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

"Armor"

It was still dark when Sarah awoke with a violent gasp.

This is your world, sweet Sarah.

This could be your world…

Hands grasping, nails digging in, a long fall cushioned by a fleshy body that simply melted away into the surrounding shadows. Sarah took the opportunity to crawl on her hands and knees, trying to find her way back to the Light.

The Light.

She had it, she could feel it. She was. It was within her. It was her.

And she—and it—were exactly what It wanted.

I just want a taste, a simple taste. Will you let me taste?

"No…" Sarah protested in a horrified whisper. She tried to run, but the thick, gluey air surrounding her kept her nearly immobile. The harder she struggled, the less she could.

It was there again. The presence of a cool, wet tongue laving her neck, like some creature from a low-budget B-movie, some horrific being, made her shudder and scramble to get away, to somehow move through the infinite blackness.

Why do you run, sweet? Why do you struggle?

The voice was taunting her now, merciless as its clawed hands grasped roughly at her skin. One covered her mouth.

Don't bite it, Sarah thought, but why she could not think. The blood, she remembered, you can't have its blood.

So she kept her lips tightly shut. The creature grinned, white teeth and irises the only things visible in the blackness. It slid its slick palm up her face. It felt both real and unreal, yielding formlessness made flesh. It covered her nose. A scream choked in her throat as she struggled for air and a laugh rang out around her as it smothered her. The most terrible laugh she had ever heard, the stuff of nightmares.

The memories of the dream alone made her shudder.

I thought they were over, Sarah thought, suddenly feeling foolish for thinking that one peaceful night meant that her dreams were safe again.

Jareth lay behind her, his arm slung around her waist. His grip tightened when she tried to sit. She melted back against him, breathing for a moment and allowing herself to absorb the sensation of being held rather than being suffocated. She held his hand tightly to her, rubbing circles into his wrist, aware that her eyes watered from her struggle for oxygen.

"Sarah?" he asked, pressing his lips to the hollow between her shoulder blades, soft and fluttering brushes of his mouth against her fevered skin. "What is it?"

She rolled to face him. His eyes opened a fraction wider and Sarah could feel the beads of perspiration and tears coating her face. Jareth brought his hand to her cheek and stroked it lovingly, wiping away those cool droplets and leaving kisses in their place.

"I need to get some air," she whispered.

Jareth nodded as she sat up. Once there, she couldn't help but take a moment to breathe, trying to calm the trembling that racked her body. Her fingers threaded through her hair, tugging at the dark strands.

Jareth sat beside her. His eyes raked over her in a way that felt deeper than a simple stare.

"You're shaking," he noted in a dark voice.

"Yeah," Sarah confirmed softly. She leaned her cheek against his shoulder. It was smooth and pleasantly cool against her hot flesh.

Jareth grasped her hands in his and raised them to his lips.

"I need to breathe, clear my head…I'll be right back," she said, moving to find her discarded clothing and dressing quickly.

Jareth remained in bed and watched her with concern as she pushed out into the open air.

The early morning was chilly, soothing and cool. Sarah shivered and crossed her arms over her chest. She inhaled deep breaths of that chill, sweet-smelling air, trying her best to ignore that sickening scent of bad magic that she could sense inherently. It made her stomach roil.

It reminded her of her nightmares.

Sarah leaned on the rope railing with taut but trembling arms. Her mind replayed the events of the dream, of the others that were so very like it, over and over in a traumatic reel. She wrenched her eyes shut and tried to ignore the nausea that threatened her.

To the east of the tree houses the sun was barely rising, just a shimmer of gold in a far distant sea of dusky purple amid blackness and stars. The soft creak of the wooden bridge across the way made her start. Hoggle marched with six goblins following him single file, Ludo at the end of the line. They must have just gotten back, she thought. Brave Hoggle and his band of spies. She grinned. If I ever get back to writing...

Hoggle saw her first and gave her a wave from across the clearing, which the others quickly mirrored. Sarah returned it, smiling as best she could, but her mind was troubled.

She raked her fingers through her hair and walked back toward the tree house in slow, measured steps. Although she may be haunted by nightmares, Sarah had to focus on reality. Today was the day.

The day.

What they were about to do was why she had been whisked away from home, it was everything that she had been fighting for, exhilarating and terrifying. Sarah couldn't tell if she wanted to lead their small army in shouting and brandishing a sword like some kind of hero, or run the other way as fast as she could, screaming like a child.

Sarah opened the tree house door and slipped inside, her hammering heart had slowed to its normal beat after her time outside.

Jareth was waiting for her, loosely dressed in his shirt and breeches. His brow was knotted with worry and he relaxed visibly when she appeared.

"You were gone for a long while," he said. "Do you feel better now?"

"Better," Sarah confirmed with a sigh. "Relatively better."

Sarah wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close. He was quiet as he held her. Perhaps he knew that she could not find words to say. Instead she kissed him, sweetly, gently. Jareth lay one hand across her cheek, the other traced a path of fire down her side to her hips to pull her closer, to pull her against him.

"Jareth?"

"Yes, precious?" he whispered.

Sarah leaned back to meet his eyes. "Tell me more about it."

"About what?" he asked, furrowing his brow.

"The Consciousness."

Jareth frowned and rubbed his brow. He gently took her hand and led her back to the pillow-bed to sit. "I can tell you what I know. He, or it, is a changeling, just like the rest of them, a parasite and predator, a feeder of flesh and energy."

"What makes him different?" Sarah asked.

"Well, he seems to be older, for one. I don't know how the creatures measure age, but he is. As I told you before, he has superior abilities," Jareth said.

"What kinds?" she asked, twirling her fingers in her lap.

"The creatures believe that he has—what would you call it?—psychic tendencies, but that seems to be simple superstition," Jareth commented, wrinkling his nose as if he found it vaguely funny. "They worship the beast for it."

"Well, considering what I've seen so far, they aren't exactly the best thinkers," Sarah said, but felt discomfited by his words. She shook it off. "Tell me more."

"Most of the changelings are limited to two skins. Their own, natural shadow form, and the form of whatever host they have consumed most recently," Jareth explained, "but not the Consciousness. He has multiple forms, multiple skins beyond the two."

"Let me guess," Sarah said with a sigh. "That makes it more difficult to fight him."

"Precisely," Jareth agreed quietly, one hand rising to his scarred side. "I should know."

Sarah leaned across him to feather kisses over the healing wound. She knew the length of it, the depth of it, and just how bad it was.

"He hurt you," she said, stroking his ribs where the slash had been made.

"Yes, but he won't again," Jareth said, clearly caught between being touched or pleased by her concern, her caring for him. "Today he dies."

"If I see him, I'll kill him," Sarah said quietly. I will end this, she thought fiercely, no more nightmares. Some of that seething in her chest must have shown on her face. Jareth's expression became troubled.

"I'm worried about you," Jareth whispered, leaning his forehead to hers.

"It's almost over," she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before pulling back to give him a fleeting smile. "Today's the day."

Jareth stroked her arm with deep reverence, kissing from shoulder to collar-bone and back again.

"It's almost over," he repeated quietly.

Sarah knew he wasn't afraid. But why did he sound so mournful?

The sun was still low, only in the midst of rising, as Sarah dressed for battle. Jareth had brought her a pair of his breeches to wear, grey ones, and a white silken shirt. She pulled the latter garment on over her corset, tucking it loosely into the pants. They were a bit long for her legs, but still fit her like a second skin although they were his. That made her smile and throw a glance to the Goblin King.

Jareth wore the armor he had donned on his first visit, but it had been altered. It was missing the high collared cape. But that's not right, he should be wearing the whole thing, Sarah thought. When she had commented that she missed it, Jareth had snorted.

"Please, Sarah," he said, "it was for show and flashiness, to strike fear into the hearts of those who first laid eyes on me. And I admit, it did make me look rather dashing."

"You are shameless, you know that?" she replied.

Jareth merely shrugged. "The cape was impractical."

He was right, although it held great nostalgic charm. Sarah knew that after his impressive entrance into her bedroom wearing the garment, he could not resist putting it back on. Then again, he was a banished King, torn from his Kingdom. Maybe he didn't have any other to wear.

"So how do I look?" Sarah asked, turning once in his shirt and breeches. "Do I look ready? I feel ready, I think…"

Jareth frowned and looked her over. "You look vulnerable, young."

"Gee thanks," Sarah said, putting her hands on her hips. And here I was going for intimidating, she thought, although she knew she didn't look it. Sarah couldn't resist poking fun. She grinned. "Is that the same thing as girly? Please don't tell me this is some kind of bullshit macho thing."

Jareth raised an eyebrow at that one. "What exactly—?"

"Nevermind," she said with a shake of her head. "I mean, how do we fix that? The vulnerable look."

Jareth breathed in with a small, but audible, "Ah." He turned to the door. "I'll be back."

Sarah paced a few steps, biting at her fingernails for the few moments he was gone. It was a bad habit from her childhood, one she hadn't engaged in since the ripe old age of nine, but once she started, Sarah found she couldn't stop.

But she did stop. The door creaked open, he walked back inside, and the nervousness was gone.

When Sarah saw what Jareth held in his hands, she grinned, slow and almost laughing.

"Is that what I think it is?" she asked him.

Jareth glanced down at the goblin armor in his hands. It was a dull, tin grey, a bit banged up from either battle or play, likely the latter considering the likelihood that the previous owner spent his days drinking ale and chasing chickens. The left shoulder was decorated with dull spikes, the right was simple bare leather. Perhaps the plate for protection had fallen away with time. It looked well cared for, although the chest armor was a bit dented from wear. It was also at least six sizes too small.

"Jareth, I'm never going to be able to squeeze into that," Sarah said.

Jareth rolled his eyes and produced a crystal. Sarah ran forward as he spun it between his fingers.

"Stop!" she said. "What are you doing? Those things will show up."

"Sarah, we're on the verge of war. The changelings can sense it. They'll stay within the castle walls," Jareth said, the round surface of the crystal spun so fast it looked like flowing water. He grinned and cast the crystal against the armor in his hands. Incandescent sparks burst forth. Sarah felt two or three settle against her skin, warm and fluttering. "Yes, they will feel this. And I want them to understand what they are dealing with."

The armor had grown to the perfect size, the dents were smooth and the missing shoulder pad was replaced.

Sarah smiled brilliantly and stepped forth. Jareth settled the armor, which included plates for her arms and thighs, down on the floor before them.

"Lift your arms, love," he told her. Sarah complied as he began placing the armor on her with delicate reverence.

"Does it fit?" he asked, his hands settling on her ribs once she was wearing each piece, encouraging her to breathe, expanding her chest in case it met any resistance.

"Fit?" Sarah asked, staring down at her, now covered, arms. "You're like the fairy godmother or something."

"I'm not quite sure I understand," Jareth said, cocking an eyebrow. He seemed to know it was a compliment and preened.

Sarah rolled her eyes and squeezed his shoulder before kissing him. "I mean, I'm ready to go to the ball."

They marched out when the sun was still large, red, and low in the eastern sky. Jareth stood to the front of the small battalion of goblins and assorted Labyrinth residents. Sarah was a few steps behind him, Hoggle to her left, Ludo to her right, and the rest marching behind them. At the very end of the crowd were five cages made solely of wood. It had been Jareth's plan to use them, the other secret weapon. The creatures within rattled and laughed wickedly, making an uneasy shiver rise up Sarah's neck. She hoped he knew what he was doing.

Sir Didymus had led the other half of the goblins on a northbound forest path, they took the west, but both led to the castle. Sarah tightened her grip on her sword with a sigh. Her palms were slick with perspiration, fear and excitement made her head spin.

So she breathed. In and out, she thought, an internal mantra in time with her breaths. The dried leaves beneath their feet crackled as they walked, releasing a heady, musky scent into the air. Sarah breathed it in and felt a little stronger, a little braver. The dappled morning light filtered through the trees, casting their faces in patterned shadows, shapes of leaves, designs of the forest. Sarah thought it felt better than any war paint as it washed over her, teasing her eyes with the flickering light.

The goblins had managed to be reasonably quiet. Whenever one let out a maniacal giggle or shout, Hoggle turned and shushed it. If they grew too boisterous, Jareth himself would turn and glare. That had them quiet in a moment. Not a sound could be heard but the rustle of leaves.

The forest thinned as they walked in silence. The leaves and twigs that littered the ground became scarce, the trees became smaller, reedier, and the sun grew hotter, making its presence known.

"Shh," Jareth said when they stopped at the very edge of the Firey Forest.

A large barren field, dirt but for small clusters of grass and weeds, spread where the junk piles had once stood, a scar on the once vibrant landscape. It made Sarah's stomach turn.

Sir Didymus would be leading his half of the goblins around the other side of the fortress, a place that Sarah had never been. Before her now, seeing something that had once been so deeply a part of her missing from the land, the place she had learned to let go, Sarah felt cold. Beyond that naked, open land, Sarah could see the castle and the Goblin City. It was her first clear glimpse of them in a long while.

She shuddered as she took it in, a cruel, unforgiving fortress. She felt as if the spire of it pierced her, split her. Sarah breathed in deeply and faced the defiled city with as much courage she could muster. In and out, in and out, she thought in time with her slow breaths. That helped.

Mine.

Sarah stumbled back, her hands flew to her temples. That voice was back, that voice.

"Sarah?" Ludo said slowly, tilting his head as he stared down at her.

"I'm fine," Sarah told him. She inhaled deeply.

"You sure?" Hoggle asked, looking her over in concern, as if inspecting her for injury.

In and out.

"I'm fine," Sarah said, an autopilot response. Somehow saying it aloud made it feel more real. It gave her new resolve. She knew it was true when she told them, "I'm ready."

Author's Note: Thanks for all the reviews, follows, and favorites. Special thanks to DieKochbar (Katja), Zayide, Honoria Granger, iknowyou2, Kilikina12, comical freaka, and Jetredgirl for reviewing. (And happy late birthday to Zayide!). Please read and review, I love reading your thoughts about the story.