Disclaimer: Labyrinth does not belong to me. It belongs to Jim Henson, George Lucas, Brian Froud, David Bowie, etc. You get the point.

"Choices"

Sarah sat on the edge of her bed, eyes wide with disbelief. It's not fair, she thought, a bittersweet echo of her youthful self. He had disappeared, just like that. It most certainly wasn't fair, not when she was just beginning to believe, truly believe, in something more than her mundane life once again. Sarah smoothed out a wrinkle in her sheets that his sleeping body had formed, her shock numbed fingers savoring the texture of the fabric. Her room still smelled like him, sweetly magical. Small reminders of his stay were everywhere, a long blond hair on the pillow, dog-eared books casually stacked beside the bed, a small droplet of her blood stained the sheet from when she had sliced her skin with the scissors. Sarah had never realized just how much she wanted the magic of her childhood to come back, even if it came back in the form of arrogant, sarcastic Goblin Kings, too pretty for their own good.

With a sigh of finality, Sarah flopped back on her bed, her stomach strangely hollow. Things that had seemed so normal just twenty-four hours ago, like the impending drive back to Connecticut and her wedding next month, felt routine and numbing. How could one infuriating man change her priorities so much in just one day?

"Damn it, Jareth…" she whispered and punched her mattress half heartedly.

The sound of swift wings made her sit up and start. Sarah felt her jaw go slack as a slim white form, dappled with brown, flew smoothly through the open window. He began to transform just as he landed, from owl to man, in a shower of glitter.

"Come now, Sarah," Jareth said with a catlike tilt of his head. "Surely you didn't believe that I'd gone?"

Sarah felt her mouth open and shut, but no words came out. I must look like a fish, she thought, a stupid fish. She stood and gazed at him. He had changed his clothing, black armor with a high collar and cape, exactly as she had first seen him. The change of clothes gave Sarah a suspicion that he had been planning this little entrance of extravagance all day, just waiting for the right moment.

"You—," Sarah began, still edging forward until she stopped right in front of him.

"Yes?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

Sarah narrowed her eyebrows and smacked at his shoulder. Jareth simply laughed and caught her arm as she tried to hit him again, "Now, now, Sarah. This is no time for violence."

She struggled against his hold for a moment before relaxing her arm. Her eyes dropped to the floor so he wouldn't see the emotions that swirled within her. "Don't you ever scare me like that again," she said, her voice rising despite her best efforts.

Jareth dropped his playful grip on her wrist and brushed her wild hair away from her face. "Never," he replied, shaking his head.

For a moment it was too much, his gloved hand lingering on her cheek, and his face so very close. That dwindling part of her brain that had reason told her to back away, but Sarah's body was rebelling as well as it could from her mind. Kiss me, she thought, unsure of where the treacherous idea had come from. The rational side of her won with an internal whisper of Derrick, and Sarah pulled away from the light touch of his fingertips.

"So, you're back," she said, clearing her throat.

"Clearly," Jareth answered, crossing his arms.

"And your magic, that's back too?"

"Yes, so it seems," he said and conjured a crystal just for show, dancing it between his fingers.

Sarah sucked in a breath at the sight of him, exactly as he had been ten years ago. He looked pleased by her reaction, too pleased. Sarah made a face at him, "Show off."

Jareth just gave an enigmatic smile and the crystal vanished. He began pacing and examined the mess of items littering her vanity. "I made you a promise, didn't I, precious?"

"Yes, you owe me the rest of that explanation," she replied.

Jareth nodded and paced a moment more, his mind seemed far away. Sarah sat back on the edge of her bed, waiting silently.

"Sarah?" he said, turning to her.

"Yes?" she prompted.

Jareth waited a moment to speak, as if weighing his words carefully. "My magic is back. I regained what I lost fighting the Consciousness and then some. I have enough to return to the Labyrinth now."

"I thought you might," she whispered. Frustrating and cryptic as he could be, now that he had pulled his small trick on her Sarah was all too aware of how sad she would be to see him go.

He strode over to where she sat on the end of the bed and knelt in front of her, she raised an eyebrow at his formality. "I want you to come with me," he said. Sarah was sure she saw a spark of hope in his eye.

"What?" Sarah asked in a hushed voice.

"It's not just a passing fancy," he said, standing, his face passive and calm once again. Why did he need to be so good at hiding his emotions from her? "I need you."

Whoa, Sarah thought. She would never have guessed those words would sound so tempting. Jareth seemed to sense her confusion and smirked in a frustrating, self-satisfied way. "I assure you that I'm being quite literal, precious. I cannot do this without you."

"This being…?" Sarah asked, her confusion heightening with every sentence he spoke.

Jareth made a frustrated noise. "I must regain my kingdom from the changelings."

"I know, that's what you said at the party," Sarah said, frowning. She ran her fingers through her hair, thinking over his words. "You want me to go with you?"

"Yes," he replied.

"Back to the Labyrinth?"

"Again, Sarah, yes," he replied.

Sarah bit her lip and let out a shaky breath. She had fantasized about it of course, returning one day. It was a frequent daydream that she indulged in, although admittedly not of late. She never could have imagined just how alluring the offer to go back was.

"Why me?" she asked.

A crease appeared in Jareth's brow, "Oh, Sarah. Sweet Sarah…," the epithet was whispered so softly she barely heard it. The thought occurred that maybe she wasn't supposed to. There was that undeniable yearning in his voice that made her breath catch every time she heard it. This isn't happening, she thought to herself for the thousandth time. "You're my Champion."

The way he said it made her heart swell. His voice lacked the usual sarcasm, he was baring something private and treasured to her in the simplest terms possible. He was telling her what he truly thought of her. That one sentence alone almost made her say yes.

Before she could answer, Sarah heard the front door shut and the murmur of voices. "My family's home," she said, her voice still hushed. "I don't know what to do. I want—"

Jareth silenced her with a finger to her lips. It took all her willpower not to kiss it. What was happening to her?

"You don't have to decide now. I'll be back. Think it over, Sarah," he said and transformed again right before her eyes.

"I am never going to get used to that," Sarah muttered as he flew out her open window.

You're my Champion, she repeated internally, Help me. I need you. There was something empowering about those words, all of those words. For the past few years, Sarah had existed as someone who wrote about life but rarely lived it. Jareth made her feel like a heroine in a fairy tale again. My Champion, her mind repeated warmly.

"Knock, knock," Derrick said, opening the door to see Sarah standing and staring at her open window. "Hey, you okay?"

"What?" Sarah asked, dazed. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine, Derrick."

"Headache still bothering you?" he asked and walked forward to squeeze her shoulders comfortingly.

"Yeah," she said. Sarah could not figure out why the emotions were rising now, but tears stung her eyes, surprising her.

"Shhh," Derrick soothed, wrapping his arms around her. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," she said and let out a short laugh before kissing him chastely. She needed to keep her head straight. "I honestly don't know."

Sarah breathed in Derrick's scent as he held her. It wasn't nearly as enticing as the Goblin King's, she had to admit it to herself, but he smelled nice, like fabric softener and night air. She breathed it in deeply. Something about that scent grounded her to reality.

"Derrick?" she said against the material of his shirt.

"Yeah, babe?"

Sarah hugged him closer and sighed. "I love you, you know that don't you?"

"Yes, Sarah, I know," he said and pulled back, kissing her nose. "I'm going to get a cup of coffee, do you want some?"

"No," she said and shook her head. She knew what she had to do. "I'm just going to go to bed."

With a final squeeze, Derrick was gone.

Sarah grabbed her pajamas and headed to the bathroom. She thought of the previous night she had spent in the tiny, cramped room as she showered. A single tear escaped before Sarah screwed up her eyes to keep the others at bay. No, she wasn't going to cry. As painful as it was, she knew what she was going to do.

Sarah curled up in bed with her notebook, bedside lamp still bright. She glanced at the open window before checking clock beside her. It was almost one o'clock in the morning. She returned her attention to the leather-bound book before her. No ideas for stories, characters, or plots had come since her writer's block began to plague her and Sarah was finding that she didn't care much anymore. Working seemed so trivial in the wake of Jareth's arrival. Why should she write something she had no heart in just to meet her publisher's deadline? Despite no words flowing from her pencil, the page in front of Sarah was full. It was a drawing, rough and lightly shaded, depicting the Labyrinth the way she remembered it. She penciled in the stones that made the walls and the castle an unattainable goal in the distance. An owl flew high above the trees of the Fiery Forest. Sarah paused before drawing in her three childhood friends at the entrance to the Labyrinth, waving and welcoming. A treacherous tear escaped her eye and Sarah shook with the pain of withholding a good sob for so long. Had her dearest friends really died, and in such a terrible way? Sarah could hardly take the pain of it and tossed the notebook aside so she could curl up, knees to her chest.

"Get a grip, Sarah," she whispered shakily to herself. "You know what you have to do."

"What would that be, precious?"

"Jareth," Sarah said and sat straight up in bed.

The Goblin King had flown through her window and transformed once again before her. She felt silly in her patterned flannel shorts and tank top with him wearing armor, but that was the least of her worries. Her heart began to pound quicker as her mental reassurances of reality began failing her.

"Have you decided?" Jareth asked, going to her bookshelf and thumbing through it. "I should think you had, I've given you a few good hours."

When she didn't answer, he turned to look at her. "Sarah?"

Sarah still sat on her bed, arms crossed, head down. She couldn't look at him.

Jareth walked across the room in what seemed to be a few swift steps and knelt down before her. His eyes raked over her, as if inspecting her for harm. "Are you all right, love?"

Sarah crossed her arms tighter and shook her head, biting her lip until she tasted blood. With a shaky breath she said. "I can't go, Jareth. I just can't."

He withdrew from her as if she had burned him, turning quickly so that she couldn't see his face.

"Please understand," Sarah said as he retreated to her bookshelf. "I have a life here. I can't abandon it for a world that I don't understand. I can't leave my family."

He was a man attempting to look unmoved, but his shaking gave him away. For a moment, Sarah feared him. Jareth turned to her, his face was cold and his eyes hard. Never had an expression cut her so deeply. Forget the twinges of shame that arose when her bewildering attraction to him took over. Sarah hadn't known real guilt until she saw that look on his face.

"I understand," he said coldly. "Why should I think Sarah Williams would help me save my dying land when she has a life here? How very selfish of me."

"Jareth, don't do that," Sarah said, standing, arms still crossed protectively. "You know what I meant. You aren't being fair."

Jareth walked toward her with slow steps, smirking openly at her words and making her feel like a child. Sarah wanted to run, but bit her lip and stared him down. He stopped right in front of her and stared at her bed pointedly. Sarah turned to see what he was looking at, the single drop of blood that stained the sheet from her self-inflicted scissor cut. Sarah was all too aware of the heat of his body that warmed her from shoulders to knees. He was so close.

"I really thought that you would come," he whispered in her ear from behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders. "You spilt your blood for me, Sarah."

Sarah shivered at his words and turned to face him. He dropped his hold on her immediately. "It doesn't mean that I don't want to go. I care about you, but I'm confused, I just —"

"You love him too much," Jareth said. It was a simple observation in tone, but he was clenching his jaw. He chuckled at the sight of her frightened face. "Ah, my Sarah, you can say it, I won't bite."

Sarah eyed his sharp teeth as he spoke but held her ground. "Yes, I love Derrick too much to leave him."

"What about your friends?" Jareth said softly, cutting her to the quick. "How much do you love them?"

"Ouch, that one hurt, Jareth," Sarah whispered with a humorless laugh. It was an empty strangled noise, utterly terrible to hear. "You told me they probably died already. How can I ever un-hear that?"

Jareth raised an eyebrow but made no further argument. He had played every card he was willing to use and Sarah knew that she had won. Just like last time, she thought, numb, you have no power over me, Jareth. With a choice this hard, I almost wish you did. He withdrew completely, not speaking, not meeting her eyes and retreated to the bookshelf, a mask of indifference in defeat.

"Jareth," she said. "Look at me."

He wouldn't. Sarah surprised herself by doing something that was both courageous and very stupid. She walked over to the shelves as her temper flared and caught his face in her hands, forcing his eyes to meet hers. He was angry, terribly angry, but his face softened as she gently caressed his cheek. Jareth sighed and took her hands in his, giving them a gentle squeeze.

"I shouldn't have assumed anything," he said, catching one of her hands and holding it, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on the skin of her inner wrist. "I gave you a choice."

"Jareth…" Sarah whispered. The rest of her sentence was lost as she finally let out the built up tears caused by no sleep, a guilty conscience, and an impossible decision. He immediately relaxed, the tension leaving his body as his arms encircled her. Though Sarah had thought he acted to comfort her, Jareth pressed his face into her hair and kissed the crown of her head, his fingers digging into her skin as he clutched her to him. Sarah realized that he was allowing himself one moment without control, just a moment to give himself something that he desperately needed. This measure of vulnerability from the likes of him terrified Sarah more than if he had struck her.

"I'm sorry," she said, unsure of whether or not to return the tight embrace. "I'm so sorry."

Jareth shook his head. "No," he said in a reluctant tone and laughed. "For once I suppose that I wasn't fair."

Sarah tried to pull back but he held her closer and shook his head. She relaxed as she realized why he wouldn't let go. He's going back and might die, she thought, and you may never see him again. He's saying goodbye. Never was a very long time. Sarah's stomach swooped unpleasantly and she wrapped her arms around his waist in a loose hold, unsure of how injured he still was.

After what felt like an age, Jareth finally released her and stepped back. Sarah wiped her eyes once more and tried to smile. She felt a twist of embarrassment for her blotchy, tear-stained face, while his was a perfect mask of calm.

"How soon are you leaving?" she asked.

"Soon," he answered, always the enigma.

"Can I give you something, before you go?" Sarah asked, walking toward her bed.

Jareth grinned. "Sarah, you little minx. If you insist…"

"Not that," Sarah said and rolled her eyes as she stopped at the bedside table. Although that's not such a bad idea, her inner voice suggested gleefully. "My books."

That took him slightly by surprise. Jareth tilted his head and asked, "What about them, precious?"

"You can take any of them you want, I know that you did a lot of reading while you were here and you marked some pages." Sarah took the battered copy of Wuthering Heights, which had seen the most damage, and handed it to him. "Add them to your library when you take back the Labyrinth."

Jareth held the book carefully, as if it were something precious and valuable. "Thank you, sweetling," he said in the softest whisper, running a finger down the spine of it.

"You can take any that you want," Sarah said, gesturing to the stack at her bedside table and to the rows of books in their shelves.

Jareth picked several more books, adding them into a small pile held aloft in his left hand. Sarah felt a rush of warmth that two of her novels were included.

"How will you carry them?" she asked, wondering if she had made a mistake with her gift.

"You forget how well you healed me, Sarah," he said and produced a crystal between his free fingers, letting it dance across his knuckles for a moment. Soon it began to glow, a warm, dim light. Sarah watched in awe as he let the crystal sink through the pile of books in his opposite hand. It was as if they closed in on each other, folding within the sphere of light. Jareth twirled it between his fingers and it disappeared.

"Right, magic," Sarah said with a shake of her head. She would definitely never get used to that. Sarah sat at the edge of her bed. She sighed and said, "Jareth?"

"Yes?"

"Will you wait to leave until I fall asleep?" she asked with a self-conscious laugh, feeling terribly childish.

"Might I ask, why?"

How was it that he could almost sense her embarrassment? Sarah sucked in a breath and whispered, "Because when I wake up in the morning, and think that you coming here was a dream, I want to remember that you were here until the very last minute."

"If that's the case," Jareth said and walked over to where she sat, "then of course I will."

Sarah tried to get under the covers gracefully, feeling too big, in more ways than just the physical, for her princess bed. Jareth still stood over her, looking surreal and otherworldly to her tired eyes. She patted the side of the mattress. "Sit with me," she said, her voice thick with exhaustion.

Jareth sat down beside her on the bed's edge. Sarah turned on her side to face him, her stomach almost touching his back. She could feel the lost hours of sleep catching up to her, but the moment she slept was the moment he was gone.

"Jareth?" she said, barely holding onto consciousness.

"Yes, love?" he replied and reached out to push her hair away from her face in a soothing rhythm.

"I don't want you to go," Sarah breathed out, exhausted, her fingers curling into the fabric of his sleeve as if to do so would hold him there forever.

"I don't want you to stay," he whispered in reply. He gently pried his arm free from her grasp and kissed her knuckles, something she wasn't sure he would have done if she were fully awake.

Sarah's eyes shut tightly and dreams were beginning to creep into the edges of her mind. But she could still feel the whisper of his hand stroking her hair and the ghost of lips kissing her cheek, lingering there a moment too long as she drifted in and out of consciousness.

"Goodbye, Sarah Williams," was the last thing she heard before sleep claimed her.

Author's Note: This is NOT the end of the story. I repeat, definitely not the end. Anyone else who's a bit annoyed with Sarah and her decision, raise your hand.

I have also gone back in my other chapters and edited a couple of grammar mistakes and repeated words that were bothering me when I reread them. I'm toying with the idea of getting a beta and have started shopping around for one. If there are any major spelling or grammar mistakes that somehow evaded my editing, please let me know.

Thank you to all of you who have read and either reviewed, made this a favorite, or followed the story. I really appreciate the feedback and opinions, that's what keeps writers writing!