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. Though I am putting most of my effort into my own stories (and trying to publish them), I will not leave this one unfinished, so as a New Year's present for all those who are still reading and keeping track, here it is one more episode. We are getting closer to the end.

Rites of Passage

Chapter 24

Sarah looked at her watch and sighed. Since hers was a twelve-hour watch, she could not change it to match Labyrinth's time, so she used it to figure it out how much time had passed aboveground. Amazingly –she did not know why or how– the watch still worked underground as if she were aboveground. It was probably due to magic or, perhaps, aboveground technology could not be affected by the forces of the Underground, but, in any case, it did not matter.

It was late on Sunday at home, but, there, it was still early. A powerful thunderstorm that had started almost at dawn had transformed all goblins into irritable and frightened creatures –more so than normal– and had made Sarah's day more difficult than the previous ones. In fact, everybody at the castle seemed on edge and she had the feeling that she was not privy to the same information others shared.

By noon, the temperature had dropped significantly and the rain had slowly changed into snow. Sometime during the afternoon, Sarah had stopped by her room to change clothes into something warmer and she had been awestruck by the image of the Labyrinth covered with snow. It was breathtaking.

She wished Jareth were there to share the view, but there were no news about him and nobody actually talked about his campaign at all. It seemed to her it was taboo to do so. She would have to start asking around or she would go crazy with worry.


Jareth was starting to surrender to fatigue, cold and pain, when he felt a slight prickle on his chest. It amused him that, as tired and hurt as he was, that minuscule annoyance could call his attention. He slowly lifted his hand toward his chest and removed the offending object from under the armor.

A strange feeling run through his body as he looked at it. It was Sarah's note. It was stained with his own blood and he could hardly open it, but he managed to do it and he read it one more time.

"You promised me you'd fight to come back. I'll hold you to your word."

That line stood amongst the others. He had. He had promised to fight to go back and now he was surrendering to his fate. But, what was he expected to do? He was injured, he had lost too much blood, he was weak, and there was still too long a way to go. He was physically incapable of walking one more step.

He closed his eyes and thought of Sarah and her disappointment when she found out he had given up. Would she truly miss him? Did she really care about him? He would never know.

For a few seconds he wallowed in self-pity. Then, slowly, a bit of hope crept up. What if he could find a way to stay alive? Even if he did not succeed, at least, it could truly be said he had tried until his last breath. And, perhaps, all he had to do was staying alive long enough for his men to come find him. The message he had sent to his father with the treaty papers was clear; he was certain he would not make it out of the tunnels alive. He knew then they would come for him… or his body, at least.

Could he use his magic to create a source of heat? That would increase his odds.

After a few minutes of trying he realized he could not even form a crystal sphere.

"Without heat there's no hope," he told himself.

Then, it happened. A strange idea started to take shape in his mind. It would test his power over his own body; it would take every ounce of strength he had left, but he was going to try it. And, if Sarah was home –like he had dreamt the last time he had gotten any sleep– she could remember the same way he had… and he would be saved.


It was late now and Sarah just wanted to go to bed. The day had been long; she had never thought about it, but it seemed that weekends in the aboveground meant more trouble for the underground. Three new guests –all with serious health problems– had arrived to the castle and nobody had fought too hard to rescue them. The Queen and the goblins had been busy keeping the three runners from running into each other, but they had not needed much effort to make the journey difficult; the howling winds and the snow incessantly piling up had been threat enough for the contestants.

Now, Sarah was giving the last instructions to the goblin who would care for the patients during the night, when Sir Didymus came looking for her. Just as serious and solemn as he had been in every one of their last encounters, he had briefly explained that she was needed in the queen's chambers.

As Sarah walked along the corridors, she worried for Lady Anwen's health. She had been working very hard performing Jareth's duties and trying to compensate for the absences of Shawn and Keene.

When she got to the right hallway, she saw Hoggle was waiting for her. He opened the door to the queen's rooms and signaled for Sarah to go in.

Lady Anwen was standing by a fireplace, looking at the flames below. As soon as she turned to look at Sarah, she knew something was wrong. The old woman's eyes were red and swollen, clearly showing she had been crying.

"Please, sit down," she asked as she pointed toward a chair close to her.

Sarah waited for her to sit and then did so herself. She knew she was visibly shivering, but she could not stop.

"We have received news from the frontier, Sarah," the Queen began. "An agreement has been reached; there has been an immediate cease-fire and surrender of the Unseelie, and a peace treaty has been signed."

"That's great news," Sarah said softly, waiting for what she knew would be bad news.

"Yes. The war has ended. It's an extraordinary accomplishment and we owe it all to our son." She stopped and Sarah felt she had trouble acknowledging out loud what she had to say next.

"But…?" she tried.

Lady Anwen sighed. "You probably don't know, but fae like Hagan, who have lived for so long and gone through so much, have developed, over time, abilities we –normal fae–," she added with a small smile, "have not. He has… for a long time now… he has been able to feel his children, to find the sound of their hearts beating among thousands of other hearts, at any distance..."

Sarah had to close her eyes. She knew what was coming and she did not want to know. For a second, she imagined the pain Hagan had to have endured when his two elder sons had died and he had found out in such a cruel manner. "Can he still hear Jareth's?" she asked with her last bit of hope.

"I'm afraid not," was the whispered answer.

Sarah wanted to stay calm and collected and find out more details and… she could not. She stood up, walked toward a window and looked out as she tried to stifle a sob.

The Queen followed her.

"I thought that, because of your special circumstances, I should tell you myself, before I officially announce it tonight." She approached Sarah and put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Sarah turned and looked at her. "No, I'm sorry; I'm sorry… I should be the one consoling you. I cannot imagine the pain. It must be devastating. I've only been pregnant for a few days and the idea of losing my baby is awful; I cannot… I cannot-"

She could not keep talking; she was sure she was choking and there was no air to breathe. She approached the Queen and hugged her the same way she would have hugged her own mother.

For a few minutes they remained embraced, both crying softly.

Once they calmed down, they sat down again to finish their talk.

"When Hagan realized that Jareth was in no condition to make it to them, he led a search party down the tunnels, but, halfway down the path, he knew there was nothing else to do. They have found his body, though, and they're bringing him back to us. They will arrive here tomorrow night."

Sarah understood everything she was told, but the only idea that kept coming to her mind was that she needed to get out of there. She had to leave. She had to go somewhere else, somewhere where she could cry and scream and feel sorry for herself without any witnesses. "Would you mind if I leave tonight?" she asked. "I will be back tomorrow afternoon, I promise, but I really need to leave now. Evangelina and Izar know what to do, so-"

"I understand. Let Hoggle or Sir Didymus help you with the arrangements. You can take as long as you need, but I'll appreciate it if you come back to us, even if it's to say good-bye."

"I promise, I will," she reassured her.

A few minutes later she was back in her room getting her things ready to go back home. She was almost done, when she saw the crystal sphere on her nightstand.

Perhaps there was a better solution.

She grabbed the sphere, made her wish, and in seconds she was back at the beach house, among Jareth's things, in a place that only spoke of him.


She gave one look at the clock on the mantel and she knew it was time to go back. She did not want to do it; she wished she did not have to… The idea of the Labyrinth without Jareth did not seem right.

She hugged the pillow by her side one more time. She wished she could smell him in it, but, as everything else in the house, it was clean and crisp as if it had never been touched before. However, every detail in the room reminded her of him. The colors, the textures, the flavor of the food the goblins had brought to her as soon as she got there. They had taken good care of her; she had not told them that their King was dead –she imagined the Queen would– but she believed they somehow knew he was not coming back. There was a sadness in the air that she had not felt before.

Then again, perhaps it was her own sadness. She had cried all night until finally falling asleep at dawn. Although Jareth had not really been part of her family, or her husband, or even her boyfriend, she felt a huge sense of loss. And, while she had called herself his "friend" on her note, she was not sure he had seen her that way at all.

Nonetheless, she was in love with him and she was expecting his child.

She pushed the pillow away with a sigh of frustration. Even that child was something they had not truly shared; he had not known about it, he had not asked for it, they had not hoped for or even discussed the possibility together. What was she going to do now? She understood she would have to think about that later; she had known her options beforehand, but now it was not the right time to make those kinds of decisions.

Now she was grieving the loss of her dream. Everything related to him had been more of a dream than a reality and, as long as he had been alive, there had always been possibilities. Now there only seemed to be a closed door in front of her. And though she was still in love with him –she would always be, no matter what she did with the rest of her life– she also had obligations, duties. So, she straightened her dress, made sure everything was back in place, and returned to the castle.

Before opening the door of her room she took a deep breath. Then she slowly turned the knob. The hallways looked completely empty. Unsure of what to do, she decided to check on her patients.

Evangelina was in the nursery. She had obviously been crying, too.

"You're back… I didn't know if you'd return to us."

"I promised the Queen," she replied softly.

The elf picked up a baby from a crib and held him lovingly. "His fever is gone. The treatment seems to be working."

"And the others?"

"All better," she added with a small smile. Then, her eyes filled with tears. "The escort is crossing the city now. I'm going to the King's quarters to wait for them. You can come with me, if you'd like," Evangelina told her as she laid the baby back in the crib.

Sarah simply nodded and followed her.

A few fae, elves, and goblins were already in his room. Sarah walked toward the group she knew better and remained with them in silence. Minutes later, the doors opened and the High King entered the room. A group of fae and elves followed him carrying a stretcher.

She did not look. She knew he was there, but she did not want to see him yet. She was not ready.

The body was transferred onto the bed, the High King thanked those who had journeyed back with him and his son, and most of the people in the room left quietly.

Sarah could not understand the meaning of the ceremony or the reasoning behind it. Didn't they have a morgue or some place similar to prepare bodies for burial? Did they even bury their dead? She realized how little she knew about their customs.

She also realized she should be leaving the room, too. Only a few fae and elves were still there.

She started walking toward the door, when Lady Anwen stopped her. "I think you deserve to stay," she whispered.

"May I?" Sarah asked.

The Queen simply nodded.

Sarah saw Keene, Shawn, Ruy and a few other fae approach the bed and surround it with their heads hanging low.

She got closer to Izar and dared ask, "What's going on? I really don't understand," she said as quietly as she could.

"We'll have a few minutes to say goodbye," Izar responded.

"You won't prepare the body? Clean it a bit before burying it?" she asked trying not to cry. "I cannot see much from here, but there's blood on his hair and-"

"The ride here took a long time; there's not much time left to say farewell," Izar tried to explain, but soon realized Sarah still did not understand. "It only takes four days –our days– for a fae soul to prepare for the journey beyond our realm. We aren't sure of when exactly the King died, but there's probably very little time remaining before he leaves us."

"Leaves us? Hasn't he already left us?"

"His body will be gone, too. There will be nothing left of him with us. Nothing to bury."

"Just like that?"

Izar nodded.

Sarah immediately started worrying. She wanted to look at him one more time, even if he looked horrible and bloodied. She needed to say her own goodbye. "Will I be allowed to get close, too?"

"You can come with Evangelina and me. His parents will be the last ones. They will stay with him until the end," Izar said as she gently wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

Sarah watched impatiently as most the fae and elves in the room walked to the bed and remained there for a while before leaving. Did they pray? Did they believe in God? Goodness! She was clueless.

Soon she started panicking. What would happen if he disappeared before it was their turn? "When do we get to do it?" she finally had to ask Izar.

"Lady Anwen asked us to be the ones right before her. We have known the King for a long time, worked closely with him for centuries… Just like our husbands; they were the first; we'll close the circle."

Finally, the moment came for the women to approach the bed. Sarah thought her legs would not carry her there. She felt weak and even a little dizzy.

Evangelina and Izar said their farewells first and, as they retreated, Sarah slowly walked toward the King.

As soon as she got closer, all the strong emotions he usually brought forth in her seemed to come to life and she felt thrown off balance.

She tried to calm down.

In spite of her reservations, she dared looking at him. That was not the last image she wanted to have of him, but she had no other options.

He looked extremely pale, more than usual if that could even be possible. There was blood and dirt everywhere on him and she felt the irresistible urge to clean his face, but she did not.

She tried thinking of something deep and meaningful to say to him in case he –his soul– could hear her, but all she could think of was that he could not be dead. Soon, the world around her seemed to disappear and all she could see was him in front of her. She looked at his face and imagined him smirking at her… "Sarah…" She could almost hear his voice.

She looked at his chest, covered in the battered armor.

She looked at his hands. She noticed the leather of one of his gloves was torn and a fine sliver of his pale skin was visible through the tear. Those hands… so soft, so gentle on her skin, so powerful…

She got closer, tenderly grabbed the lifeless hand in hers, and caressed the little bit of cold skin with all the love she had never confessed to him.

She immediately felt a flurry of activity behind her as the guards by the door rushed toward her and Izar softly shook her head in disapproval.

Sarah realized what she had done and was about to let his hand go when she heard the Queen say, "It's alright."

She said loud enough for everybody in the room to hear.

"It's alright," she repeated looking straight at Sarah.

She thanked her with a slight movement of her head and resumed the soft caress while she prepared to say goodbye. She closed her eyes and thought of everything he had meant to her… and hoped he knew.

Then she carefully laid his hand back on the bed and walked one step away from him. But she could not leave.

The Queen made a gesture that Sarah missed and everyone except the High King left the room. Then she quietly approached the girl. "Sarah?"

Sarah turned to her with her eyes filled with tears. "I wish we could… maybe, just clean his face a little… He would not like to look that way," she pleaded.

Lady Anwen nodded. "Go ahead," she said as her husband looked at her with surprise.

Sarah got one of the handkerchiefs she had carried all day in her pocket and dipped it in the bowl of water from the nightstand. Then, she gently washed his face.

When she was done, she noticed that his soiled hair looked strangely out of place around his pale, clean face. There was no way she could clean that.

As if she had guessed what she was thinking, the Queen made a delicate movement with her hands and the hair was cleaned.

Magic. Sarah sometimes forgot. She smiled a little; "He looks much better," she said.

The Queen agreed.

Sarah knew she had to leave now, but it was the hardest thing she had ever had to do. She kept looking at his face, thinking how cold he would feel if she kissed his forehead one last time, but she so wanted to kiss him.

"It's alright," Lady Anwen said one more time.

Sarah turned toward her with surprise; the look in her eyes gave her permission. She slowly got closer and softly kissed his forehead.

The King looked with amazement as she put her hand on his chest one more time and then slowly walked away from the bed. "Thank you," she whispered as she turned to leave.

The King and Queen took her place as she reached the door. As she began her short walk towards her room, a strange sensation took her aback. All the feelings that had assaulted her when she had approached him seemed to vanish; she suddenly felt cold and detached.

Instinctively, she turned back toward his room and, as soon as she reached the threshold, the emotions flooded her back. She stood there for a few seconds, trying to understand her feelings, or more precisely, what she was feeling, until something she had learned in Med school came rushing to her mind. She unceremoniously walked back into the room and approached the bed.

The monarchs looked at her with astonishment.

Sarah got even closer and grabbed one of Jareth's hands once again. She searched for a pulse on his wrist and, though she did not find one, she remained determined not to give up.

"He's in there," she asserted without hesitation.

"His soul-" the King began.

"I don't mean his soul," Sarah interrupted him. "I'm sorry," she added as she realized she had interrupted the High King, "but I'm sure. He's in there; all of him, not just his soul. He's alive."

"Sarah, I know you-" the Queen tried, but Sarah's resolute face made her stop.

"I know. I can feel him. And there's something I once learned that is the key to save him."

Hagan and Anwen remained quiet, giving her a chance to explain.

She had to smile as she said it. "You're not dead until you're warm and dead."

A.N. Hopefully, you will let me know what you think of this new chapter. Happy New Year! Betty