Title: The Labyrinth: The Way Back
Author: Aviry Nolane ()
Notes: Edited and reposted up to chapter 3 today! Please comment! This chapter might move a little slowly, but I wanted to put some more background info in – so it's not totally confusing in the later chapters! Thanks again, as always!

Standard disclaimer... blah blah blah, If they're not in the movie - they're mine.

and now...

Chapter 3 - The Calm

She squeezed her eyes shut and awaited the blow that was sure to come. Or at the very least, the fall. Her heartbeat wailed furiously in her ears as she waited... waited. And waited.

Finally, she opened her eyes.

Blinking, she looked around at the familiar surroundings.

Her bed. Her lamps, or at least her lamp and the broken remains of the one she had shattered, her walls, her idle picture frames, dressers... Her eyes moved to the place she had first seen him, propped up against the doorway to her bathroom.

Nothing.

She looked back to the bedding around her and gazed warily at the comforter, somewhat paranoid that a crafty mini-Jareth was running about from pillowcase to pillowcase after her. Strangely, she was somewhat surprised when she found no such Lilliputian Goblin King traipsing about in her sheets, snipping at her ankles.

He was gone.

She sighed, her knuckles releasing the thick fabric she had unconsciously gathered around her.

"He's gone," she murmured to herself after a moment. "He's gone."

For some reason this simple statement overjoyed her, and she began repeating it aloud in a sing-songy voice one would usually reserve for the shower. Especially, if they sang as Sarah was known to sing.

Terribly.

This didn't bother her in the least, oddly enough, as she blissfully sang on to the tune of the Star Wars Theme, replacing the lyrics with something to the effect of, "Jareth is gone, oh yes he's gone, he's gone, he's gooone."

She even created a little dance, if you can call it that, which consisted of holding a pillow as a dance partner and shaking it vigorously.

You can't really judge her. The human mind reacts strangely under intense emotional stress.

In fact, it was even quite amusing, if you could find the humor in it. Sarah Williams, hard as nails business operator, fierce competitor, twenty-five year old grown woman...

Unfortunately, the imposing figure in her doorway could find no such traces in the current situation.

He moved into the bedroom as she finished her last rendition of the chorus, the final 'he's gone' falling away from her lips in a dejected moan as her eyes locked with her silent observer.

"He's goo - Ohh" She stammered as he cast a quizzical look in her direction. 'Speaking of things that make no sense at all...' Sarah mused to herself, 'Someone's home early. For the first time. Ever. Tonight.'

She dropped the pillow to her side and smoothed her night clothes with her palms. "Bill," she threw out, "I wasn't exactly expecting you."

"So it would seem." He faltered.

They were frozen for a moment in a rather uncomfortable silence.

He fiddled with his briefcase in the doorway, staring around at the room as if it was his job to do so. She could practically see him typing up an inventory report in his mind's eye as he looked over the room. 'One rug, Persian in design, Maltese import in manufacturing. One dresser, American contemporary. One insane fiancée, 5'6, blue shorts.' It made her want to shake him by the shoulders for no reason at all, maybe just for the sake of impulse.

Instead, she stayed seated. Waiting for him to continue.

After a few moments, the worried, dear in the headlights type look still hadn't left him, and Sarah was beginning to get a bit peeved. 'So I was acting a little... out of character , is that a crime or something?'

He coughed.

"I didn't know you enjoyed your evenings by yourself so much, Sarah," he offered.

'So that what was bothering him.' Sarah rolled her eyes and laughed out loud. "Oh no Bill," she burst, "I wasn't talking about you . I was talking about him, J-"

His eyes lit up, his interest suddenly perking. She froze. "J - J - J -"

In all her training as an actress, Sarah Williams had never botched a line this badly.

But you know what they say about love.

They say lots of things about love; it's very likely they say something that could explain this.

"J -J -Jacon." She finished. "Jacon." She pointed to the television for emphasis. Unfortunately, it was turned off, so it accomplished little good for her case.

"Jacon. He's an interior decorator." This was getting nowhere. "Who owns a gentlemen's club, in Nassau. On, um, Project Runway. He was just voted off… Gone. You know, 'Auf' and all that. Hate him. Oh yes, definitely hate him." He didn't move. "He's gone!" She quipped, smiling.

Internally she laughed, smiling to herself at the idea of presenting her actual situation to him. "Why hello dear, I was just finishing a joyful bout around my bedding with the mythological Goblin King of the Underground. However, I believe he's gone back to his magic castle. Care for some wine?"

She checked back to gauge his reaction.

He didn't look convinced.

In fact, as she sat there smiling to herself, he became a little concerned. Obviously, you can't really blame him. She did look a little crazy.

He pondered for a moment about the whereabouts of a thermometer in Sarah's kitchen, or perhaps just some bags for ice, before being whisked into bed by a now much recovered Sarah.

Fortunately, Sarah possessed other ways to clear his mind.

Thoughts of the Goblin King would just have to wait.

- - -

Tens of pairs of tiny leather booted feet rushed into the hall, nearly overcoming their patron though they only reached his waist. He laughed, the grin that swept through him reaching his chocolate eyes and spilling outward into the halls.

"Oh Goblin King, Goblin King! Come out, come out wherever you are!" He called into the now deserted stone corridors. His voice echoed down the long portico halls to the throne room where Jareth undoubtedly sat, simmering in his own thoughts. He made his way into the room, not bothering to announce himself. "Well I hate to disturb you, your liege, but I regret to inform you that this evening's trip Aboveground was a complete and utter failure." He paused, grinning like a wildcat. If he had been any normal subject of the Underground, he would have been dead by the time the word 'failure' fell from his lips. Fortunately for him, he was nothing of the sort. And he knew it.

Judging by the way the lightning flashed outside the castle walls, the Goblin King was not in a mood to be reckoned with.

The dark colored fae waited, impatiently tapping his foot on a slab of stone.

No word came. The lean form of the Goblin King sat motionless, reclining against the great ledge that swung out over his kingdom. The lightening crashed on.

"Quite the conversationalist this evening, aren't we your royal broodingness?"

The long awaited reaction finally came.

"How incredibly astute of you, Alesander."

The fae winced dramatically, gripping his heart and holding one hand to his tumbling brown locks. "Oh, why Jareth, you have wounded me to the core."

The menacing king turned to face him and carefully stepped off the window ledge.

The ill-fated fae continued on, an outsider would do well to just mutter his last rights now and get it over with. Judging by the sharp look in the king's eye, for this fae there would not be a tomorrow.

And still he continued.

"Really Jareth, I don't think I can go on. Life... Force... Dwindling... Must... Get... Help..."

With a flourish he fell to the floor. Jareth paced the stone floor with a few haughty clicks of his boots and stood above him regally.

A moment passed between the two as the younger, darker haired fae stared up at the imposing king above him. Then something rare happened... The Goblin King smiled. He reached out a hand to the man on his floor and pulled him to his feet, and the fae laughed joyfully as he wiped his dress coat.

"Honestly, Jareth. You haven't called me Alesandor in over three hundred years. I was beginning to forget I was ever called that at all."

The king nodded, the sky outside was already beginning to clear. "Act like a child and I will treat you like one, Alec."

Alec only flashed an amused smile to his elder friend, "Always the teacher, Jareth?"

"Always."

The two locked eyes for a moment, and it almost seemed as though soon one of them would tear down a royal corridor screaming "You're it!" and bursting with laughter. But the moment passed, unused.

Alec's eyes fell and the mood now changed. "I wish I could say that my purpose here tonight were only to tease you."

"I know."

Alec looked up, amazed not for the first time, at the amount of strength that he saw reflected back at him. "There has been other news."

Jareth took a moment before returning to his throne, spreading a leg out over the arm as if he were in someone's basement, preparing for a night of boxing. Of course, he didn't know what either of these things were, 'basements' or 'boxing', so to him, he looked... subdued. And rather bored.

Which of course, he was neither of.

"Go on." He prompted, raising a gloved hand in Alec's direction.

A chair bumped the back of Alec's knees, and he sank into it. "There has been a date set. In one month the council will meet... here." He paused, "To discuss your reappointment as Lord Protector of the Underground."

Jareth sighed. "I had expected as much."

"There's more."

The Goblin King's figure shifted at his words. "More?"

Alec continued quickly, he wasn't going to like this.

"The alliance will want a fully traditional court meeting. Fully. She will have to be here."

Jareth shifted again, seeming uncomfortable to Alec, but he dismissed this last statement with a wave of his hand. "What other news do you have?"

Alec grinned. This was just like him, get things said and get down to work. Jareth was nothing if not blunt and to the point. "Well, it's more of the same with the Tjari and the Maesonites. Political civil war is still being threatened, the Tjari are calling for help. They're saying the Maesonites must know what has happened to King Facor, and they are increasingly doubtful of their intentions along their borders."

Jareth scoffed at this. "Fools."

Alec became serious again. "Jareth, you have to understand how serious this is. The alliance is kept in check only by the consistency of the peace of our realm. The Tjari and the Maesonites are both equal parts of that council. This battle, no matter how foolish, could threaten our entire way of life."

There was no reply.

"If you are not granted another term as Lord Protector..." He stopped. There was something Jareth had to know. "Jareth, the Fellowship have been spotted in Napora. In the capital." Now Jareth looked genuinely confused, which was exactly how Alec felt. "The reports began coming in a fortnight ago, and I thought nothing of them... But now."

"Yes." Jareth sat up at this, "Now that I must be reaffirmed, the door is open to them."

Alec only nodded.

"But why Napora?" Jareth mused to himself. "Napora is leagues away from the Din'I mountain range. If the Fellowship was truly interested in the mountain range, why would they be gathering so far away from it?"

Alec only shook his head. The presence of the Fellowship in his own lands was disturbing him more than he let on. Their proximity to the Goblin city was even more alarming, but Alec knew better than to mention such a thing aloud.

The Fellowship was much more than a troupe of ruffians or scavengers; they were a merciless band of thieves and murderers who had plagued the Underground for all of written time. Hundreds of thousands of years later, and still the nomads ravaged on. They asserted, as marauders often do, that their ancient lands had been stolen by the fae of the Underground, and they would not rest until they were returned.

Of course, this was unlikely, even in a land of mythological marvels; it was especially unlikely given the fact that Jareth's own father had executed their leader over 5,000 years ago.

Jareth shook his head and grinned. "Perhaps they're vacationing?" With this he rose and strode to the door, holding an arm out to his friend. Alec shook his arm in the traditional fae style and then pulled a very surprised Goblin King into an embrace, laughing.

"Don't stay away too long now. Nelly and I are expecting your presence soon. And perhaps that of a guest at the Havait Naiantal ball." He winked, "That is, if she doesn't kill you first."

With that he vanished, leaving Jareth alone with his thoughts of tomorrow.

And what a day tomorrow would be.