Disclaimer:I do not own Labyrinth. It belongs to Jim Henson, George Lucas, Brian Froud, David Bowie, etc.
Author's Note: Let me start off by saying I'm sorry its been so long since my last update! I've been terribly busy with school and a neglectful author, I hope I didn't keep anyone waiting too long. Updates should be much more regular following this chapter. Chapter 10 is going to be a bit short, the second half of it should be up shortly! A big thanks to those who have read and either reviewed, followed, or made this story a favorite, it means a lot!
Chapter 10
"Ready"
Sarah snuggled closer into warmth, a contented smile on her lips. It was all around her, comforting and enveloping. She almost sighed, it was so good. Fingers twitched at her hip, but Sarah was so deliciously sleepy, she took no notice. Only until they curled into her skin and she heard a contented sigh, did her eyes flutter open. A small smile touched her lips. Jareth slept on his stomach, his head on her shoulder and wild disheveled hair tickling her cheek. He had slung an arm across her, his fingers wrapped around her hip. It was an oddly possessive act in sleep, in another time with another person, it may have annoyed her. Not now. Sarah closed her eyes again, her thoughts lazy and indulgent.
This is nice, she thought, resting her head on top of his. She remembered the previous night. Jareth had crawled into bed and stayed on his side. He didn't try to touch her, he didn't say anything. He simply lay down to sleep. Now he sprawled against her, almost unconsciously nuzzling her shoulder. Holding me, Sarah thought. The thought bubbled through her, a happy buzz. Her feelings for him were anything but set in stone, but she knew that she cared for him, and deeply. They were leaving in the morning, early. What if I never have another moment like this? Sarah thought. With a small measure of hesitation, Sarah wrapped her arm around his back to pull him closer, idly playing with long tendrils of his hair as she lost herself to the sweetness of it all and fell back into deep sleep.
Sarah wasn't sure how long she was out when she was awakened by distant voices and a distinct feeling of cold. Jareth was gone. Sarah sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes and feeling chilled from the early morning air. Just outside the shuttered window, light from sunrise filtered in. Sarah stretched and stood, feeling better than she had in days. How am I ever going to go back to sleeping on the ground? she thought with a longing glance at Bard's feather bed. Sarah pulled on her boots one by one and tried to make out the voices that awoke her.
"Doing magic in my home. If you weren't my sovereign…" Bard grumbled from the adjacent room. From the sound of his footsteps, he was pacing back and forth, frantic.
"The magic was for Sarah," Jareth replied. Sarah hadn't realized just how agitated Bard was until she heard Jareth's calm reply. The contrast startled her.
Bard's next few words were indistinguishable, a panicked muttering. Sarah walked to the door to hear.
"…now they're out there. I thought you understood, majesty. The changelings are attracted to it, two ventured in the yard last night, got burnt to smithereens!" Bard finished.
"Then what seems to be the problem?"
"The problem is, they know we're here. They can't get past the barrier, but they know we're inside, and they're just dying to feed on us," Bard said, a shiver in his voice.
"I'll handle it." Jareth said with delicate menace.
Sarah didn't doubt his sincerity, or his ability to make his words come true. There was a definite edge to his voice, a promise to cause pain. It sent a terrifying thrill through her, hearing his voice sound like that. It was familiar and terrible and somehow wonderful as well.
Sarah stared down the boots that had started the trouble before wandering from her room. She could immediately sense the seriousness of the situation as she caught a glimpse of Bard's horror-struck face. Tension was radiating from the hobgoblin in waves. Sarah could never have imagined him looking so shaken. Jareth stood to the side, his calm and unmoved expression extenuating Bard's tightly wound demeanor.
"What's wrong?" she asked, although from the snippet of conversation she had heard Sarah knew that it could be nothing good.
"Morning, Sarah," Bard said, ignoring her question, his expression tired and worn. "Would you like a bit of breakfast?"
Sarah frowned and turned to Jareth, waiting for an explanation.
"There are changelings waiting for us, just outside of the barrier," Jareth said with a nod of his head in the direction of Bard's front yard.
Sarah felt her heart begin the pound a rougher rhythm, the thin healing line beside her mouth tingled in time with her fear.
"What are we going to do?" she asked. Jareth's silence frightened her. Although she had thought of him as many different things over the years, there was one thing she had always been sure of. He was always the one with the answers, he always knew what he was doing, each move calculated and precise. Somehow, his hesitation frightened her more than any elaborate plan would have.
"It's quite simple, really. We're going to fight," he replied.
Bard blanched and Sarah took in a shaky breath.
"Okay, okay," she whispered aloud, more to herself than to them. "How many are there?"
"See for yourself," Bard answered, dejected as he gestured to the open window.
Sarah walked slowly over and peered out. The wasteland was as bleak and empty as ever, a breeze made the high grass flutter and shine gold for a moment in the sunrise. The only object in her line of sight was a small, shrouded figure who stood just at the edge of the river rocks.
The creature seemed to sense Sarah's gaze and looked up expectantly, her eyes resting exactly where the window was. The changeling was small, perhaps the size of a two-year old human child, and hooded. It stared pointedly at the house and its hood fell back to expose a sweetly smiling face, made cold and empty by the creature wearing it. It's eyes held hellfire. Sarah drew back with a sharp breath.
"Is that…is she what I think she is?" Sarah asked, turning to Jareth and Bard.
"A little hobgoblin girl," Bard said. "Just a child."
"That's it?" Sarah said, almost relieved. "This shouldn't be a problem. We have the matches and…why are you both looking at me like that?"
"Look again, precious," Jareth prodded.
Sarah felt warmth pool in her stomach in response to the gentleness in his voice. She didn't have time to dwell on the way it made her feel, instead she glanced once more out the open window.
"I see something," she said, squinting against the glare of the rising sun.
Surrounding the child was a buzzing cloud, faint and pale, but slightly shimmering.
"Fairies," Sarah said sourly.
"A whole swarm of them," Bard spat like a curse. "Nothing worse than taken fairies. Not that they were very pleasant before."
"I know, I remember," Sarah answered with a small huff. "Well, there's no use delaying the inevitable. We'll have to fight them."
Jareth wrinkled his brow. "I could take care of it, push them back—"
"No!" Sarah interrupted, startling herself, and Bard, with her intensity. "I mean, no. You don't need to do that. I need to help. How else am I ever going to learn?"
Jareth took a step closer. "There are dozens of them, Sarah."
"I can handle it," she said softly, with more conviction than she felt.
He searched her face for a moment and Sarah did her best to imitate that mask of calm indifference he had perfected. One single twitch, one show of uncertainty, and Sarah felt sure that they would never leave.
After what seemed like an age, Jareth nodded.
"Let's go then," Sarah said.
"I need to be sure we're packed," Jareth said, striding off toward the bedroom where their bag and Bard's extra supplies were.
"And you, missy, should eat a spot of breakfast," Bard said, pulling her away from the window. "Come on, no point fighting if you're going to fall down in a dead faint."
"If you say so," Sarah said with a small smile as he led her to the kitchen. She allowed Bard to fuss over her for a moment, shoveling food onto a plate and giving her a prodding stare. Sarah smiled and began to eat, but her nerves were getting the best of her. She felt anything but hungry at the moment.
She could make herself sound as confident as she wanted, but inside, her stomach was in knots. Sarah finished eating and dropped her hands in her lap so Bard wouldn't see the shaking. More importantly, Jareth wouldn't see the shaking. Somehow, Sarah knew he knew she wasn't ready, but she would never admit it to him. After what had happened the previous night, sleeping in his arms, Sarah knew that she couldn't stand the thought of him being hurt, and was sure he felt the same. It both gave her tingles of warmth, almost joy that he might have those feelings, and annoyance. She didn't want him trying to stop her from helping him save the Labyrinth. She couldn't put her finger on a reason, but Sarah could feel it. She needed to help. It was more than wanting, it was almost like…my duty, she thought, shocking herself with the revelation. Where did that come from?
"Bag's all packed," Jareth said, striding in the kitchen with it slung over his shoulder.
Sarah stood and moved to start washing her dish. Bard took it from her with a shake of his head and a fond smile.
"I'll be taking that," he said. "Girl's who are going into battle shouldn't stop to do dishes."
Sarah cracked a grin and bent down to hug the hob.
"I'm going to miss you," she said with an extra tight squeeze.
Bard patted her back softly. "Same to you, missy. But who knows? We could see each other again soon."
"Stranger things have happened," she said. Sarah smiled at him once more before standing and facing Jareth. "Are you ready?"
He gave her a catlike stare, his head cocked to the side, and his mouth a serious line. "Are you?"
"Yes, yes," she said, walking toward the front door with more confidence than she felt. "Completely."
"Sarah," he said, following her.
They were alone now, Sarah could hear Bard in the kitchen and the clink of dishes being cleaned.
"Yes?" she breathed.
Jareth stared down at her, frowning.
"What is it?" Sarah asked, looking up. Why did he have to be so tall?
Jareth sucked in a sigh and stepped away from her. "I just don't want anything to happen to you."
"I don't want to see you hurt either," she said, almost impatiently. If they didn't leave soon, she would lose her nerve.
Jareth surprised her with a sardonic smile. "Are you sure about that?"
"Yes, of course," she asked after a moment of pure astonishment. "How can you even ask me that?"
He chuckled and shook his head. "Oh, sweet little Sarah…"
Sarah put a hand on her hip and stared him down. "What, might I ask, is so funny about my caring about you?"
Jareth's laughing subsided, but his mouth still held a shadow of that twisted grin. When he spoke, his voice was serious. "You don't."
Sarah blanched. Are we really having this conversation right now? she thought. It was too much, too deep, too soon. For a moment, Sarah almost let herself feel warmth, she almost gave into the feeling in her stomach that rose up and threatened to strangle her when he was near. But she didn't. Fear won.
"Yes I do, okay. Now let's go," she choked out, frustrated and whining. Sarah cringed at the sound of her own petulant voice.
"Sarah…you are so…" he began, an edge of anger in his voice. He stopped and shook his head with a sigh. "No, you're right. Let's go."
He strode past her, stopping at the door to pull a wicked looking knife from the pack, poised and waiting to fight.
Sarah knew he didn't believe her, he couldn't believe that she felt anything deeper than alliance with him. It wasn't as if she had given him any reason to. She didn't know what she felt about the Goblin King, but she knew that she cared. How dare he tell me what I do and do not feel, she thought, her temper flaring, I care.
"Are you ready, Sarah? Don't lie to me," Jareth asked.
"As I'll ever be," she answered.
Bard walked into the living area. "Leaving?"
"Yes," Jareth said. He turned and placed a hand on the little man's shoulder. "Thank you."
Bard swept into a bow, awkward with age, but brimming with dignity. "Of course, majesty."
"Goodbye, Bard," Sarah said. "Thank you."
Bard gave Sarah a bow that matched the reverent respect of the one he'd granted Jareth. Sarah was touched. "Good luck, my lady."
It would have sounded silly from anyone else. Sarah smiled, almost a bit teary. She truly would miss the odd little man.
"Come, Sarah," Jareth said.
Jareth opened the door, Sarah flinched at the sight of the bright wasteland, at the edge of the barrier stood the hob-girl, around her floated the swarm. Sarah felt her fear rise anew, choking her. She wasn't ready, she was anything but ready. You wanted to do this, she reminded herself, and you are. They took slow, easy steps through the yard, still safe within the river rocks. The thought struck Sarah that this could be the last she spoke to Jareth. She had to say something after how it had ended in the house. She needed to let him know that she felt something.
"Jareth," Sarah said, grabbing his sleeve before he could take another step. "I—"
He clamped a hand over her mouth and shook his head. Sarah's eyes widened. He dropped his hand and put a finger to his lips.
She mouthed, "Can they hear us?"
He nodded. Sarah breathed deeply. She gestured to the bag and mouthed, "Weapon."
Jareth reached inside and handed her what seemed to be a wooden club. Sarah raised an eyebrow and felt her mouth gape open. Jareth shook his head and turned from her with it, rummaging through supplies before turning back. It was a torch, burning so brightly in the sun that it hurt to look at. Sarah took the torch with a nod and inhaled deeply, steeling her courage. Her free hand twitched to the small pocket of her dress that held extra matches. They took a few more steps. They were so close, just at the barrier's edge. A few steps from death, she thought and swallowed against the lump in her throat. Jareth turned to her and reached up a gloved hand to trace the curve of her cheekbone, fingers lingering lightly against warm skin.
Sarah's heart skipped a beat. Whatever she wanted to say, however she wanted to say it, could never speak as many volumes as that single gesture. She granted him a smile and leaned into his touch, hoping he could see that she did mean what she had said. She cared. I care so much, Sarah thought.
"Ready?" he mouthed to her.
Sarah sucked in a breath and gave a curt nod. Jareth leaned down, whispering directly in her ear.
"Sarah, we are not aiming for carnage, we are going to run. Fight what you can, but keep running south-eastern, there are swamps there, we'll hide there tonight. It will be easier to pick them off in the darkness," he said in one harsh sentence.
Sarah nodded, her heart pounding in her ears as she stared directly into the face of the taken hobgoblin girl. The child's face still held that chilling smile, a murderer's Cheshire grin. Sarah had never been so afraid in her life.
"Now," Jareth said.
Sarah crossed the border of the river rocks in a single, running bound, with Jareth directly behind her. To her surprise, the hobgoblin ignored her, she simply stared on with an amused smile. The fairies were not so passive.
Sarah cried out as one of them bit her exposed forearm, tearing skin with a vicious snarl.
"Get back!" she shouted, swinging the torch. The fairies giggled as they glided away in a swirl, regrouping. One was not so lucky. It caught on the torch and screamed like Derrick had, high and keening as it incinerated.
"Sarah!" Jareth shouted, cutting down three fairies with a swipe of his knife. "Run."
He took off, all long legs and graceful movements. Sarah kept up as best she could, muscles aching and chest heaving. A fairy caught a piece of her hair, still giggling like mad. It latched onto her cheek and bit down. Sarah swooned as it began sucking greedily on her and felt that it was drawing something much more vital than blood. She stopped running long enough to wrap her fingers around its slight body.
"Off of me!" Sarah was able to grunt out, pulling it from her skin, crumpling it in her hand, and tossing the crushed body away. She didn't look back to see where it had gone. The flame on her torch was streaming as she ran once more and Sarah hoped it wouldn't burn out. Up ahead, the tips of trees loomed before dipping into a low, leafy valley. She could see the silver blond of Jareth's hair just ahead of her.
"The swamps," Sarah huffed as she ran.
"Faster, Sarah!" Jareth shouted from up ahead. He stopped for her, grabbing her wrist and pulling her behind him. The changelings were right on their tail, making high shrieking noises, the fairies small, pointed fingers reaching. Jareth wrenched the torch from Sarah's iron grip and dropped it into the foliage. Immediately flames sprouted up, a wall of fire between them and their hunters. The changelings shrieked and jerked back, regrouping. For an instant, Sarah met eyes with the small girl. The child smiled wide, laughing in the face of the fire. She clapped her small hands together in a happy rhythm and hummed a jaunty tune. Sarah shook her head and stumbled backward, unsettled by the sight of her.
"That won't hold them forever, we need to keep moving," Jareth said. Sarah allowed him to grab her arm once again in a desperate tug, a stitch in her side burned as her aching legs continued to carry her forth. They dipped lower into the dank, verdant valley, shutting out the last light of day. The further they ran, the more black forms of trees surrounded them. Sarah could hear the soft stalking steps of their enemy and the buzz of the fairies wings. A haunting tune from the mouth of a child swirled in on the air. The only thing that was real was Jareth's hand, pulling desperately on her own. Sarah swallowing them up as they ran into uncertain darkness.