Disclaimer: Ownership of the Labyrinth got wished away to the Goblin King, and the selfish bastard decided to keep it.
Author's Note: Quality Control is not impressed that she now has to do 'research' in order pass judgement on my musings. It's only been a decade or two since she last watched the movie after all, and until I can convince her to watch it again she's kind of feeling disconnected from the story/characters. Not to mention bringing her around on the idea of the pairing took a little work (she's not a fan of Bowie, neither am I for that matter, though I'm more neutral on the topic, but then, I don't see Bowie, I see Goblin King). As it is, this little piece was actually written two nights back but I had to wait on QC's deciding she was still qualified enough to give it a passing grade – and as those of you that know me are aware, nothing goes up without QC's seal of approval. Of course, it's more than likely she is humouring me on this one, she knows it drives me up the wall having a written fic on hand and not being able to post it. Hope this one lives up to the last one.
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Life is a series of learning experiences, she discovers. Some are relatively gentle, a smallish sort of nudge along the path of life, others are harsh, so much so that the learner is lucky to survive – if they even do – to keep treading the road, and some lessons can only be learned with time, coming to each of us in their own way, at a moment of their own choosing.
The barn owl in her arms is the Goblin King; she learns this is something he can do even as she realizes that he's been following her since long before she ever ran his Labyrinth. She could never be sure previously, there had always been so much going on, but this time…she'd probably be a bit more concerned about that if she weren't more worried at the moment about why. Is it weakness? Choice? And would he be able to change back?
Her vet – she could think of nothing else to do – learns that the owl is not to be put down, no matter how wounded it is or how merciful that might be. He's known the girl since Merlin was a puppy, has seen her playacting in the park since she was small, and he wonders when she learned to play the part of the guardian angel so frighteningly well. There's no choice for him but to help her or get the hell out of her way.
Irene, meanwhile, learns that some animals, no matter how filthy, are coming in the house, she doesn't care where it's been. Then Robert learns that the owl will not be held by anyone else, the sharp talon that acted as teacher momentarily reopening the debate only long enough for both parents to re-learn the difference between overdramatic teenager and determined young woman – even if they are one and the same person. She'd never intended to let him anywhere near Toby to begin with – the sleeping toddler is best left out of this lesson, he'll have plenty of his own to learn on the morrow regardless – and she can take care of herself.
And Jareth really ought to be learning a meaning of kindness that does not involve being chased down a tunnel by a sharp-bladed machine, but it's hard to tell with an owl. Still, she's learned long since that a little optimism never killed anyone…she hopes…
…and in the moment she stumbles her weary way into her room, having successfully smuggled her enemy safely past friendly lines, only to face, suddenly, the dreadful question of what do you do with a wounded Goblin King – especially one that is watching her so passively when he should be figuring out how to smirk with a beak…
…Sarah learns that caring might be the most difficult lesson of all.