Rites of Passage by Betty Bokor
Jareth/Sarah. When Sarah is called to save the King, her life takes a whole new course, again.
Spoilers: The movie, the book, and some of the Return series.
Disclaimer: The Labyrinth original characters belong to The Jim Henson Company and Lucasfilms Ltd. This was written strictly for the purpose of entertainment. No attempt at copyright infringement has been made.

A.N. The King and Sarah get to spend time together... with her family.

Rites of Passage

Chapter 7

Sarah was grateful that the introductions went without too much difficulty. Karen welcomed Jareth the same way she welcomed every single male who could be interested in Sarah: with a big smile and a sunny attitude. Her father treated him the same way he treated any single male who could be too close to Sarah: respectfully but with a dose of distrust. Toby acted friendly, but Sarah worried when she noticed he could not take his eyes off Jareth; could he be able to recognize him?

In any case, it was too late to change anything, so she smiled and waved her family goodbye while she looked for her car keys.

"We have to take my car. There's no space in theirs with all the kids," she told the King.

"Do we need to use a car? We could-"

"Oh, no! We're not flying, transporting, or popping anywhere!" she said as she realized she had left the keys in her handbag.

"Popping?" he smirked and followed her into the elevator.

"That thing you do. You're here and then, you're not, or the other way around, you appear from nowhere and… It's pretty annoying."

He smiled, pleased. "Alright, then I'll drive," he declared and skillfully grabbed her keys.

"Wait, what? Why would you drive?"

"I don't like to sit on the passenger seat," he explained while they walked towards the parking garage.

"So what? It's my car."

"In that case, I'll sit in the back," he said smugly.

She scoffed. "That will make me look as your chauffeur. That's all I need; to bolster up your already overinflated ego. And, what's more, do you even know how to drive?"

"I've been driving since before you were born; hey, even before your grandparents were born, and on both sides of the road. I drove Karl Benz's Motorwagen in 1885, before he publicly sold the first one in 1888." He grinned and sat on the driver's seat.

Sarah sighed and sat on the other side. "Fine. Now, this place is kind of far. I'm typing the address in the GPS. You listen and-"

He gave the address one look and turned the GPS off. "I know how to get there faster."

Sarah sighed again. "Whatever…" She closed her eyes and tried to relax. It was going to be a long night. Then, she suddenly thought of something and reopened her eyes to check his hands. "Are you going to wear gloves all night long? It'll look kind of weird."

"I'd prefer to do so. If anyone asks, you can say it's because of my accident."

"Great. Another lie. I don't know if I'll remember all of them." She shook her head a little and sat back.

"So, what kind of food can I expect to find at this restaurant?" he asked a few seconds later.

She looked at him. "What kind? Normal kind, normal American food, and don't tell me you don't eat aboveground food because you've been eating what I cooked these days and you haven't complained once. Besides, it was the food from here, those berries, that messed up your diagnosis. That's how you got poisoned," she said with contempt… and regretted it immediately.

"First of all, I eat a balanced diet of above and underground food. Second, I've just been trying to be polite to my hostess, and, finally, I got poisoned because the cook was a traitor."

His last words sounded painful. She flinched. There was no need to remind him of his ugly war. "Okay, right. But-" She suddenly realized what he had said about her. "You were polite? You didn't like my food? Then, why don't you cook tomorrow? I'll take the day off."

"That sounds exciting! I have several recipes that I haven't yet tried. I can experiment with you before I teach them to the chef." he said with exaggerated enthusiasm.

"I thought your chef killed himself," she said before thinking. She sighed deeply. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me today."

He did not answer for a minute. Then, in a somber voice, he said, "The chef did nothing wrong. It was one of his aides, a cook we had to hire when his predecessor died."

"He died? Do you think they killed him so that you had to hire the other guy?"

"No; he died in combat."

She was surprised. "He was in the war front?"

"It's been a long war. We need all hands."

"Have you ever been there?" She did not really know how to ask. He was serious now and she liked that. A real conversation.

"I command the army," he said with pride.

"Oh, I didn't know… But, that doesn't mean that you fight-"

"I don't hide behind my generals. I always stand with my men, in the front line."

She felt it was not arrogance in his voice; it was dignity, self-respect. "Have you ever been injured?"

He hesitated. Then, in a soft voice, he said, "Many times."

She felt encouraged to keep asking. "Did your brothers…?" She was not sure if she could ask.

He did not show any emotion. "My oldest brother died in combat. We thought it was not a wise idea to put my second brother in command of the army and risk losing him, too, so we chose a general to lead the army. My father thought I was too young by then."

"How long ago did it happen?" she asked, confused.

"In your terms, around five years ago."

"And sixteen hundred was too young?

"Gaultier was double my age."

"I see. So your other brother was not sent to fight," she said, trying to keep the conversation going.

"Pradosh was in charge of helping the towns that had been attacked by the Unseelie. He was rescuing a child from a school in danger, when the building collapsed on top of them. He protected the child with his own body; he saved him. Children are very important to the fae," he explained. After a few seconds, he added, "They were both heroes in their own way."

"I'm so sorry…" She did not know what else to say. She thought about how she had felt ten years before, fearing she could lose Toby. If something happened to him or to the girls…

He nodded his head in a sign of gratitude, but kept quiet.

She could not stop then. They would reach the restaurant soon and the talk would be done. "Why are you in charge of the army now?"

"The war has taken too long. I decided we needed to change our strategy. No more simply defending ourselves; we had to start gaining our territories back, liberating our people… We had to use some of their tactics if necessary. My parents and the High Court finally relented. "

"Has it worked?"

He nodded several times. "We're close. We just need one last push."

"You're probably a very visible target, then; no wonder they want to kill you. Why don't you get someone to try your food before you eat it, at least? That happens here a lot."

"And expose one of my subjects to certain death just to save myself?" He shook his head. "Think also that, as a fae, I have better chances of survival."

She had so many questions, but he had just parked the car and they had to stop talking about that before they reached her family and friends.

When they entered the restaurant, they realized they were the first.

"I told you I could get here faster," he said with his usual smirk.

She had been so absorbed in their conversation that she had not paid attention to his route. "Great. Let's figure out who's sitting where," she decided. She was determined to avoid as much conflict as possible. She grabbed a little note pad from her purse and started writing names on every page. "You…" He was standing at the head of the table and she could not imagine him sitting anywhere else. "Okay, you sit right there. I'll sit at your right," she put the little note by the plate as she whispered, "damage control", and then continued, "Karen at your left –she seems to like you–, Emily, Pete, Mom, Laura –if she gets to sit with us– and Toby at the other end, far from you, just in case… Then Lucy by my side, my dad, Mike, Jeremy, and… There's another setting. Who am I missing?"

She found out a few seconds later when the rest of the party joined them. Terry, from Pete and Mike's play was there, too. Probably Karen's idea; one more likely suitor for Sarah.

Soon, they were all sitting at the table and Sarah felt the celebration was not such a bad idea after all. Maybe the King needed some kind of distraction after the hard time he had been having at home. But, during dinner, Jareth remained mostly quiet. He answered politely every question he was asked and –Sarah noticed– he tried to minimize the lying when possible. He was simply observing her among her friends.

For the last two days, he had enjoyed a little taste of hope; he had felt close to Sarah. The feelings she provoked in him had not changed with time; they had intensified and a new component had been added. Now she was a grown –beautiful– woman and his body responded to her the same way his soul still did.

He could imagine years of happiness by her side. For the first time in his life, he could fathom what serenity meant. He had always thought that serenity would come thousands of years later, all wars won, all passion spent, all emotions quashed by the passage of time. Now, he could envision serene days by Sarah's side; days filled with passion, joy, fulfillment, maybe with the laughter of children of his own. But the truth was that his life had taken another course and there were not many chances of changing it now. The end of the war was in his hands; he knew it. He also knew what he had to do to end the madness that had cut so many innocent lives short and ruined so many others. And that path had no place for Sarah.

Besides, right there, with her family and her friends, she seemed at ease, happy. She had become an accomplished woman and there was no selfless reason to take her away from all she had. He could think of several selfish ones, though.

He felt a little push on his arm and realized Karen Williams was trying to call his attention.

"Pardon?"

"I was wondering how the two of you met." Karen repeated with a smile.

The King thought the whole table had suddenly grown quiet to better listen to his answer. He looked at Sarah and saw a tad of panic hidden in her smile. "Well, Sarah was lost and my friends and I were there to show her the way."

"That was the summer you spent in England, after the second year of college, right?" Robert Williams asked his daughter.

Sarah simply nodded with a small smile.

"Where were you trying to go? What were you looking for?" Toby asked from the other end of the table.

"A castle," Jareth answered before she could even think of what to say. "The castle beyond the city of…" – Sarah felt she would die of sudden acute myocardial infarction– "Amberley. More like a village, really," he finished with a wide smile.

Sarah's heart calmed down slightly. This night was never ending.

While the conversation moved onto another topic, she looked around again.

There were several people who worried her. Karen liked the King too much; she was sure she was already thinking what color dress she would wear when Sarah married him.

Her father was polite –as usual– but now and then looked at Jareth for a few seconds, the way she had seen him watch suspects in court.

Toby was not shy about his curiosity; he openly looked at him often and asked questions about many different subjects that –seemed to Sarah– were destined to catch the King in a mistake. When he asked about Soho, Jareth seemed to particularly enjoy it and spent several minutes describing the pleasures of fashionable dining in the west of London. For some reason, that seemed to make Toby happy and the interrogatory stopped for a while.

Terry, on the other hand, did not like anything his new rival did. He spent every minute trying to find a fault in everything Jareth said. The only problem was that the King's ego did not like to be questioned and crushed Terry every single time.

Last of all was her mother. Linda had gone pale since the moment she had seen Jareth. Sarah was certain now; she knew him; she could recognize him in spite of the glamour. And she could not look at him. She sent furtive glances his way, but carefully avoided his eyes.

In addition to them, she could not forget the King himself, who, when not directly engaged, remained quiet and almost detached. It did not surprise her when, while they were waiting for dessert to be served, he suddenly excused himself and walked toward a back door that led to a garden.

Sarah realized the time for his next dose of painkillers had long passed. She opened her purse and searched for the small vial. She had picked it up right before leaving, but she had completely forgotten afterwards.

She excused herself and followed him. She found him outside, leaning against a wall, looking pensive.

She approached slowly and waited until he noticed her. She smiled, "I brought your medicine. You should have told me you were in pain."

He did not smile back. "I'm fine. You shouldn't have bothered. Go back to your friends."

"You need to take this; you know it's the only way to make the pain go away."

"That potion only makes my brain think the pain isn't there; but the pain never goes away. I've had to learn to live with it."

She somehow knew he was not talking about physical pain anymore, but she needed him to take the medicine. "I promised your mother I'd take good care of you; if I don't, your father will take you back."

He laughed haughtily. "If you don't mind me paraphrasing you, he has no power over me. I don't have to do anything I don't want to; not even if he commands me. If it were a kingdom matter, perhaps, but my personal life is out of his hands."

"Alright… but now you're his only heir and I don't think he'd like you putting yourself in harm's way," Sarah argued.

"And yet, he'll still have to send me back to that same war that killed both my brothers. It's beyond his control, don't you see?"

She sighed. What could she say to that? She had to try something different. "Then, if I say I wish you'd take your medicine right now,
would it work?" she tried with a small smile.

He seemed to relax slightly. "Aren't you a little old, Sarah, for making wishes?"

"No, if it helps me with this," she smiled again.

"Go back to your friends, Sarah. I'll be fine. I just need a few minutes here."

She was not used to giving up. She wanted to try one more thing, but she realized she had been avoiding using his name until then. She needed to address him personally; but she was not ready to call him Jareth. She thought of Shawn's quick reminder. She got closer and took a deep breath. "Your Majesty, I ask you, as your doctor, as your friend, please, take this."

He looked at her and she knew something in her words had struck him. She could not decide if it was in a good or a bad way, but he was affected. He made a slight gesture of resignation, grabbed the vial from her hand, and drank the liquid in it.

She took the little bottle as he handed it back to her. "Thank you," she said gently. "You'll feel better in a moment."

He looked away from her, as if he had not heard her. "I've spent my life trying to help others… That's all I wanted to do. I wanted to make a difference in someone's life." He looked at her and she saw him beyond the image he was showing to the world that night. She could see the upswept eyebrows above the mismatched eyes. She could see his long hair falling on his shoulders. "Most the people I've helped don't even remember me –some by design, others because they found it easier– but that never mattered." He walked away from the wall and turned his back to her. He raised his gloved hands and looked at them as if they were the hands of a stranger. "And now, with these same hands that held those children and helped those old men walk, I've killed so many times… I'm afraid that if I take these gloves off, I'll see all that blood back in my hands." He lowered his hands and turned to her. "You have no idea how much of your soul you lose every time you have to kill someone, even if it's in the name of justice, and peace, and everything that is good and holy... There has to be a point when there's nothing left and you feel the absence of your soul because there's only a black, dark hole left in its place… I just wish I could fall into an oubliette and forget myself forever."

Sarah was speechless. Her eyes were full of tears and her heart was racing. She had not expected anything like that. Not those feelings. Not a confession; not to her. She wanted to walk to him and hug him and hold him against her until he felt better. She wished he could cry with her; she wished they were in her house and they did not have all those people waiting for them inside the restaurant.

But before she could articulate any of her feelings, he had changed. She could see the fake façade. He was Jareth Quinn once more.

He walked to her and held her hands. "I apologize for this outburst. This isn't the time or the place for it. Give me a few minutes and I'll be back inside."

She nodded. "I'll leave you alone, then. Come share dessert with us when you're ready." She squeezed his hands softly and let them go.

As she was leaving the garden, she realized someone had been listening to them. She hurried and caught a glimpse of a dress before the door closed after it. She knew whose it was. Her mother's.