Disclaimer: Labyrinth is not mine. It belongs to the people it belongs to. Namely, Jim Henson, George Lucas, Brian Froud, David Bowie, etc.

Author's Note: This chapter was getting much too long and needed to be split up. The next half of it will be coming soon! Once again, thank you so much for any reviews, favorites, or follows. I appreciate them all very much. Here's Chapter 3, please read and review!

Chapter 3

"An Occasion"

Sarah snuck down the hall as quietly as she could and into the bathroom. Everything felt surreal as she slipped into her small green dress. While she was changing, she caught her reflection in the mirror.

"Yikes," Sarah whispered. Her green eyes were wide, haunted, with dark circles beneath them. There was something else there too. The girl in Sarah's mirror certainly had her face, but Sarah was sure she had none of her reflection's aura of awareness. The mirror girl had seen things, of this Sarah was sure. She looked vigilant, on edge, and ready for anything. This was certainly not the Sarah Williams of twenty-four hours ago. Sarah touched her cheek. "I've got to get more sleep…"

Sarah went through the motions of brushing and styling her hair, applying makeup, and strapping on her shoes. Somehow, the everyday routine made the morning feel a bit less surreal. At least now her reflection looked awake and commonplace, just a pretty girl in a green dress. The fragile illusion of normality shattered when Sarah crept back down the hall and slipped back into her room. Jareth was still in her bed, sleeping on his good side. Loose strands of long hair had fallen into his face and fluttered with each breath. He looked almost innocent for someone so absurdly otherworldly. Strange, she almost liked him better when he was sleeping.

After rummaging around her dresser top for a few moments, Sarah found what she was looking for buried in her jewelry box. "Thank God," Sarah whispered and eyed the tiny key painted a garish hot pink in her hand.

When Sarah had returned from the Labyrinth it did not escape the notice of Karen and Robert that she had undergone what they liked to refer to as a 'major attitude adjustment'. Her whining had stopped almost all together, she would actually volunteer to babysit Toby, and she stopped sulking so much when things did not go her way. As a special reward, her father and stepmother gave her what she had wanted for her entire fifteenth year, a lock on her door. Now holding the small key that her sixteen year old self had spent a good hour of time slavishly decorating in the questionable color choice of hot pink nail polish, Sarah had a way to keep her family from finding Jareth.

He got one last glance from her as she shut the door and locked it tightly, slipping the key into her purse, surprised by how she was already worried about the magical king sleeping in her bedroom. Sarah walked downstairs and was enveloped by a pair of thin arms.

"Sarah!" her Aunt Lorraine said happily, giving her an extra tight squeeze. Lorraine's two small boys, twin troublemakers both on roller blades, skated over with Toby close behind.

"Hi Sarah," they all said happily, chiming over one another in the babble of voices she associated with her family.

"Not in the house, guys!" Loraine called behind them. The boys skated away quickly, avoiding their mother's wrath. Loraine shook her head, "Boys will be boys."

Sarah smiled half heartedly and allowed her aunt to lead her to the dining room, making small talk about ideas for her next book and Derrick's business ventures. Could Lorraine see the distraction in her eyes as she spoke? Who knew pretending everything was normal would feel this weird, Sarah thought. The dissonant voices grew louder as they approached the dining room. At least fifteen family members, cousins, aunts, uncles, sat around the table, extended for the occasion. They would eat a big breakfast at the house and meet up in the park near sundown for the party, joined by the family and their closest friends.

"Morning," Derrick greeted her in the doorway, giving her a small hug and kissing her hair.

Sarah allowed him to lead her to the breakfast table in a daze. She was served an extra large pile of food that she was not really hungry for. As she listened to the chatter about mundane life experiences, Sarah felt herself slipping away. Derrick was talking about his work with Miller and Brothers, a paper company. "Their problem lay entirely in organization…" he said. She had heard it all before. It was disturbingly dull. Sarah could not concentrate on the everyday problems of Miller and his unorganized staff when there were so many questions she had to ask Jareth, he had told her so little about what had happened to him.

She was only called back to reality once after being scolded for looking too thin and made to eat an extra pancake by her Great Aunt Alice. Sarah sighed and poked around at the sausage and eggs that still littered her plate to make room for the extra helping.

"Something the matter honey?" the elderly woman asked her, patting her hand. "You just haven't been yourself today."

"I'm fine," Sarah said, but her voice was far away and introspective. Maybe if she could get away from the breakfast for a few minutes she could clear her head, after all she had sat at the table for an hour already. "In fact, if you'll excuse me, I'll be right back."

The din of loud children, booming laughter from her uncles, and Great Aunt Alice nodding off in her chair allowed Sarah to slip upstairs unnoticed. It was ten o'clock in the morning; Jareth would probably need his bandages changed. Sarah made a quick stop to the medicine cabinet for gauze. She was walking down the hall when—

"What are you doing?"

Sarah jumped and dropped her armload of supplies, scattering gauze everywhere. Derrick was standing at the end of the hall, looking quizzical in the half-light. He reached down and picked up the tube of antiseptic.

"Derrick! You scared me," she said, scolding him. Sarah's breath caught in her throat when he glanced at her. She could tell that he knew something was up.

He walked toward her, feet padding silently, exactly like a cat. No wonder she hadn't heard him. "What are you doing, Sarah?" he repeated.

Sarah hesitated before meeting his eyes. He didn't look mad, just confused with a hint of suspicion. She sucked in a shaky breath, uncertain what to say. It wasn't as if she had ever thought of excuses for this kind of situation.

"I cut myself," she said quickly.

Derrick cocked his head as he looked her up and down, "Where? Sarah, are you okay? You were acting weird this morning and now…"

Sarah leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. "It's nothing," she said, her stomach twisting in shame. When was the last time she had hidden something from him? Oh shut up, she thought to her guilty conscience. It wasn't her secret to tell.

"Are you sure? You can tell me anything you know," he replied.

"I know," Sarah said quickly.

"I understand you're under a lot of stress. I mean, I know how you hate these family things. Next thing you know, they'll be trying to get you to move back in again—,"

"That only happened once," Sarah said, feeling defensive, "and it was because they hadn't seen me in months. They didn't want me back forever, just for the summer."

Derrick frowned. He had taken the offer her parents made right after graduation pretty badly, particularly when they were just moving in together, like it was an insult to his manhood or something. At the time it had annoyed her, overtime she had tried to understand as best she could.

"Look, everything's fine. I…" Sarah trailed. "I cut my thigh shaving this morning and I need that to cover it," she said, thinking quickly and taking back the much-needed antiseptic.

He opened his mouth to speak again and Sarah quickly covered it in a lingering kiss.

"Just give me a second, I'll be back downstairs before you know it," she said, smiling as best she could. Had smiling convincingly ever been this difficult? She could not think of one instance when it had felt so unnatural.

"Okay, baby, whatever you say," he said with a sigh. He turned and walked downstairs.

When Sarah was sure he had gone, she scrambled to retrieve the fallen medical supplies and unlocked her door, shutting it quickly behind her and bolting it.

"Well, hello there," Jareth said from the bed, not looking up from the book he was reading when she burst inside.

Sarah jumped. She was still on edge from the encounter in the hallway. "God, what is this, 'Give Sarah a Heart Attack Day'?" she snapped and rubbed her temples.

Jareth raised his eyebrows, "Your flushed, Sarah. What happened? Been off ravishing that poor foolish boy who showed up at the crack of dawn? Forgive me, but I do believe he's incapable of handling you."

Sarah gave him the evil eye. "Ha ha," she said, deadpan.

He was sitting on her bed, well more like sprawling, and had redressed in his shirt and gloves from the previous night. The shirt was untucked and loose on his frame, several buttons undone. He seemed both casual and enticing, surrounded by books from her shelves. Most were fantasy; there were novels such as The Hobbit and picture books like Where the Wild Things Are, pleasant memories of her childhood. Sarah had a pretty good idea of how he'd spent his morning.

Sarah caught sight of the book in his hands and laughed self-consciously. "Been reading?"

Jareth gave her a knowing smile, as if he could sense her embarrassment. "The Venture by Sarah Williams," he said slowly, looking over the cover of her second novel pointedly, as if he knew how she would react and enjoyed seeing her squirm.

"You read my book," she said and sat at his feet. It was better than her first. This one was set in the nineteen twenties, a whirl of experimentation, jazz, liberation, and class warfare. Sarah stared at the magical being before her and wondered what he thought of such human problems. Were they trivial to him or tragic?

"Yes," he said nodding. Sarah braced herself for something biting, perhaps being struck down in mortification. When he spoke, he surprised her. "It's quite good," he mused and turned the book over in his hands.

"Jareth, do you really mean that?" she asked, taken aback by his comment and waiting for the sarcasm.

"Would I lie?"

He looked very serious, as if daring her to contradict him. Sarah opened her mouth to do just that and closed it, surprising herself. With a start she realized that he had never told her a single falsehood.

"No," she said slowly. "I guess you wouldn't."

"Then you must believe me, Sarah, when I tell you it's quite good," he said. "I am utterly engrossed in it."

Sarah noticed how the fantasy novels had mostly been set aside. Jareth was favoring more realistic fiction, all of which took place in her world, Aboveground. He had dog-eared several pages in Wuthering Heights. The realization was shockingly charming. Perhaps fairytale creatures dreamed of her world the way she had once dreamed of theirs.

"Oh, I brought you fresh bandages," Sarah said and cursed herself for not remembering earlier.

She set about opening packages of gauze and wetting a clean towel with alcohol.

"Sarah?" Jareth said, watching her. His voice was much softer than before and Sarah was all too aware of how it made her heart speed up.

"Yeah?" she quipped, trying to sound casual. Oh yeah, I always tend to injured magical creatures in my room, Sarah thought, cringing at her breezy tone.

Jareth swung his legs off the bed so that he sat beside her. He was terribly close, too close, but Sarah found that she didn't care. Jareth pushed a strand of hair off her shoulder, his gloved fingertips grazing her skin. She suddenly felt naked in the short, sleeveless dress. Sarah didn't care much about that either.

"I never did say thank you for saving my life," he said quietly. His voice was low and grave, the kind of voice one uses in church. "So…thank you."

He didn't tease her, didn't touch her again. Boy did I read that one wrong, Sarah thought to herself, almost embarrassed. Jareth had merely been thanking her, reverently and honestly. She had misinterpreted it as flirting because of the sensuality he exuded and because, she had to admit, that she half wanted it to be true. Emotions twisted within her, strangling her poor, stressed out conscience even more. She pictured her rational inner voice having a crisis, Jiminy Cricket cracking up under pressure.

Sarah cleared her throat and Jareth sat up a little straighter, kept his distance just an inch or two more. "Right, so bandages," she prompted.

"Oh, yes, bandages," Jareth said, not meeting her eyes.

"Could you take off your—?" she prompted, gesturing to his shirt.

Jareth raised his eyebrows, "Sarah Williams, you wicked thing."

Sarah frowned and smacked his arm lightly. "Shut up."

He was practically preening as he shrugged out of the thin fabric, teasing her, reveling in the way her eyes followed the lithe line of his body with the attitude of a man who knew just how good looking he was. He had not lied that morning; he was healing fast, bruises already fading into yellow and purple stains on pale skin. It was clear that creatures like him, whatever he was, healed quicker than humans.

Jareth stretched back on her bed, propping himself up on his hands. Oh yes, he unquestionably knew that he was affecting her terribly with his slow, catlike stretch.

Two can play at that game, Goblin King, Sarah thought, you don't scare me. She met his gaze with hooded eyes and licked her lips before smoothing a hand up his side to the bandage, a slow touch of his soft skin. Her other hand rested on his thigh for a moment before she moved it to his stomach so that they framed the injury. Jareth swallowed with a bob of his throat and when Sarah met his eyes, her hands resting lightly on either side of the gash, she was shocked by the unbridled desire there and the quickened cadence of his breathing. This was too confusing. Get a hold of yourself, Sarah, she thought, what are you trying to do?

She dropped the seductive act in a flash and changed the bandages quickly. The cut had clotted nicely, looking clean and healthy. That was a relief. Sarah went through the motions of cleaning and bandaging, hardly even looking at him and feeling unbearably awkward. Inwardly she cursed herself for her behavior and mixed signals. The sooner I get this done, the sooner my life goes back to normal, Sarah reassured herself, although she knew it was a lie. She would never be normal and was not quite sure that she wanted it anymore. She knew that if he had that longing look on his face again that she couldn't trust herself not to do something stupid. Something incredibly, temptingly stupid.

"Okay," Sarah said, "I'm done."

"Hmm?"

She had been so focused on not meeting his eyes that Sarah had barely glanced at him while she was changing the bandage. Jareth's eyes were closed, as if he were concentrating deeply and enjoying himself. It wasn't a lustful expression, it was the face someone made when eating a particularly delicious piece of chocolate.

"I'm done, Jareth," she said again.

The sound of his name brought him out of his reverie. "Thank you."

"Jareth, do you need to go back to sleep? I mean, if you don't have the energy to antagonize me…"

He laughed and settled back on the pillows, eyes closed. "Yes, I think I will."

Sarah frowned. Jareth was happy about something, something that he wasn't telling her. Just add it to the list of things you don't know, Sarah thought.

"One more thing," Sarah said.

Jareth cracked an eye open as Sarah began rummaging through her purse until she found what she was looking for, a small nail kit, and removed the scissors.

"Fancy a manicure, love?" he asked, resting an arm over his eyes.

"Nope," Sarah said. She peeled back her dress from her left thigh and poised the scissors. "Oh the things I do for you, Goblin King."

Jareth sat up when he heard her gasp of pain and grabbed her wrist, making her drop the bloodied scissors.

"What are you doing to yourself?" he asked in horror, his grip tightening as if to keep her from doing more harm.

"Making sure nobody finds you here," she replied and stared down at her handiwork. A small, thin line bled steadily on her upper thigh, a couple of inches long, passable for a nasty shaving cut. "Derrick caught me sneaking away with your bandages and I need an alibi."

Sarah reached for the alcohol and gauze. Jareth stopped her with one long-fingered hand.

"Allow me," he said and peeled off his gloves. He was smiling with more warmth and sincerity than Sarah had ever seen on his face. It struck her with sudden intensity that he was happy.

Sarah gasped at the feeling of his hand on her skin. He was agonizingly slow, yet thorough as he cleaned her blood away. This is payback, she thought as his torturing fingers caressed antiseptic cream on the cut. Sarah felt her breath quicken as he gently stroked her skin. He smirked at her reaction and continued, mimicking the motions she had gone through with the slash on his side. Although his touch made wicked thoughts explode in her mind, Sarah had a feeling as she watched him that it wasn't meant to be erotic. His brow furrowed as he finished bandaging her up. When he met her eyes, she was sure. He's trying to care for me.

The realization was so stunning that it took Sarah a moment to catch her breath. "Thank you," she said.

"Anything for you," he said. There were those words again, spoken with as much playfulness and teasing as the first time. His sardonic mask slipped back into place as he leaned back on her pillows with his book. It was as if nothing happened.

"Jareth?" Sarah asked.

He lowered the book. "Yes, Sarah?"

"Are you ever going to tell me what happened? You didn't say much about it before," she asked. Sarah knew she was pushing it, but he was in such a good mood.

Jareth frowned and closed the book.

"I know it's none of my business," she prompted in response to his silence.

"On the contrary, my dear," he said quietly, she almost didn't catch it. He sat silently a few moments more. She wondered if he would say anything else at all. Just as she was considering speaking, Jareth sat up, "Go back to your family, Sarah. They'll be wondering where you've gone."

There was that melancholy expression again, making yet another appearance when she asked for information. Whatever happened, it must have been terrible, Sarah thought. "Okay," she whispered.

He said nothing, just thumbed through her book to find his place.

"I'll be back as soon as I can, eat the other apple and cinnamon roll if you get hungry. Later I'll smuggle you up some food," Sarah said as casually as she could manage. She felt his eyes on her back as she stood and walked to the door.

The rest of the day passed in a hazy blur. Family was in and out of the house all day long. Sarah's older relatives took refuge in the hotel up the street to escape the midday heat, while her younger cousins stuck around to play with Toby. As Karen, Robert, and Toby's friends trickled in, Sarah mostly lounged in a lawn chair. She spent the afternoon drinking Karen's lemonade and listening to Derrick tell Robert's best friend from college, a paunchy man named Frank who looked like a football player gone to seed, all about his Miller and Brothers paper woes.

Sarah stifled another yawn as Derrick moved onto production and distribution problems with a small South American firm. The sun was setting, illuminating the backyard with red fairy light. Soon it would be time to go to the park for the party. Sarah stretched in her chair, her mind elsewhere. She had been unable to sneak away to Jareth since the morning. Sarah traced her bandaged thigh from where her stretch made the dress hike up and shivered pleasantly. Her mind had conjured up a thousand possible explanations for what had happened to Jareth, each more ridiculous than the last. If Derrick didn't care enough to include her in his conversations, she felt entitled to a little mental escape in speculation.

"Sarah, are you ready to go?" Robert said, startling her.

He and Karen stood side by side, dressed for the evening, her father in a casual suit and Karen in a tasteful dark blue cocktail dress. Sarah glanced down at her green sundress, wrinkled from a day in the heat. She hadn't brought another, it would have to do.

"Yes, I guess I am," she said and stood. She looked over her father and stepmother with a smile. "You both look wonderful."

"Thank you sweetie," her father said. Karen gave her shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "Frank, Derrick? Are you both ready to go?"

The park behind their house, Sarah's childhood sanctuary, was just a short walk away, but Karen insisted on driving, afraid the walk would ruin her heels. Sarah had smiled at her worrying and disagreed but Karen insisted, winning in the end. Funny how some things never changed.

After a day of setting up, the park looked magical at sunset. Twinkle lights were strung through tree branches and along the stone bridges. Tables for the guests sat to the left of the bar and the display of food the caterer had brought. A bartender in a white shirt and several servers in matching uniforms made the party seem more formal than it was. Lorraine really went all out, Sarah thought to herself as Karen gushed over the beauty of the scene. As they walked across the shady lawn, Karen and Robert were pulled aside by Karen's cousins and college friends, with Robert's hot on their tail. It wasn't long before their laugher echoed around the park.

"Want to sit with me and Derrick, Tobes?" Sarah asked her brother.

"Toby!"' a call rang out before he answered. Toby's friend Ashley was running over, lollipop in mouth. Behind her, Sarah could see a group of Toby's school friends. "Alex just got a new scooter, come see!"

Sarah saw Toby's eyes light up at the prospect and grinned. "Go on, have fun," she conceded.

"I'll see you later, Sarah!" he called as Ashley pulled him over to the circle of eleven year olds.

Sarah and Derrick wandered toward several small, round tables, each lit with a candle. As more people filtered into the grassy park, Sarah felt more and more aware that she was the only member of her immediate family who had not thought to invite friends. Friends, what friends? her inner voice sneered. It was true that not long after losing her magical friends in college, her human friends slowly trickled away as well. They had not been replaced by travel and life experience. The realization was saddening.

Even after her second glass of wine, Sarah's melancholy thoughts lingered. She sat through a multitude of speeches wishing Karen and Robert a happy anniversary. These ranged from the humorous to the tearful and all were heartfelt. Sarah smiled at the sight of her father, with his arm around her stepmother. Karen leaned into him and smiled with such love in her eyes that it made Sarah's heart ache to see. As if asking for reassurance, she squeezed Derrick's hand and rested her head on his shoulder.

Someone turned up the stereo that, until that point, had been buzzing quietly in the background, playing local radio. Now it emitted soft, instrumental music, Karen and Robert's wedding song. Sarah smiled at the familiar tune. Though she had been young, thirteen years old and angry with her father for remarrying, she still remembered dancing with herself at the wedding to the gentle music, making silent wishes and saying secret prayers for Prince Charming to come and save her from her wicked stepmother. It had been just a few days later that she found The Labyrinth on sale at a used bookstore in town.

Robert stood and took Karen's hand, leading her to a clear expanse in the middle of the tables. Family and friends whistled and clapped as they began to dance. They were slow and smiling, whispering memories in each other's ears.

"Do you want to dance?" Derrick asked.

"Yeah," Sarah said, smiling. She took his hand and followed him. They were now part of a crowd of couples, all swaying to the dreamy lilt of gentle strings.

Sarah sighed, resting her cheek against Derrick's shoulder. He pressed a kiss to her temple as the music swelled. Just as she closed her eyes, losing herself to the melody, Sarah caught a flash of pale hair in the crowd. She frowned and lifted her head, eyes searching frantically. Whatever it had been, it was gone now. Sarah settled back, resting against Derrick once more, trying to put her mind at ease. There it was again, in the corner of her eye, a flash of frosty blond.

"Sarah?" Derrick asked as her eyes searched the crowd.

"I'm fine," she said, but her voice was sharp with worry. With a final crescendo, the song ended and a new one began. Several couples split apart and retreated to their tables, the din of conversation rising. Sarah frowned, hoping that she wasn't so desperate to see the Goblin King that she was hallucinating. Derrick was still staring at her in concern.

"Baby, did you want to go back to the house?" he asked.

"No, I'm fine," Sarah insisted, "really."

"Are you sure?" he continued. "You've been acting strange and—"

"Do you mind if I steal her away for a moment?"

Sarah whipped around to the source of the voice. It was a nice voice, low and accented, sparkling with laughter that verged on mockery, as if the speaker knew something about his words that the listener did not. Sarah knew who it was the instant that he spoke. She was unsure whether to throw her arms around him for showing up or throttle him for getting out of bed.

"Sure, man," Derrick said, shifting a little self-consciously before retreating to the tables.

"Evening, Sarah," Jareth said, taking her hand. His magic was stronger, he had shortened his wild hair somewhat and wore a suit, no tie, the first two buttons of his shirt undone. He was still utterly alien, ethereal among the mortal.

She smiled and shook her head, allowing him to pull her into the crowd. "Good evening, Goblin King."