Disclaimer: I do not own Labyrinth and doubt I ever will. It is the property of Jim Henson, George Lucas, Brian Froud, David Bowie, etc.
"Forward"
Sarah woke to the sound of water sloshing. She mumbled incoherent nothings in her sleep and rubbed her eyes. To her delight, her arms made no protest to the motion and, now that she was moving, Sarah realized that her entire aching body was feeling no worse than just a hint of stiffness from sleeping on the floor of the mine. Sarah rubbed her temples and breathed deeply. Her headache was gone too. This deep down in the cavern, there was no way to know what time it was, but Sarah felt instinctively that it was very early in the morning, perhaps before the first birdsong. She stretched her arms wide, pleased that the movement caused no pain, and sat to face the fire.
"You're awake," she said, surprised to see Jareth standing there over a sturdy looking wooden bucket. Steam curled up from the bucket's contents and Sarah realized that must have been the splash of water she heard upon waking. Something in his face made her stop and stare. "Are you all right?"
"I'm perfectly fine, princess," he answered, fiddling with a loose thread on his silky white shirt. Sarah didn't quite believe him. Violet circles kissed the skin beneath his eyes and his face seemed even more sharply defined than usual, all planes, angles, and shadows. He must be feeling awful if he's back to calling me pet names, Sarah thought as she looked him over in concern.
"Sarah," Jareth said and toed the bucket with a booted foot, "I heated some water, you can use it to bathe."
Sarah gave him a grateful smile, "What about you?"
"You need it more than I do," Jareth said, his voice laden with exhaustion.
With his fatigued tone, Sarah couldn't tell if he was insulting her or not. She shifted uncomfortably. "Thank you," she finally said. Jareth didn't move, just continued to watch her.
"Oh, could you…" Sarah trailed off, and gestured to the bucket. Jareth's eyes widened a fraction and he tilted his head. Sarah cleared her throat. "Could I have a moment…alone…please?"
"Yes, yes, of course," he replied with a shake of his head. It seemed to Sarah that he was speaking more to himself than to her. Jareth turned and walked toward the mouth of the mine. "I'll give you some privacy," he said and disappeared into the darkness of the cavern mouth.
Sarah walked to the bucket and glanced within. A white cloth coiled in the steaming water and sweetly scented bubbles of some sort of soap floated at the top. She stripped off her t-shirt, shorts, and panties and left them to the side. I need clean clothes, she thought and wrinkled her nose at the idea of wearing the pajamas a minute more.
She had expected the bath, if you could call it that, to feel primitive and awkward. However, the soap-like substance in the water scrubbed away dirt very well with a gentle lather and left her skin smelling like the fragrance of desert rain. Although she longed for indoor plumbing, Sarah had to admit it felt wonderful to be clean again. Jareth had left a pair of cheap women's house slippers beside the bucket, another Aboveground souvenir. Sarah was both touched and confused by the gesture, unsure of what to think. How can he be so kind one moment and so distant the next? Sarah thought. Things had been so much simpler when she was fifteen. He was an adversary, an opponent to overcome. Sarah wasn't sure which role in her life Jareth occupied now or which one she wanted him to fill.
She had just wiggled back into her clothes when she heard the telltale crunch of Jareth's boots approaching on the cavern floor.
"Thanks again. I feel much better," Sarah said as he came nearer, combing fingers through her damp hair.
"I'm glad to hear it," Jareth said. Something in his voice made it impossible not to believe him.
Sarah watched as his eyes roamed over her thin t-shirt clinging to every curve of wet skin and glanced away in an instant. Sarah felt warmth radiating on her cheeks after that look and crossed her arms over her chest. He went to the leather pack against the wall and returned with water and traveler's bread. They sat to eat.
"You know what's strange?" Sarah said, tearing off a chunk of bread.
"What, precious?" Jareth asked. He leaned back on one hand to better study her. Although he was still a bit too quiet, a bit too withdrawn, he seemed pleased that she was feeling better, Sarah could tell. The realization made her inner teenage self preen and prance in victory. Quiet, you, Sarah thought, her adult mind more bewildered than anything else. Her life had changed so drastically and in such a short amount of time. Thinking about it made her head swim and her heart clench.
Sarah took a deep breath as painful memories stabbed at her. "Ever since Derrick—that thing—came into my life, I've been alone. I lost all my friends, I never saw my family, and somehow, he convinced me that it was what I wanted." She trailed off and stared into the fire. Jareth seemed to understand that she wasn't finished. She could feel his intense gaze lingering on her, waiting for her to continue. "It's funny how we used to be enemies, now you're my only friend."
Jareth stopped reclining and leaned toward her. "Are we, though?"
He's making fun of me, her inner voice said. Sarah dared to look at him. He didn't look vicious, or bored, or sarcastic. Jareth simply seemed to be questioning her statement, but how she couldn't tell. Did he think they might be less than friends? Maybe, possibly, more…
"Are we friends?" Sarah repeated. She stared intently at his fatigued visage as he nodded, completely serious. She shrugged her shoulders and said, "I think so, don't you?"
Jareth gave her a half-smile, frosty hair hanging in his eyes. He looked like heaven's most wayward angel in the dying light of the fire. "If that's what you think, then I suppose we are, love."
Sarah almost sighed aloud, as she was always in danger of doing when he looked at her like that. Stupid, gorgeous, Goblin King, she thought, flustered, so distracting...
Jareth finished his last bite of traveler's bread and stood to replace his small flagon of water in the leather bag. Each movement he made screamed that he was as beyond exhausted.
"Jareth, are you sure you're all right?" Sarah asked as she wiped the crumbs from her hands. A thought struck her and made her go cold. "Oh no. It's your side, isn't it? Let me see, maybe I can…"
Jareth grinned, for what felt like the first time all day, and hiked up his shirt to show her the shiny pink of new scarring. Sarah was struck once again by his otherness.
"Healing like a charm," he said, lowering the hem once more. "I have you to thank for that."
Sarah furrowed her brow and stared intently. "You still have some bruises."
"They'll fade in time," Jareth said. He paused for a moment. "You needn't be so concerned about my physical well-being. It's nothing a little sleep won't cure."
"You didn't sleep," she said, a statement. Sarah frowned and almost insisted that he lie down immediately. "You shouldn't have done that."
"You were ill. What if you needed me?" he replied.
She endeavored to move closer to him. His quick intake of breath did not escape her notice.
"That might be the most…" Sarah froze, trying to find the words to describe how much it meant to hear him say that. He was still so distant from her.
She made the mistake of reaching for him. It was only for a moment and barely a twitch of her fingers in his direction, but he walked swiftly away from her touch. If a normal person had reacted that way, it would be called bolting. When Jareth did it, it seemed more like he was striding toward a far more interesting object than the person he had fled. Somehow his way hurt more.
He took the pack from the floor and returned to where Sarah was standing, close, but not too close.
"We need to pack up and get out of here," Jareth said, hiding his emotions as easily as drawing breath. "Bard lives close and we must get there before nightfall."
"So, who exactly is Bard? Why are we going to see him?" Sarah asked, deciding not to press him. She began folding the woolen blankets as Jareth haphazardly shoved their camp supplies within the leather pack.
"He is a very fierce warrior," Jareth said. "He served in my army for many years. He's going to give us lodging for a night and help us formulate a plan."
"Would I recognize him?" Sarah asked, smiling at the memory of all the soldiers, bumbling goblins that she and her friends had defeated with ease. They hadn't been much of a threat.
Jareth gave a short laugh. "No, I shouldn't think so. He left us long ago for a quiet life."
"He must still have some kind of fight in him if he was able to escape the changelings," Sarah said. "You did say that they struck out here first."
"Yes, I did, and yes, I'm sure he has."
Sarah took the bag from Jareth and was surprised to find that the blankets fit inside with ease. She wondered if it was enchanted. How else could it fit in thick blankets, their camp supplies, a dozen crystals, and the hodge-podge of items that Jareth had brought from the Aboveground? She found that apart from the handle, there were two straps that could be used to carry the bag like a backpack and slung it over her shoulders. It was light as air. More magic, she thought, smiling to herself.
"Ready?" she asked, anxious to leave the cave after so long in its darkness. The dusty, dead looking crystals clinging to the dull rock of the cavern walls gave her the creeps. There was something terribly wrong with them, something terminally tainted.
"Not quite," Jareth said. "There are some things that you should know first."
"Okay," Sarah said, a bit uneasy, sitting down beside the dying fire.
"Outside of this mine, right now, it is day. You may have noticed that the changelings have a distaste for light," he said, pulling a jacket of brown leather on over his shirt. "Unfortunately, that aversion is only in effect when they are in their true form. This gives us both an advantage and disadvantage."
Sarah sighed and folded her hands in her lap. "Jareth, will you do me a favor and tell me the bad stuff first?"
Jareth quirked a winged eyebrow. "Might I ask, why?"
"After everything I've been through over the past few days, I really just want to end one thing on a positive note," Sarah answered with a humorless laugh.
"I understand," he said quietly, poking at the dying fire with a small twig that had escaped its burn. "They will be able to fight us in broad daylight, wearing their false visage, with all the skill and power that their victim possessed."
"So let's say that a changeling consumed something that could, oh I don't know, breathe diseases and shoot daggers out of its eyes…" Sarah prompted.
"Such imagination," he said. The small grin on his lips did not escape Sarah's notice and she felt her heart lift. "But yes, the changeling would be able to imitate its powers almost exactly, perhaps a bit weaker."
"And the positives?" Sarah asked hopefully.
"If the changeling consumes a less desirable victim, one that comes with weaknesses, it is easily beaten. It could be forced to reveal its true self to stand a chance of living," Jareth said.
"And if it does that in sunlight?" Sarah asked.
"It's chances of surviving are very low," Jareth said with an impious, self-indulgent smile. It was easy to guess the thoughts going through his mind. He would destroy the changelings inch by inch if it was necessary to avenge the Labyrinth, and there was no doubt that he would enjoy doing so. Sarah was reminded again how otherworldly he was and shivered. His voice dropped to become more serious, "Sarah, be sure to have some matches on you."
"Why?" she asked, but felt around in the pack for them and pulled out a boxful and tossing it to him. He caught it and tucked it in his jacket.
"Fire is deadly to the beasts. Anything bright or light should work, the purer the better," Jareth explained.
"Purer?"
Jareth simply tilted his head and gave her a cryptic stare. "Yes."
Fine, don't explain, Sarah thought, shouldering the pack once more and standing. Jareth followed suit.
"We beat them with fire, light, warmth, pure pureness… this should be easy," she said, taking a few matches from him and tucking them into a small, heart-shaped pocket on the front of her flannel shorts.
Jareth shook his head in frustration. Sarah began to walk again, but he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "Sarah, there's one more thing."
"What is it?" she asked, her words ringing in the silent cave. She felt so exposed in her thin shirt and shorts under his gaze, all too aware of how he kept sneaking small glances at her. It was too surreal. The fresh scar of Derrick's true nature flared in her chest when she considered her immense attraction to the Goblin King, making her head swim.
Jareth was very near, bordering on too close. Sarah could smell the scent of his skin and feel the warmth radiating from his body, sending her heartbeat careening away. It awakened memories the last few days, all the times he had flirted, teased, touched, and heck, even looked at her suggestively. During her first visit to the Underground, he had always stood so close, as if he had few to no notions of her personal boundaries, and when they danced, he had held her too tightly. It seemed to Sarah that those memories would remain just that, past. Worse still, was the intensity with which the thought dejected her. I could never tell him, Sarah thought, not when I'm still not sure about how I feel. Yes, he's beautiful, but how much do you even know about him?
"Sarah," Jareth said, but stopped. He seemed to realize that he was breaking whatever self-imposed restriction he had set for himself and backed up ever so slightly, as if trying to keep her from noticing. She did.
"No, don't. We've wasted too much time already," Sarah said, stepping away, hurt. If he couldn't look at her or speak to her without withdrawing, perhaps she should return the favor. Don't be such a child, she snapped to herself internally. Sarah ignored her own mental scolding and turned in the direction of the cave's exit.
To her shock, Jareth's hand closed around her upper arm. He pulled her to face him, jerking her against his chest and not dropping his grip. Sarah's heart beat a pagan rhythm within her chest as she realized just how close they really were, pressed tightly together, from chest to thighs, their breathing intermingling. His jacket was open and only two thin layers of fabric separated them. Jareth's heart beat with the same wild cadence as her own against her breast. Breathing together, beating together, for a moment they were one.
The dull crystals on the cavern walls seemed to come alive in that instant, emulating a blaze like white snow and bright stars. Sarah blinked at the sudden light and shielded her eyes. Jareth dropped her arm and jerked away from her, but the crystals no longer glowed. They reverted to their lifeless state, looking worn and ancient, with only faint firelight to allow vision.
"Jareth…what…?" Sarah could hardly speak in astonishment, her mouth opened and closed but she couldn't find her voice. She dug her fingers into her hair and shook her head, hysterical. "I don't understand this. I don't understand any of this. I'm in way over my head—"
Jareth stopped her with a gentle touch on her shoulder. His eyes were dark, his expression bordering on grave. "Sarah, you must listen to me. The danger we are facing is more real than anything you have ever experienced. If anything happens out there that you can't handle, I want you to run and I want you to hide. Don't speak to anyone, don't accept any help, because unless you cut their skin and see that they bleed red, you cannot trust them. Just hide, I will find you."
Sarah shivered involuntarily at his words, her hysteria still running high. "What the hell just happened? Why are you telling me these things?"
"So inquisitive," he said, running a hand through his hair. Jareth looked thoughtful, pondering. Finally, he spoke, "You saved my life, precious. I'm saving yours. Now come."
How had he taken charge, and so easily? Sarah followed him away from the muted light of the dying fire and was immediately swallowed by blackness. She groped forward in the dark exit and caught his upper arm. To her surprise, Jareth did not pull away. He found her hand and held securely.
Something that sang with yearning rose in her chest as he held her hand. She felt sixteen again, reliving that magnificent feeling of going boneless and shaky from the slightest touch. It was both frightening and exhilarating.
"Don't let go," Jareth breathed, tightening his hold on her. "These mines split further down the tunnel and go for miles into the earth."
"Do you know the way?" Sarah asked in a whisper, clutching at his upper arm with her free hand.
"Sarah, this is my kingdom. I know every pebble."
She believed him.
Sarah followed noiselessly as he led them forth in a mutual, comfortable silence. Even if he had spoken, Sarah was unsure if she could answer. She was too overcome with the swirling maelstrom of uncertainty brewing in her chest and the odd sensation of being blind with open eyes.
The darkness of the caverns went on for ages, somewhere nearby a stream gurgled, deep within the earth. Sarah wondered silently if that was where Jareth had found their water. They were getting closer to the surface and Sarah had to choke back a cry of relief as she saw the first rays of sunlight against the cavern's dusky walls. Jareth allowed her hand to slide from his grip as Sarah rushed forth into the sunlight.
She shielded her eyes from the brightness after so long in the dark. They adjusted slowly as she took in the sight of the wastelands. It was as Jareth had described it, nothing but brush and scrub. There were scatterings of thin trees and high grass, small cottages built of stone and wood dotted the distant countryside. Sarah's eyes were drawn eastward and she was surprised to see a lush forest on the edge of the horizon where the wasteland met its end. It seemed odd to see such life and vibrancy amid the barren landscape. To the west of them was the Labyrinth.
"Oh no…" Sarah said as she stared at it.
In the same way that she had sensed a taint of darkness on the crystals in the mine, she knew the Labyrinth was ailing. The stones that built it looked lackluster, crumbling, and it was obvious that their sparkle was gone, even at this distance. The castle, which had already been imposing, was now a monument of doom. It screamed the daunting, the impossible, the tallest tower skewering the sky. Each glimmer of hope had been drained from its form and Sarah could sense something insidious undulating out from within it. Every hint that it had once been held by magic—magic that was by no means benevolent, but mischievous at worst—had faded. If the changelings' leader was holding fort within…Sarah didn't want to consider storming what appeared to be such an impregnable fortress.
"Sarah?" Jareth asked, his voice rising slightly as she stumbled, her legs failing her. Her vision swam as Jareth repeated her name.
"It's wrong," she moaned and staggered against him. Jareth caught her and Sarah was shocked to feel that he was shaking.
"You can feel it too?" he asked. Sarah nodded against the crook of his shoulder. Her breath hitched as he rubbed a small circle of comfort against her back. "Breathe, Sarah."
Those words, so familiar. Sarah took a deep breath and then another, deep lungfuls. The scent of Jareth, of good, untainted magic filled her, and she felt her strength return. Sarah righted herself and took one step closer to the ruin of the castle. The alarm was wearing off and anger settling in its place. The sight of the Labyrinth, broken and stolen, left her fuming.
"We'll take it back," Sarah said, her voice harsh and trembling. "We've got to stop these things."
"We will," Jareth confirmed, staring darkly at the castle.
Sarah followed as Jareth walked through the expanse of dust and low, weathered plants, through a small, scrubby valley. The sun beat down heavily on her brow and more than once she found herself wiping away beads of sweat that gathered there. Dust kicked up with every step, the grime was in Sarah's slippers, in her hair, coating her skin. A sideways glance at Jareth told her that he was also getting dusted with a fine layer of dirt as they climbed uphill.
"There's the hob's village," Jareth said, holding out a hand to help her crest the low pike. "We're close."
The village, composed of wooden, broken-down homes, stood just before them. It seemed to be completely deserted. Sarah felt chilled as they walked to the edge of the small town. Wind whistled through the boards of the abandoned homes' frail structures, rattling the debris that lay around and the loose wood of their wrecked frames.
"This is creepy," Sarah whispered, glancing around at the wasted remains of the residences.
Jareth nodded, but remained silent as they walked through the town's center. Sarah was cold in the harsh sunlight as she stared around at the abandoned village. So many people must have lived there, hobs, Jareth had called them. Had they all been taken? Sarah stole a glance at Jareth and was surprised to see her inner thoughts playing out on his face, fresh pain. It felt almost intrusive to watch him.
Sarah stared at her slipper clad feet instead as they left the tiny village square and wandered into sandy fields dotted with cottages. These homes were just as beaten down and deserted as the ones in the village. Sarah dared to sneak a quick glance at Jareth as they trod through brittle scrub and high grass. She knew from the tilt of his head that he was listening intently for something, somehow it made her feel reassured. They found a dirt path and took it, winding through the flat landscape.
Jareth held out an arm before her, making her stop mid-step. Sarah tilted her head in confusion as he gestured to a lone cottage in the midst of a thatch of particularly long high grass. The cottage was even more broken down than the rest of them, half of it lay in complete ruin, boards forming a skeleton of the structure it once was. Sarah glanced down. A rectangle of gleaming white river stones surrounded the abandoned home.
She stepped forward to enter the limit of the yard. The moment her foot set just on the edge of the stone perimeter, Jareth breathed in sharply and jerked her back with a painful pull on her arm.
"Don't!" he said sharply in alarm, his fingers digging in her skin. "It's cursed."
"Thanks for that," Sarah said, eyeing the river rocks suspiciously. "But how do we get in?"
Jareth stood at the edge of the line and took out his small knife. He pulled off his glove and pressed the tip of it into his thumb. A bead of red blood appeared and Jareth squeezed it over the line. A few golden sparks burst forth from where the blood landed and shimmered in the dirt.
He took a confident step over the line and disappeared into nothing. Sarah balked and felt panic rising like wildfire in her chest. She was stuck on the outside, where the changelings were.
"Jareth!" Sarah hissed, trying to keep her voice calm. She jumped as Jareth's newly gloved, disembodied hand materialized over the line, holding out the cleaned knife to her.
Not wasting a single second of being on the dangerous side of the curse, Sarah took the knife and pricked her thumb, perhaps a little deeper than necessary, letting the garnet drop fall into the dirt. Star-bright sparks burst forth from the earth.
Sarah stepped forward over the row of rocks and straight into a warm body. The little man toppled backwards and stared up at her accusingly. He stood and dusted himself off with a grumble, adjusting his worn jerkin.
The small stranger only came up to her waist and at first Sarah thought he was a goblin. He certainly had their coloring and similar features. On a second glance, he seemed far too serious to be one of the mischievous little devils that Sarah had seen on her first visit and lacked the strange physical characteristics of horns or tusks. His skin was like leather, wrinkled from years of sun, wisps of white hair adorned his scalp and amber eyes glared from above a hooked, pointed nose. Despite his obvious old age, his skin clung to his body tightly over spindly arms and a large ribcage. Even with his small size and bony frame, Sarah felt terribly intimidated under his scrutinizing gaze.
"Bidbard, meet Sarah," Jareth said, clearly suppressing a laugh. "Sarah, this is Bard."
Author's Note: This chapter comes a bit later than I had planned (I usually try to update twice a week), so thanks for hanging in there for it. Thanks to all those who read and made this story a favorite, followed it, or left a review. I hope you enjoy Chapter 8, please read and review.