Title: The Labyrinth: The Way Back Author: Aviry Nolane, slvrluna47@aol.com Rating: PG thus far 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! -- Read if you dare :) Keywords: JSR?

Notes: Dedications this time to Meg, Redaura, Solea ( as always ), JLF, Meamiko AND Arianne.

thank you all so much!

:: passes out cookies to reviewers ::

enjoy!

Chapter 17 - Give A Little

It was not until a few moments later that Jareth began to feel that something was not quite right.

He had long since drained the glass of wine that still sat before him and a realization dawned on him now that he had not thought of before.

If he didn't see Sarah now, there was no telling if she would ever be still long enough for him to reach her, and what of shrinking? If she shrunk tonight there would be no finding her by morning.

He stood, spurred on by this seemingly practical thought, and moved toward the door with what felt to him like remarkable ease. Making his way through the hall proved more difficult, as he could not seem to remember precisely which room he had placed his guest in. After several wrong choices, including various bedchambers and closets he had never known existed, he finally discovered the door to Sarah's room.

Pushing it open with a light hand, he marveled at the way the door slid away beneath his gloved fingertips. The door practically swung off its hinges with excitement at this miniscule touch. "The king, the king, the king," it hummed through the halls at the other less fortunate doors. It's tune was cut off mid-song when the other doors chimed in that they too had just been used by the king and that its doorknob was mildly rusted.

Jareth had no interest in the wiles of doors, though he could hear them if he so desired, and was therefore immune to their immature wiles.

He had his mind set on one thing and one thing only.

He didn't wait a moment before barging his way quickly into the lush room he had prepared for his, he thought, soon to be bride.

And was all together shocked with what he found.

Sarah sat with her back to him, shrouded in a halo of her silky blankets. Her pale skin was illuminated five fold by the contrasting surroundings and she began to look frail and small to him. He could just make out the side of her face as she wiped at the tears, which dropped listlessly to the gathering of blankets around her. He marveled at this uncharacteristic display of her weaknesses. It was not often that she was in a room with him long without insulting him in some way or whining about how dreadfully unfair something was.

Not that any of that mattered now.

Jareth was punch drunk.

He turned, clicking the door back into place and could hear the quick rustling of blankets that signified Sarah's movement.

They turned to each other in a moment of liquid silence.

Jareth's eyes were open and unfocused, staring blankly at Sarah in a way he had never managed before.

She blinked, dropping the blankets from her sides on the chair and looked back.

"Is there a reason he's not glaring at me?" She wondered to herself.

He took a step forward in her direction. A wobbly step. And another.

"Ahh," Sarah noted to herself, "the wonders of alcohol."

If only it had been just that.

"Sarah," Jareth gasped, "I need to talk to you. I need to see you. I-" he broke off, slumping against the bed.

More confused than concerned, Sarah's brow knotted and she rose to meet him. She was quite aware he had made it as far as he was going to, and for this, he was grateful.

Reaching a hand out to steady himself, Jareth reclined against a bedpost and maneuvered himself down onto the foot of Sarah's bed. Sarah assisted as best she could, moving close to prop a pillow behind him as he stared up her, pupils wide, his gaze apparently locked to hers.

"Sarah," he tried again.

Never one to miss an opportunity, Sarah's mind flew back to the list of questions she had composed earlier.

"Jareth," she blurted, "I want to go home."

Now, if you yourself were raised in the Aboveground, and had a mother or father anything like most mothers and fathers of the Aboveground, you would most likely be familiar with the saying, "Think before you speak".

Blame it on Sarah's broken home and scattered upbringing, but she had no sense of timing.

Jareth's gaze narrowed as best it could under the influence of the blesphemene in his system, which was not very far. It came out as the dejected squint of a slightly miffed kitten, rather than the earth shattering, heavens thundering, confidence melting, colder than ice stare he meant it to be.

It was a night of many compromises.

He sighed, now resolved to his fate at the mercy of the drug that circulated through his veins.

"Then go home, Sarah. You go home and you die." He paused, "You leave me now Sarah, and we die."

His eyes met hers once again, and he felt himself drawn into their depths. There was anger there, betrayal, and hatred.

And something he sincerely hoped was pity.

"Sarah," he whispered aloud, his mouth having no control over the truth that poured from it "My poor beautiful thing. I'm sorry for what I've done to you."

Sarah jolted.

"I never meant to hurt you, you know," Jareth murmured.

She stayed silent, frozen by his words, but her mind was a different case all together. Inside it was screaming something like "whatwhatwhathuh?!shhh?badguy!badbadwhatwhatwhat" at the top of its little mind lungs.

"What?"

"That night at the restaurant, you were so lovely." He continued, "But it was all a game."

He sighed. "Such a pity."

"What?" she repeated again, this time more urgently.

He didn't answer, preferring instead to look away from her and stare at something which didn't move nearly as much as she did, like the tiny silver handed hairbrush on her armoire.

It was quite possible he hadn't heard her at all. He hadn't heard a word he had just spoken, after all.

And one can hardly pick and choose.

Sarah was incensed.

She just obviously didn't get it.

"You cant keep me here, Jareth. I don't care what you say! I am no part of this place. I am no part of you," she steamed on, "let me go."

Jareth sighed, leaning back against his makeshift seat, and Sarah was taken aback by the look in his eyes. "Sarah," he pleaded, "Just what is so horrible about staying here?" The words were unsaid, but Sarah caught the meaning behind his whispered statement, the words "with me" floating between them in the night air.

She waited. She may have been a bit thrown off by Jareth's frequent appearances in her bedrooms, even moreso by his disassociative state. She may have been a bit confused by his sudden burst of feeling. She may have even been concerned about the vaguely wounded look in his eyes, but there was still no way she was answering such an obviously loaded question.

"None of your tricks, you Goblin King," she stammered.

"You know my name, Sarah. Why result to such childish name calling?" He smiled, a bit of the pompous king she knew now seeping back into his demeanor.

"You are the Goblin King." Sarah repeated anxiously, "I'm not saying anything that isn't true."

"Tsk, tsk, Sarah," Jareth tossed his gossamer locks about him with a shake of his head, the grin still permeating his features making him again seem menacing. "Neither am I. Not tonight, anyway. Should I call you by the name your role so adequately fitted you for?"

"What is this?" Sarah wondered, "He's almost being. playful."

When she stared blankly back at him, he continued. "The senseless spoiled brat who risked both her life and her brothers, fighting against a dangerous foe."

"A dangerous foe she defeated." She snapped in sudden defense.

Jareth's grin fell, "Really Sarah, why do we play this elaborate game?" He stood quickly, a fire lighting in his eyes, and Sarah jumped up from her position on the bed, moving toward the window with an agility she hadn't known herself to possess.

He seemed confused by her sudden reaction, and turned to face her, his frame looming over her crouched form. The blesphemene's effects were falling away from his physical form, but the mental distinction it made seemed quite intact.

"Am I so frightening?"

Her answer slipped out before she could stop it. "Yes."

He paused, taking this time to drink her words in fully. He stalked toward her, reaching over to her where she still stood frozen in anticipation.

"Oh, you silly child."

His fingers brushed delicately across her jaw line and Sarah closed her eyes, a sleek tear tracing a path down her cheek.

Something had occurred to her in that moment. She now knew for certain that she wasn't going home.

The next words he whispered were solid and laced with an undeniable truth.

"I loved you once you know."

She clenched her eyes shut even tighter, hoping to block out the emotions that flooded her.

"I thought I could do so again."

His touch fell from her and the thunder of his heels echoed in her head as he turned and walked away from her.

The door slammed shut.