mumbled.

Professor Prince gathered his notes, storing them neatly in his briefcase while Sarah rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet in front of the podium. She tried to still herself, but the anxiety of the last few days had not dissipated. If anything, it had changed targets. She didn't know why she was afraid to talk to Professor Prince after discussing various homework assignments with him for the last three months like it was nothing. Perhaps it was those same warning bells still ringing in her ears. Trust no one.

"Miss Williams," he said again. "I understand you are heading the student presentation at the fair next week."

"Technically, Abby is," Sarah said, some of the tension leaving her. Thank God he only wanted to discuss work.

"Yes, but the topic was your idea. Miss Sharp indicated to me that I should go to you with any questions or concerns."

"She did?" Sarah asked. That didn't sound like Abby at all.

Professor Prince must have sensed her confusion. "We are all of us busy, Miss Williams. I myself find my workload much increased with the end of the semester upon us. You can't fault her for choosing to delegate."

"Yeah, I guess not," Sarah said. She stepped up to an empty table next to the podium, fishing through her bag for her notebook. "I've got the plans right here. We're making a mock-up of the pamphlet today and we'll submit it for your approval sometimes tomorrow. I also have a rough sketch of our program if you want to see it."

"I already have an idea from Miss Sharp," Professor Prince said. "Have you decided whether or not to include Pygmaleon and Galatea on the rooster?"

"Actually, I think we might cut that. We already have three Greco-Roman myths and, honestly, that one's not exactly what I'd call romantic. I'd like to branch out a bit further. Someone in our group suggested more Norse myths. I don't know, would you consider Thor romantic?"

"I would consider him lovely in a dress with impeccable people skills and table manners," Professor Prince replied. "Freyr's story might be a better option. Do you need some reading recommendations?"

"That would be nice, though with everything going on, I don't know when I'll have time to- fuck."

Professor Prince's eyes flicked from his notes to Sarah's face. "I beg your pardon?"

'This is not happening. This. Is Not. Happening.'

Jareth stood in the wide open doorway on the side exit like a man at center stage. The imaginary audience applauded as he danced. Or beckoned her over. Rather furiously like he had a fire in his pants. There were crowds of students all around him and he was still in that goddamn king getup!

No wait, he was probably in disguise again. A disguise she conveniently couldn't see because why would he want her to?

But what if he wasn't?

"Is something wrong?" Professor Prince asked.

"No!" Sarah said, throwing her back out and straightening it. "Nothing. Nothing's wrong. Except that there's still so much to do. So little time."

Jareth kept waving. He mouthed something to the effect of 'quickly' and 'very important.' Sarah waited for Professor Prince to look down at his notes and shot Jareth a glare that could cut glass. It was still on her face when Professor Prince looked back up. She turned it into a grin.

"I see," Professor Prince muttered, sounding almost bored. "Well, in that case, I'll need to meet with you and Miss Sharp to finalize the schedule. It needs to be submitted no later than Thursday afternoon. Have you been in touch with the event organizers?"

"No!" Sarah hissed as Jareth waved at her again.

"You haven't?"

"Yes! I have!" Sarah jumped to Professor Prince's side, covering his peripheral vision. He'd only see Jareth if he twisted his head around Exorcist-style. Or tried to leave. Dammit, why couldn't there be another exit? "I have talked to them. And we're getting it in order. You don't have to worry about anything. I've got it all covered."

The way he looked at her, Sarah was reminded of just how emphasized science was at this school. It was like she was a particularly fascinating germ under a microscope. One he'd been studying for years and knew almost everything about. Lucky for the germ it never got to feel that naked sensation of all your secrets laid bare before you.

"Go away," Sarah whispered out the side of her mouth while Professor Prince was checking his watch. "Go away, now."

"I do have an appointment in an hour," Professor Prince said, meeting her terrified stare with a nonchalant blink. "It seems you have everything under control unless there is something else?"

"Uh…" while Sarah searched through the fog for words, Professor Prince started to turn around. Sarah jumped in front of him. "Stop! I mean… I needed to talk to you about my next essay."

Sarah dug through her bag standing ramrod straight, pulling out a folder, and holding it out for him. Professor Prince frowned but took it. While he flipped through the pages, Sarah turned her head as far around as she could and motioned for Jareth to please just move. He grinned like a cat with a mouse in its claws, but still backed out of the doorway and brought Sarah's heart rate down from critical levels to just slightly over the top.

"Hmm… this is quite well-written," Professor Prince said. "Your handwriting is flawless, and your grasp on the subject matter is without question."

"Thank you," Sarah said, pretending to stretch to cover her frantic waving. "Any- any input you have on how I can make it better would be great."

"I would be happy to," he smiled, closing the folder, "but I'm afraid psychiatric medical practices isn't quite my area of expertise. Perhaps your psychology professor would be better suited?"

Sarah wordlessly took the folder back, wishing she could get this stupid shattered smile off her face. Out of the corner of her eye, Jareth's arm beckoned her furiously but slipped out of sight just in time for Professor Prince to make his long-awaited exit.

"Good day, Ms. Williams," he said with a wave.

Sarah's heart exploded for the second it looked like he might turn right. He turned left and her heart only slightly mended itself. All her energy had been diverted to sending more blood to her fists. She could've punched through steel the way she was feeling.

Stomping out of the auditorium, she found Jareth sitting on a bench reading a flier. "Bake sale today. What on earth is a brookie? I might like to try one."

"What are you doing?" she asked.

Jareth didn't look up. "Reading. What are you doing?"

Sarah snatched the flier out of his hand. "We had a deal. You do not bother me during school hours, remember?"

"I assumed emergencies were exempt," Jareth said, folding his arms. "Which this is."

"But you have time to read about bake sales, huh?"

"Excuse me, I haven't eaten since yesterday. Protecting the balance between two worlds is not easy, mind you."

"I… fine," Sarah deflated, slumping down next to him. "Seriously though, are you in disguise right now? What if my professor had seen you?"

"Oh, him? I wouldn't worry about that."

"Well, I am," Sarah said. As soon as she relaxed against him, her stomach made itself known. She tried to ignore it, but it was chomping at the bit for attention. "Where was that bake sale again?"

Jareth chuckled, patting the hand still clutching the crumpled flier before taking and tossing it into the trash. "I'm afraid food will have to wait. As I said, this is an emergency."

He got up and started walking. He didn't even ask her to follow him. It was like he just expected her to. Like one of his loyal subjects or something. Stupid kings…

Of course, she was right behind him barely a second later, so what was she acting all smug for?

They walked down to the English and Interpretation of Literature wing. Sarah could see a few classes in session. One professor was leading a discussion on Heart of Darkness while another was arguing with a student about Shakespeare. She recognized the student as a guy she took a history class with in her freshman year. He constantly talked over the professor and made fun of the kids who got questions wrong. Looks like he hadn't changed much.

Jareth glanced at her over his shoulder, eyebrows rising. "Problem?"

"Hmm? Nah," Sarah said. "Just college shit. You don't need to hear about it."

"Why not?"

"Well, it's not exactly interesting. Not like living in a world with magic."

"Who says magic is interesting?" Jareth scoffed. "More of a hassle really. I enjoy your world. It's much livelier here than in my kingdom."

"I don't know about that, those goblins sure like to party," Sarah said.

"True, but sometimes I'd like to have a conversation that doesn't revolve around chickens."

"Maybe you need to hang out with other Fae more often."

"They don't want me."

Sarah paused, almost tripping over the air. Jareth didn't notice her lagging behind. He was about to turn the corner when she finally got herself moving again. His face was perfectly blank, staring forward. Like he wanted her to be too uncomfortable to ask.

'Don't push people,' Professor Twill's voice gently guided her to silence. 'Let them come to you.'

Would Jareth ever?

"So…" They weaved through a group of passing students. Sarah checked the mirror one more time to make sure it was still a generic punk next to her and not someone people would care to look at. "So uh… what is this emergency you were talking about?"

Jareth opened a random door at the end of the hallway. It led into a broom closet. The light was already on, illuminating a mop, several bottles of heavy-duty floor cleaner, and a massive gaping hole covered in dead vines that smelled like garbage.

"Oh my God!" Sarah stumbled back, bracing herself against the wall. The stench hit her first. It was unbearable, though not immediately recognizable as anything that was once alive. Then she caught the flecks of blood on the wall. The jello-y globs of gore piled around the shredded remains of what once might have been clothes. Yellowed bones stuck out of it. Not like any she'd ever seen in her old pre-req science classes. They were much smaller than a human's, but she could still see the image of the cackling, chicken-chasing goblin he once was.

Sarah reached out, just barely stopping herself from touching the body. There was no head that she could see and she didn't know if that was mercy or just another nightmare. She covered her mouth. Bile was rising fast and she swallowed again and again until her throat burned to keep it down.

Someone touched her shoulder. She almost went through the ceiling, but it was only Jareth. He kneeled beside her, any trace of detached boredom lone gone from his suddenly aged face.

"Forgive me for not explaining sooner," he said. "There is no easy way."

"Who is this?" Sarah rasped.

"His name was Gobble," Jareth said, his voice oddly empty. "I never liked that name myself but he insisted upon it."

"What was… I mean, why was he…?"

Sarah motioned at the closet, her ability to form sentences had escaped her.

Jareth hung his head. "It was my fault. I needed to place wards around the school. Establish some kind of additional guard. When the goblins realized what was happening, I had droves of them volunteering to help. They refused to take no for an answer even when risking a trip to the bog. I suppose I shouldn't have doubted their loyalty."

"To me?" Sarah looked up, and only then felt the tears running hot down her face. "But… why?"

"You are the Labyrinth's champion," Jareth said, trying to smile. "In a way, you are theirs as well. It's only natural that they'd want to protect you."

"So this…" Sarah sucked back phlegm and started again. "Was it her?"

"Most definitely."

"Then she's still here, in the school."

"I doubt she ever left," Jareth said. "This wasn't an accident, you understand. She left him like this intentionally, as a warning."

"It's like she's playing with us," Sarah said.

"In her way, yes." Jareth extended a hand, conjuring a crystal. Placing it gently on the body, it was immediately engulfed in golden sparkles. It vanished in a puff, and every trace of blood and viscera went with it. "For the funeral."

Sarah nodded. "What about the other goblins? Have you called them back?"

He laughed, and Sarah was reminded of all the papers she'd read about people using humor as a coping mechanism. "Trying to remove a goblin is like knocking over a mountain with a fan. But yes, I have sent them home."

"Good," Sarah said.

Like he sensed something in her voice, Jareth touched her shoulder. He didn't hug her or do anything but lay his hand down, and it overwhelmed her how much she wished he would. "Don't blame yourself, Sarah. He fought to the end and didn't have a single regret."

Sarah tried to answer him, at least shrug a little so he knew she'd heard. Nothing came to her, so she didn't say anything. Neither one of them did for a long time.


Her apartment was cold that night. Sarah didn't know how that could be possible with all the windows locked and the heat turned up, but even in a sweater with a blanket wrapped around her, she couldn't stop shivering.

The TV was on, but she didn't know why. She didn't care to watch anything, especially not whatever this news report was about. She changed it to a movie and then hit mute. All the lights were on in the apartment and none of them were in danger of going out. She'd already checked twice.

Jareth had told her to keep them on. It gave her fewer ways in. He'd brought her home after placing inanimate wards around the school to replace the goblins. Another two had been injured, which he'd waited to tell her about until she was no longer at risk of breaking down. Her minions, Jareth explained. Strong in groups but hopelessly rash and sloppy on their own. After double-checking that they hadn't been followed, Jareth teleported them into her apartment and placed wards in her closet.

Funny to think she'd have been annoyed by magical surveillance equipment in her apartment yesterday. Now she wanted more.

"It's not just here," he'd told her once the perimeter was as secure as it could be. "The outer gates of the Labyrinth were breached this morning. It was only a small faction easily dealt with, but their success may embolden them. I will be back first thing in the morning after I've strengthened the shield. I'm sorry to say it will take some time."

He made her promise not to leave the apartment until he got back and then poof. Gone. Leaving Sarah to watch mobsters shoot at each other and wonder if prolonged exposure to magic could give her a head cold.

She sucked in a breath through her completely clear nose, letting it out through her mouth. Someone once told her it was a yoga technique. Or maybe some other meditation thing. Either way, it wasn't working.

"Fuck," Sarah mumbled, wrapping her tongue around the word like candy. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuck everything. Why couldn't I have been a sci-fi nerd? Then maybe…"

Maybe what? Gobble would've died for someone else?

She rolled around, staring at the couch. It was a floral design that had been extremely pretty and homey seeming the day she found it at the secondhand store. She didn't feel it anymore. You see one yellow trumpet flower, you've seen them all, but at least they didn't have shadows.

The microwave dinged, reminding her that she'd been hungry enough four minutes ago to heat up some Salisbury steak and creamed corn. Not the most appetizing meal then and downright nauseating now. What the hell was Four Minutes Ago Sarah thinking?

She slid off the couch to go get it before the place caught fire. It actually smelled somewhat decent and she managed to eat half of it before tossing the rest in the trash. Speaking of which, the trash stunk. She could barely open it without getting a whiff of old cheese and rotten fruit. Jesus, when was the last time she took it out?

Three days ago, right? Before the shadowssassins came along. She was supposed to do other chores that night, too, wasn't she? Something about homework or vacuuming the living room. Mopping up the kitchen. Cleaning the bathtub. She was shirking on just about everything. All because magical creatures wanted her dead and would kill anyone who got in their way.

Slacker.

Sarah tied the garbage bag as tight as she could and swore to herself it would go out as soon as the sun rose. Then she pulled the vacuum out of the closet and knocked out the living room and her bedroom in twenty minutes. Her school bag was in the corner, full of unfinished essays and test prep books. Sarah put those aside and took out her speech notes.

"Okay," Sarah said, tapping the pen on her chin. "Okay. Okay. Okay. Love. We're talking about love. Easy. What is love? …baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me no- No!"

She slammed her fist on the table. It reverberated off the wall and she wondered if she was hearing things. Then came another knock on the door.

Sarah froze. It could've been her imagination, though the creeping dread sliding down the back of her neck wouldn't let her believe it. Her eyes moved slowly to the door. It hadn't changed from a moment ago. As far as doors went, it was pretty average. Sarah had never given it much thought in the years she'd lived here. If someone asked her on a normal day what color it was, she'd have to think about it.

Now she studied it intently, memorizing every crack and crease in the paint. Waiting for another knock. There were no massive gaps in the wood, but how hard would it be to slip through the frame? Or under the door?

Could it be that someone just wanted to sell her a magazine subscription?

The doorknob shook. Sarah screamed and slapped her hand over her mouth. She bit down on her tongue, the pain snuffing out her shrieks. The door shook in its frame as the knob spun all the way around, going nowhere.

"Who's there?" Sarah shouted, not knowing where this puff of bravery was coming from.

A loud bang answered her, and the door splintered at the hinges.

She jumped back, feeling for a weapon. She was too far away from the kitchen to grab a knife. The only other thing close by was the couch. The shaking stopped and the doorknob stilled. It didn't calm her unraveling nerves the way it might have long ago. She knew better now.

All the lights in the room flickered. It was slight, but noticeable like a storm had shaken the foundation. Then a dark shape pooled at the crack under the door. It rippled like water disturbed by a skipping rock. Slowly, it narrowed, no longer a puddle but a long, thin shape like a log. Or a finger. It curled in on itself, the edge a sharp nail. It beckoned Sarah, who lost all oxygen.

"Go away," she said with all the force of tissue paper.

It crawled across the floor, stretching into a gnarled clawlike appendage. Fingers shot up the wall into the outlet. Her entire kitchen went dark. The living room followed, leaving the bedroom and bathroom lights to cast their hateful shadows. As it snaked around her book bag, smoke spewed from the door. Tiny wisps slinking into curly patterns, not fading when they were supposed to. They all looked like hands.

Strange how, in times of peril, one could switch from numb to fighting for their lives in just under a second. Sarah didn't even remember grabbing the flashlight. It had been on the counter, a good six steps away. Now she was aiming the light at the shadows, feeling impossibly stupid until the shadow hands whined and dispersed into nothing. Sarah turned it off, pure reflex. She turned it back on, and a plain white carpet greeted her.

"Seriously?" she muttered, staring at the beam of light.

She couldn't think about it much longer. Another stream of shadow was slipping through her kitchen window. Sarah took a stance, feeling like an actor in one of those kung-fu movies her first boyfriend always watched. Shadows dripped from every opening. Little by little and getting faster. Sarah shined the light at the front door. Then the living room window. Then the cracks in the ceiling. Each time, the shadows had half a second to shriek in pain before disintegrating into nothing. Each time, they needed less time to regroup.

"Dammit," Sarah gasped as a hand crept through a hole in the drywall (she'd been asking the landlady to fix it for months) and nipped at her ankle.

The flashlight was weakening. She wanted that to be her imagination, but the beam was getting less white and more yellow by the second. She shook it. The light quivered but didn't brighten. Two more shadow hands at the door. Three at the window. Sarah was practically spinning to get all of them, like an awkward sort of ballet. They kept coming. Again and again. The wards in her closet had to be going off, right?

"Jareth," she cried as the shadows crept closer. Everywhere she looked there were more. "Jareth! Jareth!"

All the shadows converged into one giant hand. Thick and dark and engulfing her like a fly swatter. To kill her or to take her? She didn't know which was worse. The flashlight was so dim, barely visible in the darkness. The beam punched a hole through the middle of the hand but could do nothing about the flexing fingers curling around her head.

"Have at you, foul beast!"

The schwing of a blade came from out in the hall. Sarah knew that wasn't her imagination because the shadow hand snapped at the wrist. The tiny shrieks turned to screams as the hand slid under the door out of sight. Slid or dragged out. She couldn't be sure.

"Ah, so you show yourself at last!" The voice, high pitched with an almost British accent, preceded another sword swing. "Now, you will pay for assaulting my lady. En garde!"

The shadows overtook the door. Sarah yelped, but they didn't attack her. It looked more like a defensive maneuver, as the blade sliced at the wood and fists rained down on it.

"Not so tough now, are yer? Take that! And that!"

"Shadows bad!"

The shadows shuddered, swirling around the walls and through the cracks, charging and withdrawing endlessly. Unable to win but unwilling to give up. It hit Sarah suddenly that the shadow was smaller each time. From enveloping the whole front wall of her apartment to down to the size of her head. By the time it thought to change course and rush for her, Sarah's dying light was now a high-power energy bomb. One flash and the shadow disintegrated with a final dying scream. This time, it didn't come back.

Sarah waited to turn off the flashlight. Every shadow in the room was normal and accounted for, and when no dark streams leaked out of her kitchen sink, she dropped the light and rushed to the door.

"Guys?" she shouted, rapping on the wood with her knuckles.

They were still there, panting and probably on the ground. She couldn't imagine what that fight must have been like for them.

"We're okay. Nothin' the fairies haven't done a million times," a gruff, but kind voice said. "We just missed you a whole lot, little lady."

Sarah smiled, and she was surprised by the tears in her eyes, even though she really shouldn't have been. "I missed you guys, too."

She opened the door and fell into a hug as Ludo lifted her, Hoggle, and Sir Didymus into the air.