Cold wind whipped through the alleyways between the office buildings towering above. Sarah clutched two hot coffees in her gloved hands, grateful for the extra warmth. People on the street were bundled up in scarves and coats under the overcast sky even though the real cold was still weeks away.
Fall had finally blown in with last night's storm. Soon the leaves would change to crimsons and golds falling to the ground with every gust and breeze. Then overnight, it always seemed, the trees would be bare. It was a shame the season's beauty was so short-lived.
Her walk from the public parking garage to work gave her the direction and clear destination she needed while her brain was swept away in a sea of confusion and self-doubt. Everything she had believed was wrong. She'd been so sure all these years that Jareth had killed her friends. That she was his next victim. If he didn't want revenge, what was it he wanted? More importantly, she assumed their connection was part of his plan. If he wasn't trying to hunt her down, what was the purpose of the scar she tried so hard to ignore?
The warmth of the lobby was welcome as it enveloped her giving her cheeks the chance to thaw from the reddened flush that colored them. She felt overburdened by the time she got off the elevator and clocked in with the rest of the plebians. But before she could shed her layers, she had to make amends.
Stopping by Lisa's cubicle with its pictures of Marilyn Monroe and Audrey Hepburn surrounding her with cinema's Golden Age beauties, Sarah presented one of the coffees to her friend.
"One caramel macchiato," Sarah said watching her friend's face light up.
Lisa grasped the coffee with a grin. "For me? You didn't have to do that."
"I know, but I wanted to," Sarah said but the guilt she felt at dashing all of Lisa's hopes of double dates and weddings compelled her to repair any damage done to that bridge. Work wouldn't be tolerable without her.
"Any particular reason?" Lisa asked over the rim of her coffee cup lid. "An update of Mr. Bad Boy perhaps?"
"Well, actually, we cleared up a misunderstanding but we're still working on trust, I guess." Sarah put her coffee on a file cabinet and shimmied out of her coat.
Mr. Villalobos walked down the center aisle catching Sarah's eye. He furrowed his bushy gray brows and tapped his wristwatch. Grabbing her coffee, Sarah whispered bye to Lisa and headed to her own eight-by-eight pod.
She hung her coat on the back of her chair and tossed her scarf into the bottom drawer of her desk. She flicked on the button for her computer waiting for it to boot up. Pulling at the fingers of her gloves, she traced the red scar on her palm as the fabric revealed it with her fingertip, a habit that seemed to be forming lately. He was not happy today. Annoyed mostly. Why she knew that bothered her. She didn't want to know and certainly did not want him to know her emotions.
But curiosity had always been her Achilles heel. It was a dangerous thing not being able to leave well enough alone. As a child, she tried to resist but she wasn't given much of a choice in this matter. She couldn't make it stop. Couldn't get rid of whatever gave her dreams and linked them together. How was she supposed to navigate any of this?
He wasn't a killer but he was not to be trusted. There was also the effect his touch had on her to take into consideration and fight against. Every time their hands met, she was encompassed with the most delicious warmth. Every cell in her body hummed with contentment and joy. The withdrawals she felt as their connection severed created cravings she didn't know how to control. Her body ached for those sensations. For him. What would happen the next time they met?
No. That was the kind of dangerous curiosity that would only get her in trouble. Wasn't she just telling herself it was bad? Here she was moments later about to drift off into a daydream full of questions and no answers. Absolutely ridiculous. Weak. Pathetic.
Sarah grabbed a stack of reports and set her fingers to typing. She would not let herself dwell on dreams any longer. The last thing she needed was to open those gates during the day. Who knew if she would ever get them closed again?
Jareth packed a leather-bound journal in his satchel. He appraised the clothing, boots, and toiletries laid out by goblins charged with cleaning his rooms. It was easy enough for them as they had been instructed to only choose items of black. All suitably formal and elegant. Dark tailored shirts, cravats with jeweled broaches to fasten them, and simple evening jackets with black embroidery that reflected light at certain angles. The choices were far from the bespangled costumes he would wear to a ball or masquerade. He could not be bothered with peacocking for peers and frankly, was vexed all this was necessary at all. With a snap of his fingers, his trunk was packed.
The summons arrived early this morning. A council member had called an emergency meeting with very little detailing what the actual emergency constituted. It was ill-timed as all emergencies typically were. As a matter of treaties, he would have to answer the call which included dining and staying at least the night. Hopefully, it would take no longer. Leaving would be a grievous insult and he did not need to be on anyone's list of enemies at this moment.
He was loathed, however, to miss a night with Sarah for any reason. He had just managed to right yet another wrong those traitors were responsible for. Those idiots still managed to come between them no matter how much distance he used to separate them from Sarah. All these years, she thought he had killed her "friends." Thought him a murderer. He was, but not in the way that mattered to her. He was not so impetuous as to murder those fools. It was beneath him. Frankly, he found it insulting but he could use her relief to his advantage.
Jareth squeezed the bridge of his nose before audibly exhaling. A cool breeze lured him to the window, the wide-open arch framed the Labyrinth which had been such a source of anger and resentment these last years. Now it brought him hope. He was finally making progress, which was now being impeded by diplomatic missions. How was he to achieve his goal if he could not be with her? Protecting her from the dancers in the ballroom. Keeping her dreams from turning into nightmares? Waiting for that moment when she realized her only enemy was actually herself.
More importantly, he wanted to hold her again. Feel her body against his. To never let her go but he knew he had to. He needed to sway her. To make her want him too.
Conjuring a crystal rolling over the back of his black leather glove, he once more tried to scry a vision of Sarah. What did she do? Where did she go? White mist still filled the orb blocking her. He was so close and yet still so far.
Taking a handle of his trunk, he transported himself and his luggage to the antechamber off the main entrance to his castle. Filled with floor-to-ceiling mirrors, it allowed the nobility to travel between realms and worlds. His eye caught on his visage. Sharp angles and proud nose. There were few that could resist his charms. Not even Sarah. He smiled to himself as he touched the glass watching it ripple as a portal was created. If only getting to her was so easy.
It seemed every time he got close to achieving his goal, the finish line moved. Never in all his many years had he worked so hard and gained so little. If he had his way, they would have been married with several children by now. Instead, she spent years fearing for her demise at his hands. Soon the fear would fade like changing leaves in autumn and blossom into something more.
Wine spilled into open mouths and down chins to be licked and suckled off clavicles. The minutes ticked by. Anticipation caused a hitch in Sarah's breath every time a new body touched hers as she wound her way through the ballroom. Though no one seemed to truly notice her tonight. Slow sensual music surrounded her as bodies swayed leaving no room between them.
Sarah pulled at the ribbon around her neck. Two panels of slate satin draped over her breasts, barely concealing her curves, connecting to the skirt that hung low over her hips. Her hair was pinned in loose curls exposing her back and shoulders. Her green eyes glittered under smoky shadow, though no shadows marred the skin underneath. Her complexion was bright and clear. A dark red painted her lips and berry pink blushed across her cheeks. She had never looked more sultry and provocative. She would never have even tried.
Every bend in the light and flash of flaxen caught her eye. Her head turned with expectation. She waited for Jareth to appear, to feel the moment he arrived a split second before through her scar, but he never did.
A frown knitted her brows together. The relief that should have lifted the weight off her shoulders, knowing she would not have to face him was elusive. Instead, she was plagued with an eerie emptiness that sunk in her stomach. It twisted and churned as whispers and eyes cut in her direction. It was college all over again. The unwanted attention and blatant mockery. Everyone leering and fingers ghosting over her shoulders as she passed.
Exposed and vulnerable, she clutched her hands to her chest as she stepped over supine bodies that smeared and licked chocolate and cream off each other. What would happen if they set their sights on her again? Jareth wasn't here to protect her like last time. Would she be able to break away? Keep them at bay?
She continued her wandering, lifting her skirts to avoid puddles of wine, through the ballroom never staying too long in one place. Scared of becoming complacent. Did she really feel safer with him stalking her in the ballroom? That would be insane. Clearly this was just a textbook case of better the devil you know. She didn't actually want him there. Did she?
No. If she had known he wouldn't show, she would have used the opportunity to escape from that damn dead end to some other part of the Labyrinth. She needed to start paying attention to their connection. When would she learn to stop ignoring the problem and learn to use it like he seemingly did. It wasn't as strong as it usually was when she was there. He must be far away. Where? Why?
God, she was such a mess. She should be elated, relieved that he was a thorn in someone else's side. Why was that connection even there?
Completing an entire lap, she climbed the stairs to the balcony away from the cavorting crowd. She came to believe the connection between her and Jareth was just a tracking device he concocted to hunt her down. Maybe it was made to break her down. Either way, he was using it to his advantage somehow.
She leaned against the wall where the door to the Labyrinth always disappeared, sliding down the empty space to sit on the marble floor. She stared at her palm before clenching her fist and hugging her knees to her chest. Could she learn to use it too?
Jareth sat at a banquet table set with gilt china surrounded by golden utensils. Crystal goblets were filled with the best Elven wines. The other monarchs seated around the table observed each other with feigned disinterest. This asinine affair was taking far too long. They could have met and dealt with whatever called there twice over by now but the Fae had to make everything a spectacle. Everyone scrutinizing the others. Determining who was having affairs with whom. Keeping abreast of such developments was essential to survival. Trade and alliances could shift the map of the world, creating new enemies if one was caught off guard. Jareth was never caught off guard.
"You're more sullen and quiet than usual tonight," Queen Caithalyn remarked, her brows raised in appraisal. She was the Regent of the Elven Kingdom attending in her young son, Fionthan's, stead. Shrewd and cunning, she was always on watch for any way to elevate her son's standing on the council when his time came.
Slipping on his mask of ennui, he replied, "Just eager to get to the heart of the matter as to why our esteemed host called us all here."
"Better things to do?" she asked.
Not one to allow such meddlesome prying, he gestured around the table towards the others in attendance as though the answer should be obvious. "Like everyone here, I do have my own kingdom to run."
"Ah, yes. And it must be so tedious to keep those goblins in line." Her painted lips smirked over her wine glass.
Jareth was well aware of how others looked down on that particular population. Even he often denigrated the little devils but they each had their uses, no matter how infuriating. "Not at all. Given the proper tasks they are quite industrious," he said.
"Yes, I've heard there are quite a lot of renovations going on. Hopefully, they fix more than they damage."
With practiced perfection, Jareth kept his features schooled. "Interesting and where did you hear such rumors?"
Caithalyn smiled, knowing she had struck a blow to Jareth's ego. "You know how these things are. Who knows where they come from?"
Jareth shrugged noncommittal belying his concern. Someone was not as loyal as they should be. He knew how to deal with traitors. "It is true I have been doing some repairs. The Castle Beyond the Goblin City is ancient and of historic value. It is one of the first High Council seats after all. I am simply maintaining that legacy. Better to do it all at once rather than have craftsmen and laborers for years on end. That is all."
"Mmmm. And your inhabitants are so rough on their environment," she sneered. "Frankly, I am surprised you came at all. Leaving the castle unprotected…"
Jareth's brows quirked allowing the Queen Regent to rethink her precarious state. She was coming dangerously close to directly insulting him.
Sensing the end of Jareth's magnanimity, she offered him a demure grin. "What with so many laborers around and all."
"My kingdom does not lack for protection." He was growing tired of this woman's insinuations. Hopefully, her son would not prove to be as insufferable but unfortunately, being raised by her or rather by servants she chose to do her bidding, did not bode well for him.
"Of course, the Labyrinth." She sat straight as the first course was finally served and a plate was set before her.
"And the goblins you seem to detest so much. Not all of them are bumbling idiots. When given permission, they are quite capable. There is a reason they are considered creatures of nightmares. We've had no such cause as to unleash them to their fullest potential in ages but maybe I should allow them more freedoms. Which brings me to ask," he turned his head towards their host, "Why were we called here?"
King Neiryll nearly choked on his first bite of roasted duck with orange ginger glaze. He laid down his golden fork and dabbed a pristine white napkin at the corners of his mouth, his many opulent rings shining in the candlelight. "Well, I had hoped to wait until dinner was over and everyone was satiated to discuss this, but it is my solemn duty to inform everyone that trolls have been spotted on the border of the wilds again."
Jareth glared at the Dwarven king with his gaudy trappings and castle, a useless monarch who was apparently waiting for a dramatic reaction to his news. He was missing Sarah's appearance for something as benign as this? Without any humor, he interrupted King Neiryll as the fool's mouth started to open. "You brought us all here for trolls?"
Clearing his throat, Neiryll's eyes darted side to side. Plates were removed and a mint sorbet palate cleanser that went untouched was set in its place. "I must alert the other kingdoms of such dangers."
"You could not handle a few trolls without calling a meeting of the High Council?" Jareth did not have time for such ineptitude.
Neiryll balked. "Well–I–I do believe that protecting the borders requires consensus."
Jareth snapped his fingers. The shadows in the corners where candlelight could not reach shifted, growing until it melted away revealing a goblin, his eyes gleaming red. Leaning down, he whispered orders in its ear. The goblin's eyes sharpened with malicious glee and with nary a sound, it disappeared.
The dining room went silent. The monarchs glanced at each other but none dared speak. Half-melted sorbets were replaced with medium-rare steaks and roasted rosemary potatoes. Jareth cut into his meat, the red juices spilling onto his plate.
Within another minute, the goblin returned–splatters of blood freckled across his face, holding a troll's severed head the dripped on the marbled floor. Gasps and shrieks sounded around the dining hall. Jareth observed the shocked disgust of his peers. Reaching for his red wine, he nodded to the goblin who dropped the head and once again melted into the shadows.
Panic-stricken servants looked to King Neiryll for guidance and received none as everyone watched the pool of blood spreading across the floor shimmering in the light.
"It's taken care of. Written correspondence will suffice in the future." He took a bite of steak, watching Caithalyn's visage turn a delightful shade of peuce.
His goblins may be wild. Some may even be stupid. But they were efficient and stealthy when necessary. The fear and respect he deserved reignited in the eyes of those in attendance. Obviously, it had been too long since they were reminded of who he was and of what he was capable. Now, he needed to find the source of those rumors to reinforce their newfound respect.
Annoyance and frustration fumed as he watched the other Fae push their food around their plates in silence. Servants contained their wretching while the head was removed and blood mopped. He could have easily made it disappear. Any of them could have but he was not about to let them forget this and they all seemed incapable of thought at the moment. Serves them all right for calling him away for nothing. Making him miss his next opportunity with Sarah, stalling his progress.
He pressed his thumb to his gloved palm that concealed his scar. He felt her anticipation and– was that disappointment? He cloaked his grin by taking another bite of steak. Maybe being called away was not such a detriment after all. His peers were properly put in his place and Sarah was finally succumbing.
Sarah adjusted herself on the stiff wooden stool at the bar. Her fingers traced the rim of her almost empty amaretto sour. Music played on all the speakers while televisions showed some Friday night football.
Sarah glanced at her watch. Where was Lisa? She was always here early to scope out the men on Friday night. It was easy to find one either wanted to celebrate his team's victory or forget their defeat in the warmth of a woman. Lisa didn't care which.
Pinching the bridge of her nose, she leaned into her hand. First Jareth didn't show and now Lisa missed their standing Friday night.
She had waited last night as she waited now, stuck in that ballroom watching whether she wanted to or not people writhing in physical frenzies, ignoring the heat that built in her body until her alarm finally freed her. She watched and waited. But he never came. She just sat there alone. Feeling–what? Foolish? No. Bereft. She had felt his absence keenly. The relief she expected remained just as illusive as him. And now she was alone amongst revelers in her own world and she still didn't belong.
"Can I buy you another drink?" a man asked to her right. He was mid-thirties, hair slicked back but even the copious amount of gel could not straighten the wave of his black hair.
Sarah straightened on the stool. "No, thank you. I was just leaving." She pulled out a five-dollar bill and placed it on the bar top.
His hand squeezed her shoulder. "Let me walk you out."
She shrugged out of his grip. "No. Thank you." Her stomach lurched as queasiness rumbled up her throat at his touch and the sleazy aura emanating from him. The same feelings overcame her whenever she was touched by the dancers in the ballroom.
"C'mon, don't be like that." He leaned on the bar with a lop-sided grin that didn't reach his eyes.
Sarah could feel the righteous fury building inside her. She was so sick and tired of never feeling in control anymore. Like a side character in her own movie. "I said, 'no.'"
His grin vanished and he stood to his full height. "Fine." He took a step back before muttering, "Stuck up bitch," before returning to his slimy pack of cronies all scanning the bar for another target.
Sarah envisioned thorny brambles wrapping around them like an iron maiden or python squeezing slowing as it pierced through their skin. But she was not in the Labyrinth now. She could not bend reality to her whims which was probably for the best. How many years in prison could one get for torturing assholes with thorns?
A car ride later, she found herself showered and curled up in bed. She knew she shouldn't be getting comfortable. Knew she should be resisting sleep like she always did. But was the ballroom any worse than the real world? Would Jareth even show?
She was tired. So tired. Tired of existing between worlds instead of within. But could she live…really live in either?
Her eyelids felt as heavy as her heart and mind. Letting them close, she opened them to see the ivy dead end she'd come to expect. Did she dare tempt fate and try to escape? She couldn't feel Jareth any closer than he was last night. She took one cautious step towards the opening leading to the rest of the Labyrinth. Thick brambles sprouted, thorny limbs twisting skyward, instantly blocking her way.
Ugh. There was no other option. She turned and found the door hidden behind the thick falls of leaves and crossed the threshold to stand at the balcony overlooking the chamber below in all its debauchery.
One more dark slate ribbon circled her neck. Glancing down, she recognized it was the same dress as the previous evening. Every other night she'd been given a new dress. Why repeat this one? Because he hasn't seen this one yet, a sly voice pointed out. She quickly stoppered those thoughts, shelving them with all other errant ruminations she had no business entertaining. Her back straightened as her palms tingled. He would be here soon.
Jareth's eyes widened as his sleeve snagged on a thorn just to his left. Well, that's new. He'd very nearly been impaled. Maybe she'd been upset by his absence. Or more than likely, she'd tried to escape. Her mind was working against her again. Poor sweet Sarah.
He paused as he passed through the doorway, genuinely surprised to see her standing just in front of him, her curves silhouetted by the soft candlelight of the chandeliers. She did not turn or run as he approached though her bare shoulders stiffened.
"Did you miss me?" he asked leaning back against the balustrade to face her. He crossed his arms as his gaze lazily traveled over the exposed curve of her breasts.
Her ever-defiant chin lifted. "No." She tried to sound firm, to take control but the pleasure she felt at his presence made her voice breathy and light, almost a sigh betraying her utterly.
"Liar," he teased, leaning closer.
Before she could stop herself, she asked, "Where were you?"
It was so strange asking him a simple question as though they had this type of conversation every day. Would they chat about their days? The weather? How could she have asked him where he had been as though she hadn't spent the last few years running from him?
"So, you did miss me." A roguish grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.
With a huff and her nose in the air, Sarah retreated down the stairs. She should have known better than to try and talk to him. Why had she? What did she expect? He may not have the malicious intent she originally assumed but he was by no means a friend. As she stepped down the last stair, his hand reached for her. She glanced up at the balcony stupidly then back at him.
"Shall we?" he asked with a bow. He waited as she stared at his hand, his scar bright against his palm. Their connection calling to them, begging them to come together.
"Do I have a choice?" she countered, taking his hand. Dizzying warmth spread through her body. Colors around them seemed more vivid as though a shroud had been lifted.
He pulled her into his embrace as they swayed to the music. "You've always had a choice."
"Now who's the liar?" she muttered.
"You still don't understand." He shook his head in mock pity. "And you were such an intelligent child."
Sarah glared at him, her brain at war with her body that felt as though it could float away. "No, I don't understand. I don't know why I'm here. Why I dream of the Labyrinth–"
"Did you truly think you could best the Labyrinth and remain unscathed?" Mortals and their inability to comprehend the rules of magic.
So it is a punishment? I am cursed… "All of this–" she looked around at the couples leering at them in the center of the dance floor, "is because I saved Toby?"
"Yes. You are its Champion. Connected to it through your victory." He would have thought she had worked that out by now. Why else would it call to her through dreams and do her bidding?
"And you? You've been chasing me because…"
Jareth lifted his arm and spun her away from him, throwing her thoughts and equilibrium off kilter as he gathered his own. He had no plans to divulge all his knowledge. Just enough to keep her with him.
"You were turning my kingdom into a garden. The Labyrinth is not supposed to be whimsical. Although I do appreciate that magnificent pond of yours." He leaned in, the curls on the nape of her neck swayed with his every whisper. "Would you like to know what I saw?"
"I would not," Sarah replied in clipped tones. She did not want to know the depths to which his debauched desires could sink. She'd seen enough of it in this room.
"Are you sure? It was quite titillating," he whispered cheek to cheek with her.
Sarah drew back looking away from the brazen gleam in his eyes. The Fae dancing and lounging on the cushions against the walls groped and ground on each other. Moans filled the space between music and bodies. It was difficult to concentrate, to ignore especially with him so close. Their connection making her body hum in anticipation. Of what she refused to entertain.
"I don't want any part of your titilation." She took her hand from his shoulder to gesture around them. "You can also stop all of this."
Jareth glimpsed the writhing bodies around them. A wicked smile spread across his face showcasing his sharp teeth. Oh, this is too amusing. "What makes you think I'm the one doing 'all this?'" he asked.
"Are you serious?" How could he possibly insinuate that anyone else could be doing this? She would never concoct such a scene. "You've been tormenting me for years."
"Oh, my dear. It's the other way around. You've led me on quite the merry chase these years. Tempting and teasing me as I followed your trail."
He watched as her lips parted, eyes widened. The very image of her younger self in a similar ballroom. He could see her thoughts running wild. She wanted him or at the very least was intrigued. It was showcased plainly in the atmosphere she denied creating. The more he held her, touched her, the more sensual their surroundings. Her defenses were crumbling.
"The Labyrinth is only giving you what you desire," he added.
"I don't want this," she snapped. All she had ever wanted was for this to end. To finally be free. To rest.
"Deny all you might, I think we both know what you desire deep down." Even now, he could feel her warring against herself. He felt the same pull as she did to wrap his arms around her until nothing came between them. To join their bodies until were one amalgamation of spirit and flesh.
But curiosity would get the better of her. It might be already. He watched as a comely Fae woman arched her back as her nipples were sucked and nipped. Her body on full display. He wished it were Sarah straddling him. If only she had but a taste of what could be between them. A touch of the hand was nothing. One kiss would show her. And one kiss was all he needed to equalize his bond to that of the Labyrinth.
His hand left her cheek, sinking into her curls. She froze as the fingers grasping her roots tilted her head with gentle maneuvering. Only when he angled his head with a slight tilt and lowered towards her did she realize his intentions. Panic erupted through her body as it finally fell in sync with her mind. Twisting her head away, pain shot through her scalp.
She was gone in an instant. Jareth stared at the space where she just was, their connection thinning as the distance between them stretched. He was once more left empty-handed and alone in the center of a ballroom. But not for long.
Happy 2 Year Anniversary! I mean, in that time I wrote an entire 98k fic and rewrote/edited the first 5 chapters of this fic so I was busy. And also the cat ate my fanfic. I posted about it on the ao3 reddit and everything. lol. I am actively working on this story again and have been for a while. I have the next chapter 3/4 of the way handwritten. Updates will be closer together from here on out. I will not start another story until this one is finished. For real this time. If you haven't read my other story Anam Cara, give it a go. It's complete. I hope everyone had a great holiday season and a happy new year! Thanks for hanging around and coming back after so long. I hope it was worth it. If you like the story, let me know! Stats are not working on FFN and haven't since Sept. Please leave a review so I know people are reading this. Even just an * or a "thx" or a "good update" would really help me live with the loss of my traffic graph. lol.