Title: The Labyrinth: The Way Back Author: The pretentious Aviry of Nolane Rating: Rather PG Summary: Sometimes the way forward is the way back... To the aboveground. A

courtly decision is made on Jareth`s behalf and he is forced to protect the

one he loves... Or hates... Or loves... Or doesn`t quite like, but doesn`t really *not* approve of anyway, to keep his position. But that`s beside the

point. After as many twists and turns (possibly as many as the Labyrinth itself) will these two manage to crash into each other? And what of the threat of war? And courtly politics? And Jareth`s family? And my GOODNESS the skeletons in the closet! Keywords: JSR

Notes: Chapter 13 --- I've decided to go with ff.n's way of chapter blocking. This chapter, as are all chapters, is dedicated to our friend caropeach and her memory. I love you caro!!!

and now, on with it -

+ avi.



Chapter 13 - The Storm

Jareth was the first to hear Sarah's sharp patter and angry huffs as she strode through the hall. After all, he had spent a good deal of his afternoon ensuring that those very same halls had stayed absolutely silent. Weather he had done so out of a desire to let her rest, or a desire to keep her incapacitated for as long as possible, he didn't really know. But subconsciously, he was leaning toward the latter.

At any rate, his interest was surely perked by Sarah's unexpected appearance. His expression was that of a young boy who had just won at game of Twister by pushing all the other competitors down as he raised his form from the chair and readied himself to see her.

And he was very ready to see her. He chuckled to himself.

The Goblin King was entirely in his element.

Indeed, there would be no more secrets, no more half-truths, no more plotting, or scheming to get Sarah into his power. On his mental list of Things He Was Most Thankful For he listed the disappearance of both plaid and flannel from his wardrobe, his knowledge there existed no burnt blue frosted pastries in the Underground, and that there would be no more of Sarah's cooking to suffer through. As an afterthought, he added the combined feeling of joy he gained from there being no more of 'dear Bill', iron frying pans, or bruised foreheads to the list.

As far as he was concerned the past few days were a dream, and the dream, or at least most of it, had passed. It was now that the calculating side of Jareth could truly take effect.

Sarah would finally be his to possess, fully. And she was in no position to ever turn him down again.

Everything had fallen into place perfectly.

After all, he was the imposing Goblin King, he had his most worthy advisary in his clutches, he was a member of the Thirteen Corners Alliance, he was a snappy dresser, devilishly sexy, and it was now looking very good that he would remain the Lord Protector of the Underground. All that coupled with the fact that Sarah was now wandering around his chamber halls made Jareth a very happy fae.

He had also newly discovered the joys of mental list making and was feeling quite good about his situation when the door to the hall swung open before him.

It was with his first step into the hall that Jareth began to see the perverse negative side of the list making theorem.

To begin with, Sarah had heard him approaching and had now turned around and headed back to meet him. Alone, this wasn't a particularly bad omen, except for item number two on the list: the expression on her face. It occurred to Jareth now that it hardly mattered at all that there was not a single iron frying pan in the Underground. Sarah looked ready to kill him with any implement found at her disposal.

Somehow her appearance set his good list tally to zero.

Expressionless, he stood his ground.

She reached him with a violent huff. Her hands swung onto her hips, and he felt himself being stared down by someone who only reached his shoulders.

Sarah had had a good deal of time wandering the halls to think over her exact words, and it showed. She needed none of her acting training to develop the fuming glare she had now fixed on him.

"You monster," she sneered, "You make me absolutely sick." She spoke slowly, her sentences littered with the many short breaks that she had found so offensive when Jareth spoke to her only days ago in her office. "May I suggest that instead of spending your time kidnapping innocents and retracing your life's many failures you seriously consider psychoanalysis?

She took a moment, reveling in her brief pauses. "I am not your pet. I am not your parakeet. I am not your friend," she glared at him, placing her strongest emphasis on this last point, "and I am most certainly I not I your future Queen."

His gaze narrowed, only his eyes giving any trace of the anger which boiled within him.

Sarah countered this action with her own icy glare, a part of her delighting in the fact that she had managed to rile him. She continued, "Furthermore, your highness", she quipped sarcastically, "I refuse to be treated like some sort of harem. I have a life, I have a home, I have a family, I have a fiancé who loves me. I am not about to give any one of those up for anyone, least of all I you. /I"

Her rehearsed speech drew to a close and she sighed inwardly. She was quite proud if herself, for a moment. And then the seconds grew longer.

A moment passed.

And another.

Sarah began to worry. This was the time he was supposed to say something, to rave, to shout, to be frightening, to lose interest in fighting this impossible battle and send her home.

So far he was accomplishing only one of those key actions Sarah had planned for.

He stood, silent and unmoving, staring back at her with the most pointed of the glares she had ever seen him to possess. He was very, very frightening.

Still, she did not relax her furious stare. She wanted to go home, and she was not about to be beaten by his silence, no matter how unnerving it was.

She had grown so used to the tense feeling of total silence that she almost let out a sigh of relief when he finally spoke.

Almost being the operative word.

His form relaxed, as if he had really been frozen the entire time he had been standing before her. She wondered briefly if perhaps a great draft had come and frozen him in front of her very eyes and now she would have to give her impassioned speech all over again.

But it soon became quite clear that he had heard and fully absorbed every word.

"Are you quite finished?" He raised an eyebrow in her direction strategically.

She was astounded, this was not the way it was supposed to go. Where was the shouting, the fireworks, the flying crystals, the testosterone driven show of force?

Her expression must have given away her shock because the icy storm of his glare relaxed into a mild frost when she breathed her final reply. "Yes."

"Good."

He turned away and made his way back into his study.

By the time Sarah thought to take a step to follow him, she was standing in her own room.