Disclaimer: Much to my dismay, Labyrinth is not mine. It belongs to Jim Henson, George Lucas, Brian Froud, David Bowie etc.

Author's Note: I know this update has been a long time coming, but I finished it just in time for midterms! Thank you once again for all the favorites, follows, and reviews and sticking with the story through this period of inconsistent updates. Please read and review, I'll try to get the next chapter up by the end of the week.

"Falling"

Sarah had dreamed about this. It had been impossible not to in the aftermath of her first adventure in the Underground. Innocent, adolescent fantasies about how he would kiss her had been a plague in her mind since the she was fifteen, quelled over time with age and realism. He certainly had not done it in the way she had imagined he would. She had expected a slow seduction, words purred in her ear, teasing and building up to the moment.

This was so much better.

It was every bit as perfect as she had imagined, but nothing like it at all. Jareth held her too tightly, as if expecting her to disappear at any given moment, crushing her against his chest, his hands roaming her every inch. Sarah responded with the same violent urgency, every movement of her mouth on his was frantic, passionate, and terrified. Her fingers dug into his hair, which was surprisingly soft, pulling his face to hers, so that he could not stop, never stop, kissing her. The initial shock of seeing her alive was wearing off, Jareth loosened his grip, but not by much. Instead he feathered a series of small kisses along her jawline, finding a spot beneath her ear that made her hold him tighter, kiss him harder.

"Sarah," he murmured in between kisses, over and over, "sweet, precious, Sarah."

"Yes," she whispered, unsure of why she even said it.

When Jareth started to kneel, pulling her along with him, she went happily. Her arms wound around his neck to pull him close for another mind numbing kiss. Sarah shook all over as her mind rushed and her legs moved to straddle his lap. His answering moan as she pressed flush against him encouraged her to continue. She could feel every plane, every angle of his body. Sarah leaned back, her long hair trailing in the leaves that scattered the foliage of the swamp floor. Jareth's hands were on her waist, he lowered her down before following, covering her body with his.

Sarah was only vaguely aware of the frantic, desperate noises falling from her mouth as he kissed her senseless. It was too perfect, she could get drunk off of kisses like this.

"Jareth," she whispered as he broke away, lifting a hand to his cheek. He met her eyes just as his name fell from her lips and turned his face to kiss her palm.

He was saying her name again, worshipping each syllable. Sarah wound her fingers in his hair, savoring its softness.

Sarah turned her head, giving him better access to kiss hollow of her throat. For a fraction of a moment she opened her eyes, and stared directly at the flaming body of the hobgoblin changeling. It's eyes were still open, devoid of an iris, and its mouth a black, gaping hole. It's body was charring quickly, already burning to the bone. Sarah could not shake the feeling that it was looking directly at her.

A cold laugh and a splitting headache flashed in her mind. Sarah moaned at the sudden pain in her skull and squirmed beneath Jareth's kisses.

"Oh, love," he whispered, kissing her collarbone, his hand ghosting up and down her side.

White light exploded behind her eyelids, bright, powerful, and warm. Sarah breathed in sharply at the sudden change. Without so much as a warning, it extinguished, instead, through the darkness, white, blank eyes stared and someone giggled madly, a lunatic's laugh.

Mine, all mine.

She gasped in a choke of air and snapped her head away. Jareth didn't notice, he was too busy pulling at her dress, exposing her shoulder and caressing it with his fingertips before placing an open-mouthed kiss on the burning skin, sweet nothings pouring from his mouth with every caress. Her breath quickened, she arched against him, fear momentarily forgotten. The eyes flashed once more.

"Jareth," she said, her voice rising as the dead monster stared on, "Stop!"

"What?" he asked, vaguely stunned, his voice drowsy with lust, against her skin before kissing her again. "Sarah…"

"I mean it," she insisted and pushed him to the side, rolling him off of her. "Off."

Jareth looked confused as he stared up at her. She was shaking and fearful. It was all bubbling up.

"Sarah, is something wrong?" he asked, standing and brushing himself off. He walked closer to her, smoothing his hands down her arms, running his fingers through her hair. It was all so distracting, so wonderful. For a moment Sarah almost gave in. She leaned into his embrace and breathed in his scent. I'd forgotten how good he smells, she thought, resting her forehead against his breastbone as he kissed the crown of her head.

Then the eyes flashed into her mind again. Open, white, and horrible. Someone cackled inside her head, cruel and dark. Sarah drew back with a gasp. The hobgoblin's stolen form struggling against Jareth's powerful hold, still small and plump with baby fat overwhelmed her thoughts in flashes. The crunch of bones snapping and the stench of its corpse burning overcame her. She dropped to the ground and retched.

"Sarah!"

Jareth knelt beside her, pulling her sodden hair back from her neck and rubbing a soothing pattern on her back.

"It's all right, precious," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the nape of her neck as she sat back on her heels and wiped her mouth.

"No," Sarah said, shocked to find her voice almost teary. "It's not all right. Those things almost killed me. That thing almost killed you."

"But it didn't," he replied, his voice still maddeningly soft.

"I saw you kill it," Sarah said in a small voice.

Jareth frowned and Sarah was sure he had more than just a simple notion of how much it disturbed her. "We'll make camp for the night. You need to sleep."

Sarah shook her head in disagreement, making herself dizzy. "It's okay. I don't have to, we can walk—"

Before she could finish, he swept her up into his arms, leaned down to shoulder the bag, and began walking.

"Jareth, put me down," Sarah said, a notable whine in her voice, but she made no attempt to fight him.

"You're exhausted, Sarah," he said, tightening his grip on her. He allowed himself to kiss her forehead. She flinched. When she looked at him, uncertain, he glanced away, the hurt in his eyes unbearable.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, burring her face against his shoulder. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Don't talk," he whispered, surprisingly tender. "You need rest."

Sarah allowed herself to relax for a moment, her head on his chest, listening to his heart. Her blood was still rushing. Lust, fear, and exhaustion made her head pound, and Sarah could swear that she felt another episode coming on, just in the back of her head. The memory of the maniacal laughter terrified her, was she really so tired to hallucinate something that frightening?

Jareth stopped walking and set her down beside a tree trunk before he began rummaging through the bag to cover her with a woolen blanket. His hands brushed her bare shoulders from where her dress was still pushed down and she shook with unfulfilled desire. It took every ounce of free will she had not to pull him down with her.

"Why?" Sarah whispered, her thoughts drifting between horror and pleasure, terror and hope.

"Why what, princess?" he asked, smoothing a hand across her brow.

"I don't deserve you to—"

He shushed her and ran his hand along her cheek, brushing away a tear. "Sleep."

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"It's all right," he whispered back, humming under his breath. He ran his hand over her brow in a soothing rhythm. "Sleep, Sarah. Dream pleasant dreams."

"If you say so," she mumbled drowsily.

Sarah heard him chuckle, deep and warm. Oh God, I'm falling in love with him, she mused, why does that make me so afraid? It was the last conscious thought before she fell into another nightmare.

Sarah awoke with a start, a sheen of sweat covered her skin. It was still the dead of night, but a fire now burned, small and bright, on the cleared ground. Jareth sat beside it, his back to her, staring pensively in the flames. She took a moment to admire his shape, the gracefulness in every tiny motion, the way the firelight danced on his hair.

She felt much better after a few hours of sleep, her body ached in places she didn't even know she had muscles, but she no longer felt sick. Slowly, Sarah stood, pulling the wool blanket around her shoulders. Jareth looked up at her as she approached the fire.

"You were right," she said, sitting across from him. "I needed the sleep."

Jareth smirked as if to say, "I told you so."

"What are you doing up?" Sarah asked, holding her fingers over the blaze. Delicious warmth swept over her skin.

"I wasn't sure if you'd killed all the fairies," he explained. "I thought I'd keep watch."

"Thank you," she whispered. "You look tired."

"I'm perfectly fine," he said, poking at the flame with a small twig, sending a small cascade of sparks into the night.

"Here." Sarah stood and walked closer to him, shrugging the blanket from her shoulders as she went and draping it around him. It reminded her of the morning after he'd flown through her window, bits of pale skin gleaming, a blanket wrapped around him like a robe. Even with the dark circles beneath his eyes and the sullied state of his clothing, Sarah had never seen him look so beautiful.

She retreated to her earlier seat, a safe distance. Memories of his kisses still floated through her mind, indulgent thoughts that made her heart leap, but Sarah was unsure of where they stood. It had been a moment of weakness for him, she knew. Perhaps he did not wish to continue.

"Jareth, you should sleep," she said, searching for something to say to break the silence. "I can stay up, keep watch for you."

"You could," he mused, not looking at her. "But you shouldn't, not now. You deserve to rest."

"So do you," she answered.

Jareth snorted with laughter. "I haven't truly rested in years, I'm not about to start."

Sarah tilted her head, studying him. "Do you like it? Being king, I mean," she asked, uncertain why. Small talk had never been her forte.

"Occasionally," he said, prodding the fire with a loose twig. "More often than not it's…well let's call it unpleasant, and lonely, and…" he paused and smiled, "but God help me, I couldn't abide parting with the little demons."

"How'd you get the job?" she asked. "Did you inherit it or something?"

Somehow it was difficult imagining Jareth with parents.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I don't remember."

"Well, how long have you been Goblin King?"

He thought for a moment, a look of peculiar realization on his face. "I don't know."

Sarah felt a twinge of sympathy rise in her chest. She smiled at him and scooted an inch closer, almost touching. "Let's say you get a vacation, anywhere, Aboveground or Underground. Where would you go?"

"Around Soho, most likely. In your world, in London's West End," he replied, meeting her eyes with a seductive glance, "It sounds terribly exciting."

Sarah's heart sped up a bit, but she managed to laugh. "Wow, you really are a pervert, aren't you?"

Jareth laughed with her, but when he leaned in to grasp her hand, she inched it away ever so slightly. Her emotions were still running high, she couldn't risk another episode that his kisses had brought on. If he holds my hand, I'll jump his bones, she thought with a bit of guilt at the brief flicker of uncharacteristic confusion on his face.

"Sarah," he said, gently stroking the wool of the blanket, his eyes far away. A frown tugged at the corners of his lips. When he spoke, it was the softest whisper, "Are you afraid of me?"

Sarah curled her knees to her chest and said, "You terrify me."

You make me feel such beautiful, terrible things, she thought, you were supposed to be the villain, you were supposed to disappear.

"I see," he said softly.

"No, Jareth, that isn't what I—"

He held up a hand, signifying for her to stop. "It's all right," Jareth rose. "If you don't mind, I think I'll sleep for an hour or so. I'm sorry I frightened you."

Sarah watched, mouth agape, as he walked over to where the leather bag rested against the leaf covered trunk of a tree, he leaned back against it, the woolen blanket lay forgotten to the side.

"But you didn't," she whispered.

It didn't matter, Jareth was already asleep.