Disclaimer: I have offically given up hope on owning any part of Labyrinth. I was doing a bit of interpretiv-dance-negotiation with the Fire Gang, when I was accosted by a bunch of angry men in suits. It seems that Henson's ghost has come back and is threatening me with a lawsuit that will literally haunt me unto death if I do not quit pestering his goblins, so I must content myself with just messing around with his creations behind his back. (Though, since he is a ghost, and therefore transparent, I suppose that's sort of fruitless, isn't it?)
Chapter Five
Jeff was heading towards the 'friend zone'.
He could see it coming a mile off, his path lined with flashing neon lights proclaiming 'Do Something, Idiot!' and bright red foam fingers making the universal loser gesture at him.
Drumming his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, he stopped for a red light and scowled at the cars he was being forced to let pass him.
He had to stop this.
Ever since he'd seen Sarah, in all her caked on stage make-up and that wrinkly, frumpy brown suit, on the edge of a nervous breakdown but still so vibrant, he couldn't get her out of his head. There was something… compelling about her, something that called to the forgotten part of the human psyche that caged the inner child, and reminded you that there used to be more than this. She was youth and verve and energy in corporeal form, and her company was addicting.
He'd tried being charming, and funny, and sweet - hell, he'd let her drive his car - but she wasn't responding correctly. She'd given him a damn handshake tonight - he'd at least expected a hug.
The light turned green, and he pressed the gas pedal, his car leaping to respond. The rumble of the engine brought back a flash from earlier - Sarah's wild green eyes, glowing and thrilled at the power in her hands; the curl of her hair as the wind blew her jasmine-and-honeysuckle scent past him - and he frowned down at himself.
"Now that's completely uncalled for, pal," he told his pants, chagrined at his libido's instantaneous response to such mild stimulation. Honestly, he wasn't a teenage boy with his first crush. He enjoyed the youthful effect Sarah's presence had on his personality, but this was not a pleasant side-effect.
He sighed. There was no way he could tolerate being 'just friends' with Sarah. Immediate actions to avoid his current course were necessary.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open, dialing a number without looking and pressing his wireless headset button.
"Information, how can I help you."
"Yes, may I have the address for Sarah Williams?"
Not gonna panic, not gonna panic, I chanted to myself, watching in horrified wonderment as my entire apartment was overrun by goblins, brownies, fairies, dwarves, mutated fetus-like things on sticks, and bits of fireys.
What, did the whole damn Labyrinth dump it's contents in my living room? I thought frantically as several goblins wobbled past me, being pursued by a detached furry orange foot. I could feel my resolution to keep calm rapidly failing - I needed information and a plan, fast.
Wading as quickly as possible through the throng encasing my sofa, I searched for someone familiar - I'd never realized how many goblins I didn't know - and caught a flash of a once-owned coffee mug.
Reaching down, I plucked Dizz out of the crowd and swept him into my arms.
"Lady Sarah!" he cried happily, throwing himself around my neck. "Hail her Tallness!"
"Wait, no, don't hail-" I pleaded - if twelve goblins hailing me was loud, all these creatures would be deafening -
"HAIL HER TALLNESS!"
"HAIL, HAIL, HAIL-"
I winced as my eardrums were assaulted, and prayed the entire apartment building had decided to either go out tonight or wear their earplugs.
"Guys, quiet-"
BANG BANG BANG
Everyone instantaneously froze as the inhabitant of the apartment below me expressed his displeasure through his ceiling. An extremely feral, growling roar echoed up through the air ducts.
"See, now you've gone and woken up the evil bear-man," I said. Roughly half of the goblins gasped in horror.
"Not the bear-man," Dizz shivered, curling himself against my chest in a defensive ball. Mass chaos descended over my apartment as everyone began wheeling around and running in terrified circles, crying and squeaking and whimpering.
"Wait, wait! Guys! Remember what I taught you - Play Dead!" I yelled over the din, and sagged in relief as those who had survived previous encounters with the evil bear-man collapsed as though struck with sudden (and absolute) paralysis, and their less experienced companions wisely followed suit.
"Alright, you all stay here, and I'll take care of this," I assured them, gently setting a limp Dizz down on a few of his more comfortable-looking brethren, and tip-toeing my way carefully to the door. "And remember - dead things are quiet, so no talking."
I closed my door behind me and sighed, rubbing my hands roughly over my face, before setting off to placate my irate neighbor.
Jeff stared hopelessly at the slip of paper in his hand bearing Sarah's apartment number, to the door in front of him that did not bear her apartment number.
This building was a freakin labyrinth.
The numbers seemed to utterly disregard numerical order and just popped up wherever they wished - 203 was adjacent to 175, and across the hall was 422 - and the halls and corridors twisted and turned in ways that seemed quite improbable and unlikely to be using the full available space in the layout. There was absolutely no sense to it…
He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, looking down the long hallway with a lost expression. Retracing his footsteps, he returned to the stairwell and decided to try his luck on the next floor. He clumped up the rickety metal staircase, hoping he wouldn't have to ruin his surprise by breaking down and calling Sarah to ask her where her damn apartment was.
As he approached the door leading to the third floor, however, he thought he could hear a distinctly familiar feminine voice…
"This continuing ruckus is unacceptable, Miss Williams," rumbled the enormous, intimidating man standing irritably before me. He had a voice that could shake mountains. I imagined in a past life, he had been a fierce warrior on a bloody battlefield, wielding a great hammer or axe with expert ease and lethality. Displaced as he was in this century, he had to curb his murderous skills to simply frightening anyone within a ten foot radius out of their wits. I gave him a sheepish smile and batted my eyelashes, not that it did any good.
"I know, and I'm really, really sorry, Mr. Bruin. They got into the cookies while I wasn't looking-"
"Then you should keep a better eye on your charges. It's not fair to the rest of the building to have to put up with that unbearable uproar night and day because you're an inadequate babysitter," he growled, and that irrational little spark of stubbornness in me that scoffed at petty things like survival instinct and common sense flared up, telling me to put him in charge of a Labyrinth's worth of fantasy beings and see how well he handled it. I quickly stamped it out before it made me do something stupid, like challenge him to an arm-wrestling contest, and tried to look contrite.
"I really am sorry, and I promise it won't happen again," I said, and was quite proud of how sincere my voice sounded. Not even the barest trace of an irritated sneer.
"Damn right, it won't, because I'm talking to the landlord first thing tomorrow. I'd start looking for a new place to live if I were you, Miss Williams. Perhaps something over a playground," he snapped, and shut the door in my slack-jawed face.
I continued gaping at the door for an interminable moment, my brain unable to quite comprehend what I had heard, until I heard a smooth velvet-and-chocolate voice beside me.
"You, ah, want that I should talk to him, Boss?" he asked in a fair imitation of a mafia accent, placing a warm, comforting hand on the small of my back and tilting his head at the closed door in front of us. I blinked at him.
"Jeff? What are you doing here?" I asked, purely curious, until I remembered that I had a house full of things that didn't exist right upstairs, and he probably wasn't here to stand outside and chat. I tried to swallow the panic that rose in my throat.
"Well, I was passing this little flower shop on the way home, and I thought to myself, 'You know, what's an apology without flowers?', so I dropped in and picked up these," he said, and produced a bouquet of colorful daises. I forced a smile at the gesture - I'd never approved of cutting flowers. Why kill something beautiful just to watch it die on your table? - but gingerly accepted them.
"I decided on daisies because I thought roses would be too forward," he said, eyes twinkling. "I was hoping they'd convince you to invite me up for tea, since we already had coffee."
"Oh, hah. That's funny. And I would, but I actually have to go, see, I'm babysitting a couple of rambunctious kids…" I trailed off, hoping he'd let me make a graceful escape.
"Oh, that's fine. I actually love kids, if you wanted a little hand - not that I'm suggesting you need it, or anything," he said hastily, casting a worried glance at the closed door to Mr. Bruin's apartment. I groped for another excuse.
"Well, actually, I just put them down for a nap, and I really don't want to wake them back up," I lied, hoping against hope he'd just accept it and leave…
"Ah, I understand. I'll break out my ninja-quiet bunny slippers, then," he grinned with a cheeky wink. I laughed, maybe just a touch hysterically, and gestured vaguely.
"As fun as that sounds, I've got one in my bedroom and two on the pull-out in the living room, so…"
Jeff back up a pace, conceding defeat. "So maybe next time," he said with a small smile. I let out a relieved breath.
"Yes. Next time," I agreed, and gave his arm a companionable pat. "Thanks again for the flowers, Jeff," I said, and turned to hurry back to my apartment.
"Uhm, Sarah…?" I heard him call. I stopped and looked over my shoulder.
"Yeah?"
"Do you think you could… uhm…" he blushed a little, and rubbed his neck uncomfortably. I tried to hide a grin - he looked like a ten-year-old boy trying to ask a girl to a dance.
"Yes?" I prompted, turning fully back around and cradling his flower offering in one arm.
"Would you show me the way back out of here? I took a couple of turns down a few hallways, and I'm not really sure how…" he looked around, vaguely lost and confused, and I gave him a sympathetic look.
"Sure. It can be a little confusing, at first," I told him, though I'd actually had no problems when I first moved here - everyone else in the building told me that they had, however. Apparently, the winding halls and oddly-placed stairwells were a bit disorienting. I suppose after tromping around in an enchanted Labyrinth for thirteen hours, a few twisting hallways were a piece of cake in comparison.
"It's just that I can't make any sense of it! The numbers don't go in order, and the stairwells don't always lead just one floor up… it's like a maze, but there aren't any clues," he said frustratedly. I smiled.
"Well, lucky for you, I have an excellent sense of direction," I said, and went back, looping my arm through his to lead him. I glanced around at the doors as we walked back towards the nearest stairwell - what did he mean, the numbers didn't go in order? - and felt my stomach drop. The apartment numbers were jumbled.
"Hm. Usually, the addresses are in order, though. Must be some young kids thinking they're funny again," I said, trying to convince myself it was indeed human meddling, rather than the result of a sudden spike in the building's fairy-tale creature population. I hoped that the building's foundation was sturdy and impervious to magical interference… I quickened my step a little. The sooner I could get back to my apartment and get everyone gone, the safer we'd all be.
Jeff made a non-committal noise in his throat in response to my excuse, as though he secretly suspected the building was purposely trying to confuse him. I smiled to myself as we descended a flight of stairs.
"So, are you going to be alright?" he asked a moment later, looking genuinely concerned. "I mean, that big, mean-looking guy back there, he said something about getting you evicted-"
I shook my head and tried to look carefree and unruffled. "Bah, he's just a big bully. He thinks he has a lot more sway with the landlord than he actually does," I told him, and tried very hard to believe it myself. Jeff looked unconvinced, if slightly mollified.
"Well, if anything comes up, and you need a character witness or something…" he offered, giving my arm a reassuring squeeze. I smiled at him.
"I'll know just who to call. Thanks, again," I replied, and opened the door leading outside. I shivered briefly as the chill air weaved through my clothes and brushed against my collar.
Jeff hesitated for a moment, fixing me with a look that had been ingrained in my mind as a look to avoid at all costs, and my heart skipped a beat. No, dammit.
I hastily gave him a one-armed 'bro-hug' and a quick 'bye!', and high-tailed it back inside, hoping he'd take the hint and get rid of that damn look in his eye. I hated telling guys that had taken an unreciprocated interest in me that, sorry, you're just not quite interesting enough to hold my attention, better luck next time. I was really hoping to avoid that conversation with my boss…
I dashed back upstairs, banking on Jeff's inability to navigate my building to keep him from a second attempt, and focused my attention on bringing order to the Labyrinthine madness that awaited me upstairs.
Jareth had discovered the joys of interior decorating.
The castle beyond the Goblin City fairly glimmered in the russet light of the setting sun, it's fortress-like walls shining like dragon scales; elegantly elaborate banners streaming from the erratically twisting spires, and rich velvet drapes adorned the high, arched windows. It was a majestic sight, certainly at odds with the Goblin-esque city below it.
But the awe-inspiring, imposing outside view was nothing compared to the inside. The high ceilings dripped with floating, flickering candles; the walls were clean and hung with intricate tapestries of gold and midnight blue and royal purple; rich wine-colored rugs ran the length of every hallway, and ornate candelabras took the place of the iron torches lighting the walls. Disturbingly realistic motifs of goblins, fairies, and other of the Labyrinth subjects detailed the doorframes, and intimidating gargoyle faces held large, heavy brass knocking rings on most doors.
The King stood at a juncture to the three favorite rooms in his castle (his bedroom, his ballroom, and his throne room), and satisfiedly rested his hands on his hips, his high-collared leather jacket and wild, silver-streaked hair cutting an infallibly regal figure.
After redecorating his throne room in response to Sarah's off-handed chicken comment, he'd found that it was really quite soothing to make the areas around him match his own innate style and flair. The goblins grated significantly less on his nerves when he was surrounded by the trappings of royalty.
He frowned. Speaking of goblins, he actually hadn't seen any for some time. That was unusual, and therefore worrisome. The goblins should never be left alone for any significant amount of time…
"You," he sharply addressed a nearby doorknocker with a large ring hanging from it's nose. "Have you seen any goblins lately?"
It sniffled in a vaguely disrespectful manner and mumbled something unintelligible, but snippy-sounding, in a nasally voice. Jareth growled and seized the ring, giving it a sharp warning tug, and leveled an authoritative look at it.
"Pardon, I didn't hear you," he said evenly as the knocker snuffled and squawked affrontedly.
"Whot I said, wos, 'No, Majesty, 'aven't seen any'uv yoor loyal cretins for a good 'alf hour, since yoo gone an thrown yoor 'issy-fit.' An mayby it ain't none'uv my business, me jus bein a knocker an all, but I'd be lookin to them more flammable parts'a my Labyrinth, f'I wos yoo," it snapped, and tried to scrunch it's nose uncomfortably. Jareth looked vaguely alarmed.
"What have you heard?" he demanded, shaking the ring again and ignoring the undignified complaints of his captive. "Is there some sort of plot against my Labyrinth?"
"No, there ain't no plot, yoo paranoid twit, jus a bunch'a goblins runnin 'round un-soopervized, wif nothin better ta do than mess up stuff an' set fire to fings whot ought not be burnin," it retorted, and gave a great sniff. "An in fanks for 'elping, I'd be much obliged if'n yoo'd take dis fannging ring out my nose!"
Releasing the ring with an irritable sneer of disgust, Jareth waved his hand carelessly and the knocker suddenly found that the ring was now gone, and it's nose blissfully unclogged.
"Oh, thank you, Majesty, I 'aven't been able to properly smell anyfing in decades-"
"Yes, yes," he said shortly, and gave the ugly brass face an appraising look. "Hm. You aren't much good as a doorknocker now, though, are you?" he said, and tapped a gloved finger against his lips thoughtfully. Suddenly he snapped, smiling brightly. "Ah! I've just the thing," he said, and waved his hand again.
The place where the door had been abruptly vanished, and was replaced by a high archway hung with several layers of sheer curtains in varying shades of gold.
"Never let it be said that I am not generous," he smirked, and took to his owl form, flying out through a nearby window in search of his missing subjects and hoping that nothing important was on fire.
The doorknocker with the newly liberated nose inhaled deeply again, not paying any attention to the silly-haired fop in front of him as he driveled on about something inconsequential. He could breathe! He could smell! What a wonderful day! And it seemed that after having spent so long without his sense of smell, it was unusually sharp - he could detect a faint odor of metal from the fop, and the dusty smell of feathers and the musty, corn-like smell of far-off poultry, and-
Smiling ecstatically, he took another gulp of air - and nearly choked as a truly horrible stench invaded his olfactory system. Looking around in frantic dismay, he saw that he was indeed where he thought.
The former doorknocker was now a tree-guard in the Bog of Eternal Stench.
I opened my door and was unsurprised to find that the goblins were extremely bad at playing dead.
At present, there were three goblins trying to climb my curtains, where two of their more successful brethren were already perched; a large group of twinkling fairies were struggling to fly with my jewelry draped around their tiny bodies while being chased by jealous dwarves; a group of those weird, angry-dead-baby-with-fangs looking things were gnawing on my television remote, my doors, my doorframes, my kitchen faucet, and more or less anything else I had previously thought relatively immune to harm, and doing significant damage. Several other goblins and brownies had made a game out of positioning the bunny-ear antennae on my T.V. set, and there were suspicious crunchy sounds coming from my pantry.
I put a hand to my forehead, trying to stave off the tension headache I felt forming, and sighed in frustration as several goblins ran past me, screaming muffledly, encased in socks.
Looking around frantically, I tried to locate Domino, my sock-guardian, and found him besieged by several dwarves who were trying to turn him into a pony-ride, despite the fact that he was quite obviously unhappy about it. I rushed forward as he growled menacingly, before I wound up with damaged dwarf parts flying about.
"Hey, this is my dog, not a joy ride," I reprimanded the dwarves - weren't they supposed to be among the more intelligent races in the Labyrinth? - as I pulled them off.
"Shows what you know," they sniggered, and waddled off to find something else to make miserable.
Having been freed from his tormentors, Domino snuggled against my legs and chuffed happily, licking my hands in greeting.
"Oh, my goodness, what is going on here, Mister Puppy?" I groaned, looking around at the mayhem in my apartment. He snorted and shook his head, glowering at the creatures around him.
Sighing, I put my hands on my hips. There was only one thing for it.
Bringing two fingers to my lips, I gave a shrill whistle so loud it probably incurred the jealousy of every bird in a three mile radius.
Every single being in my apartment immediately snapped to attention and saluted (a nifty little reaction I'd discovered accidentally), which unfortunately resulted in most of them elbowing each other, stepping on toes, or falling over and ramming each other in the face or other sensitive body parts.
"My spleen-"
"Mmph-"
"Oooow-"
"My liver-"
"Bur foob ib im my mowf-"
"…My addendums…" someone squeaked, and everyone turned.
"Ooooooh," they groaned sympathetically, and patted his head.
I picked the little guy up and cradled him. It was Ziggy, a cross-eyed little goblin who had an unfortunate infatuation with the Goblin King's crystals. "Come on, I'll get you some ice," I told him, and he looked up at me with cockeyed adoration.
"My hero," he said, his tone unusually high-pitched. I gave him a pitying kiss.
"Alright, everybody who's in pain meet in the kitchen," I commanded, and more or less everyone weaved and wobbled their way after me as I walked to the fridge.
Pulling out my icebox, I grabbed a roll of paper towels and a box of sandwich baggies and set about making cold compresses for everyone. There were bumps and bruises ranging from elbows to foreheads to earlobes, and by the end of it I had a total of three ice cubes left. I shrugged and gave them to Mister Puppy, who chomped on them happily.
I looked around at the battered group as I replaced the icebox, and put my hands on my hips.
"Alright, so who's going to tell me what's going on, here?" I demanded.
As Jareth soared over his kingdom, he grew increasingly worried.
There were no goblins anywhere, or any other species of his bothersome subjects that he could see.
This was extremely distressing.
After winging around at random for a bit, trying in vain to spot someone, anyone, and failing, he wheeled back towards his castle and tried to smother the odd, twisty-clenching feeling in his stomach.
He knew where they were.
The Labyrinth fed off of magic, off of the magic of those around it, and needed to be inhabited to survive. Without anyone in it…
Of course, the effects would take time to show. At present, the Labyrinth was in all likelihood just fine. Things wouldn't start to deteriorate for two weeks, at least. But there was no sense in waiting for the inevitable to happen when he could fix the situation now, however much he had hoped to delay the resolution.
Shedding his feathered form, he stepped lightly onto a window ledge and turned, looking out a his barren kingdom.
He sighed. He'd intended to go see Sarah, he really had, he just hadn't decided when, exactly. The wooing of Sarah would be a delicate matter, requiring the utmost skill and fineness - he had no intentions of botching what would in all probability be his last chance with an accidental trip to the bog, or a loss of temper resulting in a chase down a dead-end tunnel with the Cleaners.
He grimaced, and rubbed his temples gingerly at the memory. That had been a supremely unfortunate lapse in judgment. But really, she'd outright insulted his Labyrinth. Who could blame him?
Heaving a sigh, he closed his eyes and summoned the energy and will to send himself Aboveground. He wasn't sure where exactly Sarah was at the moment (he'd been quite creative, he thought, in the spells he'd used to transport and rearrange the gifts he'd given her, sparing him the temptation that entering her house would have presented), but he supposed he could just follow the imprinted trail of his subjects to find her. It was a simple matter, and in minutes, he was standing in an absurdly crowded, tiny room, amid a gaggle of goblins with socks pulled down over their eyes.
Cocking an eyebrow, he carefully picked his way through them, not wanting to send up an alarm of any sort until he knew what sort of mental state Sarah was in, and leaned around the door frame.
Leaning around the doorframe of Sarah's kitchen, Jareth stifled a groan at the sight of her. He suddenly doubted the wisdom of this plan - it was highly unlikely he'd be able to keep the necessary distance for the amount of time he'd intended. Watching her through a small sphere of enchanted glass was far different than seeing her standing there, her long legs encased in tight, low-slung jeans, a snug black turtleneck doing little to hide the shape of the body beneath it, and her lovely face, free of make-up and the bewildered disdain that usually marred her features in his presence.
Despite her certain annoyance at having her home overrun by his subjects, she looked quite calm and collected, obviously in control, as she tended to a horde of injured creatures gathered around her.
She was every inch a queen.
Stamping on the painfully intense yearning that sprung up in his chest, Jareth slid forward, grinning when she presented him with such a perfect opportunity. He leaned casually against a wall, knowing full well that the position caused his open-necked poet shirt to drape enticingly, and crossed his long, lean legs.
"Perhaps I can be of assistance here," he drawled.
Author's Note: YAY JARETH! *does the happy-Jareth-dance, which involves a good bit of wrist flicking, strutting, and sneering* So, this is a tiny bit shorter than usual...alright, like two pages shorter than usual, but it was just too good a spot to pass up. These things don't crop up every day, you know. It takes a lot of manipulating to get Jareth to do what I want. And just think! In the next chapter, there's going to be so much JS interaction your eyes will burst into clouds of ecstatic, fluffy glitter.
THANK YOU SO EFFING MUCH! for the reviews! i lovelovelurve reading them, it makes my day at least ten times better. Sometimes even eleven times better. And a great big double heaping of thanks to my Beta-But-Not, lov2catnap, for being so wonderful at putting up with me and patiently removing the evil from this chapter. All of your eyes would have exploded for a much different reason were it not for her help.
Tsohg: Thank you, darling! More is indeed forthcoming.
TinkLuvr16: Glad you enjoyed, m'dear, hope you liked this one too!
Pinfeathers: I know! . I squee whenever i read back over them.
leannapotter: Oh...well...that does sound like fun... (thank you for not getting it out!) GASP! I LOVE that movie! And Skinner should most assuredly have my fangirlbabies. . I feel like such a cool kid now.
Gilraen R. Luinwe: Alright, so there wasn't as much of Jareth's a-s-s as i promised, but it will be soon! Pinky-promise! And thank you! I actually love writing animals, it's one of my favortie parts to do.
LDeetz: I know! I had to keep mopping my face when I was looking up pictures to see what color I should make Jeff's car. (hmmmm...that sounds fun... *runs off to work into story*)
Bright Lotus: ME HUGGLES YOU! -ahem-, Yes, I appreciate your feedback. (^.^)
Natsuko37: Lol, well, now that you put it that way, I am rather curious...
CoffeeKris: Oh my goodness, I nearly cried when I read that! I was like "WHAT? but you said..." and then I read the rest and my bloodpressure returned to normal. lol! I'll try to dull it down a bit from now on, darling.
Volpone: ...I'm sorry, the image of Jareth's tight little tushie made me forget what my witty response was...
J Luc Pitard: *Snaps fingers* Blast! That would have worked much better... Oh well, next time... Thanks!
lov2catnap: Automated Message 203: We're sorry, the author is currently too busy worshipping the shrine she has built in your honor to reply. Please try back again in approximately 3 - and - 1 - half - hours.
ZigBabe: THANKS!
NotWritten: Thank you, darling! *Big Smile*