Disclaimer: The rights to Labyrinth and its characters belong to Jim Henson.

Chapter Title: from "Little Talks" by Of Monsters and Men

"Hello, precious."

His voice was drawling, sensual, everything she had remembered it to be and a whole slew of things that she had not. It worked its way through her slowly, the way sunlight took its time to sink through the layers of clothing. And for all the hours she had spent imagining their reunion in her head, for the life of her, Sarah could do nothing but stare. She was as wide eyed and open mouthed as she had been in the ballroom, half disordered and half overwhelmed by the intoxication of his presence. Everything about him was utterly singular. From his untamable hair to his imperfect eyes that seemed always to look into her rather than at her.

Hung in the precipice of suspended belief, it did not occur to her that this was not how he should look. The hallowed creature within Delicia's crystal was but a shadow of the dynamic figure which stood before her now. But she pushed the thought aside, her tongue finally catching up to her brain.

"Jareth. What are you doing here?"

He smirked at her, delighting in her trepidation. "Well, I'd heard you'd maybe a triumphant return to the Underground. It seemed rude not to drop in and say hello."

"But- But you're supposed to be locked away in the castle!" she stammered. "How can you even be here?"

He had opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, the rest of the group caught up to them. "Majesty!" Arden was the first to exclaim, bowing his head in respect.

"Arden," the Goblin King nodded his acknowledgement to his advisor before turning back to Sarah. "Glad to see you two have met."

"I wish I could say the same," she grumbled, her previous question forgotten. Her friends had arrived with rather inconvenient timing.

"I'm sure the feeling is mutual, pet," Jareth chuckled at her, raising an eyebrow at Arden in search of agreement.

The advisor was more than happy to oblige. "She's a horrendous companion most of the time. Headstrong and smug at the worst of it. The best I've come to hope for is half of her attention at any given time."

"That's not fair!" she cried, only afterwards realizing how gravely she had misspoken. "I mean, you barely know me," she back tracked before Jareth's grin could spread any wider.

"On the contrary, I'd say that's quite an accurate description." Jareth laughed under his breath in a way that brought her blood to an absolute boil. Who was he to poke fun at her? She was the one who had dropped everything to help him. He should be doing nothing short of falling on his knees and praising her generosity. Instead, he was laughing at her.

Before she even knew what she was doing, Sarah's hand reached for the sword at her side, unsheathing and brandishing it in one smooth motion. Jareth's eyes widened at the gesture, but he looked more amused than frightened. As she moved towards him, Arden made to stop her, securing an arm around her waist.

"My Lady, this is highly inappropriate behavior," he snapped at her, taking on the burden of embarrassment that she was more than willing to bestow.

"Let me go, Arden," she snarled in response. "I'm not going to kill him, I'm just going to smack him around once or twice."

Jareth's eyes absolutely twinkled in response to her fury. It gave her the necessary impetus to twist out of Arden's grasp and raise the sword overhead. Incensed and unthinking, she aimed so that the flat of the blade would strike against his collar bone. She doubted it would damage him, but perhaps it would hurt enough to prove that she did not take well to his quips and barbs.

But just before she could make contact, something unexpected happened: the sword passed through him. Her downward arc continued through the air, uninhibited by its intended target, and plunked into the earth at his feet.

He sighed as though the whole display had left him thoroughly unimpressed. "Regrettably," he spoke, "I'm not actually here in the physical sense."

Sarah blinked from his face to the sword and back again. Still half in shock from her unsuccessful and increasingly humiliating display of temper, it was difficult for her to discern what he meant. Sensing her confusion, he took the barest amount of pity on her and produced the crystal that had led her there. Allowing it to spin in the palm of his hand, he waited for her to catch on. He found it rather satisfying to watch as she pieced it all together, her eyes snatching at the crystal, reading its meaning and sparking with understanding.

"It's magic, isn't it?" she half-smiled. "This isn't the real you, just the crystal's projection of you."

"Very good," he allowed, tucking the orb back within the confines of his shirt.

How could I have missed that? She scolded herself. She should have known the moment he appeared. He was meant to look bedraggled and near starvation, but instead he was as vigorous as the day she had met him. Which would only make sense where magic was involved.

"There you have it," Arden mused, "She can be perceptive when her hot-headedness doesn't get in the way."

"Humph," she growled and stomped a foot at him.

"Again, a more than accurate appraisal."

"Hey, you two can't talk about her like that," Will piped up, pushing past Arden.

"Thank you," Sarah sighed, glad to have someone on her side for once.

"All of those things are true," her friend continued, "But you don't get to make that call after only knowing her a few days."

Sarah groaned, shoulders slumping in defeat. She was beginning to question why she had ever agreed to associate with these people. Jareth, meanwhile, was looking at Will with the same degree of disgust that he had shown towards the plastic bracelet she had given Hoggle.

"Who is that?" he asked, verging on indignant.

"This is Will," she answered, finding some hesitation in her tone. It had not occurred to her that Will and Jareth would ever meet, and the prospect made her uneasy. For whatever reason, the two did not coexist well in her mind. "He's here to support me on my journey to save your royal ass."

Ever the perceptive king, Jareth picked up on her reluctance. "Tsk, tsk, tsk, Sarah. You should know better than to bring a boyfriend to a king's party."

Sarah found herself blushing, fighting the juvenile urge to denounce Will as her boyfriend. Which was probably what Jareth expected and intended with the jibe. But, rather than give him the satisfaction, she pointed the conversation back at him. "Why? Is the great and powerful Goblin King jealous?"

"Me? Jealous?" he asked, insulted by the idea. "I'd sooner be jealous of Higgup."

"It's-" Hoggle began before resigning himself. "Oh, what's the point?"

"Quite. Though it is excellent to see you again, Hogbog."

"Yeah, yeah," the dwarf grumbled, unaffected by the less than sincere sentiment. Sarah was equally unpleased with the turn of conversation. She had hoped to gain some semblance of an advantage over the Goblin King. But, sly as ever, he had slithered his way through her intended trap.

Why is he so infuriating? She thought with clenched teeth. Of all the trials she had faced in the Underground, the Goblin King was undoubtedly the most challenging and the most frustrating. In many ways, he was as twisted and complex as his labyrinth, always eager to tease, eager to intimidate. But she had solved the labyrinth and beaten its king once before. By her own utterance, he had no power of her. And she would rather start her journey all over again than let his ingenuity surpass hers.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice sobered, calm. He grinned at her again, hoping to break through the cracks in the façade that she was putting forth. But Sarah held firm. His amusement faded.

"I am here to tell you that you need not continue on this foolish quest. That you should return to the Goblin City immediately," he intoned, leaning dangerously close to her.

Sarah did not as much as flinch. "Hah!" she exclaimed, "Like that's going to happen. Sorry, Goblin King, but I've come too far. You're getting rescued whether you like it or not."

"And what if I have plans to rescue myself?" he posed, succeeding this time in making her take a step back. What was he talking about? As far as she knew, he had been effectively imprisoned for the last three years. Why was he just now trying to make an escape?

"I don't trust you enough to consider that a smart course of action," she decided on saying. "If you screw it up, I'm stuck as the next goblin monarch. And I don't want that."

"Really?" he challenged, stepping closer once more. They were nose to nose now, separated by only a few inches and the unspoken trial of wills that waged between them.

"No. I don't," she spat back.

"Interesting," he hummed, as though contemplating something deeply. Then, without any warning, his head snapped up, the moment all but forgotten. "Well, I do wish we could continue this conversation, but I'm afraid I can feel myself fading. I fear it's time to return to my solitude."

"What a travesty," Sarah mocked, showing she could be just as pitiless as he. A flicker of a smile crossed his face, like she somehow held the key to his fascination. It faded before she could identify what it was, but the ghost of it lingered with her.

He turned back to the rest of the group. "A pleasure to see you all, though I rue the circumstances."

"Majesty," Arden responded, bowing once more.

Jareth looked him up and down. "I hope you know that I'm holding you responsible for this expedition. You would be wise to convince her to turn back."

"Noted," the advisor nodded, keeping his gaze lowered.

"Good." He addressed the group once more. "Gentlemen, dwarf, Sarah," he breathed, "I bid you all good sense in the days to come."

"Oh, keep your well wishes," Sarah rolled her eyes, "We were doing just fine without your advice."

"I had no intention of suggestion you weren't. But, should you ever need me," he began before leaning forward to whisper in her ear, "Find me in your dreams."

With that, he faded into the night, gone just as suddenly as he had appeared. And Sarah was left to scoff at the curious, tingling sensation his words had left with her. It was annoying more than anything, and she found herself wishing she could have slapped him for real.

"Bastard," she cursed under her breath, before turning back to the others. To her surprise, they were all starring at her, their eyebrows uniformly raised. "What?" she snapped at them, perturbed by the sight of their plain shock.

Arden was the first to recover. "Nothing, nothing at all," he replied, self-satisfied. "I think I'll go try to catch a few more hours of sleep, if you don't mind."

"Fine," she agreed. "Anyone else have something to say?"

"Nope, nothing from me," Hoggle babbled.

"It's not important," came Will.

Satisfied as she could hope to be, Sarah marched back to her post and sat down to finish her turn. Though with everything that was now weighing on her mind, she was regretting having volunteered to take first watch. Her thoughts were frayed, and it frightened her to have lost control of herself in such a way. Jareth had teased out of her a different kind of fury. Not one that could be channeled into something useful, but one which was chaotic, and turbulent, and beyond her ability to subdue. And feeling that unidentifiable rage boiling just below the surface, knowing that he was the cause of it, worried her.

It was not that she did not know how to deal with her feelings. She was not fifteen years old anymore. It was that she was not precisely sure what her feelings were. After three years of silence, the Goblin King had come sweeping back into her life. And though his last remaining strands of magic had allowed him to appear unchanged, everything else about their interaction was different. She was not afraid of him anymore, and she did not know how else to act around him if not afraid.

But one thing she could not hide from herself was that she wanted to see him again. He was interesting to her, interesting in the way a slice of cheese on a mouse trap was interesting to the mouse. Even if it was not afraid, it could still sense the danger, and it was cautious as to its form of approach. After all, only the cleverest of mice could get the prize without the consequences. She would need to be very calculating indeed if she hoped to hold her own against Jareth.

So wrapped up in her thoughts, she barely noticed when Will came to sit beside her. He did not complain about being ignored, but instead just sat there and let her think. He was familiar with her enough to know that she would speak when ready.

"What did you think of him?" she asked in her own time.

He breathed out a little laugh, but did not look at her. "He was…taller than I imagined."

"Taller?" she laughed along, looking up at him.

"Yeah, you know, I always pictured a Goblin King would be short and stumpy."

"You do know I'm the next in line for that position, right?"

"Exactly my point." He gave her a playful shove to show he was kidding. "But honestly? I can see why you were so obsessed with him as a kid."

"I was not obsessed with him!" she complained.

"Sarah."

"I wasn't! I—I had a perfectly normal level of curiosity about an adversary who played a prominent role in my adolescence."

"Whatever. What I'm saying is: I get it. He's an unique guy—Fae. Larger than life, and all that. The perfect fantasy for a kid like you."

"Alright," she put on the brakes, "Let's never again discuss my childhood fantasies, okay? Ever."

They were quiet for a while after that, content to let the silence stretch and the snow fall. But somewhere along the way, Sarah sensed that he was working up the strength to speak, and for some reason the prospect made her nervous. When at last it happened, she refused to meet his eyes.

"Sarah, can I tell you something?"

"Sure," she replied, the tips of her ears burning despite the cold.

"I just wanted you to know…I care about you a lot. Like, a lot, a lot."

"Ok…"

"And I know you don't feel the same way, and I'm not trying to force you to feel anything that you don't. I just…didn't want to be a coward anymore." He stood, squeezing her shoulder once before walking away.

"Will," she called after him, making him turn back. "I'm sorry I made you come here."

He shrugged. "I guess we're willing to do anything for the people we care about." He was gone then, and she could not find the courage to go after him.

I'm the coward, not him, she mused to herself, shouldering the full weight of her self-loathing. What is it about this place that brings out this side of me?

It would have been easy to blame the labyrinth. It was an unforgiving place, and it required a specific kind of mental fortitude to make it through. She could not afford to let her personal relationships stand in the way of their progress. But still, it was a uniquely cruel person who allowed their friends' feelings go unacknowledged for progress's sake. She did not want to be cruel, but still she could not find it in herself to follow him, to force them to talk their way through this.

I'm too tired to deal with this, she made excuses for herself. Repeating this enough times that it began to seem true, she let her eyes grow heavy. And in no time at all, sleep claimed her. With sleep came dreams, one after another. They were strung out in a multitude of rows before her like the repeating images reflected between two mirrors. An endless procession of visions that vied for her attention, lining up to wait their turn for control of her mental space.

The things she saw were random, bearing no connection to her thoughts or experiences of late. A distant part of her wondered why that was, but a more dominant side was too restless to care. She allowed her dreams to carry her through, watching as her life in the Aboveground was summoned up from her subconscious. She saw life at home with her family, serene and content. Her father and Karen stood over her shoulder as she filled out college applications, beaming with pride at their budding businesswoman.

Will appeared too, standing by her side the night of their junior prom. They posed for an endless parade of cameras, Sarah dressed up in puffed sleeves and the gaudy metallic material that Karen had insisted brought out her eyes. But in every shot she looked as stiff and posed as a Barbie doll put on display.

Next she saw one of a hundred days spent sitting on her front porch, gazing out at nothing in particular. She glimpsed the way her lips pursed in deep thought. Thinking, thinking, always thinking. Why did she think so much? It had never made her any happier. In fact, all it really did was make her wish for things that could never be. And she had learned long ago that wishing for things was a very poor way to go about life.

With that thought, the loop of dreams around her condensed down to one, and she again found herself in the presence of the Goblin King. He was still smiling, though he was not quite as vivacious as he had been the last time. His face was a bit narrower than before, his clothes drowning him out as though he were nothing more than a hangar. He was somewhere in between the king she had known and the sorry creature she had seen in Delicia's crystal, and she wondered if he was there by means of his magic or hers. She was not sure which she would have preferred. It was strange seeing him look this way, so far was he from himself. But even in his weakened state, he still managed to greet her with easy confidence.

"Back for more, Sarah-mine? I must say, I'm pleased to have made such an impression."

She let out a breath, relieved that he at least had enough to strength to act the part of the Goblin King. "Don't get too cocky," she warned, "I only brought you here so that would could finish our conversation from before."

"I'm not one to complain" he shrugged. "Actually, I prefer to speak with you within a dreamscape."

He took the chance to glance at their surroundings, Sarah's gaze following his. She noticed for the first time that they were back in the Fragments Room, the place where she had defeated him. The significance of it took her aback for a moment. "Why is that?" she asked warily.

"You have only limited control over your own dreams, which means you're far less likely to—I don't know—attack me with a sharp objected," he explained. "Though I must say, you do handle my sword exceedingly well."

Sarah fought the raging blush that threatened to overtake her, the effort leaving her with ugly red blotches along her neck. "Behave," she scolded through her teeth.

"Of course," he apologized, looking appropriately admonished. "I believe you have questions for me?"

"I do." She relaxed now, pleased that the meeting was back on track.

Jareth too looked content, crossing his legs as though he reclined on his throne rather than against a disembodied rock arch. "Let's hear them, then."

She nodded, taking a deep breath before diving in. "Are you okay?"

The Goblin King stared at her, brows furrowing into a look of consternation. "Am I o-kay?"

"Yes," she reiterated, "Are you alright, wherever you are? Is your sister treating you well? Are you at death's door?"

It all came out in a rush. She had not meant to start with such a personal question, but as soon as she had opened her mouth, it had come pouring out of her. Perhaps her return to the Underground had brought on more stress than she had anticipated. Guilt was an unpleasant emotion, one which grated against her with much persistence. She was still wallowing in the after effects of the incident with Toby. It pressed and pressed at her, and she would do anything to ebb the flow. Even inquiring after the Goblin King.

He took it in stride, bantering back at her. "Oh, Sarah…don't tell me. Are you concerned about me?"

"Shut up," she asserted herself, refusing to be mocked. "We're…friends. I think. I don't know. Maybe not friends. But we're something. And since I'm the reason you're in this mess, and I'm the one who has to deal with the guilt if you die, I'd like some reassurance that I'm not wasting my time here."

He was quiet for quite some time, intrigued enough by her words to mull them over. "I am…enduring," he said at last. "The food is terrible, and the company's even worse, but I've managed to survive thus far."

"But you won't for long. Not unless I can return your powers before my birthday."

"Correct," he hissed in response. She could tell that the reminder had stung him, and she was all the more sorry for it. She reached out to him, wanting to grasp his hand, but restrained herself.

"I'm so sorry, Jareth," she shook her head. "All of this happened because of me. Because I made that stupid wish."

His jaw clenched as though he were fighting the urge to agree with her and denounce her for all the harm she had caused. "It is not entirely your fault." He looked up at her, giving her the smallest suggestion of a smile. She beamed in return, captivated at having broken through his harsh exterior. Try though he might to come off as the dark, dangerous Fae king, when he smiled he was beautiful. Magical.

Desperate for the moment to last, she attempted to joke with him. "I guess you're right. We should probably blame your sister too. No offense, but she really is a bitch."

The effect of her words was immediate, his face darkening once more. "Mind your tongue," he scolded her, truly harsh for the first time. It was evident that she had misspoken, but why she could not say. Was he offended by the language or the insult itself?

"Sorry," she murmured, taking a step back from him.

He noticed the gesture and had the grace to soften his features. "As am I. Forgive me. Perhaps you should move on to the next question."

Squaring her shoulders at him, she asked the question at the forefront of her mind: "How are you planning to escape?"

There was a beat of silence, then he volleyed back, "Why should I tell you?"

His sharpness made her shoulders slump. Just like that he had slipped back into the guise of the Goblin King, manipulative and obstinate. She let out a sharp exhale. "I thought you agreed to answer my questions," she attempted to reason with him.

"I recall no such agreement."

"But you- Ugh, forget it, you're impossible," she seethed. "I thought I used to be a brat, but you—you take the cake!"

"Sarah," he admonished, "What incentive could I possibly have to reveal to you my intended method of escape?"

Her mouth flapped open, intent on crafting a clever response. But none came to her, and she was forced to settle with, "I thought we were friends. Friends don't keep secrets from each other." The words felt hollow, even to her. Especially knowing the present nature of her friendship with Will.

"Friends? Did I agree to that too? My, I must have been paying very little attention."

He had again succeeded in stealing words from her. Why was he so intent on turning things on their heads? It took her a moment to reorient herself and form a response. "So you're saying we aren't friends?"

He leered at her, as though he were enjoying a joke that only he was privy to. "Sarah. We have never, nor will ever be friends. Friends are opposites, they balance each other, make up for the other's shortcomings. They're different. While you and I…why, we're two sides of the same coin."

The entire time he had been stalking closer to her until they were once again at odds with each other. Sarah found herself inspecting every element of his face, from the too-sharp planes of his cheekbones to the curious deformity of his pupils. Everything except for his mouth. That was dangerous in more ways than one.

"I'm nothing like you," she challenged.

"Oh really?" he queried. His level of amusement worried her; he looked as though she had stepped just where he wanted her to. "Tell me, sweet Sarah: What are you doing here?"

She blinked at him, completely unaware of where he was going with this. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he purred, "Why are you here in the Underground, set on some misbegotten attempt to save me?"

"I told you, I'm here because I feel responsible for your misfortune and guilty about your impending death." She spoke with her feet firmly planted, never breaking eye contact. As though the slightest falter would cause everything to come crumbling down.

And, in a way, it did. "I can tell when you're lying, precious."

Sarah still held her ground, but her confidence was flustered. Will had called her out on the same issue. Was she really so mistaken as to her motive that she was lying even to herself? No, that she would not believe. She knew what she was doing here. She just had to convince Jareth.

"Well maybe I'm here for myself then," she began again. "Maybe I just want to prove that I'm still capable of outsmarting the labyrinth."

"Closer, but ultimately wrong again."

She was growing frustrated now. How dare he tell her what was right and what was wrong in her own mind? He was not the master of her intuition. "Yeah?" she bit at him, "And just what the hell makes you such an expert?"

"You forget that I've seen into your dreams." His voice crackled in her ear, burning through her until her pulse began to pound. "Do you want to know what you're really doing here? Why it is that you're so desperate to save me? It's because you're frightened. I've seen the life you're leading in the Aboveground, and while I'm less than impressed, you are scared out of your wits. Because you know what will happen once you leave this place. And so do I. I can draw it all out for you perfectly. Shall I?"

"Don't-" she tried to argue, but he continued.

"You'll leave home and live in a boring college dorm, and get a boring degree in a subject you hate, and find a boring job sitting at a desk all day. And when you can't stand the monotony for another instant, you'll marry that unwitting boy you've dragged along with you. And maybe you'll be able to convince yourself that that life is enough for you. But deep down, you and I will both know that it's not even close."

She had to turn away from him then. Her composure was too rattled, pushed too far past her breaking point. It was enough to make her lower lip trembled and her fists clench. She thought back to a time when he had warned her that he could be cruel, and she knew it to be true.

"You're a monster," she venomously accused.

He was nonplussed by her display. "Yes, I suppose I am a monster of sorts. And do you know what the most terrifying sorts of monsters do? They tell the truth. And that, dear Sarah, is why you and I will never be friends. Because that is the one thing friends are too afraid to tell you: the truth."

"So what if it's the truth? Huh?" she shouted. "Why does any of it matter? I'm still mortal. I still belong in the Aboveground." She meant it to sound final, to end the argument for good. But Jareth had already prepared his rebuttal.

"But you don't want the things other mortals want. You want the Underground. You want to save me, so that I can save you too. But you don't have to do all that. Just go back to my castle and wait for me to come to you. Then you can have everything you desire. You want magic? I'll give it to you. Because you know that anything less will never be enough."

She looked at him again. Really looked at him. He was poised above her, striking and domineering, but still she felt no fear. More than anything, what she felt was surprise. He knew her well. Sure, he'd had the advantage of rooting through her unconscious mind, but some things he would have had to put together himself. He had discovered something within her that she had kept lock away, afraid of its power to overtake her.

She was scared. Scared of what would happen if she failed and scared of what would happen if she didn't. Everything he had said was a truth she was unwilling to face, and a part of her was thankful that he had dragged it out into the open. She needed to see it, to not be afraid to look at it, or else he would forever use it against her. But in pointing it out to her, Jareth had made an unforeseen mistake. In forcing her to acknowledge her fears, he had diminished their power over her, allowing her to really see the truth. It was a mistake he had made before; one which had allowed for her victory. And now, she would use it to win again.

"You know, Jareth? You're right. I am scared. But guess what? You're scared too. I know you just as well as you know me, and I can see how terrified you are. I don't know why, but you are. You pretend to be some proud, pompous king, but that's not even close to who you really are. So you want to trade truths? Here's one for you: I'm not going back to your castle to play the princess in the tower. I'm going to beat the labyrinth, and I'm going to rescue you. Whether you like it or not."

Jareth's eyes blazed back at her. Snarling with indignation, he made as if to reply, but Sarah stopped him. She would have the last word. That much power would always be hers. Stepping to the edge of the platform in the Fragments Room, she tipped backwards and let herself fall.

She awoke with a jolt, sitting bolt upright as soon as her eyes had opened. The sky was pale with the first hints of light, signaling the start of a new day. For the first time since her arrival, it did not feel like a bad omen. Like time was slipping away from them. There was only the promise of imminent success. Gone were her worries, her insecurities in facing her task. She was ready to conquer whatever was in her path. No one—not Jareth, or Delicia, or all the beasts in the kingdom—was going to stop her.

A/N: Holy. Dialogue. Seriously, this has got to be the most dialogue I've ever crammed into a chapter. I mean, we got cocky dialogue, awkward dialogue, double entendre dialogue. It was all over the place.

In other news, the writing of this chapter occurred amidst a minor earthquake and the biggest rain storm I've seen all year. The universe was not ready for the Sarah/Jareth reunion, but I hope you guys found it entertaining. I know not much happened plot wise, but we'll get back to that next time.

Also, we're rapidly approaching the halfway mark, so please review and tell me how you're liking this story. I live on feedback, so don't be afraid to speak your mind. And, as always, thanks for reading.