Disclaimer: Labyrinth is not mine.

A/N: A million thank-you's to my reviewers: Nyakai, seniastardust, Morgraine, lonely 27, Seridano, Anita, bloodfairy9788, UndergroundDaydreams, Tal J. Smith, rosegoddess9, daughterofthe1king and hazlgrnlizzy. Much love from me to you!

Chapter 15: Truth in Actions

Sarah Williams had come to the conclusion that everything she was certain about the people in her life was absolutely nothing at all.

She had been walking steadily since her run-in with envy and had yet to encounter any sign of the next task. No challengers, no humming Labyrinth, and no Jareth. Nothing but Sarah and her thoughts. In normal circumstances, the solitude would be glorious. Which was precisely the problem.

She could not possibly be in a more un-normal position. The past three days had been beyond belief. She had been upset by her kidnapping, frustrated by news of this Game, wary of Jareth's intentions, and shocked by her sudden magical prowess. But glimpsing her mother for the first time in five years, and seeing her recognize her daughter, even through a crystal, was one headache too many.

Sarah didn't know what to believe anymore. Her mother had always seemed so distant. She had never sent more than a card on holidays, and hadn't called in years. Sarah was certain it had been her fault; that she had driven Linda from motherhood and back towards the stage. She hadn't been a perfect child. And she still had the moment her mother had left inked into her brain, when Linda hadn't even given her daughter a parting glance as she yelled at her husband all the way to the taxi. Her father had always said Linda wanted a new life—that she wasn't cut out for motherhood—and to not worry because he'd always love her no matter what. At eleven, she'd believed him. Now she wasn't so sure.

If that crystal was a window to reality—and for reasons unknown, Sarah was sure of it—then her mother hadn't forgotten her. No, she had even recognized her in front of the entire country. Linda had thanked Sarah, and hadn't even mentioned her father, a man she'd been married to for fourteen years. What did that mean? Had she grown up living with the wrong reason for her mother's departure?

Had it not been her fault…?

That was the first thing that had come to mind in the cave.

The idea that her mother cared, but simply showed it in her own way, was startling. That it changed her entire view of her childhood was news enough. But as hard as she tried to push the notion down, the suggestion that Jareth's intentions mirrored her mother's was going to drive her mad. She couldn't accept it just like that. What did she really know about his actions? Frowning, Sarah tried to remember.

She knew firstly that he had given her magic. But not just any magic, his magic; Labyrinthine magic. And he had done so against the Labyrinth's own wishes. From the few interactions she'd had with the soul of the maze, she knew next that Jareth was either overconfident or insane to disagree with such a presence. She managed a snort; she was leaning towards insane.

She also knew that the magic had to be 'awakened', per se. A strong burst of emotion was the necessary calling card. And she knew Jareth was aware of this. As a user himself, he had to be. He'd kept her short-tempered ever since she'd returned to the Underground. Whether or not that was truly because he was bothered by her existence, or he was trying to prod the magic along, was the pivotal question. He had sent those gloves, though. She shook her head in frustration, still torn, and moved on.

She knew he'd fed her twice—three times if she included the initial breakfast she'd climbed out a window avoiding—and had definitely dosed her with something unnatural. But each meal had been unnaturally helpful, not poisonous. She'd felt stronger after the cider, and the tea and oats went down smoothly even with her stomach and head churning. In fact, each had calmed her reminders of the wild night before. She hadn't even noticed that then; she'd been too busy with the cave. She remembered now.

Sarah felt something warm turn over in her stomach. Oh. My. God. There was no way…

She knew that he could communicate directly with her, a talent she couldn't imagine all Fae possessing, and she knew he'd been upset by her apparent 'disappearance' in the orchard. And that kiss. Sarah gulped. That kiss couldn't be explained by words alone. And she knew he'd wanted to kiss her. Her throat went dry. Oh, he'd made that quite clear.

She knew someone had taken her back to her holding room, and tucked a blanket around her on the couch. And she knew it certainly wasn't Melina or any other Bidder; they had avoided her like the plague at the feast. She froze, heart beating fast as a hummingbird's.

She knew he'd sent her a peach, an intoxicating dream with dancing and his easy serenade. And she knew now what peaches meant; that they signified romantic intentions. Rosalyn had seemed so aghast at her receiving two such tokens that she knew gifts such as hers were rarer than roses in the desert. The reason had been staring her right in the face. How could she have been so dense?

She knew he'd said some startling things after she'd jumped in the Escher Room. Things about fear, and love, and being her slave…she'd never forgotten those words. But she'd thought it all a ploy—the peach, the dance, the lines, everything—just to stop her from saving Toby. She'd been so close to giving in. But he'd played the part of a villain so well it had been impossible to consider otherwise. It wasn't supposed to end that way. The villain never got the girl.

Unless he wasn't the villain at all, she thought. Unless that was never his intention.

Sir Didymus had mentioned something about intentions. Something about her not reading them right…Sarah collapsed to the ground, mind spinning with an astonishing realization. It was as if all the gears clicked into place at exactly the same time.

He cared. Jareth, King of the Goblins and lord of God knows what else, cared about me. And it wasn't just a passing fancy. Even Sir Didymus had known. He gave me two peaches…symbols of what? Marriage? Companionship?

Love?

Sarah prayed no one could see her shaking on the ground of the Labyrinth. It wasn't a flattering sight. She was torn halfway between crying and laughing, and her throat put out a strangled gasp. It was impossible, but all the signs were there. He'd been helping her since her return, not plotting against her. She paused, suddenly wondering why he'd been so secretive about it all. The only time he'd commented on…love…had been after the Escher Room and oh! Sarah's eyes bulged.

She'd turned him down.

But he couldn't possibly have expected her to say yes, could he? She'd only known him for ten hours, all of which had been spent outwitting his subjects and avoiding his traps. And she'd only been fifteen for God sakes; much too young to understand such an offer. She sighed, concluding that associating with goblins probably skewed his idea of relationships. And women. She'd been right in her pre-cave thinking; he clearly had no idea what he was doing.

The shaking in Sarah's limbs had receded, only to be replaced by the numbness found during appointments at the salon. Sarah slowly rose to her feet. She was still rather shocked by the discovery and was at a loss with what to do next. Call him? Ask him straight up if he loved her? Sarah pushed the notion aside. She couldn't bring herself to even think his name at the moment.

She didn't know what to say if he answered yes.

She needed to straighten out her own feelings first.

She'd thought she'd hated him, but she couldn't find a twinge of anger left. It had probably been more a defense against his hostility, and since he didn't hate her…Sarah trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

There was always polite tolerance—a short nod here and there and she'd be on her way home, never to bother him or the Underground again. The idea was strangely unappealing. Sarah frowned. She couldn't possibly want to stay here. Not after all of this. Still, the frown remained and Sarah forced herself to keep moving forward, reminded that she was still competing for her life.

What does that leave? Respect? Friendship? Something more? Sarah's stomach did another flop.

Oh no. No way can I actually care about him.

And that was all Sarah wanted to think on it, stubbornly pushing the pleasant buzz from her mind. The notion was too dangerous and if he was listening in, he'd have a field day. And then she'd really be in trouble. No, she decided firmly, she'd had enough.

It was a rather pointless declaration, however. Realizations were impossible to ignore.

I need a distraction. Badly. Where are those challenges when you need them?

She walked faster.

Eran never knew he could run so fast. But the saying went that in times of need, men are prone to superhuman feats. Perhaps it was true for the Fae as well.

It took him only a few hours to reach the Southern gate of the Labyrinth (he was now grateful for the shift the day before) and less to find the shadow of Elder Tower in his sight. By the time he was approaching the front door, the sun was just starting to fall in the afternoon sky. He still had plenty of time. Eran slowed, eager to catch his breath.

As he bowed to the guards outside, and shuffled through the doors, he pieced together all he'd learned in preparation for his meeting. It was a rather complicated story: girl wishes away child, king takes child, girl is taunted by king, girl defies king, king becomes interested in girl, king shows interest to girl, girl defies king again…Eran paused, knowing the facts became scattered sometime after that. He hoped the break between the Goblin City incident and her final defeat of the Goblin King weren't terribly important. The High King would certainly be pleased with what he'd uncovered thus far; one scene couldn't matter that much. Eran frowned, thinking that perhaps he better leave that out anyway. Just in case.

He took the stairs two at a time, nodding to a few familiar faces on his way up. It was quieter than usual in the tower; clearly, most guests were in the Grand Hall. He paused on the floor of the hall, listening to the noise echoing down the corridor. Something exciting seemed to be happening; he'd never heard it this loud. Curiosity winning out, he changed course, telling himself a quick update wouldn't hurt. He still had plenty of time.

The hall was packed with jabbering bodies, some waving kerchiefs in the air, others sacks of coins. Above the heads and limbs was the tally board, and Eran looked eagerly at the remaining competitors. All but five faces had been blacked out. He recognized Lady Melina, and the Elvin girl Rosalyn, and there was Sir Darius in orange, the lanky boy Flynn in blue and in hunter green…He managed a smile. Sarah Williams. She'd made it farther than any other mortal. No wonder the High King had been so urgent. A mortal winning this Game would create uproar. Especially if she was keeping secrets.

Eran suddenly noticed a large shadow had stepped in front of him. He turned towards the familiar face warily.

"Oh! Your Majesty …" He was startled by the narrowing eyes of the Goblin King.

"Been busy, boy? You seem rather disheveled."

Eran pieced together some courage, but his words were rushed. "Just checking in on the competitors. Like everybody else here."

This was exactly why he should have just gone straight to the High King, he thought. The Goblin King seemed to know everything.

"And yet I haven't seen you once since the Game began. I can't imagine what's made you lose track of time." Jareth leered down, clearly suspicious of Eran's— the well-known attendant of Cael's—absence.

Eran had no reply. One of his hands started twitching, and he hurriedly stuffed it in his pocket.

"Just what errand has Cael given you now, hmm? Something personal?"

"Ah, nothing important…" Eran tried to back away, but the Goblin King followed him step for step.

"I do hope not, boy. For your sake." He brushed past Eran, elbowing him in the ribs, and out the hall doors. His angry clip-clip of heels chased him through the corridor, and down the stairs Eran had just climbed.

Eran willed his heart to slow. That had been too close. He'd been certain the Goblin King was going to kill him, or at least grind him to ash. The crowd here was perhaps his only savior. The Goblin King clearly knew something was wrong, however. Could that dwarf have contacted him? Told the king it had been his conversation? Eran paled. Gods he hoped not. This would be so much easier if he wasn't connected. He needed to reach the High King. Immediately.

He was out the door before anyone else noticed he had been there.

The longer Sarah walked, the more she decided that anger was a brilliant distraction. She'd taken to blocking out the warm feeling flooding her stomach by stringing together obscene words with his features. It worked most of the time. Her current favorite was 'his damn mismatched eyes and their stupid, annoyingly bright, glint.' But she couldn't bring herself to think about 'his fucking boots and tights' without groaning. Loudly.

Where. Is. That. Next. Stage?

"Sarah? Is that you?" Rosalyn's airy voice broke through the silence.

"Rosalyn?"

"It's about time!" The Elvin girl's rosy face poked out from behind a wall, and she stared open-mouthed at her competitor.

"Are you really Rosalyn?" Sarah couldn't hide her skepticism, memories of the orchard still fresh. "Prove it."

"Pardon? Look, if you don't want company, you can find the next stage yourself." She turned easily, a trace of familiar bitterness in her voice.

That was enough for Sarah. "Wait, it's ok. I just had to check that you weren't…uh, someone else."

"I could ask you the same thing." Rosalyn was mildly accusatory. "I had no idea you were hiding so many secrets."

"Secrets?"

"Oh don't pretend otherwise. Everyone saw you…" she eyed Sarah warily, "…and the Goblin King."

Oh. THAT.

Sarah winced. That incident was clearly going to haunt her for the rest of the Game. Didn't anybody realize it hadn't been her fault?

Rosalyn didn't wait for a response, but held out a scrap of paper for Sarah to read. "Here. I doubt you've read this yet. Otherwise, you'd have been waiting for me."

Four sins past and three ahead,

But challengers beware.

When together come the tired five,

Proximity brings despair.

Think not of what you scorn,

…

The page was torn halfway through the riddle.

"Where's the rest?"

"Melina." Rosalyn gave her a look that answered everything. "She ripped it right from me before I finished it."

"Of course." Sarah wasn't surprised. "Well, where is everybody?"

Rosalyn frowned and pointed the corner she'd just emerged from. "About a minute away. Don't expect a warm welcome. "

Sarah followed close behind as Rosalyn lead on, batting hanging branches out of the way as they walked. Sarah tried to keep her thoughts in check, but the audible roar of voices was making it impossible to think. Minutes ago that would have been a blessing. Now, she needed time to prepare for the inevitable questioning. Irony was a spiteful thing.

"Mortal!"

Sarah groaned, fears confirmed. She didn't need this.

"How dare you show your face after your little stunt?" Melina shouted; face matching her awful plum ensemble. "How dare you bewitch the King of the Goblins with your petty charms?"

"Oh shut up," Sarah yelled. She could care less if she hurt Melina's feelings. She was not at fault here.

Melina didn't respond, her mouth opening and closing as if she was trying to suck words out of the air. But the two challengers behind her certainly did. The man in orange, whom she remembered boasting in the cottage, was trying to cover his smirk, but failing miserably. He settled for a loud forced cough and ignored Sarah's eyes. The other runner, the lanky boy in cobalt blue, had walked over to give Sarah a soft 'thanks' and obvious smile, before settling next to her and Rosalyn.

Sarah could help but notice that sides had been drawn. And she wasn't as hated as Rosalyn had made her think. The warm swell returned to her gut and she managed a half-smile, knowing she was going to be fine. She eyed Melina carefully all the same; she appeared to be coming out of her fish coma.

"Shut up? Shut UP?" She growled, suddenly rushing towards Sarah with shaking arms.

She didn't get far before a loud "BOOM" echoed around them, stopping Melina in her tracks. Sarah snapped her head around, but the sound bounced off the circular walls like acrobats on a trampoline, masking the location of the cry. And nothing appeared to have changed…she stopped before she finished, realizing what was different.

The corridor she'd walked out of had closed; a huge slab of stone seemed to have jumped in front. Sarah swung her head back to the group, and around the stone enclosure, hoping to see another path. But there wasn't even a crack in the arena.

Oh no. What sins were left? Sloth, lust…she stopped. Wrath! Of course!

Melina didn't seem to notice that her rush of anger had triggered the change, and she raised her arms again, fury on her face anew, and charged fast at Sarah.

Sarah barely had time to shift to her side before she was tackled by the hurling plum bundle. She hit the ground roughly, hearing her shoulder give a creak of protest. Sarah cried out, pain rushing through her back as Melina pinned her arms to her sides.

"Stop!" Sarah coughed out a cry. "STOP, this is wrath—" Sarah didn't want to lose the Game here because of someone else's stupidity.

"Oh you bet it is you brat, I've had enough of you!" She spat angrily in Sarah's face, and pulled her right hand up the air, twisting golden light on her fingers. Sparks flickered violently off her palm.

Sarah closed her eyes, trying to keep the sparks from burning her sight, but kept struggling against Melina. Their size difference was painfully obvious now, and Sarah couldn't even shift a leg to knock Melina off-balance. Sarah's futile squirming only caused the Fae to push down harder into Sarah's abdomen, as if someone had dropped a sack of bricks only to see how long one could breathe underneath them. Sarah doubted she could last much longer, already gasping for air and barely aware of her legs. It couldn't be long now; she'd either pass out or be blasted to pieces.

Unless someone helped, she prayed vainly. Oh, please, get her off me.She tried to force out a 'help!', but it came out as only a sickly wheeze. Sarah hoped it was enough.

But nobody was stepping in to help. Why wasn't someone helping? She had been certain Rosalyn hated Melina just as much as she did, and that lanky boy too. And even in the cottage…Sarah's thoughts were scattered by her need for oxygen. The air tasted stale and bitter, like thick mud. And how was Melina even allowed to use magic against her? Hadn't that been a rule? The light was growing hot behind her closed eyes, and she panicked, trying to break Melina's grasp one last time. Melina shifted, giving Sarah one last gasp of air to yell.

"…Stop…STOP… I don't…want…to fight!"

In an instant, the heavy weight on her gut vanished and Sarah heard Melina give a started gasp. The light was still bright, but Sarah forced her eyes open and saw, to her horror, the silvery façade known only as the Labyrinth hovering above her. The soul shimmered for an instant, giving Sarah an oddly significant glance, before darkening to black and floating away from Sarah's face.

"You have both failed this Game stage and the rules, Melina." The Labyrinth's voice seemed eerily pleased. "Farewell."

And all Sarah saw was the black. Melina's pitchy screams were engulfed by a muffled cloud, and then her body had been swallowed by a great black mouth, and then the sky turned to night. The ground seemed to shake in terror and Sarah couldn't close her eyes fast enough to block the terrible scene from her mind.

And just as the cries of the cottage, it was over just as suddenly as it began. Sarah was shaking on the ground, shoulder burning with pain, and heart pounding again. She was vaguely aware of an arm helping her up, and another keeping her back straight while she let her head clear. She had never seen anybody die before. It was a terrifying scene.

"Sarah, are you alright?" Rosalyn sounded concerned. "We didn't think she'd last so long, with wrath being this stage, or we'd have tried to stop her. Sarah? Can you hear me?"

Sarah was still dazed. She thought she had been prepared for the rest of this Game, but, she shuddered, she still had to outlive three others. And that look…The Labyrinth was so angry with her…God what if it just forgot the deal and took her magic?

"SARAH!" The lanky boy shook her arm, hoping to snap her out of it.

Sarah yelped as her hurt shoulder was jarred and finally opened her eyes to the arena. It was day again, and Rosalyn and the lanky boy were holding her up. Unsurprisingly, the man in orange was gone.

"Ah," she winced in pain, "thanks guys."

"No problem. We couldn't stand her either. I'm Flynn." The boy in blue smiled, almost forgetting Sarah was his competitor too.

"Sarah." She instinctively offered her hand.

"I err…I know." He didn't take it.

Sarah sighed, of course he knew. Everybody knew who she was. Damn incident in the hall. She shrugged off his hand and steadied herself. Everything always came back to her and Jareth. It was as if she was already his untouchable property.

"Jareth's not going to beat you for shaking my hand, Flynn."

His eyes bulged, and Rosalyn gave a soft cry at the name.

"Oh forget it. Let's just go." Sarah tried to focus on the two remaining stages, and hurried away.

As strode through a new stone archway and turned left, the pair eyed each other warily, but followed. They didn't know what else to do.

And there was only one path anyway.

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