Sarah's brush ran through her dark hair, pulling the bristles through the thick long locks draped over her shoulder. Staring at her face in the mirror, she sighed. She dotted concealer under her eyes, trying to hide the dark circles that cradled them, the purple hues a stark contrast to her pale skin. Years of restless nights would do that.

Sipping on her coffee she set the mug on her dresser, to take one last look at herself before setting off to her childhood home. A dusting of blush brought a little color to her face. Lipstick painting the curve her smile. Anything and everything to mask the bone-deep exhaustion that drained her of all vivacity. The last thing she wanted was for her family to worry more than they already did.

It had been two months since her last visit. She finally called them to invite herself over, knowing if she stayed late they would insist she crash on the couch. She needed it. Needed to see her family. To feel grounded. To sleep.

Four years. She thought as she turned the key in her ignition. She'd rarely had a solid night's sleep in four years.

College had been a blessing in disguise. Late nights and lack of sleep were the norms. If you weren't burning the candle at both ends, you weren't trying hard enough. Though that wasn't enough to help her keep a roommate. Koko had moved rooms after two weeks. No one else had lasted even that long.

She tried to go home, but the Laura Ashley makeover had already started and the room given to Grandma Mary who had finally agreed to come live with Sarah's parents. She was well and truly on her own though she would never begrudge her grandma anything.

By the end of Freshman year, she had gained a reputation. Stares and whispers followed her down the halls. No sororities or social clubs would have her. She found herself alone with her books in the parks once more.

Sarah finally resorted to a note from a doctor saying she suffered from night terrors to allow her to have her own room. With that note, she accepted a prescription. A prescription that did nothing. The few times she swallowed them in desperation led to her bumbling and stumbling against the walls that still sprouted at her touch. Her ankle twisted and sprained, tangled in the creeping juniper that flourished under her feet. Alcohol had similar effects. She even tried some pills a boy sold her to help her stay awake "to study." The crash after she came down was hard and swift. But nothing she tried stopped him from coming for her.

It was a miracle she graduated. She had thought that she would lose her sanity first. But she managed like everyone else.

Now she managed a career. Well, it was a job. A nice desk job where she could rest her aching feet. Her tasks of data entry and filing were boring, tedious, and perfect for one who spent her night running for her life. People often said she was wasting her talents. But her mundane days were her only respite.

Night after night, she did what she could to stay awake. Researching anything and everything. Trying to find some way to make it stop; mythology, folklore, fairy tales. Books were piled and strewn across every surface in her small apartment.

But she had no Ariadne with her string to guide her. Nor Icarus with his wings to fly over the walls that towered over her.

Neither spindle nor poisoned apple would help her sleep. Though there was a peach…

Peach...apple...pomegranate... No that couldn't be right . For the King of the Underworld had sought only to ensnare Persephone while the King of the Underground sought to vanquish.

Unfortunately, the only person who could answer her questions was also the one she had to escape. Darkness loomed in her periphery every night as she ran, her name whispered from its depth, swallowing everything in its path. If she didn't find a way to save herself, soon it would devour her too.

Long legs covered in dove gray breeches stretched before him. His tall black boots rested on the grand wooden table in the center of the council's chamber, toes tapping an impatient cadence. Grievances, disputes, taxes, banquets, all incessantly droned on about ad nauseum by his underlings.

Distracted and despondent, none of his officials dared to admonish their monarch even though he himself knew his thoughts were elsewhere. Always elsewhere.

Jareth stared at the window. The sky was still blue, clouds drifting lazily across the horizon, the sun high in the heavens but he counted down the minutes until it would shift to black.

The voices around him continued, discussing and debating relations with one kingdom or another. It was of little consequence. They were all the same. And soon it would not matter at all. He would have her and through her, the Labyrinth would once more ensure his defenses.

He needed to get to Sarah to strengthen their bond. A single bite of peach was only enough to gently tether her to him. The labyrinth's connection with her as champion was greater than his, superseding his powers and keeping her from him. The more ways he found to bond with her, the more power he would have. You have no power over me . He didn't but he would.

Standing, he crossed the room resting his hands on the rough rock of the window sill, leaning out over the ledge as the breeze danced through his flaxen hair. The landscape surrounding his castle was much changed in the last 7 years since she won. The walls awash with colors and shades of greens. Everyone assumed it was his eccentricity changing the world around them when, in truth, it was all his champion bending the world to her will.

No longer did she spend the nights creating gardens and monuments to traitors. He'd tried to blast those statues of the three betrayers to ash, but nothing he did made any impact. He snarled as he realized the churning in his stomach was not anger. But jealousy. Had he ever been jealous? Those idiots received all of her affection when all they did was bumble into helping her when they were supposed to be hindering. He had done everything she had wanted and still, she denied him...continued to deny him.

But Sarah had finally learned to use the Labyrinth for its purpose. To distract, disorient, and defeat. Though he was far from defeated. If anything he was more determined, driven to find her. To keep her for his own.

Her paths became hurried and wild. No careful cultivation, no whimsical displays.

Thick twists of brambles blocked his path, their barbs reaching for him, tearing at his clothes and drawing blood.

Innocuous paths became endless loops, passing the same boulder or tree several times until he turned back and suddenly a new path was open before him. The way forward is sometimes the way back. So she did learn something after all.

Jareth spent hours staring into a crystalline pond, much like the fool Narcissus, but instead of his own reflection, the rippling surface showed one their basest desires. Had she known he would see her wrapped around him, her back arched in ecstasy, long hair splayed on his pillow as he thrust deep inside her? Assuredly not. He carved a sigil in the weeping willow that held vigil over the pond. If her goal was to distract him, she had succeeded. But deterred he was not.

He heard her sweet voice calling to him just around the next corner, the next, and the next begging him for help, leading him astray until he finally recognized one of his own trap doors leading to an oubliette. Clever woman. He should have known she would never call to him in her time of need. And yet he still desired it.

Perhaps the worst of her beguilements was the ruins of a small amphitheater. Tumbled crumbling seats rose above a stone dias. A gilded mirror stood at the center. What delights would it show? After the pond, he was curious, to say the least. But standing in front of it, he was not granted visions of carnal delights. Instead, he was forced to see how others perceived him. His citizens, his servants, even his peers. It was easy enough to convince himself the mirror lied, telling him falsehoods to slow his progress, yet harder to forget the feelings that lingered.

Jareth sighed. From his window in the council chamber, he watched the trees of her forest sway in the wind, the canopy so thick no sun could break through the boughs.

The first time he entered the wood, he thought the dense trees were actually quite beautiful. Fireflies drifted around the roots that crept from each gnarled and knotted trunk weaving over the ground and through the path, their soft glow floating in the darkness illuminating the white bark. It wasn't until they turned red in pairs as he stepped over twisted roots that he heard low growls emanating through the trees. Not fireflies. Eyes. Eyes that belonged to beasts he had never encountered.

Sweat gathered on his brow. He quickly made his way through the small forest ready for any attack and grateful he still did not know what those creatures were when the treeline cleared. He quickly carved his symbol on a nearby wall, making sure he would not have to traverse through there again.

What would have happened had he strayed from the path? He knew she had the capacity for cruelty. The mirror proved that. But was Sarah now capable of violence and pain? It seemed his sweet little Sarah had grown up.

"Your Majesty?" questioned one of the council members. All the Fae gathered waited for his response.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jareth turned. "You are all dismissed."

Jareth ignored the pleas of his council. The conversation as far as he could tell had become circular and therefore no longer required his attention. A few feathers fell to the ground as he transformed and flew out the window, leaving behind his confused cabinet.

Warmth enveloped her as arms tugged her every which way for hugs pulling her through the threshold hold of her childhood home. Which way? Up or Down? She shook the memory from her mind as her jean jacket was tugged off of her arms and she was swept into the dining room where the table was already set with fine China reserved for company and candles.

God, she loved coming home. Where everyone was happy to see her. Her favorite foods were served, wine was stocked and poured freely. Being an adult had its advantages sometimes. Her parents would always be there whenever she needed them but their relationship had transitioned from strictly caregiver and child to somewhat friendly. It was nice to be able to talk to her parents and grandmother as another adult. To see them as people and be seen. Although they would never stop worrying.

"Sarah, dear, you look so tired. You need to get more sleep," Grandma Mary remarked, scolding her. "Your wild nightlife is going to catch up to you sooner or later."

"Mother!" said Robert. "I don't think 'wild nightlives' really need to be discussed at the dinner table...or ever."

You have no idea. "Nothing wild going on, Grandma. Just so we're all clear on that. I've just had a hard time sleeping. That's all." She took a sip of cabernet sauvignon.

"But, Sarah, don't you think it's about time you found a beau and settled down? How are you going to find a man if you aren't looking?"

Wait, did Grandma Mary want her out partying or not? It was always hard to tell. She would speak so fondly of her late husband with company but whisper about her escapades as a youth at the USO in private. She was a "have your cake and eat it too" woman and encouraged others to live life to its fullest. Sarah marveled at how she could disappoint her for not getting enough sleep for the wrong reasons.

"I'm not sure if Sarah wanted to find a man to settle down with she would start the search by having a wild nightlife, Mary," said Karen. "Toby, why don't you go grab a popsicle in the kitchen?"

Not needing to be told twice, Sarah's only chance of the conversation ending ran from the room casting a knowing glance over his shoulder. Traitor .

"If you got married, it would alleviate your stress. You could stop working," persisted Grandma Mary. "You need your own garden to sow your seeds and set down some roots."

Hmm. A garden. Sarah had already grown several. She had created forests and meadows, ponds and lakes, dangers untold and hardships unnumbered even. She knew how it felt to create worlds with the touch of her hand. Would settling down ever be as fulfilling?

Did she even want to get married? She had never had those feelings on the few dates she'd been on. She always felt a pull and queasy feeling whenever she was with another man, guilt tugging at the corners of her mind. The dreams after those nights were always scarier. Anger radiated towards her from afar.

The men around her never inspired any deeper feelings in her. No passion. No connection. No star-crossed souls. The only time she had been drawn to someone-no. She would not entertain that train of thought.

Besides, who would want a wife that was crazy? Haunted by dreams? Hunted by dreams? Anyone would think she was certifiable.

"She doesn't need to settle down, Mom. She's always been independent and someday, she'll find someone who knows how to appreciate that. A woman as smart and pretty as Sarah can hold out for Prince Charming. She doesn't need to grab up the first jerk that comes along. " Her dad threw her a wink across the table.

Sarah snorted into her wine glass, the alcohol burning her nose. Wiping her face with her napkin, she laughed. If only her father knew who that first jerk was. Her first dance, first crush, first desire was, in fact, not Prince Charming but a Fae King. And look how that had turned out.

"I'm fine really. You guys worry too much, but I'll try to go to bed earlier. Okay? But not tonight." She raised her voice and continued, "There's been some high and mighty talk from someone threatening to whoop my butt at video games. And I intend on taking him down a peg."

"Old people can't play video games!" a small voice yelled from behind the kitchen door.

"That's it!" Sarah tossed her napkin to the table and rounded the table, grinning. Screams of delight sounded as sneakers screeched across tiled floors. "You better run!" She took off after her brother, confident she would find him. She always had.

A few hours later she had been soundly defeated. Mario sure had come a long way in a very short time. Unfortunately, her hand-eye coordination skills had not. Letting her brother gloat and bask in the glow of his victory, she had conceded that he was in fact the champion of electronic games. However, she was still bigger than him and won the wrestling match for the tv remote that ensued. She grabbed the tv guide saved from the Sunday paper and flipped through to see what was on, knowing it would drive Toby insane not to channel surf. It was the little things that made sibling relationships special.

Sarah finally decided on a movie. They were just in time to watch a good one. Peter Pan grows up, has kids, and must face his old rival to rescue them. It was funny and the continuation of the story was something that intrigued her. What did happen when the story ended? Did life go on for the characters? Do they all just grow up and grow old? Was her greatest adventure behind her or was there still more to life? Sometimes it was hard to see that as a possibility.

Snuggled up with a certain 8-year-old, Sarah let the warmth and weight of his body center and ground her. His breathing, a relaxing rhythm that lulled her to sleep before Peter ever even knew who he truly was. Her eyes closed, body sinking into the soft cushions, and there was nothing.

No encroaching shadows. No feelings that didn't belong to her. And no pull leading her towards that darkness. Blissful nothingness.

Where was she? He had waited all night. Waited for that feeling pulling him to her. But it never came. His entire being cried out daily for her presence, living for the moments she was near. It infuriated him when she escaped him. It happened less often now. She was rarely gone for more than a night but he felt her absence acutely.

Where did she go when she failed to appear? The thought of her with another man was banished from his mind. He knew the few times that had happened. Had felt the unease and guilt. She was old enough to know better now. She knew deep down that she belonged with him. To him. It was just getting her to acknowledge their bond. Once she did, this farce she'd maintained would fall.

He paced in his bedroom. New furniture shone, polished daily by the goblins trusted with such tasks. The floor swept. New bed hangings in black and viridian brocade surrounded his massive four-poster bed. Crossing the wooden floors, he swung open the double doors that opened into another suite. One he had spent years readying for her. His Queen.

It was a beautiful room, a reflection of her work in the Labyrinth. The walls were painted a pale periwinkle blue, the same color of the sky as the sun crested over the horizon. Four white trees seemingly grew from the floor, stretching to the ceiling creating a canopy for her bed, their branches stretching across the ceiling and down the walls, each limb covered in blossoms that would never wilt, never fade, never fall. Bookcases lined a large window with a cushioned seat, pillows embroidered with floral designs lining the sill. Every piece of furniture, color shade, and fabric had been carefully matched to her creations he had witnessed. Decorating this room, knowing one day she would see his devotion, his very own altar of worship, drove him.

He was getting closer every night. The way forward began to blur into a white misty haze. The labyrinth was still trying to shield her. But it wouldn't be able to for much longer.

It had taken so long for him to get to this point, how many times had the Labyrinth moved her just as he felt he was closing in on her location? There was a reason it hadn't happened again. Her resolve and strength were weakening and so too would the Labyrinth's. His, however, had only grown.

Sarah stared at the book on her lap, curled up on her striped sofa once again back at her place. The coffee table was covered in notes, books, and an empty coffee mug. The tv glowed with a late-night movie.

The words on the page blurred. The old leather-bound collection of protective charms and spells had so far proved useless. But she still persisted.

After a night of sleep and an afternoon nap before leaving her parent's home, she fought with all her might to stay awake. She didn't want to go back to running for her life after the bliss of waking rested after a dreamless sleep.

She didn't know how much more she could keep running. What would happen when he caught her? Would he kill her like he did her friends? Would he torture her? Or something more sinister? Her cheeks heated as a vision of her chained before him flashed in her mind, her legs wrapped around his waist as he loomed over her.

What is wrong with you? She shook her head and turned the page. He was horrible and she was clearly losing her mind due to long-term sleep deprivation and loneliness. Though deep down she knew she had always found him dangerously appealing.

She needed to end this. But how? Could she seek out help? A psychic or a witch of some sort? Would any of them prove not to be a charlatan? Calling on another Fae would only cause more harm and put her in more danger. But how could she save herself if she didn't know what she was running from? Or why?

Her eyes ached, each blink lasting longer than the last. Her head nodded and jerked up reflexively. She stared at the screen and back at the book. Nothing made sense. She had to stay awake. She wasn't ready.

Sarah blinked. Her eyes opened and the world around her shifted. Ivied walls climbed above her. Firelight danced above her, flames licking the starry sky above. Shadows played behind her, followed quickly by a growing darkness.

Her feet flew into action, running as fast she could but the shadows behind her were gaining on her. Everything behind her disappearing into the umbra.

Why was she still on this path? Why hadn't she ended up in another section of the Labyrinth yet? How could she possibly outrun him when he was so close?

Rounding a corner, the walls seemed to close in around her. She stole a glance over her shoulder but saw nothing but darkness stretching its tendrils towards her. The very stars extinguished in its trajectory.

Her body slammed into a wall. A wall? She turned left then right. Not just a wall. A dead end.

Jareth's heart raced. She was here. He transported to his newest sigil. He knew all of his years of waiting were culminating. Just ahead of him, hidden in a retreating mist. He followed in her wake, careful not to lose her trail. He knew she was close. The panic he felt through their bond was palpable. He almost had her.

Climbing over the roots and cobblestones, he pursued her. The hunt was on. Chasing his quarry had never been so thrilling.

Nothing would stop him tonight. He would strengthen their bond, chipping away at the protection the Labyrinth bestowed upon its champion.

He turned a corner. A white void met him, unmoving. Cornered. In her own labyrinth? How interesting.

"I know you're there, Sarah. Come out where I can see you. There's no need to hide."

Sarah froze as the sound of his voice washed over her. There had to be a way out. This couldn't be happening. She flung herself at the wall behind her. Her hands groping inside the thick layers of branches and leaves. There had to be something. Her vision clouded as the blackness surrounded her.

Jareth's hand ran the length of the wall to his right, following it until it met its perpendicular fellow. He may not be able to see her in the dense fog the Labyrinth shrouded her with, but he could still feel her, hear her rustling in the very greenery she created. So precious. Still trying to escape. Not this time. Jareth quickly cut his own palm with a silver blade.

Blinded by the pitch-black enveloping her, Sarah's fingers scraped against wood in the middle of the brick wall. A door. Grasping desperately, her fingers closed around the metal of a curved handle.

Her wrist was seized in a vice-like grip. Spun around, her back pressed against the wall, sticks and leaves scratching through her clothes. Her hand was held in front of her by an invisible hand, immune to her struggles. There was a flash of silver then long white fingers curled around her wrist appeared as a quick slash bloomed across her palm.

Pressing their hands together, he shielded his eyes from the light that emanated from their newly reinforced bond.

Sarah's eyes squeezed shut against the brightness that shone before her.

As the glow faded, she opened her eyes to see Jareth, The Goblin King, bloody knife on the ground by his boots, his hand in hers. His eyes glowed as his lips curled, victory spreading across his countenance with a feral grin.

"I can see you now," he said.

Sarah's screams filled the small space of her apartment. Her heart pounded against her ribs, lungs pumping, all signs that she was still alive. She was still alive? Raising her shaking palm in front of her, she stared at the newly healed red scar that ran the length of her palm. Though she felt no pain, the thin wound pulsed. The more she focused the more she recognized her own racing heartbeat. And yet something else. A separate beat in tandem with her own.