A/N: Thank you for following along! I love reading your comments.

Disclaimer: Labyrinth is not mine

Chapter 9: The Gathering

For some seconds after Jareth's pronouncement, Sarah just sat, staring more through him than at him. Thinking. Deciding. She had needed a back-up plan to simple denial. There was only one thing she could think of that would get the agents off her back and foil any plot to frame her for the kidnapping: she needed to find the kid. She needed to prove she hadn't stolen him and had no desire to keep him hidden. And she likely couldn't wait for traditional authorities to do it on their own; even with the assistance of Grog. If this court was framing her for a political kidnapping as a way of amusing themselves with the one person they hadn't been able to keep, she would be damned if she let them do it without a fight. Even if the court wasn't behind the ploy, her plan didn't change.

"We need to find this kid," Sarah asserted, standing to put together her own sandwich. Heavy thinking on an empty stomach was unwise; she remembered all too well how spectacularly her freshman year finals had gone on a dinner, and breakfast, of instant coffee. "Given what authorities already know, we can't just wait around and hope the agents find the kid and forget about me." She turned back to Jareth as she slathered mustard on one slice of bread. "Is there anything you can do to track him? Magically?"

Jareth finished off his last bite of sandwich and frowned, leaning back in his chair. "There are ways to locate humans, but I have not seen this child before. I have nothing of his. I do not know what to search for."

"But if you had something, you could do it?"

He hesitated. "Possibly. Depending on whether whoever took him did not mask his presence." He gestured at the book on the table. "After the book in the station, however, I find it likely the child is similarly masked."

"We have to try. I don't think I have time to just wait for cops to find him." Sarah returned to the table, sandwich in hand. He had seemed concerned enough about the book but had yet to guarantee he'd help her out of her predicament. Him personally locating a kidnapped child – likely magically kidnapped – was never part of any deal. She found it notable, however, that he'd never offered to help personally find the kid despite apparently knowing a possible way to do so. Instead, he'd provided Toby an alcoholic spy and bargained his way into her apartment. She ground her teeth. He seemed likely to want something else for this assistance. Something she likely wouldn't want to give. Still, she asked. "Will you help me?"

She expected him to grin; to lean back in his chair, a haughty twitch at the corner of his lips that revealed nothing but immense satisfaction. The same look he'd given her in her office when he'd proffered her a crystal that seeped into skin. That time, for some still unknown motive, he'd wanted to assist. There was no reason to believe he wanted to entangle himself further in the kidnapping. She believed him when he asserted he had no desire to reveal his ties to Grog.

So it came as some surprise when the flash of teeth never came.

Instead, Jareth stood, expression severe. "Do not leave this apartment." And without even an acknowledgment of her question, he vanished. In his place, resting innocently on the table, was a single crystal.

Sarah slammed her fist into the table, scowling at the object. It did nothing to calm her.

Toby glanced over at his watch, temporarily clasped in Grog's hands as a distraction, before ringing Sarah's doorbell. He only had an hour or so before the agents needed Grog back at the station, bejeweled and ready to focus his attention on the cult instead of the hidden camera. There was some last prep work to do. He hoped Sarah and the king would have a quick solution to both of his problems.

Sarah opened the door a crack before hastily unchaining it and pulling Toby and Grog inside. "Thank God," she sighed. "We need to talk."

Sarah's relief at his appearance momentarily threw Toby off-guard. He didn't need to ask to know something was wrong; Sarah's march to the couch and subsequent collapse into it confirmed his suspicions. "What it is?" he asked hesitantly, watching her rub at her temples. It was a move she only resorted to when distressed. And he hadn't even told her his own distressing news about Murdock.

She dropped her hands. "The agents know I ran the Labyrinth."

"What?"

"Or they suspect it at least. I denied it, but someone told them about me and the Goblin King." She tossed the little red object at her side at her brother. "They showed me a copy of the book."

He caught it, taking one look at the book before glancing back at Sarah with wide eyes. "I swear I didn't tell them—"

She waved him off. "I know you didn't. You're a terrible liar. It was someone else."

His earlier creeping feeling that something had gone wrong in Sarah's interrogation was proving correct. The agents would find the king 'unusual' if they at all suspected he wasn't human. Even more so if they suspected he was the Goblin King. "What about the memory wipe?" He hadn't quite understood what the king claimed he could do, but both he and Sarah had seemed confident it would work.

Sarah rubbed at her eyes again, plainly frustrated. "He said he couldn't do it. Some spell on the book prevented it."

The last part of the phrase never came, and Toby looked around quickly. But finding no sign of the king, he asked for her confirmation. "And you trust him?"

At that, she snorted. "In general? No. On this?" She sighed, dropping her hand again to glance up at her brother with somber resolution. "Yes. I'm confident he didn't want the agents knowing the goblin was his."

Toby stilled. That meant… "He told them he was the Goblin King?" Was that why the king wasn't here? Had they arrested him?

"No, and I don't think they've figured that out yet either; they let us leave. He just told them he was a 'collector'," she quoted in air, "and Grog was his." Sarah leaned back into the couch, closing her eyes briefly. "But with someone talking to the agents, I don't think it'll be long until they put two-and-two together. If the culprit knows I ran the Labyrinth, they clearly know who Jareth is." At Toby's furrowed brow, she clarified. "The Goblin King."

Toby nodded and looked around again. "Where is he?"

"No idea. I asked him for help and he vanished. He's been gone for hours." She gestured to an object on the coffee table, resting on a gathered hand towel from the kitchen. "He left that."

Toby recognized the king's distinct crystal. As with his own crystal, hers held a faint glow. He frowned. "Is that the help?"

"I doubt it. He didn't ask me for anything in return." Plus, he'd all but confirmed he couldn't track the kid without one of his possessions.

Toby nodded again, this time weary. If the king was gone, getting something to spell Murdock would have to wait. And given Sarah's already heightened frustration, he wasn't anxious to tell her about him until the king was around to possibly help. He had a more pressing need anyway; ensuring Grog paid close attention at tonight's gathering was one thing they both desperately needed. He cleared his throat. "The cult is meeting tonight. If Grog hears something about Olson's kid, we might be able to find him before the agents figure out who the king really is. I don't think they'll care about you if they have the kid. You didn't steal him."

"Tonight?" Sarah glanced at Grog, who had been too busy twisting a watch in his hands to offer any encouragement that he understood the plan. "Is he ready?"

Toby shook his head. "That's why I'm here." He gestured at Grog, still ogling his watch. "The agents want him to wear a hidden camera. The Goblin King forgot to mention Grog's interest in shiny things. I need to get him some…uh…shinier things to distract him from playing with the camera lens."

"And you came here because…?" Sarah didn't really need to ask; Toby barely made enough to pay rent. The watch had been a gift from their father when he'd been hired by the department, but she knew he didn't have anything else 'shiny' to loan Grog.

Toby grinned sheepishly. "Can I borrow a few things? Just for tonight?"

She wanted to say 'no'. She didn't trust the goblin not to lose her jewelry. Or swallow it. But Toby was pulling his familiar pleading look and Jareth was nowhere to be found, meaning she was currently without any guarantee he'd help her locate the kid. Grog was all they had at the moment. She stood, exhaling slowly through her nose. "Just wait here."

It wasn't long before she returned to the living room holding a small wooden box etched with vines of golden filigree. She'd seen the jewelry box in a thrift store window during college and it had immediately caught her attention, despite having few pieces at the time to place inside. Now, the goblin would have his pick of 'shiny' accoutrements. She handed the box to Toby with a pointed stare. "I want them back afterward. I don't think I need to mention how many favors you already owe me."

"Thanks, sis. The meeting is at midnight. Should I call as soon as it's over?"

"Yes. As soon as he's done." She didn't think she'd be able to sleep until she knew how it went, anyway.

"Got it." Toby turned to Grog and gestured for his watch back. "Time to trade. I've got what I promised." He lifted the lid slightly to prove he kept his word, and Grog perked, reaching for the small box. But Toby closed it swiftly, shaking his head. "Watch first. And then you have to promise Sarah you'll return her shiny things after you borrow them tonight, okay?"

"Lady's shinys?" Grog looked quickly to Sarah, amusingly awed by her possession of jewelry.

She laughed. "Yes, they're mine. You can call me Sarah, though. I'm no 'Lady.'

For a second, Grog looked like he wanted to argue, but then, as before in the car, Toby noticed he'd gone gray. Sullen and silent. Toby nudged him with his shoulder. "You'll return them, Grog?

Grog just nodded, looking vacantly past Sarah.

For the second time that day, Sarah was decidedly unnerved. She'd only ever seen Grog exuberant, and the sudden change was jarring. Similar to his mercurial master when he'd dropped his glamour. "What was that?" Sarah whispered at Toby. Grog was still focused on something nonexistent in the middle of her hallway.

"I dunno. It happened once before. He has these mood swings." He grinned. "But watch; I can fix it." The creak of the lid lured Grog's brief attention, and that was enough to snap him back to his normal enthusiasm. One item stuck out to Toby and he pulled out a silver necklace and handed it to Grog's outstretched hands, all the while giving Sarah a curious look. The round, translucent charm shimmering at its end was unmistakable.

Sarah scowled. Of course, Toby would first offer Grog the necklace with a crystal. "Don't ask." She'd never worn it, but she knew exactly why she'd purchased it. Offered crystals were a memory she just couldn't forget. Hers, a substitute for others refused. Again, not something she'd ever mentioned to Toby, but Toby had now seen several of Jareth's crystals; she knew why his eyes had inquired.

She knew Toby wanted desperately to ask – he was too nosy for his own good – but he took a look at his watch and winced. "I've got to go. The agents wanted us back around now. I'll call later. C'mon, Grog."

Sarah watched the pair depart out the window as she locked the deadbolt again. "Come on, Grog," she whispered to herself. God knows where Jareth had disappeared to. Or if he would even come back.

Grog, decked out in several necklaces, a bracelet on each arm, and a silver ring with a jade stone, looked more like a misgendered flapper than a spy. But, as Toby turned back into the station, he decided the man-goblin never looked happier. If a few trinkets were all it took to keep Grog from playing with the button-camera, the ridiculous ensemble would be well worth it.

Collier and Steele both stood outside, arms crossed as if they had been waiting for some time despite Toby being only ten minutes late. Collier was a professional, but even he couldn't hide his amusement at Grog's accessories.

"That's what he needed to function?" he asked, shaking his head when Toby just shrugged. "The van is around back. We'll set him up there."

The van was nondescript: an oversized black box that might have once been used as a means to haul away boxes or bubble-wrapped furniture. Steele opened the double doors in the back and ushered Toby and Grog inside. On one side of the wall was a station of circuitry: screens and buttons and a mess of wires that looped around and under the monitors. Everything was off, but with the flick of a small yellow switch on the console table, the screens blipped on. Still dark, but humming with the whir of a small fan or motor. Grog, expectedly, oohed.

"Go ahead and change him back, Mr. Williams," Collier ordered, closing the double-doors behind him. "We'll test out the equipment."

Grog's decorations looked just as bizarre on his goblin form, the necklaces and bangles hanging precariously off a stubby frame of wrinkled leather. Yet, his smile never wavered, even as Collier pulled out the small black button-camera from his pocket and affixed it to the goblin's sack-like vest. "All set." Collier gestured at his counterpart sitting by the monitors, and with the flick of another switch, his face popped across one of the monitors.

Toby was impressed. He'd recognized that the minuscule camera would be hard to pick out, looking more like a button than a lens, but even the sheen blended into the dark cloth, leaving only the impression of a stain that washing failed to remove. The picture on the screen might have been clearer than even Sarah's small television.

"Good. It's working." Collier nodded as Grog puffed out his chest. "Don't touch it. Sound?" He looked back over at Steele, now holding up one padded headphone undoubtedly worth more than his month's pay to one ear. Steele gave a thumbs up in return. Collier nodded again and gestured for Toby to follow him up to the front seats. With a low rumble, they were off.

The trip was short. Collier pulled off to the side of a street downtown that Toby had difficulty recognizing in the dark, and turned off the engine. "Alright, Mr. Williams. We're here. Alleyway directly across. Make sure he knows what to do. We should be able to track him the whole time, but if he gets a whiff of something wrong, tell him to say 'pigeon'."

"Pigeon, sir?" That seemed an unusual choice of code words.

"They're all over the city. If he has to use it, tell him to point up."

"Yes, sir," Toby offered, climbing around the front seats to return to the back. Grog nodded fervently after Toby informed of him of the escape plan, and with another assurance that he understood what he was supposed to do, Grog slipped out the back.

Toby stayed in the back of the van, watching the alley loom on one of the monitors. It remained unrecognizable even as Grog hit the sidewalk and then started down the narrow carve-out between faded brick. Steele had set up the audio to come through the console speakers, and the faint garble of laughter could be heard as Grog ambled onwards. The flicker of firelight brightened the screen immensely when the alley opened.

As in several of the blurry photos, some sort of bonfire had been lit near a back corner. It was hard to tell how many creatures were holding up hands to the flames, but two goblins and something Toby could only describe as an ogre, nearly four Grog's taller than the goblin and covered in bulbous pustules, craned their heads back as Grog's jangling frame approached.

"Who 'er you?" someone demanded. The camera angle was poor, and it was unclear who had asked.

"Grog. I wants to join."

At that, someone grunted. But it must have been an accepting grunt because the screen showed the two goblins shrugging, and turn their heads back to the flames. The picture sharpened as Grog inched closer: seven to eight figures, ranging in size. The smallest had wings and flitted in and out of the picture, seemingly dancing across the top of the flames. The largest, as Toby had seen already, was the ogre. But up close, there were two; his twin resting half-asleep against the back wall. The sleeping one snorted out a snore as Grog's small hands raised towards the fire to mirror the cult members. No one spoke.

"Can you see Dylan anywhere?" Collier called back from the driver's seat, prepared to take off if Grog's cover was blown.

Steele shook his head. "Negative. No sign of the man either."

"Damn," Collier mumbled, facing front again.

Toby glanced at his wrist. "It's a bit before midnight, sir. Maybe that's when they come?" He didn't know much about cults, but midnight seemed like a meaningful hour if they really did perform rituals. Plus, none of the figures appeared to be doing any more than warming themselves by the fire. "They seem to just be…waiting."

"Let me know if anything changes."

The firelight and Grog's outstretched blanketed the monitor for several silent minutes. Toby checked his watch again: 12:04. The gathering should have officially started by now. If this man wasn't coming, Grog needed to drop the name of Olson's kid and see if the creatures knew anything. He knew why he was there. "C'mon, Grog," he whispered.

"Welcome comrades," a low voice bellowed through the speakers, and Toby stilled. "Welcome to the hour of penance."

"Sir—"

"I heard it, Williams. Quiet."

Toby refocused on the screen. Grog had obviously turned away from the firelight because everything was shaded by darkness. The faint outline of a cloaked figure shifted closer, but he was hazy and indistinguishable; a dark mirage against empty space. Still, the command laced through his welcome sufficed to identify him as their prime suspect.

The shadow opened his arms and the sleeves of his cloak rippled. "Gather around. I bring news of our endeavor."

Grog inched closer, steps behind creatures to his left and right. The man's features, however, remained indeterminable. Toby leaned into the screen, trying to make out something to go off of, but until the man dropped his hood, it seemed unlikely he'd be able to tell anything by looks. The voice, low and tinged with a slight foreign accent, might be their best bet. Toby found something recognizable in its cadence.

"The boy is secreted away and the offering bestowed through free will. Soon, what was stolen from us will be returned. Its insurance will follow."

Offering? Toby glanced at Collier in concern but not even a muscle on his face twitched at the mention of ritual. The agents, he supposed, had indicated they suspected Dylan had been caught up in something sinister. They had never mentioned anything being stolen from the suspects, though. "Do you know what was stolen?" Toby whispered at Steele. But the agent didn't even turn to glance at him.

"The ruse was almost too easy." The low voice laughed then, skating a long-pointed nail down Toby's back. The rumble of other voices followed, a smattering of snickers and claps that pricked at Toby's remaining calm. Something was wrong. The voices too pleased. The mention of a ruse rang warning bells, but before Toby could tell Collier or Steele that they needed to get Grog out, the screen went black. Darker than the shadows, the warm whir of equipment the only sign the camera was still on.

"Oh, shit." Without thinking, Toby exited his squat and threw open the double-doors, just evading Steele's grasping hand.

"Williams," Steele hissed. But Toby didn't hear him, barreling across the street and into the dimly lit alley. Where moments ago, it had been filled with figures, now, only the embers of the bonfire remained. "Grog!" he hollered, hoping the goblin had simply scattered, but only the crackle of flames responded to his plea. They had taken him; the bastards had stolen Grog. Vanished him into thin air. There was no way to tell where they'd taken him, or even if he still was in his world. Because the creatures surely weren't native to Hartford. Toby paled. He was dead. Better than dead. The Goblin King was going to murder him on the spot and then spell him back to life only to murder him again in an even more gruesome way. The king had been incensed when he'd he believed Toby had accused him of kidnapping. Now, Toby had sent his subject headfirst into a cult's trap. A trap premised in rituals…

"What a pleasant surprise," the shadows suddenly hissed into his ear. "Two of his tokens."

Toby was only able to shout 'pi—' before an unseen pressure overtook air and the ground dropped from beneath him, leading him down into nothingness.

A/N: I did warn y'all it was getting darker...any guesses as to what was stolen? Hint - it's not the most obvious crumb I've dropped, but it's in there. (And don't worry, while Jareth doesn't make much of an appearance in this one, that's not the case for the rest of the story. He and Sarah have some things to...resolve.)