Chapter Two

Carl finished his shift not long after the mystery creature had appeared. He announced to the bar's inhabitants that the kitchen was closed before he left, and said goodnight to Sarah with a warm smile.

"Are we still in for dinner tomorrow night?"

Sarah forgot about the date she had agreed to. She looked at the man on the other side of the bar. He was tall, handsome, and a year or two younger than her. His eyes were a brilliant blue and he always had slightly rosy cheeks. Carl was an optimist, which Sarah liked, and she had very much appreciated his ability to quote various Disney films to her throughout the various shifts they shared together. She looked down at her watch before she answered.

"I think that should be fine. Can I let you know tomorrow, though?"

The hint of disappointment flitted across Carl's face, but he kept his smile on and nodded before he left the tavern.

The couple at the back of the pub took their leave of the place not long after Carl, which left Mick and the three rugby-watching men to finish up their drinks and game.

Sarah loaded glasses into the dishwasher and hummed to herself as she went. She quickly stopped when she realised it was a tune from too many years ago, in a world that no longer existed to her. Well, aside from her friends, it did not exist.

As she had grown older, Sarah saw less and less of her Labyrinth companions. She kept the trinkets from her childhood room with her- the ones that reminded her of those friends- but aside from these little remnants, it became harder and harder to reach Hoggle, Sir Didymus, Ludo and the others. Especially in the last few months, she thought, it had been difficult to see them. At random times when they would appear in a mirror or reflection. She recalled the last time she had seen Hoggle- all ripples in a lake that she had sat beside while eating lunch between shifts at a bustling restaurant in Switzerland.

Was it Switzerland? Maybe it had been Sydney? Sararh had truthfully lost track of her travels. She remembered the magical creatures during them, though. A fairy had skimmed across the lake's water and drawn her attention, and then there was Hoggle, beaming out of the water at her and eager to hear about her day.

As she stood at the bar, it dawned on Sarah that she spoke to her father and Toby more than she spoke to her friends these days. And those conversations were few and far between, too. Toby was halfway to graduating now, which scared her to no end.

As she thought these thoughts, the three men finished up their final round and the rugby came to an end. They left the pub, each making jokes about the terrible weather as they stepped out.

"God, bit warm out!"

"Been raining bloody cats and dogs."

"Didn't realise we were going for a swim, lads!"

Brits, Sarah sighed to herself.

That left Mick.

"One for the road, darl?" The older man asked, placing the empty fourth pint on the tabletop.

Sarah sighed again. She was a sucker for these sorts. Mick reminded her of the Wiseman- another inhabitant of the Labyrinth she rarely thought to remember. Although, she thought, Mick's tid-bits of knowledge were even less helpful than the Wiseman's. She poured Mick a schooner and told him she was officially closed for the night.

"On the house." She added- she had already closed the till.

She went into the kitchen to make sure Carl had closed-up to the owner's satisfaction. A noise drew her attention while she was in there- the pub's door opening again. She should have locked it.

"Sorry, we're closed," she called as she turned to go back into the bar.

The hairs at her neck had not stood on end, and her skin had refrained from developing any goosebumps, so she was quite sure that it was not another demon creature come to kill her. It was likely a drunken fool who wanted one more round before bedtime. Or a traveller trying to escape the wind and rain beyond the still unlocked door. They were probably soaking wet, and she would have to mop the floor again.

No one answered her statement, and Sarah did not hear the door open and close again.

Stroppy, and quite tired after the evening's ordeal, Sarah came back out to the tavern with a scowl, "We're cl-"

She stopped midsentence. For the second time that night, he had taken her voice away. Sarah could hear her heartbeat as it thumped away in her chest and her legs quivered at the unexpected moment.

Unlike his first appearance, the Goblin King now presented in a less regal fashion. Glitter did not buzz about him, for one thing, and his hair was neatly combed back in a very human-esque manner. He wore a suit- albeit a shimmery suit- with silk embroidery that looked like patterns of dragons. His hands were gloved in woollen mittens instead of leather, and a thin, classy scarf was wrapped around his neck.

Sarah had to blink to be sure of the man she was staring at.

"Jareth…" she breathed, for there was no other name for him while he stood before her in such an outfit.

How did he still look so good? No, Sarah chided herself- how did he still look the same? As the years passed, she herself had looked in the mirror with some sorrow at her aging features. She was nearing the end of her twenties, and she was suddenly aware that her age would be very evident to the Goblin King- since he had not seen her since she was a teen. She knew time moved faster in the Goblin kingdom, but the King of the realm had not aged. How was that fair?

He cleared his throat as he sat down at the bar and inclined his head to an uninterested Mick. Clasping his gloved hands together and resting them on the tabletop, he smiled warmly at Sarah where she stood at the door to the kitchen.

"Sarah," he cooed.

don't defy me.

The memory came back like a slap across the face, and Sarah had to make quite an effort to keep from falling over. She looked over at the King at her bar with a sort of dizziness.

For a moment- just a moment- she noticed his face change. It was concerned and curious at the same time, and he made the smallest of movements that suggested he was about to get up and go to her. His brow furrowed slightly, and his fingers tightened around each other. She blinked and the composure was swiftly back on his face.

"You have no power over me," Sarah muttered.

The Goblin King flinched, glancing over at Mick who gave the man an appraising look. When the drunk man looked into the eyes of the creature beside him, he suddenly decided the effort was too great, and looked back down at his drink. He sculled the last of the liquid and popped it back on the wooden bartop, and then dug into his pocket to leave a ten-pound note for Sarah.

"Cheers, love," Mick said before sauntering out of the pub.

"Goodnight, Mick."

The Goblin King looked smug as he watched the man leave, and Sarah bit back the urge to call Mick a coward- honestly, to leave a woman defenceless and alone with a predator such as Jareth, she could hardly believe his lack of chivalry.

He had no power over her, she reminded herself.

"Sarah," he breathed again, lingering on every letter.

His voice was music in the air, and Sarah had to fight to keep her composure- it had been so very long since she had heard that voice. He looked her up and down where she stood, "Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?"

Sarah blinked at the odd phrase, "What?"

He was quoting something, she gathered, but at that moment she could not quite put her finger on what it was. She crossed her arms, "We're closed," she repeated.

"You won't serve a weary traveller? Tut tut, child."

Sarah scowled at him, and he smiled a deathly little grin.

"It's a long journey from my home. And I did you such a favour before…" he trailed off as he peered over the bar and observed the bottles of liquor that lined the lower shelves.

"I would have figured you for a top shelf bloke?"

"Someone has been in the UK awhile," he observed, raising a mischievous eyebrow.

Sarah closed her mouth and stared the man down. His smile dropped and he sighed, settling back into his barstool in what Sarah thought may be an attempt at casualness.

She ventured a few steps closer to him, keeping her eyes off him, and looked at the bottles on the shelves. After a moment, she reached out for one bottle- a traditional whisky- before doubling back and taking another bottle down instead. She grabbed a tumbler and placed it in front of him, and poured the liquid into the glass.

The Goblin King watched with an intrigued expression, and lifted the glass with a slight tilt of his head - thank you, he was saying. He sniffed it.

"What's this?"

"Frangelico."

"Why did you select it?"

Sarah did not answer. He shot her a lopsided grin and took a tentative sip. Immediately, he closed his eyes and groaned a satisfied sound. Against her better judgement, Sarah felt a gratification within herself for apparently making the right selection. She felt her own stance relax slightly, and she leaned against the bar across from him. He looked at her hand where it rested on the wood.

He downed the rest of the shot.

Placing it back silently on the bar, he asked quietly, "Were you hurt?"

Sarah flinched, picturing the last time they had stood opposite one another. It had been so long ago. She thought about the desperation in his eyes, his tone, and the utter heartbreak she had seen etched on his face when she had declared her victory over him. She often dreamt of that scene- dreamt of different outcomes or choices. No matter how she dreamt it, his eyes- those mismatched orbs that distracted her so- would never shine as brightly as they did that long ago night when he first pleaded with her to stay with him. Sometimes she imagined herself agreeing to his strange proposition and wondered- what if she had accepted his pleas?

Bu no matter what her imagination did, she never manage to agree to his request. Her dreams always left him hurt.

"What?" She realised he was waiting for an answer.

The King's brow furrowed and he opened his mouth to repeat his question. But Sarah, having spent the previous moments reminiscing about the pain she had inflicted on the villain before her, suddenly remembered the reason for such infliction. She stood straighter.

"Sorry," she snapped, "are you referring to the creature that just so happened upon my bar earlier? The one that almost tore my throat out? Or are you referring to the torturous onslaught that I was subjected to as a child when you stole my brother away?"

He looked surprised and pulled his hands back from the bar, hiding them underneath the tabletop in his lap, "You were hardly a ch-"

Sarah interrupted him, "Have you ever thought about the ramifications of stealing a teenage girl away under the cover of darkness, and forcing her to face perils and tests of such magnitude that she would be considered crazy for years to come?"

He cocked his head.

"Not that I ever told anyone- no, who would believe that the Goblin King had taken my brother away and sent me on a quest to find him? That I had defeated him, and got to subsequently commune with other worldly creatures in reflections? That I would see things that most humans ignored, or were forced to forget, somehow? And that in all my years of scouring the world, I would never find a place quite like that magical world I got to see?"

Sarah knew her cheeks were rosy with anger, and she took a deep breath to calm her unsteady tone. How long had she bottled that up?

The Goblin King looked both surprised and amused. "Sorry, love, are you angry at me? Or thanking me? That was a right confusing onslaught."

Sarah wanted to hit him. She balled her hands into fists and let them go, working her jaw to the point that she thought she might break a tooth.

"Don't call me love."

"Mick called you love."

"Mick leaves me tips. Not nightmares."

The hurt on his face was unmissable, and Jareth's eyes dropped to the floor at his feet. Sarah used the moment to look him up and down- the parts she could see, anyway. He was dressed so much like a human man. He had left, changed himself to appear human, and returned to speak with her. But while he looked human, his movements weren't quite right. He was a little too graceful here, a little too wild there. His eyes followed unseeable things like a cat's eyes did. She thought he might be muttering something to himself when she turned and put the Frangelico back.

"I can't have another?"

"How are you here, Jareth? What was that thing?"

"It came from the Underground."

"Clearly." That made sense to her now- it had from the moment he had arrived. Although she had never fancied the term 'Underground'- to Sarah, it was the Labyrinth. His Labyrinth, true, but a wonderful place to her, nonetheless. She thought about the magical beast- the way it moved and blinked and breathed. It was so obviously one of his.

"Why it came here, though, I do not know. They do like creatures of power."

"I don't have any power."

"But you say you see things others don't? You remember things others don't. Sarah," he looked her up and down like she was a child, and Sarah wanted to hit him for it, "Do you not remember your own story?"

Sarah frowned, confused. She thought back on that long ago night.

But the King of the goblin's had fallen in love with the girl…

and he had given her certain powers.

"Are you trying to tell me that a part of our little game was you letting me see things like that? That they are attracted to me because of you?"

Jareth ignored her, looked at her hands that were once again on the bartop.

"Little game," he said with a sneer.

Sarah noticed the darkness in his eyes, and he suddenly looked a whole lot less human, regardless of the ordinary hair and clothes. He rolled his shoulders and took a moment before he asked, "Are you hurt?"

Sarah sighed, "No. Your timing was impeccable, as always." She shook her head and sighed, staring down at her own feet, "I think I must be going mad."

"We're all mad here."

Understanding washed over Sarah like a wave, and she realised what the King had been quoting over these last few minutes. She opened her mouth to question him on the strange repetition, but at that moment, his head snapped towards the door. It was like he could hear something, and his face grew sorrowful. He sighed as he picked up his empty tumbler.

"I don't have much time, Sarah."

Sarah paused, "What do you mean?"

He swallowed and stood, and a strange jerk of his shoulder made Sarah suspicious, "Sarah… I must be honest. I'm not here to reminisce."

"Oh, and here I was thinking you just wanted to catch up."

"Do you know the library down the street?"

Sarah baulked, only slightly put off by the idea that he knew where it was, "Yes?"

"I need you to go there. There's… Sarah-"

Jareth reached out to her, and before Sarah had time to step back, he grabbed her wrists in his gloved hands and tugged her close to him. He smelt of sweet things, fond memories and dreams, and Sarah had to press her lips together to keep from letting out a whimper. She finally looked at him in his mismatched eyes. They were cloudy and distant.

"Sarah, should you need your friends, you summon them in your reflections, yes?"

"Yes… although that seems harder and harder, these days…"

"Mm…" He breathed close to her face, "But, Sarah, should I need you, I need to reach you here."

She frowned and tried to pull back to look at him better.

Here?

All colour drained from her face, and Sarah scowled at the man before her - for he was a man in this moment. Pain etched into his features for some unknown reason, and she could feel the heat of his skin beneath his gloves. She wanted to snatch her wrists back- he was so hot.

Fear swelled in her belly as Sarah slowly realised what the Goblin King was saying.

"Sarah-" he let go of her.

The world spun on its heels and Sarah grabbed for the tabletop, "Wait-" She cried, but it was too late.

Sarah woke with a start to the morning light streaming through her flat's window.