Disclaimer: I do not own the Labyrinth or its inhabitants

Thanks again to my beautiful Beta - for being patient with murmuring windows and pleasant bottles.

Sarah stood staring out of the window for a long time. She wasn't sure she had the courage to turn around and find out if he was really standing behind her.

She knew he must be.

She could hear him breathing over her shoulder, but some part of her, a part which had always wondered if she hadn't imagined everything about the Labyrinth, just couldn't accept that the Goblin King was in the same room as her. It warred against the intake of breath she could hear, the soft exhale fanning across her bare shoulder. Without an explanation for these phenomena, that part remained adamant that the fairy tale creature behind her did not exist, could not exist, and was simply a figment of her desperate imagination.

She was desperate; she had been far too close to making that wish.

"What are you doing here?" she eventually asked. Her voice was shaky even to her own ears. Still she could not turn to face him, both wanting and dreading his appearance.

"I was rather hoping," echoed his voice from behind her, "that you would finish that sentence."

"But I didn't," she told him coolly, "and I won't."

She turned then to find the room empty. Sucking in a breath, she felt a bitter wave of disappointment wash over her. Had she imagined him, or had he left because she had hadn't finished the wish? She blinked back angry tears in the dull light and placed the palm of her hand against her chest. Her heart thundered beneath her touch, her pulse dancing madly from the close encounter.

"Oh I think you might," disagreed the disembodied voice of the Goblin King, so close she could feel his breath on her cheek.

She spun to confront him but only found her own pale, wide-eyed reflection looking back at her from the window pane. Turning, she made a circuit of the room, failing to find him. She peered into the bathroom and found it empty; stooping, she even looked under the bed, but was again disappointed.

"What harm is there in a little wish Sarah?" he called out to her. She twisted towards his voice again, unnerved to find the space empty.

Was she going mad?

She walked back towards the window and glanced once again at her likeness. Her eyes were wild and frightened, reddened from crying. She looked both exhausted and heart broken and she felt it was an honest depiction. Closing her eyes, she calmed herself mentally, counting slowly to ten both forwards and backwards. She slowed her breathing to a comfortable rhythm and listened to the dull thud of her heartbeat as it eventually slowed from its erratic surge. When she opened her eyes again she looked into the reflective surface of the window and waited.

"Where are you?" she asked.

"I should think that was obvious," he drawled.

In the window she could see a whisper of her hair move, caught by his reply. She could not, however, see him. She had a reasonably expansive view of the room from this vantage point. He was simply not there.

"Why can't I see you?"

"Would you like to?" he chuckled. "Have you missed me, Sarah?"

The way he said her name sent goose bumps up her spine, or perhaps that was his hot breath on her neck. Nervously, she laced her fingers together and squeezed them tightly closed in front of her.

Calm, Sarah, remain calm.

She waited patiently then, ignoring his baiting. The cage of her fingers helped her feel solid, whole; she watched the reflection hopefully. She heard him sigh with irritation; he was not as close to her now. Her taut muscles relaxed somewhat, how tightly coiled her body had become in the tense atmosphere of his apparent presence.

Suddenly, she caught sight of it in the window's mirror image, so subtle it was barely detectable. The floral print mattress bowed slightly with the weight of a body's imprint, the indentation of a solid figure sitting on the corner of the padding; evidence of existence. She spun towards him, taking a second to recalibrate the room in her mind, which was a reverse replica of the one she had been watching. It was there, she could see where the mattress dipped and distorted to hold his weight. She tried to gauge the height of his face from the sitting position and leveled her gaze.

"Clever girl," he said. She could hear the smile in his voice, coloured with admiration.

"Why can't I see you?" she asked again. Rather than frightened, now, she felt curious. What was there to be frightened of anyway? She was already in such an extreme situation that even the King of Goblins in all his baby snatching glory could do little to worsen her circumstances. She saw the weight on the mattress shift subtly and imagined him leaning back languidly to assess her.

"I have no power over you," he reminded her in a low growl. "No power over your dreaming or waking mind. No power over your senses." She saw the mattress spring up as he stood, and tried to follow his imagined path. She felt she could hear his step now, so light it might have been no more than her heartbeat in her ears, as he paced across the room. "No power to be seen or smelt or heard."

The light footfalls edged closer and Sarah felt herself become very still. The air around her was electric with his presence; it seemed to grow thicker as he approached and she struggled with heavier oxygen each time she drew breath.

"No power to speak." She could feel him now, next to her, too close. The air was positively dizzy with his existence. As if mocking that she had ever doubted he was here, ever thought he might not exist.

"No power to touch or taste," he whispered intimately into her ear. His warm breath tickled her earlobe and sent a shudder through her that she fought to suppress.

He laughed a wicked laugh then and Sarah swallowed heavily, licking her lips.

"Why can I hear you then?" She frowned. "I'm speaking to you right now."

"Because you wanted to," he explained, his voice velvet. "You wanted help, you wanted to make a wish… you wanted me."

Sarah didn't feel that was quite right. She had wanted... yes, she had wanted something, but it certainly wasn't a Goblin King.

"I did want help," she agreed. "But I did not call to you specifically."

"But I was listening." She heard him smile. "You wanted help; I am helpful. This sort of help requires communication and therefore you unwittingly revoked some of the power I did not have over you with your wanting."

That frightened Sarah a little. How much of the power had been revoked? Just hearing and speech, just communication? Had he been waiting all this time for just such an opportunity to gain back this advantage? Surely he must have been, why else answer some small whim of hers if not to try and gain power over her again?

"But I didn't call to you," she accused.

"And yet here I am," he finished. "You said 'I wish', Sarah dear, you started a contract, but you forgot to be specific in just who should grant the wish." The air positively burst with his victorious conceit. "What's said is said," he reminded her, foreseeing the backpedaling that would ensue from his explanation. Sarah felt her teeth click together as he cut her off. An angry scowl cut a line down her brow as she glared in his general direction.

The bounce of the mattress indicated he had returned to his perch now, smug and fulfilled from their battle of wits.

"So if I wanted to see you all I would require is… the inclination to see you?" she seethed.

"Do you want to see me, Sarah?" he asked. Sarah imagined him cocking an indolent eyebrow, a smirk twisting his lips.

"Yes," she said, and realised at the same time that it was true.

Just like that he was there.

As the word dropped from her lips the Goblin King, who had been lounging invisibly on the mattress, was as solid as the bed itself. Reclining back indolently, a smirk flirted across his lips while his eyes were shuttered and fixed on her face.

He was beautiful.

The cascade of wild silvery blonde hair framed his perfect face, glowing softly under the dismal florescent lighting. His sharp features were pointed and predatory, alien in their exquisiteness, his skin glimmering with a mineral shine. Ice blue eyes sliced through her with a cold hard intelligence, one pupil fully dilated and both brushed by upswept brows drawn haughtily high. His lips were thin, pulled tight into a condescending smirk under her scrutiny.

Everything about him was jagged and severe: completely inhuman.

Stepping towards him as if entranced, Sarah could see that he wore high leather boots over tight black leggings. A loose white poet's shirt opened generously to display the perfect curve of his collar bone, a hint of muscled chest and the glint of a chain at his throat, hanging low.

She stared and her legs shuffled forward against her will. Her memories of him had been flimsy by comparison, grey images which represented no more than a shadow of the bright being who stood before her.

"Something to say, Sarah dear?" he purred, confident in her evaluation. "Or is there something you've always wanted to tell me perhaps?"

It broke the spell over her. His fae beauty was a danger; she would have pinched herself if she hadn't known it would make him laugh.

"Yes, there is something I've always wanted to ask," she agreed, her voice low and seductive. He smiled indulgently and tipped his head back to admire her. Obviously, embarrassingly, no doubt much like the way she had just done.

"Do tell, precious," he smirked, clearly appreciative of what the passing years had enhanced. He leaned forward and parted his lips slightly; she could see the glimmer of sharpened teeth beneath the curl of his lip.

Drawing courage, she crossed the room towards him.

"Don't you think," she started to ask, swinging her hips as she made her way to stand before him. She leaned down to bring their faces close. "That your pants are just a touch tight?"

His smile didn't so much as flicker; he met the challenge in her eyes eagerly.

"If they don't meet with your approval I could always take them off," he replied menacingly.

She stepped back with her hands thrown up in submission.

"Oh no," she taunted. "I couldn't bear it if you should catch a chill… you might appear a lesser man in the cold."

Her eyes darted downwards to drive the point home. Growling, he stood, and the force of his existence pressured her backwards until she was pressed against the wall. He crowded her until she had shrunk as flat as she could against the hard surface.

He did not touch her. Could not, she remembered. Still she cowered beneath him as she looked up into his darkened eyes, hungry eyes, haunted. She turned her face to one side, breaking eye contact with him, her heart fluttering a jittery dance in her breast.

"Sarah," he murmured. She felt her breath hitch unexpectedly as the name brushed her cheek. "You're not a little girl anymore," he continued, baring his teeth. "Don't expect me to play nicely with you now that you're all grown up."

He stepped back from her then and it was like a blow. Like the removal of his presence stole something from the atmosphere, the space where he had been hung empty, scarred by his loss.

"I don't recall you ever being very nice to me," she replied tartly, but her breathy voice betrayed her, weak and low against his onslaught.

"Oh, I was very …generous with you." He smirked. "And here I am again at your beck and call. Consider that it might be you who is far too greedy."

Sarah gave a derisive snort and stepped away from him. She turned and threw herself into the chaise behind her; to her chagrin she found it was disgracefully under-stuffed and its sharp planes punched into her ferociously. Trying to remain as unaffected by his presence as possible, Sarah imitated his indolent pose and raised her chin as she turned to face him again.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" she said, twirling her hand in an exaggerated manner.

"The wish," he reminded her, eyes narrowed. "Feel free to finish it anytime now."

Sarah stuck out her bottom lip as her expression hardened.

"No."

"So you're choosing to stay here," he smiled knowingly, looking around the hotel room as if he was more than familiar with it. "You don't want to go home perhaps? Actually I hear the Labyrinth is lovely this time of year if you're interested."

"I'm not," she grated. The Goblin King made an irritated sound in his throat, but his mocking smile told Sarah it had been no more than a jibe.

"Not that this charming lime room isn't just a delight – "

"I won't ever make the mistake of risking Toby again, Goblin King," she interrupted. His scornful laughter filled the small room, rocketing off the walls and pinning her to the chaise with its biting force.

"Toby?" He laughed, his hand at his breast trying to capture the swell of mirth which overcame him. "Ahh, what age must he be now, twelve, thirteen? A little bit tall for a goblin, wouldn't you say?" A smile pulled his face as if he was enjoying a private joke. Sarah blinked and then frowned at him.

"Eight and a half," she told him flatly. The Goblin King leaned forward on the bed and Sarah pushed back against the chaise instinctively.

"And you think I want to trade you a wish for an eight and a half year old?" he asked. "Seriously?" His smile was sharp as a knife, his pointed teeth adding to its viciousness as his lips curled again in a sneer.

"You did want him," she accused. "You took him."

He leaned back and regarded her from beneath lowered lashes.

"Two different things, precious," he growled. "You wished, I took. There was no wanting."

Sarah felt stunned by his declaration. In all these years she had assumed that the Goblin King had granted her wish because he had wanted Toby, but now it came down to the fact that he had granted her wish because she had wanted it. In her mind that made the wish even more dangerous; the near loss of her brother was now weighted entirely on her, not some greedy king who went around collecting children. If he wasn't interested...

"So when you granted my wish…" mused Sarah. "Then what did you get in return?"

"Your brother," he answered immediately. Sarah gave him an exasperated look and his smirk softened into a self-depreciating smile.

"I did not say it was the best deal I've ever struck. I am the Goblin King, king of broken dreams and unwanted things; the lost, the forgotten. These are the only things I can trade for; they must be given freely for a wish to be granted. You wished away something that was unwanted, paying for your wish with the same currency that brought it about."

Incredulity filled her as she examined what he was telling her.

"Then why did I run the Labyrinth?" she asked. The Goblin King made a bored sound and stood to pace the room, his long strides cutting across it with a dizzying swiftness.

"You wanted to take the wish back," he replied. "This is your right, but only if you can take back what you have paid." He shrugged: "One and the same in this case. You ran the Labyrinth and took him back; you undid the wish."

"But you tried to stop me, tried to bribe me with my dreams, with…"

"Myself?" offered the Goblin King, with a devilish grin, sitting again restlessly. "Quite, but not because I desired the child. Breaking a wish causes rather a lot of backlash, Sarah; I would've tried to do just about anything to prevent it." Sarah sat up straight on the chaise and regarded him carefully.

"What sort of backlash?" she asked.

"The 'you have no power over me kind', obviously." He yawned. There was something else; Sarah had seen it flit across his face quickly before he had hidden it. She stared him down as if, given enough time, her eyes might manage to penetrate his mask.

A mask which is probably thousands of years in the making – who am I kidding?

The Goblin King gave an exaggerated stretch and then bent forwards towards her, cupping his chin in his hand, his elbow propped on his knee. He ran one long, sculpted finger over his lips as he smiled at her.

"So, the wish, Sarah…" he began. She shook her head forcefully as if to deny him."Very well," he grumbled. "At least frame the problem for me without the words, this situation is not as self-explanatory as one might expect."He waved his gloved hand lazily as if to suggest their surroundings. "It's obvious that this isn't your home, that much I'm familiar with. I sense you're here against your will, I've gleaned that much from your state of... person.

Sarah sighed, self consciously flattening down her hair. She felt slightly defeated. The Goblin King was here and it seemed, for better or worse, he wasn't going anywhere. She thought, with wry self-pity, that his company was probably the best she had had today, and he had freely offered more answers than she had sought, whether they were half-truths or not.

She sighed again loudly. His mouth quirked slightly as he sat across from her.

"You're being rude, Sarah," he told her.

She forced herself to sit still. An agitation had washed over her and she wanted to pace as he had, or fly at the door again screaming. Beneath it all, however, she was bone weary and mentally drained. She wasn't sure she had the energy to deny him or the patience to out-wait him. Picking up the water bottle again, she took a sip and then screwed the lid back on. She offered it to the Goblin King and he raised an eyebrow at the bottle suspiciously.

"Do you want a drink?" she asked him. He regarded it as if it might be a dangerous object.

"In trade for a wish?" he suggested distastefully. She laughed then, not quite the hysterical laughter that had filled her earlier but a giddy snort of shock at his aversion. He jumped in surprise at the outburst, his narrowed eyes sliding off the bottle to examine her.

"Not as a trade. A peace offering perhaps. I thought you might be thirsty." He gave her a doubtful look but accepted the bottle from her, pinching the neck of it between two fingers as if it were something unpleasant. He placed it in his lap and there it sat; he made no move to open it. Sarah couldn't help but wonder if she was being ridiculous; did he even eat and drink?

"This," she started pointedly, indicating the space around them, "is all really your fault."

He gave a snort then, his contemptuous look crashing back into place. "I fail to see how that is the case," he argued.

"Certain Powers," she sniffed. "It's all because of the Certain Powers."

"Certain Powers?" he echoed, obviously completely lost on her meaning.

"You gave them to me," she accused. "You gave me Certain Powers. The power of luck. I've always been very lucky and it's because of you." The Goblin King raised his eyebrows with the first hint of awareness.

"How terrible for you," he drawled.

"It is terrible!" she tried to yell. Tried and failed: her voice was little more than a croak. Emotion had rolled into her words and a sob had tried to edge its way out of her mouth against her will. She fought to control the wave so that she could continue. "Some of it was good," she went on with difficulty. "Never having to worry if I'd taken an umbrella or not on a cloudy day, never worrying that the teacher would check the homework I hadn't done… things went my way, I didn't miss out and I didn't get into trouble, that luck was good and simple. To be honest I might never have noticed it was something abnormal if I had never gambled or never entered a competition, but once I saw the pattern… Once my father saw, he strove to test its limits, to see how far it could stretch. He came to rely on it; he began to over-reach himself believing that the luck would always bail him out." She visibly deflated in the chair. It hurt to talk about it, and today with all that had happened it cut especially close to the bone. "So in a nutshell these are my families worries: we owe a lot of money to someone, someone terrible, and we cannot pay it back. I have come here as collateral to avoid Toby being taken. I thought once I was here the luck could get me through but…" she indicated the scratched tickets with despair. "The luck ran out."

The Goblin King pinched the bridge of his nose and ran a hand through his hair. "Let me get this straight," he commanded. "You think that I gave you Certain Powers, and you think these powers manifested as some sort of legendary lucky streak, which then ran out all of a sudden just when you needed it the most?"

Sarah's eyes narrowed suspiciously at him; had there been a hint of guilt in his voice? Perhaps not – she knew that she was probably being paranoid. She had thought for a second that the rending of the powers might be his will, but then he still had no power over her, at least not enough for that effect… or so she suspected. "Somehow all of this explains why you are in a cheap hotel room and why you are so angry at some shiny pieces of paper," he finished pointedly.

"Scratch cards," she informed him. "Scratchies; it was how I was going to prove I was valuable to them, lucky. If I could win money, a big win, then they wouldn't…" Sarah trailed off then, realising she wasn't exactly sure what they would do to her. She had an idea, of course, the sort of industry it would involve, but that didn't bear thinking about. Her throat felt dry, and she eyed the bottle still sitting untouched in the Goblin King's lap.

"Are you going to drink that?" she croaked.

Uncomprehending, the Goblin King stared down at the bottle. "Wasn't it a gift?" Sarah rolled her eyes but let it be; who was she to explain the concept of sharing to the Goblin King? Frowning, he patted the bottle gently and met her gaze.

"So your wish…" said the Goblin King as he rolled the word around on his tongue, unwilling to let it go. "…Would be that I take these little paper things and what, spin them into gold?"

"Of course not," Sarah sighed. "We don't use gold as an everyday currency, we have bills and coins, money, how long has it been since you visited the mortal realm? My wish is for the scratch cards to all be winners."

Sarah stopped, horror-struck. She slapped her hands over her mouth, too late. Her eyes the size of saucers as the Goblin King towered over her without ever moving from his seat. A lifetime of being cautious, a lifetime of holding her tongue… and it had slipped out like it was nothing. Her fear and exhaustion had weakened her, and in her weakness she had said the words.

A light of exaltation burned in the Goblin King's eyes and his shadow fell across her, an odious foretelling.

"Close enough, precious," he purred. "Now what will you trade?"

Thank you everyone for you support!

This one was a little later to bring together because the story is taking a slightly unexpected path from what I initially envisioned (or rather it will be taking one). This will mean it will be longer and more complex than I originally sought to make it, by no will of my own I assure you, the Labyrinth within me has commanded it.

Lost O'Fallon Girl: Oh yes you'll love me now. I make no apologies for being so cruel, and I can only promise it will not be the last time... In fact we'll all be lucky if it's not every time.