Labyrinth 1. Chapter 1

_Yes. I know. It's been done a million times before. And none of it is new, not really. And anyway I'm pretty late in jumping on the bandwagon._

_But the fact of the matter is, this story jumped into my head and it just won't climb out again. My obsession with all things Labyrinth dates back a couple of years, from my first viewing of the movie, and was re-ignited by the beautifully drawn artwork (and, I'll admit, the awesome writing too) of Pika-La-Cynique (she's both on deviantart and here, but if you're reading this you'll probably know that because she is la crème de la crème in terms of Laby fanfic). So here I am, and no matter how hard I try Jareth won't stop bugging me unless I actually get this written down. _

_All right, all right, I'm on it, your majesty. *mutters irritably and begins to type madly*_

**_NB: - This Sarah is English, because I'm English, and there's no way I can convincingly write from the point of view of an American. Deal. She is currently at a university somewhere in Britain, probably studying something like French because she quite likes the idea of getting away to a different country where she can forget about anything Labyrinth-related._**

**_ - My chapters are short. Sorry. _**

**_ - Rowan and Beth are characters from my own stories. I'm afraid I have a tendency towards private jokes. But if anyone wants to know more about them and who they are, inbox me and I'll let you in on the know. Don't worry though, they're not key to the story._**

**_ - I don't read a huge amount of Labyrinth fic, so any similarities are entirely coincidental, unless I'm giving a nod to one of my favourite authors, in which case it means you are awesome. _**

**_ - Sarah, Jareth and co DO NOT BELONG TO ME. I own nothing. _**

* * *

It had to be the jacket.

She adjusted it casually and flicked her hair back behind her ear as another guy walked past her, and sure enough, his eyes kind of bugged when he saw her and a deep appreciative grin spread over his features.

Yep, it was definitely the jacket.

Enjoying the unusual surge of confidence granted her by the outright ogling of pretty much every male she'd passed on the pavement, Sarah turned up her iPod and walked a little faster, swinging her hips just a little more than she usually did while Elvis' chocolate voice assured her that he needed her, he wanted her, he loved her!

It had been one of those days when everything went right and that was, frankly, astonishing because Sarah _never_ had those days. She had become accustomed to the fact that she was a girl who always woke up with crazy hair, whose keys and phone and iPod and purse were always missing, who tripped over absolutely anything (including stairs, or occasionally a flat surface), who gained a new bruise on average once a day, and who had an extremely irritating tendency to knock drinks over. Sarah's bad luck and crippling clumsiness drove her crazy, but she didn't like to think about it too much for various reasons.

Sometimes there was a little voice in the back of her head that piped up to say that it could tell her perfectly well why she had been a major klutz since the age of fifteen, and that there was a very easy way to fix that. Also that it could explain the reasons behind her strange aversion to crossword puzzles – particularly those with mazes in them – and peaches, or anything glittery. Usually she was able to silence the little voice, but of late it had been getting all too loud.

But right now that was the last thing on her mind. Today was a good day, and Sarah was feeling _sexy_. Again, this was unusual. She herself wasn't particularly enamoured with her looks – the heavy dark hair was a pain to take care of, and the pale, lightly freckled skin did contrast nicely with the green eyes but showed up spots like a bitch – but she'd always been conscious of a vague feeling of surprise that neither were any boys. They always seemed to be a little put off by her, or perhaps afraid. This bothered her when she thought about it in case it was a character flaw on her part, but most of the time she was too busy tripping over something or apologising to whomever it was she'd last walked into to worry about it too much. In any case, she was not the sort of person who measured her own personal worth by male attention. She'd had enough of _that_ to last her the rest of her life, thank-you-very-much-goodbye.

Today, however, she'd passed at least ten boys who'd eyed her up, and it was the cherry on the icing of an extremely nice cake. She had no doubt at all that it was all down to the fetching little jacket she'd found tucked away on a charity shop rail for three pounds and forty-nine pence. It fitted her like a glove (one of her least favourite phrases but peculiarly apt in this case), and showcased the curves of her figure rather nicely. Plus, the jacket reminded her of something – for the life of her, she couldn't figure out what, but it had given her a not unpleasant shiver of half-recollection when she'd first seen her reflection wearing it. It was made of an odd material; one would assume, as Sarah had at first, that it was leather, but on closer scrutiny it turned out to be something far softer and more pliant than leather – it clung, yet did not stretch. She was very pleased with it. And also with the fact that since she'd put it on, her hair had unaccountably decided to behave itself and actually look nice.

She hummed along to Elvis as she made her way up the street to the little house she shared with a couple of other third-years. While she'd had close friends at university, her language course was a year longer than most of the people's she'd started out with, so this year she was living with people she didn't know that well: Rowan was possibly the most antisocial guy she'd ever met – she could probably have counted the sentences he'd spoken to her on one hand – and Beth seemed sweet but was too occupied with her boyfriend to have time for anyone else. Fortunately this just gave Sarah more time alone in the house, which she rather enjoyed.

Today – miracle of miracles – her key opened the front door at first try, and she didn't trip over the doorstep on the way in. Today, nobody had left textbooks on the stairs for her to slip on, and she didn't catch her jeans on a nail and rip them on her way to her room. Sarah grinned to herself and, totally unsuspecting, unlocked the door to her room. Today –

She stopped her mental litany of success and stared.

The first word that came to mind was _chaos_, and the second one was _OHMYGOD._

Her room was an absolute tip, and it was not empty. There were creatures _everywhere_: small, wizened, almost grotesque-looking creatures with misshapen features and bright beady eyes. They were all busy going through her belongings: papers were scattered over the floor; books were strewn everywhere, open at random pages; pens were liberally sprinkled over her bed and one of her posters was hanging crazily off the wall. In addition, her wardrobe was open and a pile of clothes was being enthusiastically examined by a group of goblins, who appeared to be more interested in the _taste_ of the clothes than anything else.

For they _were_ goblins – Sarah didn't dare deny that she knew it, even to herself. For one split second, she stood there frozen in the doorway, unnoticed by her unwelcome visitors who were all muttering to themselves ("Nope… nothing here," "Ooh, new diary entry!" "Photo!" "Mmm, smell _good_!"). Then she started screaming.

"WHAT IS GOING ON?!"

Like magic, a hush fell over the room and as one, fourteen goblins turned to look (with, she noticed with a panicky internal laugh, identical looks of terror) at their unsuspecting host.

"She's back," stated one of them, unnecessarily, after a few seconds of silence.

"We know," hissed one of the smarter ones, slowly and carefully lowering the sock he held to the ground and dropping it.

"What do we do now?"

"He said she couldn't see us."

"She's never seen us before."

They all started clamouring at once. "Why can she see us?" "This is all your fault!" "MY fault? It's YOUR fault!" "He promised us she wouldn't know!" "Can she hear us?"

"SHUT UP!" yelled Sarah over the hubbub, as her last thread of patience (and possibly sanity) snapped. "I WANT AN EXPLANATION OF THIS RIGHT NOW! WHY ARE THERE GOBLINS IN MY ROOM? AND _IS THAT A CHICKEN OVER THERE?"_


	2. Chapter 2

Five of the longest and weirdest moments of her life later (excepting the great majority of all time spent in the Labyrinth), Sarah found herself sitting on her bed, surrounded by eager goblins. Four of them had tucked themselves under her duvet and one was thoughtfully chewing on Sir Lancelot's leg. She made a mental note to have the teddy bear cleaned.

"Let me get this straight," she said, her voice strangely calm and not at all reflecting her inner turmoil. "You lot have been… spying on me?"

"Yes, Miss Lady."

"Call me Sarah," she said out of habit. "And you have been spying on me for _four years_?"

"Yes, Miss Lady Sarah."

"…Because Jar – the King told you to?" It was strangely difficult to say his name. Perhaps it was because to do so would be to actually admit that he existed.

"We wasn't supposed to say that," muttered one of the goblins guiltily.

"He'll Bog us when he finds out," added another one sadly.

"But why can I see you now?" persisted Sarah, who was still not entirely sure whether she was awake. That would explain the whole looking sexy thing, not to mention the goblins. But then again most of her dreams were about labyrinths and mazes; she'd managed to block out the goblins years ago. (The black chicken that had decided to make itself at home on her beanbag clucked in a satisfied sort of way, and she was forced to re-evaluate her assessment of the situation. Surely reality couldn't possibly get this bizarre.)

"Don't know," was all the answer she got.

"We're always here," offered the smallest goblin, who in spite of enormous ears and a singularly unattractive appearance managed to radiate levels of innocence and sweetness that Sarah found hard to cope with. He had somehow managed to install himself pretty much on her lap. "We do fun things. Like play with your nice hair." He looked up at her, adoringly. "And jump on your bed."

A sudden vision of herself surrounded by invisible goblins all intent on making mischief – whether innocent or otherwise – made Sarah almost choke. "So _you're_ the reason I'm so clumsy and everything goes wrong and nothing stays tidy? Because you're always around me?"

There was a moment of silence as everybody processed that, and then a chorus of "yes, Miss Lady!" The littlest goblin piped up with "It's funny when you bump into us," and the others giggled.

"Oh bother," said one of them in a startlingly good imitation of her voice. "Bloody-hell-that-hurts!" More giggling and noises of agreement.

Sarah groaned and rested her head in her hands. This was definitely not happening.

"C'mon, Sarah," she muttered to herself. "You're just hallucinating a little bit. Remember what the doctors said? Your blood sugar levels were super low and your hormones were running wild and you just dreamt the whole thing up… it was all a big fantasy… for heaven's sake, it was all based on your toys. Nothing was real. You've put it all behind you." She screwed her eyes shut very tightly on the off chance that by the time she opened them the goblins would have disappeared. To her astonishment, silence immediately fell. She counted to ten and then opened her eyes in cautious hope.

Fourteen pairs of eyes were watching her with intense interest. Obviously her behaviour was considered immensely entertaining.

"I need a drink," she said firmly and got off the bed, scattering goblins indiscriminately. It took fifteen minutes to make herself a cup of tea because they were all so excited that they knocked everything over, twice. By the time she'd reinstalled herself on the bed and was sipping at the sweet liquid – she didn't usually take sugar but this time she would definitely need it – the goblins had all armed themselves with something to eat as well and were happily dropping crumbs all over her duvet. She glanced around in wonder, too astonished at their daring to even be angry. "Wait – _you're_ the ones who have been eating all my biscuits? No wonder Rowan got annoyed when I accused him of that…" She was met by a row of blank expressions and decided that she wasn't going to get anywhere on that subject. "Right, forget that. So tell me – _why_ exactly are you spying on me?"

"Because – " began three or four eager voices. Then they all stopped and looked at each other with confusion.

"Actually…" said a goblin who was wearing – Sarah suddenly noticed with astonished fury – a pair of her _knickers_ on his head as a rather jaunty little cap. "I don't know. Do you?"

"No," said the one sitting next to him, who had apparently had a run-in with a bag of flour in the recent past.

"Me neither," piped up a second.

"Or me."

"Do _any_ of you know?" asked Sarah with mounting despair. It was like talking to a bunch of five-year-olds. And she should know – she'd met Toby's little school friends.

They all conferred loudly for a moment before giving her an unequivocal "No."

"All right," she said desperately. "What do you tell Jar – the King?"

"He asks us where you go," said the knicker thief, happier to be on more certain ground.

"And who you see," commented one of the goblins who was tucked into her bed. His head was almost lost among the feather pillows, but what Sarah could make out of his expression was blissful. "Specially boys."

"He doesn't like scary tall dark one," was another response, from which Sarah gathered that Rowan was not popular.

"What else?"

"He just wants to know about you."

"What you eat."

"How you talk."

There was silence while Sarah processed this, and then the littlest goblin – who by now was snuggling into her lap – piped up again: "And how you look in the shower."

"ALL RIGHT, THAT'S ENOUGH!" Sarah jumped up so quickly that he didn't have time to move, and was unceremoniously bounced onto the floor. Fortunately he seemed unharmed. She turned to face the row of goblins. "I don't care what J – the Goblin King tells you to do. From now on, there will be _no more spying._ Do you understand?"

Nervous glances were exchanged, but she persisted. "No more! No eating my biscuits! No tripping me up! No hiding my keys! No more rooting through my underwear drawer!" (Several goblins looked guilty.) "No more… watching me! That's _it!_ Got it?"

"Gottit," they chorused.

"What if he Bogs us?" asked a brave goblin.

"I don't care if he turns you inside out – you don't tell him _anything_."

She had half-expected them to vanish immediately in the face of her wrath but none of them showed signs of wanting to leave – in fact to all appearances they intended to stay where they were for as long as possible. They didn't seem too worried at all, which was good because in spite of her angry words they were actually kind of cute and her heart misgave her at the thought of them being treated too badly.

"So… Can I get some peace and quiet?" she asked half-heartedly, knowing already that it would be futile.

"Oh, sure, yes, of course Miss Lady Sarah," they all shouted, and they proceeded to clamber under her duvet and converse in whispers so loud that she thought her head might explode. _Oh well,_ she thought, looking round at the chaos in her room. _I guess they can stay for a bit. _

The chicken squawked loudly.


	3. Chapter 3

_Sorry, short chapter again. Updates will be sporadic, due to goblins/essay due dates. Bear with me. :) _

"Bumble, can you pass me my pen please?" said Sarah patiently. There was a pause while Bumble frantically looked everywhere except where the pen actually was. "It's right under your nose, Bumble… no… to the left… no, _your_ left… That's it. Thank you." She began her essay with a sigh that was by now second-nature.

It was three days since the appearance of the goblins, and she'd discovered that it was virtually impossible to be rid of them. They were so used to being in her room that whenever one or two disappeared off to the Underground (they seemed to get there by a similar process to Disapparating like the house elves in Harry Potter), another three would return in their place; and they kept forgetting that she could see them now, which led to some entertaining results. It seemed that previously, they'd been able to tell when Sarah would be coming back home and had 'tidied' accordingly, but for some reason three days ago they'd not been alerted to her return, hence their dismay. Sarah had used this knowledge to her advantage, ordering them to tidy up after themselves or she'd never give them marshmallows again (a useful bribe, though after the Four Packets Incident of Thursday evening she'd been forced to hide her supply in Beth's room). Unfortunately the goblins' idea of tidying didn't exactly mirror hers. At least she had managed to stop them getting crumbs everywhere. 'Napkin' had become their new favourite word.

Much to her own chagrin, though, Sarah was sort of… getting used to them being around. It wasn't that she was _lonely_ or anything, she argued with herself – just that, well, it was nice to have constant chatter and bustle around her. Plus, now that she'd scared/bribed them out of mischief, they were actually fairly useful. Sprog had been taught to make cups of tea with the perfect milk-to-tea ratio, and Perkin could whip up a mean Victoria Sponge. Dodi was the tidy one and had earned Sarah's undying gratitude by collecting all the black chicken feathers and getting rid of them (they got e_verywhere_, even in her _socks_, how was that possible?), while Jumble was quite happy taking care of the plants on her windowsill – which had unaccountably begun to bear big, flamboyant, purple flowers quite different from the ones they were supposed to.

She'd discovered that the goblins weren't confined to her room alone. More than once she'd innocently reached into her backpack during a lecture, searching for her notebook, and accidentally been bitten by Sprog, the smallest goblin, who had piteously explained that he felt _lonely_ during the day and that he _liked_ being with Sarah – whose fingers, he added repentantly, smelled exactly like marshmallows. She had allowed this to continue until she was flipping through her French notes and found that all of her grammar pages had been nibbled around the edges, often to the great detriment of the educational value of said notes. She hardened her heart to Sprog's pleas ("Gel pen taste good!") and forbade any excursions into the university, with or without her prior knowledge.

Right now the goblins were occupied in watching _Tangled_ on Sarah's laptop, since this was one of the best ways to keep them quiet when she needed to work. The only drawback was that every time there was a vaguely amusing quip or joke on the film, they would all end up in absolute fits of laughter, and they also insisted on singing along to the songs despite a crippling lack of knowledge of words, pitch, or tune.

After an hour of struggling, during which she managed about two hundred words, she gave up and watched the remainder of the film with them. She was laughing along with the rest of them at how funny Flynn Rider was when a small voice in the back of her head pointed out dryly that she was possibly the most pathetic human being ever on the planet. _It's Friday night. Everyone is out with their friends… Beth is at a party… even Rowan is seeing a friend… and you're sitting in your pyjamas watching a Disney movie with a bunch of goblins._

She shook her head to get rid of the thought, but somehow the spell was broken and she couldn't find anything funny any more. Even when the film was over and all of the goblins that had elected to stay the night – approximately eight of them tonight – were curled up like puppies in her armchair, snoring like a hive of enthusiastic bees, Sarah couldn't summon up a smile. She turned off the light and lit all the candles in her room: she had one on every available surface, but she'd learnt not to light them while the goblins were awake. Within a few moments, her favourite scent of vanilla drifted through the room. Usually it could calm her down but now she just felt depressed. Her inner voice was right. Gloomily, she sat cross-legged on the bed and contemplated her pathetic excuse for a social life. Even the chicken had more friends than she did.

Suddenly, without a sound, all the candles went out simultaneously and Sarah was plunged into darkness. She had one second of sheer terror and was about to scream when someone spoke and she froze.

"Sarah. How nice to see you again."


	4. Chapter 4

_Just look what you lot have made me do. I hope you realise that I'm supposed to be reading _Mary Barton_ and _Middlemarch_ right now - and instead I'm manically typing up imaginary situations between imaginary people. This is what happens when people give me lovely reviews...  
_

_(Ow, Jareth just poked me for calling him imaginary. Sorry, your highness.)_

_Anyway, my heartfelt thanks to anyone who made the effort of typing out a review and letting me know that you like the story. Just to warn everyone, there won't be a hugely compelling plot. It's just some glittery fluffy fun with our favourite Goblin Monarch._

_Oh sorry, am I keeping you from his company? *Smirk* _

* * *

"You have got to be joking."

She tried to keep her voice steady, light, humorous even, but there was a slight wobble of fear in it that she couldn't disguise. If she was completely honest with herself – which never happened – she would admit that she'd imagined this meeting a thousand times over and over again. Mostly she'd pictured herself as angry, a righteous anger because someone who kidnapped your baby brother and then tried to trick you into forgetting about him isn't someone you forgive in a hurry. Or she'd seen herself as an Ice Queen – forcing him into admitting that he still had feelings for her and then turning him down in a regal, final sort of way. (Generally her imagination failed her when it came to him begging for her forgiveness on his knees, but she liked to think that it could happen nevertheless.)

But now it was real, he was here, in front of her and she was absolutely terrified. It wasn't just that he'd plunged her into darkness – though ever since the incident with the oubliette she'd found it hard to sleep without a candle or a nightlight on – or that she couldn't see his face; it was the psychological disadvantage of being caught in her pyjamas that really bugged her.

"I tend not to joke, Sarah. For one thing, the goblins are too stupid to appreciate my sense of humour. And for another, I'm just not in a very lighthearted mood right now."

Oh, God, his voice hadn't changed at all. It was still deep and dangerous and it wound into her ears and down through her chest exactly as she remembered it doing before. There was a sharp edge of anger there that reminded her inexorably that he was _not human_ and didn't play by the rules.

"Don't be a coward," she managed to say. "Turn on the light."

"Oh, I'm not being cowardly," he said pleasantly, though still with that undercurrent of anger. "I can see you perfectly well. What adorable pyjamas you're wearing… though I have to admit I prefer the pink shorts." At this reminder of his spying on her and the fact that her lacy vest top really didn't do much to cover her up anywhere, Sarah flushed angrily in the dark and folded her arms over her chest.

"You just love it when I'm at a disadvantage, don't you?" she shot at him. "You always have to be one step ahead of the game."

"You know me so well, Sarah," he said dryly. "But if it irritates you so much…" A flare of light made her blink and when she opened her eyes, the candles were lit once more.

And the Goblin King was standing in the middle of the room, staring straight at her.

He was wearing a similar outfit to the one he'd worn the very first time she'd set eyes on him, but in the half-light all she could really make out was the impression of a cloak and armour and blackness. His wild, pale hair reflected the candle-light and his eyes glinted at her. He hadn't changed. Or had he? Sarah spent a few seconds trying to figure it out while he continued to stare at her with hooded eyes. He looked like danger personified, and quite other-worldly, and exactly as though he had come to take revenge for anything she'd ever done to him. Sarah almost quailed under that glare. No, he hadn't changed. Perhaps it was she that had changed… had grown up. Suddenly, her confidence returned. Yes, she had grown up. He wasn't just a figure of evil and domination and (_strange confusing tenderness – shut up, brain_) mysterious magic… he was a man, and she was a woman now. She could handle this.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Jareth?" she said with perfect indifference (possibly marred slightly by the fact that she was still clutching her chest and didn't dare move).

One pointed eyebrow went up, and then he leant his head to the side and gave her that slight sarcastic grin that she remembered so well. "Oh, I'm so glad it's a pleasure for you, Sarah. And here I was thinking that you'd be all righteous and angry. Or have you grown in maturity, as well as in… other areas?"

Her cheeks flushed red again, despite all efforts to the contrary. "Spit it out, Jareth. Why are you here?" she said sharply, and then cursed herself as his grin widened, showing a hint of sharp teeth. _Don't let him get to you_, she thought angrily.

"That's a very good question, Sarah," he said smoothly, and she shivered when he said her name like that, _Sa-rah,_ slowly and caressingly. "Why _am_ I here?" He started to walk towards her, one step at a time, at a measured, gradual pace. His every move was fluidly graceful, mesmerising and hypnotic – and Sarah suddenly knew exactly how a mouse felt as the owl bore towards it on silent wings of death. "Why have I broken the habit of five years? Why would I come back to the girl who disdained me and turned me down and was so very clear in her desire to never see or speak to me again?" She was fighting a desperate urge to get to her feet and get her back against something solid, preferably a wall. _Stay strong!_ she yelled at herself. He was still moving closer.

"Is it to get revenge on the destroyer of the goblin city and much else in my realm? Perhaps." He was only two feet away. "Is it because I'm absolutely furious that you _dared_ influence my goblins against me?" He allowed himself another small, sarcastic smile. "Well, that certainly has something to do with it." One foot. Sarah's fragile self-control gave out and she scrambled off the bed and away from him until she was pressed against the wall. Nothing daunted, he continued to move towards her. The cool surface behind her gave her courage, but also reminded her that she had nowhere to run to. "But I'd say, on due reflection, that the biggest reason might simply be that… I have unfinished business where you are concerned, and this time, precious thing, I'm not letting you get away."


	5. Chapter 5

He was right in front of her now, so close that she could feel his warmth, so close that if he moved another inch she would be pressed up against him. He was so much taller than she was that she had to crane her neck to keep eye contact; her heart thumped in her ears. She had forgotten how gorgeous he was, in that other-world, faery way. His mismatched eyes glimmered, beautiful and distracting, under the sharply defined brows. The high cheekbones, the finely shaped lips – _don't focus on them! Look away!_ – damn it, why was she blushing?

He had the upper hand and he knew it, and if she didn't gain some measure of control things could go _very_ badly. It was frustrating how quickly he could intimidate her. Suddenly she was fifteen again and staring wide-eyed at this creature who somehow represented both all of her worst nightmares and all of her most treasured dreams. She'd never been able to understand him, that had been the problem – he'd always had a secret motivation that she had simply been unable to pinpoint. _Fear me, love me, do as I say_ – what had he _meant_ by that? She'd been so focused on Toby's safety that she hadn't even paid attention at the time, simply playing her Ace, her winning card of _you have no power over me_… yet oh, how those words had haunted her in the past five years. _Fear me, love me…_

_Pull yourself together, girl._ She decided to focus on the second-last thing he'd said, because she wasn't entirely sure what _unfinished business _was and she was certain she didn't want to find out. "Jareth…" His name tasted rich and uncertain in her mouth. She repeated it, more strongly. "Jareth, I am _not_ having your goblins spy on me. It's a blatant infringement of my _privacy_ and I can't believe you even – " Her anger mounted even as she spoke, thinking of the whole shower issue. "I – _dare_? How dare _you_ set them on me like I'm some kind of criminal? And you – I mean, it's just _perverted_ – it was bad enough when I was a child and you were being all suggestive and broody but this is outright voyeurism – "

"I was _not_ being suggestive," Jareth said sharply, and if she hadn't known better she would have said that she'd touched a nerve. "I was _courting_ you. And I told you already, all I ever did was – "

"For me, yes. Not sure how much I believe that when I think how much you got out of it…"

"I got _nothing _out of it – nothing but the assurance that you were a spoilt, whiny child who thought that everything _wasn't fair _– "

"I was not spoilt! I was fifteen, for goodness' sake, what did you _expect,_ Jareth?! Like I was actually going to run into your arms and say _oh yes I'll stay here forever as your Queen_…"

Silence. His eyes were narrowed and his jaw clenched, and somewhere inside of her she was laughing gleefully at the fact that she'd got under the skin of the Goblin King. But there was also an awareness that she was playing a very dangerous game.

"Don't push your luck, Sarah," he warned, and his words were like an echo from the past. But she was past ominous warnings.

"I'm not just pushing my luck, Jareth," she shot back. "I'm going to chuck it over the bloody cliff." She laughed, just a bit, to see him discomfited. This might be a suicidal move to make, but it felt oh, so good to be finally standing up to the Goblin King. She swiftly pressed her advantage against him. "Anyway, why stoop to goblin spies? They can't be the most reliable of reporters. Besides, what happened to your owl form? Isn't that how all the fanfics have you watching me?"

"Too obvious," he bit out, but there was a hint of dark humour in his voice that made her oddly pleased. "I was going for subtlety. You wouldn't believe how many people notice a random owl that just appears out of nowhere."

"Fair enough," she conceded, trying to repress giggles. This was ridiculous – her emotions were going into overdrive. One second she'd been terrified, then angry, and now she was… (_flirting?_ supplied her brain, helpfully) joking with Jareth? What was _wrong_ with her? He was just watching her, seemingly confused by her rapid moodswing. She liked that she could confuse him. He might be clever and devious and have power over most of the physical realm, but her mind was a mystery to him and always would be.

Then again, she admitted, she had even less knowledge of what was going on in _his_ head.

"I have a question," she said eventually, when the tension in the room had ratcheted so high that if the silence hadn't been broken she might have done something really stupid: "Why now? Why could I suddenly see the goblins? And why have you come now?"

"Good question," he murmured, and he raised his arm and rested his hand on the wall just above her shoulder; the sudden warmth that thrilled through her body had nothing to do with the weather or the central heating. "Why have I waited so long? Why not reach out and take you before now?"

Sarah _really_ didn't like the sound of those words _take you_ but before she could protest she was stilled, wide-eyed, as his other gloved hand came up to very gently touch her cheek. "I've been tempted before, precious," he went on, very quietly, and his finger traced the shape of her cheekbone, leaving in its wake a tingling trail of… _desire. That's desire,_ chimed in Sarah's mind happily. She was too bemused to even disagree. This was so totally new and unexpected that she could do nothing but tremble slightly under his touch and under his gaze. "Watching you grow up has been such a sweet torment, Sarah. Don't you think that there were times I wanted to reveal myself to you? When you began to doubt my existence? When boys showed an interest in you? When you had nightmares and woke screaming in the night and nobody was there to make it better – do you think it was easy for me to wait?"

She wanted to reply, to say something suitably prickly or rude – anything that would get rid of this intoxicating sweetness suddenly swirling through her veins – but she was too distracted, partially by the feel of his glove on her cheek, and partially by the memory of the nightmares he'd mentioned. She still had them occasionally. Mostly they figured the Labyrinth in various shapes or forms. She'd be running down the Endless Corridor, or forever falling through the disintegrating Escher room, or being taken apart by the Fire Gang, or being chased by the cleaners. And sometimes she knew that help was within reach – if she could only scream loud enough, someone would come to her aid – but she always woke up before he could.

"Yes, a sweet torture," repeated Jareth thoughtfully, and a smile played around his thin, sensitive lips. "But I waited, because I knew you were not ready… until now."

"I'm not _ready_," Sarah said hotly, stung into a response by the subtle implications behind his softly-spoken words. "I didn't wish you here, Goblin King. I didn't say my right words or anything. So you can just piss off."

His smile widened. "Oh, Sarah, you always were such an innocent, always expecting that there was a _formula_, a list of rules. Haven't you worked it out yet? _There are no rules in this game._" He paused, as if expecting her to challenge him, but she was too busy trying to work out if the thrill that had gone over her was of pleasure or fear to do anything more than stare at him, wide-eyed. He dropped his hand and chuckled dryly, but didn't move any further away. She had a brief flashback to the last time he'd leaned his hand against the wall and stood over her, just as he was doing now: _How do you like my Labyrinth?_

And her rash, childish response: _it's a piece of cake._

"You didn't need to use words any more, Sarah. You needed me, so I came. I'm afraid beating my Labyrinth was just the beginning. Whether you like it or not, our stories are entangled. And I'm not leaving here until you realise that I can't just – as you so delicately put it – _piss off_."

She didn't like the arrogant way he said that, nor the suggestive eyebrow lift at the word _entangled_. "How do I know if I can believe you, Jareth? You've tricked me before."

"Not willingly."

"Poisoned peaches, Jareth," she said angrily, and he flinched just a little, as if… wait, did he _regret_ that?

"Sarah – " _Quick, say something before he can hypnotise you with his beautiful voice._

"I can't trust you an inch!" she tossed at him, frustrated.

Oops. Wrong thing to say. His face changed abruptly – his grin was mischievous, almost predatory. "No. You can't. You'll just have to take my word for it."

"But – "

"Let me put it this way," he interrupted smoothly, and the skin on the back of her neck prickled: "What choice have you got?"

* * *

_In case you hadn't guessed, I rather like cliff-hangers. _

_Oh, and by the way, I've promised myself that this is the first, last and only time I'll use the word 'mismatched' in this fic. If I fail, don't hesitate to pull me up on that. _

_P.S. Who else can hear Jareth's voice saying 'piss off'? Heehee. _


	6. Chapter 6

_Right, I'm posting this and then I'll see how many reviews I get and see if I get motivated to carry on in spite of the ridiculous amounts of reading I have._

_C'mon, lovelies. Don't make me beg for feedback... :D _

* * *

"Right. Okay. _Fine_. Truce," Sarah snapped, angry with herself for giving in, and with Jareth for the triumphant glint in his eyes. He stepped back and surveyed her with satisfaction.

"Good. Now, what were your questions?"

"How – " she began, then stopped. "Hey, wait a moment. You just… what you just said, that's what Hoggle said to me. You were watching me? Even then?"

"I'm rather disappointed in your powers of deduction if you haven't figured that out yet, Sarah," he said, sounding almost bored. "Of course I was watching you. I've watched you ever since you were born."

"_What?!"_

He laughed, a proper laugh this time that made him look almost human for a second. "You know, precious, I'd forgotten how much fun you were to tease."

Sarah pouted. "You said you weren't feeling lighthearted," she growled.

"Then consider it a compliment to your company, sweet thing."

She didn't dignify that with an answer. "You still haven't explained how I could suddenly see the goblins," she said irritably, nodding to where they continued to snore quietly in chorus on her armchair. Jareth gave them a vaguely disgusted look.

"They _would_ sleep here. You give them too much leeway, Sarah."

"At least I don't threaten them to within an inch of their lives," she flared up.

"They're only goblins, my love."

"Goblins over which you rule. You should have more respect for your property. And is there a reason for prevaricating or are you just toying with me?"

Jareth regarded her with a strangely unreadable expression. If she hadn't known better, she might have said he was pleased that she was being bossy with him. "The second one," he admitted. "As for why you could see them, that's simple – because I allowed you to."

"Oh?"

He grinned his widest, sharpest-toothed grin. "Do you remember that rather fetching little jacket you 'found' the other day?"

"Yes…?" she said suspiciously, and a sudden foreboding made her jaw drop. "Wait… you didn't…"

"Oh, yes I did. I had that jacket made specifically for you – and it fitted perfectly, didn't it?" he added smugly. "I have a good eye for your… measurements, shall we say. Anyway, I'd tucked an enchantment into the lining. Just a little one," he continued hastily as Sarah's cheeks flushed and she began to splutter with indignation. "It just got rid of any glamour cast by me or the goblins. Nothing else."

"Oh, really?" she said sarcastically. "_Nothing_ else? Nothing, nothing, tra la la?"

He looked at her, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Now who's playing the innocent, your majesty? I suppose you know absolutely no reason for the fact that the moment I put that jacket on, every single male I met looked at me like I was their favourite dish?" He was still looking bemused. "Jareth, you put something in there to make me _sexy_!"

It took a moment for her hot-headed anger to catch up with her cooler brain, but by that point it was too late and she could only dimly register the warning bells. Jareth was looking like the cat that got the cream (or should that be the owl that caught the mouse?). "I've no idea what you're talking about, Sarah, but I'd _love_ to see what you mean."

"Don't you dare – " she exclaimed, but once more it was too late: he'd waved a gloved hand and suddenly she was wearing the said jacket over her skimpy pyjama top. She looked down at herself in outrage, and a detached part of her remarked that the tightness of the jacket combined with the skimpiness of the vest made for a very eye-catching effect… particularly in the chest area. Knowing Jareth and his voyeuristic tendencies, however, she had a feeling that he had already noted this and that it was the main reason for the slightly awed, appreciative look in his blue/green eyes. There was a moment of silence during which she struggled for words that would appropriately convey just how much she wanted to strangle him right now, while he leisurely gazed at her figure. Then, before she could actually articulate her murderous thoughts, he waved his hand again and the jacket disappeared – leaving behind a silver shimmer.

_Oh great, now my cleavage glitters. Well, that's just what I needed. _

"I have to say, Sarah, that I still don't know what you're referring to," drawled Jareth lazily, all too clearly still enjoying the view. "It does make rather a delicious morsel of you – but personally I think you look just as good without it."

"If you think that I'm just going to stand here and let you stare at me like the pervert that you are then you've got another think coming, Goblin King," she retorted, glancing around for the nearest item of clothing and pulling it on over her vest.

"Nice top," was his only answer, and she looked down, confused, and then groaned in dismay. It was another one she'd found in a charity shop – dark green, clingy in a flattering sort of way, and decorated with little sequins forming the words _this girl is anything but ordinary_. At the time, it had seemed like a good joke – but now that Jareth was in front of her it didn't seem quite so funny.

"How true," he mused happily. "I'm glad that you took at least one positive thing from our last… encounter."

"What are you going to do, Jareth? Throw another snake at me?"

"I wouldn't dream of it, this time, Sarah. You're always so quick to paint me as the villain, aren't you? So slow to trust me."

"Well, why _are_ you here, then?" she asked, frustrated again. "You still haven't answered me properly."

He didn't say anything, only smiled, and turned away. With a gesture from him, her light clicked on, erasing the beautiful trembling shadows from her candles. In the harsher but clearer light, he wandered around her room, examining her possessions with intense curiosity and interest. Sarah watched him from where she was standing, hand on hip. What was he up to?

As he took stock of her room, occasionally picking up and replacing objects with a sense of possessiveness Sarah didn't particularly care for, she found herself looking at her room with new eyes and seeing it as he must be now. She attached great importance – possibly too much – to making her room cosy and welcoming, but it wasn't the same place it had been when she was fifteen years old. For one thing she'd only been living in this particular room for a few months and it hadn't yet acquired that lived-in look she loved; but for another, her tastes had changed. Her experience in the Labyrinth had given her a deep suspicion of material possessions in general: she might still love her toys, but she was cautious with having too many things around. Whenever she was tempted to buy something that she didn't actually _need_, a little voice would pipe up in the back of her mind: _it's all junk_. As a rule, therefore, unless the goblins had been unscrupulous in their 'tidying', her room was homey but uncluttered.

The room itself was simple, almost spartan: a wardrobe, a double bed (luxury of luxuries, Sarah had excitedly realised when she'd first moved in, comparing it to the hard narrow beds in student accommodation), and a desk. She'd added a sweet little bookshelf that she'd found for ten pounds in the furniture shop down the road and filled it with as many of her books as she could cram into it – with the notable exception, of course, of the little red book called 'The Labyrinth'. _That_ was hidden away under her pillow. She hoped Jareth would never be in a position to discover that.

Gone, though, were the multiple toys and figurines from her childhood. They now rested peacefully in the attic at home, though she hadn't been able to part with Sir Lancelot. Gone too were the newspaper clippings and photographs of her mother. The hero-worship stage Sarah had gone through in early adolescence had withered and died after her mother had made it abundantly clear via a cold little letter that Sarah was no longer welcome in her life. Instead, she'd covered her pinboard and walls with photos of Toby and other family members, as well as a few pictures of her and her friends. Her relationship with Karen and her father had improved in leaps and bounds over the last few years, though it wasn't perfect and probably never would be – something Sarah had learned to accept. Toby, on the other hand, she loved as dearly as her own skin.

Jareth stopped at a drawing Toby had sent her in the post that she'd found so adorable she just had to pin it up in pride of place at the centre of her pinboard. It had a picture of Sarah with abundant dark hair and a very red dress for some reason, and the wobbly, five-year-old-handwritten words: _Plees cum bak Sara I will be wating at hoom_. He'd taken her move to university rather badly, and every time she visited home she felt terrible for leaving him, but there was the compensation of these cute little messages from him. (The latest one had read _plees cum bak I will have swees_, which she'd read as Toby trying to bribe her away from her degree – something that amused her no end, and also vaguely tempted her.)

"How is Toby?" Jareth inquired conversationally, and Sarah stiffened.

"Fine," she said through clenched teeth.

"I miss the little fellow. Does he ever mention his… adventure?"

"Nope."

"Shame. The goblins still cite him as the best dancer they've ever seen, bar me, of course."

"Of course," she agreed sarcastically.

Jareth moved on, and picked up an item of clothing she'd accidentally left draped across a chair. Her eyes widened in horror when she realised what it was. "You'd think, Sarah, that by now you'd have figured out that it's a bad idea to leave this kind of thing hanging around while there are goblins in the near vicinity that have orders to bring anything vaguely incriminating to me…"

Sarah, blushing furiously and wishing she'd never got into the habit of happily flinging the clothes she took off at night onto random places, stepped forward and snatched it from him.

"Okay, Jareth, enough snooping. Time to answer my question. Why are you here?"

* * *

_DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUN! _

_The green t-shirt is a real one - my sister has it. Also, the notes from Toby are legit notes from a five-year-old - my little sister. Last time I went home I asked her where the sweets were and she gave me half a chewed Rollo, which I guess was good enough. _

_I know I keep mentioning charity shops... I buy all my clothes from them, and so does Sarah cos she's not too keen on mainstream fashion. She has an individual style. _

_Oh, and yes. The item of clothing is a bra. (How many times per chapter can Jareth work in a reference to Sarah's boobs, I wonder? **NO YOUR MAJESTY THAT IS NOT A CHALLENGE.**)_

_While I'm here, I have a couple of questions to pose. My most pressing one - what on earth is a 'poet' shirt? I have NEVER heard of such a thing until I read some Labyrinth stuff. Anyone?  
_

_Also, I noticed that some people refer to 'magick' in their fics. Why not magic? Am I missing out on something? Or is it just a spelling mistake?_

_Finally, to BT, who is a guest and therefore out of reach of Private Messaging: the reference to fanfiction was just me messing around and breaking the fourth wall a bit, nothing entirely serious. You can ignore it. Or you can see it as Sarah having a supernatural awareness of her own existence. Things like that may pop up every now and then... I tend to make a joke out of too many things! (Go read Pika's GND on DeviantArt and that might clear things up a bit.) _

_Thanks for everyone's continued support! Love and glitter! _


	7. Chapter 7

_This is THE chapter, just fyi. The one you've all been waiting for. ENJOY... and review per favore!_

* * *

"All right, all right, I'll answer you, my curious little mortal. Don't you humans have an odd little saying…? Curiosity killed the cat?"

Sarah folded her arms and hoped she looked as intimidating as he did. How he could look like that – beautiful and forbidding and sexy and mysterious all at once – was beyond her. "No dodging, Jareth."

"I'm not dodging," he replied in a tone that she would have interpreted as completely serious had it not been for the barely discernible twinkle in his odd-coloured eyes. "I'm asking if you're ready to handle the truth."

"Truth is better than dreams and rotten peaches."

"That may be so, but truth hurts," he warned her.

"And dreams vanish," she countered.

"Not always." When had he got so close to her? She could feel his breath scorching her lips, and she tried to remember how to breathe herself. "Sometimes dreams can outlast reality."

"But reality is… real," she whispered back. His face looked different: sharper, more adult, less stylised, if that was a term she could use in this concept. The make-up had gone, leaving his winged eyebrows and slanted eyes the same pale colour as the rest of his face. "You _have_ changed."

"No, I haven't. You have. Your perceptions of me have altered… I'm no longer just a childhood ideal. _I'm_ real, precious."

"Are you?" She couldn't keep the shiver out of her voice. "Answer my question, Jareth."

"Answer me mine first, Sarah. What if you could have dreams _and_ reality?" He put the question lightly but she had a feeling that he, with the whole of the Labyrinthine kingdom, was holding his breath for her reply. His eyes searched her face, his gaze so intense she could almost feel it on her skin.

"What do you mean?" He was doing it again – asking things of her that she had no way of understanding.

"I told you once that I was offering your dreams. Well, I wasn't lying. I was. But I was offering… more than that."

"Jareth…"

He looked almost distressed. "I'm not putting this well." He turned on his heel and paced for a moment down the length of her room while she watched him in wonder. She didn't have the upper hand any more – but somehow neither did he. In that moment they were both equals, both asking questions of each other and of themselves. It was almost frightening, a dynamic that she was not used to, but that didn't make it unpleasant.

Abruptly, he was back in front of her, jaw tightened with an emotion she couldn't name. "Sarah," he began huskily, and then stopped.

How odd to see him so discomposed. She would have exulted over his weakness if she hadn't been so uncertain herself. _I wish he'd touch me again_, sighed the voice in the back of her head, and her cheeks heated. The Goblin King began to speak again.

"What if… reality could be even better than dreams? What if the dreams were but a shadow of future happiness?"

"I don't – " Sarah said slowly.

"You were only a child," he interrupted her. "A child hovering on the brink of womanhood, but a child nevertheless. Your thoughts were innocent and your dreams babyish. How could you know what I was offering you? You were too young, too naïve. It was a mistake on my part – though there were times when I thought…" His voice trailed off. Sarah stared at him. She had wanted honesty, and here it was, in its naked vulnerability – and yet Jareth did not seem weak. "No, it was my mistake," he resumed resolutely. "That, and sheer bloodyminded pigheaded _stubbornness_ on your part – "

"Oh, now you're – ?"

Her angry exclamation was cut off with a little squeak of surprise when his leather-clad finger was put firmly to her lips. "Hush, precious," he said absently. "Yes, you were too young. But now – now is the time. And that's why I am here, Sarah mine. I'm here to… re-establish my offer, if you like. I'm offering you your dreams… and so much more."

He took his finger from her mouth and stepped back, waiting for her response. She stared at him with huge eyes, trying to express any of the multiple answers that came to mind.

"What do you know about my dreams?" she said at last, breathlessly.

"Enough."

"Oh yes?" She wasn't sure if she was challenging him or actually wanting to know the answer. He took it as the second.

"I know that you cry at night sometimes because you feel so lonely that you could die, because while you love your family, they're not enough. I know that you crave security and solidarity rather than shifting, formless dreams, but that you yearn for romance and tenderness and love as well. I know that you deserve someone who will treat you well and love you and give you the whole, unbroken home and family that you long for, but who will also sweep you off your feet and be able to make you blush just by looking at you. I know that you are anything but ordinary, Sarah Williams. Only you could combine the mortal and immortal worlds and make some sense out of them. Only you could tame the goblins – " he glanced over at them with a wry smile – "and defy their King… only you could brave the Labyrinth, and win through. Sarah, my love, my precious, only you are capable of becoming my equal. Those are your dreams and your reality – and that is what I am offering you."

As the impact of his words hit her, she stood frozen, stunned. Was this real? Or was she dreaming even now? Had Jareth, King of the Goblins, just offered her… _himself_?

"So…" she said, and her voice sounded different and older. "_Fear me, love me_… you meant that?"

"As I do now." His eyes were impossible to doubt.

"Jareth, I – I don't know what you want me to say! I don't even – what does it all mean? What do you want of me?"

"To court you. To win you. To make you my Queen."

"I – " It was too sudden, too confusing. She felt like someone who has been starving all their life and has unexpectedly been offered a banquet expressly for them – only to find it's too much. "Jareth, I… I can't…"

"No," he said firmly. "No saying no. Not yet, anyway."

"But – "

"_No_." He stepped forwards, so swiftly she barely registered the movement – he was so close she could see every individual eyelash, could see the beautiful patterns in his different irises – so close – his hands suddenly had taken possession of her, pulling her towards him – and then –

Her eyes fluttered closed –

It was the lightest of kisses. A butterfly touch, a simple brush of the lips. Surprisingly tender, an expression of warmth and sweetness and the promise of love.

Yet all it took was that insignificant little touch for Sarah's whole body to light up like a Christmas tree. As if a switch had been flipped, every cell in her body yearned towards the man standing in front of her. She opened her eyes, both afraid and exhilarated by her unexpected reaction, and looked straight into turquoise and blue.

He was watching her intently, gauging and assessing her response; and when he saw the hunger in her green eyes and the flush on her cheek, his lips stretched into that predatory grin that Sarah had already learnt to associate with _danger_. His hands, which so far had rested innocently enough at her waist, suddenly tightened and moved further up her back, inexorably pulling her closer still towards him. Everything fragmented around her. Should she be doing this? She'd never kissed _anyone_ before. Did she have a choice? She had a feeling that Jareth, having got this far, wasn't about to relinquish his hold on her, no matter how much she protested – but she wasn't even sure if she wanted to protest. She wasn't exactly certain of what was going on in her body or why some of it appeared to have melted, but she definitely knew that this felt _good_.

Perhaps just more kiss – and anyway his lips were already coming down on hers –

"_King_ is here?!"

Jareth and Sarah froze.

* * *

_Heeheehee, I am eeevil! _

_Man, Jareth is a pain to write. I'll be all like 'Okay Your Highness, you know what you're doing in this chapter' and he'll be like 'Yes my dear, why do you doubt me?' and then suddenly he's evading all Sarah's questions and indulging in the most ridiculous wordplay. I have no power over him, obviously. _

_So... reactions? :) PLZ REVYOO OR THE GOBLIN GETZ IT!1! _


	8. Chapter 8

_Hey guys! I owe you all an apology. I meant to update before now, but RL got in the way, and I've spent all of today sick in bed. :( Luckily I'm feeling a bit better now and because I love you I managed to drag myself up into a sitting position and type you another chapter... _

_Of course it would definitely make me feel sooo much better if you reviewed my efforts... :D_

* * *

It was a goblin's voice, of course, and somehow Sarah was not surprised that it belonged to Sprog, the smallest goblin. He'd woken up for some reason and was gazing at the pair of them, through sleepy eyes.

"Good-evening-Your-Royal-Highness," he added quickly and placatingly, and Sarah turned to look at Jareth in time to catch a look that would have dissolved Sprog had he been made of anything other than indestructible, leathery Goblin material.

There was a supremely awkward silence.

It dawned upon even Sprog that he might possibly have made a faux pas, but he seemed unable to process this information; instead his survival instinct kicked in and he stilled like a rabbit in headlights that thinks that if it doesn't move, nothing will happen to it. Jareth continued to glare and Sarah, after a brief experimental wriggle, came to the rapid conclusion that there was no way she'd be able to free herself from his hands unless he actually allowed her to do so. She resigned herself to her fate, and pretended to herself that Jareth's fingers where they touched her back were not sending tingles of pleasure through her.

The silence lasted exactly as long as it took for another goblin to wake up, evidently sensing the change of atmosphere in the room. He yawned leisurely and rubbed his eyes before gazing blearily round the room. Sarah saw, out of the corner of her eye, Jareth's eyes almost pop with fury and she suddenly feared for the lives of all goblins, ever.

"Oh, King is here," mumbled the goblin in a happy sort of way. "King and Lady… is nice…" He fell asleep again, his head falling heavily onto the shoulder of yet another goblin, who immediately woke up in turn.

_This is just getting awkward now_.

"Your majesty! What are you doing here?" Unfortunately, this particular goblin (whose name Sarah could not now recall… something like Kibble?) had a devastatingly shrill voice; all five of the as yet undisturbed goblins promptly abandoned slumber and proceeded to loudly question the presence of the king and Sarah and whether it was morning.

Jareth partially loosed his hold on Sarah to pinch the bridge of his nose for a moment. She felt, rather than saw, him heave a sigh.

Then, quite abruptly, they were alone in the room. Sarah made a small sound of surprise and anxiety; taking advantage of the fact that his grip was one-handed, she wrenched herself away and put both hands to her hips.

"Where have you sent them?"

He narrowed his eyes and she couldn't work out if he was annoyed or amused that she was questioning his actions. "To a galaxy far, far away," he quipped, and then chuckled darkly at her astonished face. "What, I can't enjoy other fandoms every now and then?"

"Jareth," she said in a warning tone, much the same as the one she'd take to Toby if she knew he was hiding something.

"Don't worry about the goblins, Sarah, they won't be harmed… or not in the long term, anyway."

He reached for her, clearly intending to pick up right where they'd left off, but she evaded his grasp with a nimble sideways skip.

"No no no," she exclaimed breathlessly. "Enough of you trying to distract me."

"Why, was it working?" He walked towards her, as graceful as ever.

"That's not the point," Sarah replied with as much dignity as she could muster when she was blushing as red as a beetroot. "Not when you've just… proposed to me or whatever that was."

"You doubt my sincerity?" Suddenly the whole room had got a lot colder.

"No, it's not that," she gabbled hastily. "It's just that…" She still couldn't think straight, not when her mind was buzzing and her lips were still tingling from that brief moment of contact. _I need to work this out._ "Jareth, you're asking a lot of me right now. I need some time to… to myself."

"I see." Only he so clearly didn't. Perhaps to him it _was_ that simple: _will you marry me and be Queen of the Goblins? Great, I'll pick you up next Tuesday. _

Now she felt _guilty._ This was ridiculous. He was emotionally manipulating her. "I'll think about it," she said firmly. "And I'll give you an answer..." she paused, trying to think of a suitable time frame, and came up against the undeniable problem that she couldn't imagine even coming to a conclusion in the next few years.

Jareth stepped forwards and he was once more the Goblin King of old: eyes inscrutable, an aura of power and danger emanating from him, even his cloak stirring in a nonexistent wind. "I'll give you thirteen hours, Sarah."

"_Thirteen hours_? To decide the rest of my life?"

"My patience will not hold forever. It's either that or give me an answer now."

"But – "

"But _what_, Sarah? And I warn you, if you tell me that _it isn't fair_ I swear I'll tear you to shreds and turn the pieces into goblins – "

The threat, ridiculous as it was, was made ominous by the very real menace in his eyes. Under their spell, Sarah accidentally said what she was thinking.

"But if you want me so badly, why would you put a time limit on me and risk losing me?"

She was taken entirely by surprise by his reaction. He reached her in one stride and, grasping her shoulders, pushed her back forcefully against the wall again, towering over her. "Sarah. I laid my heart bare to you once, and you threw it in the dust at my feet. I'm here again now, and I stand to lose _everything_ – my dignity, my love, my pride. This is your last chance. Take it or leave it."

She trembled beneath him, both afraid to the marrow of her bones and secretly exulting that she had so much power over him. "All right. Thirteen hours, then." _Am I mad? _

His eyes blazed into hers and for a second she was sure he was going to kiss her again – and knew with certainty that if he did there was no way she could resist. But instead he leaned forwards and whispered in her ear: his hot breath tickling her and making her squirm delightfully.

"_Don't disappoint me_."

And then he was gone in a shower of glitter and she was left alone in a room that suddenly seemed the most desolate place in the world.

* * *

_Awww, poor Sarah. Now she has nothing but glitter. Like us poor souls. _

_Thanks to all reviewers! Though I have to admit that **Princess Kitty**'s comment made me very tempted to eat a whole bag of Skittles in one go and see what happened :P fortunately for us all (particularly Jareth since I have a penchant for teasing him mercilessly if I don't discipline myself) I got sick before I could attempt this experiment... _

_However, I really appreciate your encouragement. I do do my best to write properly :) and my humour, well, my humour is my own and I'm just glad that someone else appreciates it! **Honoria Granger, **I would love to assure you that they will indeed work it out, but that remains to be seen... if only Jareth will behave himself... and **Lereniel,** __please don't hate me! I promise I'll provide plenty of squee moments at some point that won't get interrupted! _

_Yesterday my housemate and I sat down to watch Labyrinth, along with some peaches and a load of edible glitter. Just FYI, I highly recommend it as a viewing experience. Glitter everywhere! _


	9. Chapter 9

_I rang the NHS helpline and they told me to avoid going out for 48 hours since the last time I was sick, which meant that... oh no... I just _had_ to stay at home all day, and write another chapter! It's a bit longer this time to make up for the last one. Enjoy! (And apologies for any delirious ramblings.) _

* * *

_Bzzzz… Bzzzz… Bzzzz…_

"Unghhhh." Sarah rolled over and, eyes closed, fumbled among her pillows for her phone. When she finally located it, she pressed one of the buttons and her alarm turned off. With an effort, she opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling.

"_Well_," she said to herself. Her voice was croaky from sleep and given that it was 8am on a Saturday, she would have loved to have shoved her head under the pillow and revisited her blissfully dreamless slumber; but the memory of the previous night was enough to drag her into a sitting position and blink at the sunlight pouring in a honey-coloured flood through her pale curtains.

He'd given her thirteen hours. And when he'd disappeared, it had been just after one thirty. That gave her… _oh crikey…_ six and a half hours until he reappeared to demand her answer. Sarah gulped.

Ignoring the rapidly growing urge to just _sleep_ till then and wing it and _damn_ his whole 'this is your last chance' speech, she clambered laboriously out of bed and stood, swaying slightly, while the dizziness of deep sleep cleared. Something felt wrong and it wasn't until she'd wrapped herself in her fluffy dressing down and put slippers on that she realised there were no goblins around. Usually by now they'd be clustering round her, demanding attention and breakfast and marshmallows. She remembered Jareth sending them away and wondered, with a touch of sadness, whether they were gone for good.

Her stomach growled and she decided that breakfast should be achieved before any _thinking_ was to be done. Hastily, she grabbed her hairbrush and tried to persuade the tangled strands of hair to assume some semblance of good behaviour. Having thick, waist-length tresses was all well and good but boy, did it tangle. She brushed hard for a moment and then noticed that little specks were fluttering out of it and onto the floor and her shoulders. _What…? _She looked closer at her reflection and realised that her hair was chock-full of glitter. She was sparkling like a bloody vampire.

"Stupid Goblin King and his stupid glitter and promises of dreams and crowns," she muttered to herself as she twisted her sparkly hair into a bun and stuck a chopstick through it, a trick she'd learned from Beth whose hair had almost reached her knees before she'd had it cut. "Showing up and kissing me and threatening me…" She continued to mutter all the way down the stairs and into the kitchen, where Rowan was scowling at a frying pan in which two eggs spat and crackled. "Morning, Rowan."

"Mm," he said without looking up, but she didn't take offence; he was always like that.

"Sleep well?"

"Not bad." He pulled the frying pan off the heat and quickly and neatly flipped the eggs onto a piece of toast. "Later."

"See you."

He was halfway out the door, balancing his plate of eggs in one hand and holding a glass of water in the other, when he turned and added: "By the way, Sarah."

She nearly jumped. "Yes?"

"My keys are missing. Again."

"Oh." She hoped she didn't look as guilty as she felt. It wasn't like he could have an actual reason to suspect her of having any part in the matter. "I'll look out for them."

"Thanks." He vanished into his room, and she looked after him with a frown. If the goblins had gone, then who…?

"Miss Lady! Lady Sarah!" A small hand tugged the back of her dressing gown. She turned round, and there was Sprog. He grinned up at her and held out a steaming cup of tea that was about the same size as he was. "We made you brekfas!"

She wouldn't have admitted it, but she felt a warm sense of relief that the goblins hadn't been banned for good. She'd have missed the little buggers. "Thank you, Sprog!" Even as she spoke the kitchen became overpopulated with his friends. It seemed that Jareth's action, rather than intimidating them, had made them more determined to visit Sarah. She tried to count them and gave up at twenty. It was harder because they were so varied in shape and size – from Sprog himself, who fitted comfortably in the palm of her hand, to Nig who was about the size (and shape) of an overweight housecat. Also, they tended to move around a lot. They seemed to have the ability not only of bouncing off hard surfaces, but of jumping straight up in the air in distances several times their own height.

Between them, they made 'Lady Sarah' sit down at the table and – evidently excruciatingly proud of themselves – brought her 'brekfas'. This consisted of a bowl of soggy cereal, a piece of toast that was somehow burnt on one side and still bread on the other, and a biscuit or two to dip into the tea. She accepted everything graciously, unable to hide her smiles at how ridiculously pleased they were that she liked the food. She was halfway through a long-winded explanation of why Jareth had randomly turned up last night ("He was lonely and he wanted a chat" hadn't quite cut it), when she heard footsteps coming down the stairs and hastily shut up. The kitchen door opened and Beth and her boyfriend, Kalum, entered, arms round each other and identical beatific smiles on their faces. Sarah regarded them sardonically. As a couple, they tended to be hard to stomach, what with the whole never-leaving-each-other's-side thing and the kissing whenever they got the chance.

It was interesting to watch how the goblins rearranged themselves neatly so that they never got in the way of Beth and Kalum, who couldn't see them. More than once Sarah had to stifle a giggle when a particularly cheeky goblin made faces or, from the shelf on the wall, tweaked Beth's hair. She pulled away and muttered something about getting it caught on a nail.

"Morning, Sarah," she added happily. "Did you sleep well?"

"Sort of," Sarah replied truthfully. "I was up late."

Beth took the bowl of cereal Kalum had thoughtfully prepared for her and sat down opposite Sarah, scattering invisible goblins. "That's funny, I thought I heard someone talking last night."

"Oh?" _Please keep your cool, please keep your cool_, Sarah thought desperately to herself.

"Yes. In fact, I could have sworn it came from your room."

"How odd," said Sarah desperately, all too aware that her whole face was flushing. Suddenly, every single being in the kitchen was focusing on her with the greatest possible attention.

"Sarah, did you have a _boy_ in your room last night?" asked Beth with a mixture of curiosity, astonishment and laughter.

"_No_," she answered loudly – too loudly. Kalum tipped his head to the side, quizzically. He was good at reading people. She avoided his eyes. It wasn't like she was lying, anyway. One could refer to Jareth by any number of names, but _boy_ wasn't one of them. _Man_, maybe. But even that one required a stretch of certain truths.

"Whatever you say, darling," said Beth kindly, though Sarah could see that she didn't believe her. She scrabbled for a truthful-sounding lie.

"I was Skyping my father and Karen," was all she could come up with, but she winced as it came out of her mouth. Kalum and Beth looked sceptical.

"At one o'clock in the morning?"

"They… went to a late party," she invented frantically, and getting up, dumped her washing up in the sink. "I, er, I have to go. See you later."

"We're going out to the park to enjoy the sun while it's still here," called Beth. "We'll be back tonight."

"Okay!" Sarah stomped upstairs, followed by her faithful retinue of goblins. Bloody Jareth. He had to make everything awkward, didn't he? At least the two love-birds would be out when he returned. She wouldn't put it past him to somehow embarrass her by showing up in front of them.

She spent the remainder of the morning in an increasingly irritated frame of mind. First of all there was glitter all over her floor, and she had to lug the hoover upstairs and endure its horribly loud roar as it all too ineffectually tried to clean her carpet. In the end she got rid of most of it, but her back was aching and there was still a very visible sparkle in the sunlit floor. Then she had a shower, but first had to expel by force several goblins who had apparently not yet got out of the habit of spying for Jareth. One of them had tasted the soap and had to be patted on the back until the bubbles stopped. After that she had laundry to do, which the goblins were _very_ excited about, and during which she discovered that a) goblins have an unnatural propensity to steal socks and b) even being trapped in a washing machine full of water and wet clothes and being whirled at ridiculous speeds cannot injure or in any way affect (other than to slightly daze) a goblin. Fortunately, neither her clothes nor the washing machine suffered any adverse effects – though Paten did have a tendency to walk in circles for the next few hours.

By the time she'd tidied her room, hung her washing out, finished the essay she'd begun yesterday, grabbed a quick lunch, and put proper clothes on rather than trackies and a vest, she was in a truly Bad Mood. Even the goblins had sensed it and took to muttering nervously in corners. She found herself unexpectedly sympathising with Jareth – not, she told herself, that she'd ever go to the lengths of punishing a goblin with the Bog of Eternal Stench. (Though she was not above using it as a threat.)

Sarah looked at her watch. It was one o'clock. She had an hour and a half left. The goblins regarded her anxiously, wanting to be of help but unsure of what she was planning to do next. She made up her mind.

"I'm going for a walk. Where are my keys?"

There was some heated discussion and then Jumble came forward with a bunch of keys. Sarah took it and then looked at them sternly. "These are Rowan's! You guys, I've _told_ you, stop stealing his stuff. I know J – the King doesn't like him but it's too bad, you'll get me into trouble if you carry on." They all hung their heads. Sarah felt a little sorry for them. After all, they were only doing what they thought was their job. "All right. I'll take these for now, and while I'm gone you find mine and then we'll return these to their rightful owner, okay?"

"Yes Lady Sarah!" they chorused excitedly as she wrapped up warmly – it may have been sunny but it was Autumn and there was a decided chill in the air. As she left the house, she could still hear them bickering about who had last had custody of her keys. She rolled her eyes.

* * *

_Thanks for the sympathy! I'm much better now - definitely a 24 hour thing. And just FYI, how I catch goblin flu is NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS... ahem... besides, Jareth won't leave me alone, so I'm allowed to have some fun with him, right? _

_As for edible glitter, my housemate and I are compulsive bakers (sudden gasp: _I NEED TO DO SOME LABYRINTH-THEMED BAKING! _I'll get back to you on that...) so we have rather a lot of cake-decorating stuff. We got the glitter from Tesco, but you can probably find it really easily online. Have fun painting peaches! As for Sarah's problem, hopefully you'll understand it after the chapter coming up next. May or may not update tomorrow. Hint: I LIKES REVIEWS. _

_As always, love and glitter! _


	10. Chapter 10

_I'm all better! Or nearly - I've eaten for the first time in four days (wahoo). Thanks!_

* * *

For a long time Sarah could focus on nothing but the tap-tap of her shoes on the pavement and the huff of her breath in the cold air. She'd stuffed her iPod into her pocket and her earphones into her ears, but even Elvis couldn't distract her from her bad mood. She walked until she began to be out of breath, and it was only then that she slowed down and began to take in her surroundings.

It was a beautiful autumn day; the sky a clear robin's-egg blue, no clouds visible overhead, the moon a faint ghostly crescent in the heavens. She'd walked, unintentionally, to one of her favourite places to visit: the graveyard. Beth often teased her about her morbid ways, but the fact remained that the graveyard was not only beautiful, with its many trees and winding paths, but also peaceful. She liked to come and sit on a bench and contemplate life among the dead. There was an odd sense of balance in doing so. Plus, she generally had the whole place – and it was massive; it took over an hour to walk from end to end – to herself.

She sighed as she realised where she was and made her way to her usual bench. It was beneath an apple tree which in spring was laden with blossom, but currently bore a harvest of sweet rosy apples. On impulse she reached up and took one, rubbing it on her sleeve until it shone, and bit into the crisp, white flesh. Apples were good. Apples were _trustworthy. _They were firm and unyielding and not too sweet. Not like peaches: peaches were soft and juicy and…

The words of the song currently playing on her iPod drifted into her thoughts almost without her realising.

_Put your lips close to mine_

_As long as they don't touch_

_Out of focus, eye to eye – _

_Til the gravity's too much_

_And I'll do anything you say_

_If you say it with your hands_

_And I'd be smart to walk away_

_But you're quicksand… _

_This slope is treacherous_

_This path is reckless_

_This slope is treacherous_

_And I, I, I like it_

Sarah's eyes widened. _Is this why I'm angry? Because I feel like I can't trust him? _

She sighed again. Perhaps it was time to confront her feelings for once. Even as the thought crossed her mind, though, she cringed in fear. She was scared, and that was a fact. Scared of what she would find in the deepest recesses of her mind. Scared of making the wrong decision.

_I can't decide if it's a choice_

_Getting swept away_

_I hear the sound of my own voice_

_Asking you to stay…_

Endless questions bubbled up now that she was letting herself ask them. _What if I _can't_ trust him? What if his promises are just… smoke and glitter? What if in saying yes to him I sign myself away for ever? Do I even want to say yes?_

Did she?

She'd never been one of those people who wanted nothing out of life but to get married and have kids. Not, to be fair, that she'd had any other great plans either. It had always been a case of 'I'll see what happens when I get there.' Maybe she'd be a rich and famous author. Or maybe a teacher. Sometimes she even still considered her old, old dream of being an actress like her mother. Now everything seemed unreal and those dreams, fragile and uncertain as they'd been, were thrown into jeopardy. Had Jareth really proposed to her? Was she really considering getting _married_ at the age of twenty – and to an unknowable, beautiful, treacherous, Fae being?

What would marriage to him even be like? She tried to imagine it – and failed dismally. Even allowing for the fact that her views on what married life should be were somewhat skewed, given the history of her parents, she couldn't see her cooking him dinner, or him taking her out to a nice restaurant. Nor could she see herself sitting on a throne beside him and ruling the goblins. None of her perceptions of him fit those pictures. The problem she kept coming up against was that she didn't _know_ him.

_Oh, but you do,_ whispered her heart. _You know his moods and his expressions better than you know your own. You know the scent of his skin and the colour of his eyes… You know that it doesn't always take time to know somebody truly._

She refused to listen. _That might be true, but it's not enough to go on for a lifetime. I need more than that. I need something real_ –

Screw him and his bloody thirteen hours! Why did he have to be so demanding? Why couldn't he act like an adult for once and stop playing games? And – she clenched her fists in frustration – why could she still feel, even now, the faint lingering sensation of his lips on hers?

This was so confusing. It wasn't like it was a clear-cut case of one choice or another. She didn't even fully know what she was choosing. If she said yes… a swooping sensation in her chest made her feel almost faint for a moment… if she said yes, what would she be agreeing to? To leave her mortal life behind forever? _I can't do that. There are things and people too dear to me to forget about. _Faces floated before her: Toby, her father, Beth, Kalum, even Rowan… she wasn't ready to leave them. And her course, too. She was only a year short of finishing her degree. She'd like to get that done, at least.

Another consideration made itself felt, so terrifying that she felt her heartbeat speed. She, Sarah, was mortal. Jareth… was not. What did that mean? Did he want her to live out her mortal days with him until she died of old age? Or would he desert her well before then? Her life must be like the flight of a sparrow to him: vivid, maybe even beautiful, but so short that if he blinked he'd miss it. Why would he want her for so short a time? She could never be his equal – let alone his Queen.

_Queen._ Oh, yes, there was that _insignificant_ fact to consider. How on earth could she ever claim Queenship? The very idea was utterly ridiculous. She as Queen of the Goblins? What, wearing tight leggings and that leather jacket? She snorted, in spite of everything, at the image. She, rule over the Labyrinth with Jareth by her side?

With Jareth by her side… She sobered suddenly. All too vividly, the memory of his hands on her back sent a shiver up her spine. The way he'd pulled her towards him so gently and yet so relentlessly – the tingling sensation left by his gloved fingers –

_This slope is treacherous_

_This path is reckless…_

She got up from the bench and threw her apple core away.

She'd made up her mind.

* * *

_Wait, did I just - did I actually use a Taylor Swift song for Jareth and Sarah feels? _

_YES I DID. _

_Ha. It is an amazing song though, and it did seem to fit rather well. In case of problems, I have no claim to it, and urge you to listen - "Treacherous" by T. Swizzle. _

_Thank you so much for the reviews (only four? Sadface!). No Labyrinth themed baking as yet but we're planning some possible goblin/peach cookies at some point. Glitter of course will be essential. (That sounds like they will have goblin as an ingredient. Disclaimer: no goblins will be harmed in the making of said cookies. Unless they get hold of the rolling pin. Or get stuck in the oven. Oh Lord, maybe this isn't such a good idea.) _

_To the** Guest **who doesn't usually review: thanks so much for your kind words. I'm glad you enjoy the mixing of reality and fantasy, it happens so often to me that I tend not to notice it any more... (No, Sprog, I will not give you more marshmallows.) _

_If anyone's interested I've put a very short one-shot up for Labyrinth. Just a snippet. But reviews for that would be appreciated too :) L&G! _


	11. Chapter 11

_Not gonna lie, this is probably my favourite chapter to date. Possibly due to the fact that I wrote it instead of my essay, which is due in... hmm... a week and a half. _

* * *

Back home, Sarah anxiously fluttered round her room, her hands clammy and her heart hammering in her ears. The goblins had found her keys and she sent them on a mission to the kitchen so that they could leave Rowan's in an easily spotted place. When that was sorted a sudden panic attack on what to wear sent her desperately sorting through her clothes with ten minutes to spare, her current choice of outfit (leggings and a very old shirt that had once belonged to her father) suddenly seeming not nearly as okay as it had that morning. She'd worn the shirt for her GCSE art exam, several years ago, and it was covered in splotches of paint. The question was whether the ensemble was girl-wearing-boyfriend's-clothes cute, or whether it just looked baggy and unattractive. At the moment, judging by her reflection, it was the latter.

Damn it, did she have _anything_ to wear? She tossed aside tops, skirts, dresses and the trackies she'd discarded earlier (her taste in clothes had changed somewhat since the age of fifteen and she no longer owned any waistcoats or extravagant shirts). Considering the state of more or less undress that Jareth had discovered her in last night, she was determined to actually wear nice clothes this time. She eventually found a v-necked strappy that wasn't terrible and tried it on with the leggings. For about two seconds she was very pleased with the feminine, curvy image it presented, and then she swore under her breath and took it off. Too much cleavage. Jareth couldn't be trusted an inch. Perhaps she should go the other way and not show any skin whatsoever… but then she didn't want to look as though she'd tried too hard, because he'd almost certainly notice and comment.

She could have howled with frustration, made worse by the fact that Jareth was due at any moment and would like nothing better than to discover her in her underwear, and that she had a feeling he was probably watching her now anyway through a crystal or her mirror and laughing his head off at her indecision. The goblins, who were lined up on her bed watching her wide-eyed like a row of ugly cuddly toys, whispered anxiously amongst themselves. They probably thought that 'Lady Sarah' had gone mad.

At this point it was a distinct possibility.

She gave up on any kind of sophisticated look and threw on her favourite pair of jeans and a blue well-cut top that was both figure-flattering but modest enough to err on the safe side. Then she stuffed the pile of unwanted clothes back into her wardrobe, making a mental note to have the goblins sort them and put them back onto hangers at some point (another of their recently acquired skills). She proceeded to: brush hair for the millionth time, because it was looking vaguely frizzy. Hope that most of the glitter had come out of it by this time. Clip down that almost-curl that was sticking out. Take out the clip because it made her hair look like it was plastered to her head. Swear again and envelop her entire head in a cloud of hairspray that hopefully would keep her hair mostly in check.

With hands that definitely shouldn't be shaking, she applied a hasty coat of mascara and checked her pale skin for spots. Nothing today, thank goodness. _Calm down, you silly girl. It's only Jareth. Jareth, king of the goblins. Jareth who is coming to hear your answer to his _proposal…

_Not helping, brain._

She checked her watch. Twenty-nine minutes past. She had a sneaky suspicion that Jareth would appear right on the dot of half past, and she wanted to look and act as natural as possible. Where in the room would look the most natural? _Ahh, panic panic._ Sitting at the desk where her laptop was? Yes, that was good. She made her way over there, only to notice that there was a random black chicken feather on the floor which had somehow escaped the hoover holocaust. _Bloody chickens_. She bent down to pick it up and of _course_ that was when he chose to make an appearance.

"What a warm welcome," were the first words that alerted her to his presence, spoken in a mocking, suggestive tone. Sarah stood up so quickly she almost gave herself a headrush and spun round to catch the Goblin King in the act of openly (and with great enjoyment) eyeing her backside. "You know," he added thoughtfully, "while I usually prefer my women to dress in more seemly attire, such as a gown, there is something to be said for the human penchant of showing off as much as one possibly can…"

Sarah was very nearly rendered speechless, but not quite. "_My_ women? _MY_ women?" she screeched. "There are so many things wrong with that I don't even know where to begin!"

Jareth raised an amused eyebrow. "Do enlighten me, Sarah dearest," he drawled lazily.

She glared at him. He was wearing an all-too-familiar outfit of grey leggings, leather boots, a white lacy shirt that showed far more chest than hers did, and the ever-present black gloves, cut off at the wrists. It was an ensemble that would have emasculated any other man, but on him it just looked _right_. Sexy, even. It wasn't fair how he could carry off the most ridiculous clothes; no one would ever be able to rival him.

If she could bring him down a peg or two in any way possible, she would.

"Firstly," she said indignantly, holding up one finger, "Your use of the word _my_ indicates that you think I actually belong to you, which I can tell you right now is _not_ the case. Secondly," next finger, "you're referring to me as if I'm an object that you possess, and as a woman with a healthy amount of self-respect I deeply resent that attitude. I am not a _thing_ to be bought and then shown off as your latest acquisition, Jareth. I am a woman whose respect you need to earn. Thirdly, it's rather a bad idea to suggest to a girl whose hand you're hoping to win in marriage that she is not the first to have been in your favour, don't you think?" Her tone dripped with sarcasm. "And finally, your majesty – " she looked him up and down – "I really don't think you have any grounds for commenting on _showing off as much as one possibly can_…"

Jareth stared at her and she realised with fierce triumph that he was – possibly for the first time in his very long life – at a loss for words. _He really expected me to just blush and giggle, didn't he? How naïve of him._

"Well – " he said eventually, in a manner that (for a Goblin King) was almost timid. "I – "

Sarah, determined to milk every single last drop of this that she could, put her hands theatrically to her hips and raised an eyebrow. "Well _what_, your majesty? Wait – what's that?" She put a mock hand to her ear. "You have… _nothing_ to say?" She gave an exaggerated gasp. "What a surprise! Did you hear that, you lot?" She turned the full effect of her fake astonishment onto the row of goblins, who (apparently unnoticed by Jareth up till now) were making a most appreciative audience. They all ooh-ed and aah-ed most satisfactorily. "His Royal Tightness has nothing to say!"

Jareth's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Sarah…" he growled.

"Ooh, listen, he's talking now!" Sarah told the goblins. "Maybe he's going to apologise! Because that's the only thing he could possibly have left to say to his Lady, right?" The goblins giggled and nudged each other. Sarah turned back to Jareth (almost choking with suppressed laughter at the apoplectic look of fury on his face) and gave him a saccharine smile. "Don't be afraid to say it, my love," she cooed at him. "It's just two words. Not too hard, now, is it?"

He glowered at her so ferociously that – as she would have realised if she hadn't been riding on such an adrenaline high at having one-upped the Goblin King – all her alarm bells were ringing like it was 8am on a Monday morning. But she was enjoying herself far too much to pay any attention to the panic going off inside her head. "Come on," she coaxed him patronisingly. "Just say _I'm sorry_ to Lady Sarah…"

There was a moment of silence during which Jareth's eyes promised her that _she was going to pay for this_ and Sarah's eyes grinned that _she really didn't care right now_ – and then, through teeth clenched so tightly that she could barely make out the words, he ground out: "I'm sorry."

She was taken aback for about five seconds – she hadn't quite bargained for him giving in like that – but she was about to make a swift recovery when… _oh crap_… she caught the look in his eyes again and took a step back –

Too late. Before she could take any more evasive action, she was bodily pinned against the wall by an absolutely livid Goblin Monarch who was exuding anger and glitter (and gorgeousness) in equal parts. She peeked round his shoulder and saw, with a sinking heart, that he'd sent every last goblin away again.

_Oops.  
_

* * *

_Annoyingly, this was supposed to be a chapter where Sarah got all kick-ass and gave His Nibs what-for, but that flippin' Jareth always has to turn it round again. Grr. At least she got a couple of good hits in._

_Thanks to **takininja13,** **petersgirl21 **and **TheRealEatsShootsAndLeaves** - I'm glad that Sarah is relatable (she's very similar to me in lots of ways, but at the same time, really not) and also not just jumping headlong into the King's bed too. My favourite part of their relationship is the push-and-pull, so I like the angsty fluff rather than the 'yay goblin sex!' all the time. **  
**_

_I'm going to be awkward and do some _sharing_ - I'm currently having quite a hard time, what with uni work being stressful (I am actually getting it done, I promise) and my boyfriend living in Australia which, well, isn't working out too great. So... your reviews do mean the world to me. Sometimes knowing that someone considers anything I say worthwhile or enjoyable just gives me that lift I need. _

_Enough emotional blackmail. Thanks as always for reading. L&G! _


	12. Chapter 12

_Sorry guys, life is really crazy right now. There might not be any updates for a few days. But keep reviewing please! :D _

* * *

_All right, Sarah. Let's assess this situation logically. What do you notice about the present circumstances?_

_Number One: You may have pushed him just a little bit too far this time._

She was inclined to agree with herself. She should've just left it when he was open-mouthed at her audacity. She'd keep that in mind for future reference.

_Number Two: The Goblin King is very, _very_ close to me right now. _

He'd caught her by surprise and before she could use her arms to block him effectively; as a result, her hands were up against the wall by her head in a most uncomfortably vulnerable position. She was crushed against his chest and he was glaring down at her through the tangles of his pale hair.

_Number Three: Oh God, my body is doing that melty thing again. _

His legs were entangled with hers and he was so warm and so _real_ against her that she was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe.

_Number Four: By all that glitters, he smells GOOD. Like leather and mixed spice and magic. Not that that makes any sense._

It was like the nicest aftershave she'd ever smelt, but a hundred times more enticing. Uh oh, she was beginning to feel lightheaded.

_Conclusion: This is bad. Very bad. Get out while you still can._

She collected herself and tried to push him off her, but all that did was shove certain parts of her even closer to certain parts of him, so that was a Bad Idea. _New plan, please, brain._

He was still frowning at her. Her brain decided that it was a good idea to be flippant.

"You really like pinning me up against walls, don't you?" she said breezily. Or it would have been breezily, if she'd been slightly less breathless and melty. It came out higher pitched than she'd have liked, but hey, she'd take what she could get. After all, she had a feeling that not many women would survive being in this position for long with their sanity intact.

His lips stretched in something that couldn't exactly be called a smile. He really did have sharp teeth. "An eye for an eye, Sarah. You sacrifice my dignity, I sacrifice yours. And let me just say this before you get any ideas…" He leaned down to whisper in her ear as he had the last time she'd seen him. She could feel the tension in his chest and arms. Yep, he was angry. "If you ever _dare_ to humiliate me in front of my subjects again, Sarah-mine, the consequences will be serious."

How the hell did he manage to drape such a threat in butterscotch and chocolate? His voice alone made her weak at the knees. Not to mention the suggestive images it was planting in her mind's eye. She flushed hotly.

"All right, Jareth," she gasped. "You've made your point. Now let go of me. We have things to discuss."

"Actually…" He bent his head even closer to her and she felt his lips brush, ever so lightly, the side of her neck. She shivered and fought the urge to close her eyes and just lean into him. _He's too good at this._ "I'm not sure that I wouldn't rather _discuss_ things like this. I don't know about you, precious, but I'm rather enjoying myself at this moment in time." He kissed her neck softly and laughed at the way her breathing hitched.

"Get _off_ me!"

"How about… no," he offered lightly. His breath was hot against her skin. He kissed her again, this time lower down towards her collar bone. If he kept this up she would agree to anything, mortality and freedom be damned.

"How about if you ever want an answer to your question, Your Majesty, you'd better do as I ask you!" It was the best thing she could come up with and she had little hope of its efficacy, but to her surprise he sighed – raising goosebumps on her arms – and then stepped back. _Wow. He must be serious about this answer thing if he'll give up a physical advantage over me to hear it._

He was still unnervingly close, but at least she was less dizzy now. She tipped her head up and scowled at him. "That was really unnecessary."

"As was your mocking of me," he pointed out, and she had to admit that he had a point. Still. _Don't back down._

"Maybe so, but you started it. And I may have made a joke about it, but I still don't appreciate you comparing me to other women, Jareth." The instant it was out of her mouth, she regretted it. It revealed too much of herself, of her feelings towards him. She half expected him to tease her again, but instead, as if a veil had dropped, he gave her a look that was so direct, so honest, she could do nothing but forgive him.

"I did not intend my apology to be anything other than sincere," he told her quietly, and somehow she believed him. "I am truly sorry if what I said was offensive to you. You are right. You deserve my respect, and I must earn yours."

Sarah didn't reply for a moment. Why did he do this to her? One moment he was a beautiful, annoying, manipulative bastard, and the next he was offering her his heart with a naked authenticity that couldn't do anything other than move her.

She walked away from him, needing respite from his heady scent. This felt so dream-like. Outside, the sky was beginning to cloud a little. The street looked ordinary enough, with its upended rubbish bins and solitary stray cat wandering along the road, to convince her of her own wakefulness. Maybe Jareth was right when he said that dreams and reality could be the same. It was just that she was so afraid that it was too good to be true.

"Your time is up, Sarah." He was right behind her now, though she hadn't heard his approach. "Do you have your answer ready?"

Was it her imagination or did his voice tremble just the slightest bit?

She wasn't stupid. She knew that this meant a lot to him. She knew that so much depended on her next few words. It was frightening and exhilarating to have so much power.

Oh, this was going to be hard.

"Yes, I have an answer."

She could _hear_ the tension behind her.

"But first I want to hear your question again." She still hadn't forgotten the lessons learnt so long ago in the Labyrinth. _Not everything is as it seems. Say your right words. _

"Sarah, will you come to the Labyrinth and be my Queen?"

Jareth's beautiful voice was like a caress and she wondered momentarily if he was using magic to try and convince her; but somehow she didn't think he'd stoop to that. No, she had a feeling that he was asking her because he wanted a real answer.

She took a deep breath.

"No."

* * *

_I believe this calls for another... DUN, DUN, DUUUUUN!_

_Sorry. Mean cliffhanger. I have essays to write. *buries head in sand*_

_Thanks to: **UndergroundDaydreams**, whose fics are absolutely AMAZING - go check them out if you haven't already! - and who made my day by reviewing every single chapter; **Tierney**; **Honoria Granger** as always;** DragonRose4**;** petersgirl21** - I know what you mean, though in my head they're actually a little more Jane Eyre-ish; and** tonemara.** I owe you :D love and glitter! __  
_


	13. Chapter 13

_Thanks to everyone who reviewed - ha, now I know that unexpected cliff-hangers bring you all out of the wood-work... I won't be posting for another few days now so this chapter is extra-long and extra-good in reparation :D_

* * *

It was as if someone had brought down the temperature in the room by several hundred degrees. Sarah cringed, knowing that the silence behind her was merely a precursor to Jareth's rage, the calm before the storm. The very air crackled with electricity. She didn't dare look behind her.

_Be strong. _She wanted to whimper, to cry out a different answer, but to do so would be to lie to herself.

_Just please don't let him disappear before I can explain._

"May I ask why?"

It sounded like he was speaking through gritted teeth. Something in Sarah ached at the barely-hidden brokenness in his voice. Something in her longed to comfort him. She steeled her resolve.

"Because you didn't give me a viable choice."

"What do you mean?"

She let herself hope that things might, after all, go well. The fact that he was still here and not back in the Underground in a towering rage showed that his thirteen hours spiel had been just a bluff, an attempt to call her out. He cared enough about the outcome of this conversation to stick around. A warm glow in the region of her heart almost made her smile, but she schooled her expression carefully. A lot of things depended on this.

She turned round, and was afraid.

Anger made Jareth beautiful, more beautiful still than he usually was. It emphasized the deep inhumanness of his face, the fey light in his eyes, the grace and nobility in the hard lines of his features. His eyes no longer held that hint of warm green; they were colder than chips of ice, and they were fixated on her with a deep and terrible pain that made her catch her breath.

"Do you mean to tell me," he said in a voice that was all the more dreadful for its utter coldness and calm and quietness: "Do you really mean to tell me that I have turned the world upside down, I have moved the stars, I have re-ordered time for you _again_, only to be told that I am not being fair?"

She had to be careful. Too indignant and angry in return, and she'd lose him. Too reserved, and he'd think he'd lost her.

"Consider the choice you gave me, Jareth," she said quietly. "Either to never see you again, or to immediately accept and become your Queen. To lose my family, my friends, my studies, perhaps for ever. You gave me no information. No in-between. Did you really expect me to give up my entire life for someone I barely know?"

Jareth did not answer her immediately but she could see in his reflective eyes that she had given him pause for thought, surprised him. Good. He had to learn that she was no longer a child. He had to know that she was a woman who would not let herself be trampled over. Particularly not in a decision that was so vital.

"Perhaps I was wrong," he said slowly at last, and only someone who knew him with the same instinctive knowledge with which Sarah did could have seen how much it cost him to admit it.

"Yes," she answered, and saw again that he was surprised. No one had answered him truthfully before? "Yes, you were wrong. You were thinking only of yourself. If we are ever to have a relationship, it must be on equal footing. That is the only love and the only marriage I will ever accept."

A sudden flame of hope in his eyes, but he quenched it. He was so afraid of showing his feelings, she realised with compassion. Afraid of rejection and of being hurt. That was why he cloaked the truth in time limits and masks. They were both afraid.

In that moment, she knew she was making the right choice.

"If?" was all he said, trying to sound indifferent.

"I said no to your request now, Jareth. I didn't mean that I'd never say yes. I just meant not now."

"Explain what you mean before I crush it out of you," he growled. _That sounds more like the Jareth I know._

"Okay. Cards on the table, Jareth." She perched on the edge of her desk and swung her feet. Jareth stood in front of her with arms crossed and slanted eyebrows drawn together in a deep frown. He waited. _Crap, I had a speech all planned out and now I can't remember any of it._ "You say that your… actions, shall we say… in the Labyrinth were you courting me. Now, leaving aside the _tiny_ matter of you _kidnapping my baby brother_, let's assume that that's the case. Well, obviously it didn't work, since you're here now, and you admitted yourself that I was too young and too innocent to understand anything at the time. Right?"

"I suppose so," he said grudgingly. He clearly had no idea where she was going with this. _He looks ridiculously adorable when he's confused. Shutupbrain. _She continued.

"And this is your second attempt at said courting. But Jareth, you've done it again. You've misjudged me and my expectations. And do you know why? Because you don't _know_ me. And because I don't know you."

"I know you better than you know yourself, Sarah," he said simply, and a part of her acknowledged that he was telling the truth.

"Yes, you do, in one way. But in others, you really don't! What course am I studying, Jareth?"

He blinked. "Some kind of… er…"

"French, Jareth, I'm studying French."

"All right, you're studying French!" he said impatiently, making a dismissive hand gesture. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"You were right about my dreams. I _do_ want a home and a family and security and romance. And, well…" She was blushing again now, _stupidstupid_! "Yes, maybe you could provide those for me. But the point is that I don't _know_ that yet. I need… I need to get to know you, and I need answers for once instead of evasions and mirrors and – and – and ballroom dancing." Jareth looked at her sardonically and she folded her arms and huffed. "Not everything is solved with a pretty dress and a nice song, you know."

"Yes, I believe you made that clear once before," he muttered sarcastically.

"I mean – " she was really getting into it, waving her arms around and pacing around the room – "you just show up here after five years of me _moving on _with my life, you spy on me with bloody goblins, you tell me you want to marry me even though you've never even mentioned the word _love_ to me – "

"Well it clearly wouldn't have got me very far!" he snapped. It seemed his thin veneer of self-control was wearing off. Part of her welcomed this; part of her wanted antagonism, wanted the arguments. She had no idea why, but having a yelling match with the Goblin King was rather enjoyable.

"Oh of course, if you thought for one second that it would get you into my pants you'd have a ring all ready – !"

"I am not trying to get _into your pants_ – !"

"Then what's with all the flipping kissing business, Jareth?" she bellowed at him. "Pushing someone back against a wall and nuzzling their neck – I don't know, doesn't seem like K+ stuff to me – "

"Oh, I know what this is about, this is about you feeling guilty because you _want_ me!" His usually pale cheeks were slightly flushed and his usual perfect composure had definitely cracked a little.

"I do not!" she screeched. "It's not like I've done stuff like that before, I don't know what the usual reaction is – why are you looking at me like that?"

Jareth had narrowed his eyes and given her a speculative look. To her astonishment, he tipped his head back and began to laugh softly. "Ah, Sarah, my poor little innocent Sarah. Forgive me. I did not know."

"Know _what_?" Okay, now she was annoyed. And also a bit scared.

"It was your first kiss, wasn't it?" he said gently.

Suddenly everything seemed very hot. "I – what?" she blustered. "How – no, what – excuse – you – goblins – "

"Sarah," he said softly. His eyes… how could they look so tender when a moment ago they'd been so hard? "I understand. Just tell me what it is you want me to do."

All the wind taken out of her sails, Sarah bit her lip. "I want – " she said, torn between annoyance and wanting to explain herself. "I want… a relationship. No, not even that. I want you to prove to me that you can do this. That _we_ can do this. You've tried it your way twice now, and it hasn't got you anywhere. Try mine this time. I want us to get to know each other without the pressure of… of expectations from _either_ of us."

"So what exactly are you saying?" _He's listening,_ she thought with a rush of relief, and then wondered why she was so happy about that.

"I'm saying that I don't love you, Jareth." _I just dream about you naked once in a while. Crap, I really hope he can't read minds. _"And I'm telling you… to keep trying to change my mind."

He opened his mouth to say something and she added firmly: "But _my_ way. No magic ballrooms. No drugged peaches. No crystal balls… and no time limits."

"What else can I do?" he said indignantly.

"You can be yourself," she said gently.

There was a moment of silence while they each considered the offer on the table. Sarah found herself trembling and hoped he couldn't see. Had she done the right thing? Would he agree? What if he didn't?

"Very well," he said at last, and she let out a shaky breath. "I accept your challenge, Sarah Williams."

"Challenge? It's not a – mmph!"

He'd barely touched his lips to hers last time, but this… this was a _kiss_, unquestionably and most definitely a kiss. And it was new and confusing and _so good_ – he was holding her so tightly that she could barely breathe (_breathing is overrated anyway_) – his lips were so soft and warm – one of her hands slid up, tentatively, to touch his soft hair – and his gloved hands were snaking up her back under her t-shirt –

And then he was whispering in her ear just as he had last time. "But I'd better warn you, Sarah, that I don't play fair. I hope you enjoy the real me."

Before she could reply or collect her kiss-scattered brain, he was gone and she was clutching thin air and shaking glitter off herself. She touched her tingling lips with one finger, wonderingly.

"Cheating bastard," she muttered to herself.

* * *

_Right, time to explain a few things. Number one, this is kind of the end of Part One of this fic, if I can put it that way. Basically the past thirteen chapters (neat, right?!) have been consecutive and were kind of setting-up chapters. From now on, the story will continue in sort of one-shots, cartoon-style. Sometimes the arcs will stretch over a few chapters but they'll be individual little episodes, which was how I originally conceived __(oo-er)__t__he story. Hope that's okay. _

_Secondly, the word 'lemons' has been tossed around with gay abandon. I'd like to take this opportunity to say that (unfortunately) there will be no lemons as such. On the other hand, I can offer you lemonade - i.e. the lemony flavour, but much diluted and with oodles of sugar, though the fruit itself is out of sight. I dislike smut for smut's sake. So I'll leave it to your *cough* wonderful imaginations if they finally manage to get that far. Which may not happen. For a while. _

_Thanks as always for your support. You know what would be really cool? Thirteen reviews on the thirteenth chapter. Just an idea. No pressure. _

_Love and glittery goblins (they got into my supply and now they've covered with it. I call it revenge for stealing my keys and hiding my iPod). _


	14. Chapter 14: Accidental Wishes

_Hey guys. I owe you an apology once more! Life has been pretty busy this week :( however, essay has been handed in and all is well so hopefully there will be slightly more frequent updates from now on. Can't promise anything though - am going home, where small goblins await me..._

* * *

Three days passed, and there was no sign of Jareth. The goblins had returned as usual by the end of the first day but there wasn't so much as a sparkle from their ruler.

Sarah spent the time doing university work, teaching goblins how to knit, and becoming increasingly tense and twitchy. She was convinced that his absence was a deliberate attempt to unsettle her, and in an effort to be prepared for whichever moment he should choose to reappear, she became so high-strung that the slightest noise could make her jump.

A by-product of this stress was a glut of baking, to the point where even the goblins had had enough cupcakes. By the beginning of the third day, which was a Monday, Sarah was forced to bring her latest batch of cookies in to her French conversation class because she'd made so many. Given that she had no excuse for her sudden generosity other than "Well Jareth hasn't turned up yet and I know he's just trying to get to me but it's still driving me crazy so I've been baking nonstop to distract myself," this was fairly humiliating. When she got home that evening, she was once again in a Bad Mood.

It was ridiculously hard to get on with what used to be her normal routine of work, food, a bit of internet surfing and then sleep with the dual disruptions of goblins and their conspicuously absent monarch. No matter what she tried to do – read, watch a movie, make a quiche, paint her nails – she couldn't focus her mind on the task at hand. This became all too apparent when she woke from a reverie (as a matter of fact, she was day-dreaming about smacking the Goblin King over the head with a heavy book – a weirdly satisfying scenario and one that sated her bloodthirsty irritation towards him) and realised that she was no longer painting her toenails but Ginger's arms. Ginger was one of her newest acquaintances and had already shown an alarming tendency to cross-dress. He was currently happily watching as Sarah absently painted pink shimmery stripes along his skin, clashing violently with the bright orange scarf he'd nicked from Beth and was wearing like a toga.

She jerked back when she realised what she was doing (much to Ginger's disappointment) and lay back on her bed with a groan. This was absurd. Jareth shouldn't be in her head to this extent. Only a week ago she'd been perfectly content (_well, more or less_) with her life. She'd forgotten all about the Goblin King (_liar, liar_) and his stupid Labyrinth (_pants on fire_). And now what, he'd turned up twice and she couldn't stop thinking about him? _Fickle, Sarah. That's what you are. _

She sat up suddenly, knocking three goblins off the bed, when a thought entered her head. _He's doing this on purpose. He wants me to wish him here! That's what all this is about! And then he can crow about it and how much I want and need him, etc etc. Ha. As if I'd be stupid enough to fall for _that_. _

She lay back down and contemplated the ceiling for a bit. Her lampshade was really very ugly. Why had she never noticed that before? An indignant squeaking broke out in the corner of the room and without looking she waved a lazy hand in the general direction of the rumpus.

"Jo, Chip, put it down. If you can't share, neither of you can have it." _But maybe… maybe he wants me to think like that. Maybe this is a double-bluff and he's _expecting_ me to figure it out. Maybe his game is that if I don't call on him, he wins._

_No, that would be crazy. Of course he wants me to call on him. _Sarah decided it was pyjama-and-cosy-tucked-in-bed-time, and got up to undress. The goblins dutifully squeezed their eyes shut until her pyjamas were in place, and she handed round their usual quota of Bedtime Marshmallows. (On Sundays they were allowed hot chocolate, but she'd ruled it out as an everyday treat because of the levels of hyperness that ensued.) Once they were all tucked up as normal on her armchair, she got back into bed and pulled the covers right up to her chin, glorying in the warmth and comfort of her bed.

_I could call him. Just to see if he'd come._

_No, brain! Bad! Bad idea! That's just what he wants!_

_Or is it?_

She groaned again, rolling over and shoving her face into the pillow. "This is ridiculous," she said out loud, and then laughed at how silly her voice sounded when it was muffled. "Just go to sleep, Sarah."

But no matter how hard she tried, sleep simply would not come. She counted goblins. Tried to divide numbers by other numbers. Listened to music for a bit.

Eventually she sat up in bed and looked bitterly over at the goblins, who clearly had no problem whatsoever with insomnia. That insidious feeling of loneliness crept over her once more, though she tried to fight it. It was a familiar sensation. She'd never been too good at making friends at school. Everyone had been too obsessed with boys and makeup to be any fun to play with; so she'd spent more time in her room, mirror-chatting to her Labyrinth friends Hoggle, Ludo and Sir Didymus than outside. In sixth form, she'd begun to come out of her shell, and to talk to Hoggle and co less and less. By the time university had uprooted her from home and forced her to make human friends, the Labyrinth was a distant memory in the back of her mind.

Now all her university friends had graduated and were far away, and she was stuck here with no one to talk to. She wondered if Hoggle would come if she called him still. A wave of guilt washed over her as she realised it was the first time in several years that she'd thought of him at all. Some friend she was.

She got out of bed, shivering as the cold night air struck through her thin pyjamas. Pulling a hoodie over her head, she went and stood in front of the full-length mirror on the wall and stared at herself in the darkness. Her skin was ghostly white, her eyes two dark holes in her face. Shivering again, though this time not from cold, she lit a candle or two and then faced the mirror again.

"Hoggle?" she called gently. "Sir Didymus? Ludo?"

Silence. Had she really expected an answer?

"Hoggle?"

The surface of the mirror was ice-cold to the touch; implacable, impassable. Despair threatened to choke her. _I'm alone. No one hears my voice. _

_No one except…_

_Don't do it, Sarah! _

But she wasn't even listening to herself. "I wish the Goblin King would come here right now," she whispered and her voice pooled into the stillness, spreading ripples as over the tranquil surface of a pond.

Not even a flicker from the candles. She waited, her whole body tense, for what seemed like forever, and still there was only silence.

Was that disappointment creeping up on her? She fought it angrily. _No! If anything, I'm relieved. What if he actually had turned up? _She gave a little shaky laugh. _Now that would have been some fun explaining to do. 'I didn't mean it.' Yeah, cos that went down so well the first time. _

She yawned, suddenly feeling her eyelids heavy and her legs wobbly. Sleep, an arbitrary visitor, had decided to finally make its presence felt. Its advent hit her so hard that it took three attempts to blow out the candles, and then it took some time to find the bed in the darkness that this time was friendly and inviting. Eventually she fell, rather than climbed, in and with a sigh of bliss let all her muscles relax into the bed. It was deliciously warm and soft; it folded her in an embrace that felt almost human…

Almost…

_Wait a minute…_

All in a moment, Sarah came violently and fully awake.

There was someone in her bed.

* * *

_Thanks for all the lovely reviews, which made me smile muchly. I love how everyone seems to rather like Sarah when she stands up for herself. Can't stand the soppy, 'Oh-Jareth-says-I-have-to-marry-him-so-I-will' Sarah so often found in fanfic - c'mon, this is the gal who stole Hoggle's jewellery and rescued Ludo from goblins and faced up to the Goblin King in all his glory at the tender age of fifteen! She may make some impulsive decisions sometimes but she will never let herself be short-changed. _

_Though you're right - even kick-ass Sarah may not be able to handle Jareth's sneaky 'courting' ways... _

_Oh, and yes, the story will hopefully have an end at some point. I've a vague idea as to where it will wind up. Right now it's just lots of ideas about fun scenarios for them to find themselves in - if anyone has any fun suggestions, review and include them and I'll consider whacking them in too... _

_Love and glitter, and endless apologies for the late update! _


	15. Chapter 15: Truce

_Seriously? Two reviews? You guys... I am disappointed. _

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Abruptly, all of her senses were on full alert. Whoever was in her bed had both arms around her and was holding her back against a chest that was both very masculine, hard and muscled as it was, and very warm even through several layers of clothing.

"Please tell me that's you, Jareth." Sarah was torn between debilitating anger at his impudence, fear in case it wasn't actually him, and sheer embarrassment at the memory of her recent wish. She also remembered, with growing horror, that she was wearing pyjama shorts and vest and a hoodie, and nothing else. _Oh, crap._

Her unseen companion didn't reply for a moment, instead shifting his position so that he held her even closer, and she suddenly had a large portion of _tingly feelings_ to add to the list of things she felt at this particular moment in time.

Silken hair brushed her neck and cheek. Warm breath ghosted over her skin.

"You know, precious thing, I had a bet with my goblins about how soon you'd be calling on me. I believe I just won three weeks' supply of ale." He was practically purring with self-satisfaction. "They thought I was being overly optimistic, betting on under a week, but they were wrong."

Sarah rolled her eyes at his smug tone, even while shivers danced over her at the touch of his lips on her skin. "Betting for ale? You've sunk to new lows, your majesty."

"I'm not complaining," he said against her neck.

"What are you doing here, Jareth?" He was holding her tightly enough that she couldn't break his grip, and she had a feeling that if she tried to the consequences would not be pleasant.

"Why, answering your wish, princess. Did you know that Sarah means princess in Hebrew?"

She ignored that and its suggestive overtones of _answer my proposal!_ because it was two o'clock in the morning and she just wasn't that strong at this point. "It was an accident," she said shortly, knowing what his answer would be.

Sure enough, he chuckled darkly in her ear. "What's said is said, Sarah-mine."

"Well this wasn't exactly what I had in mind," said Sarah petulantly. "I said that I wanted to get to know you better, not spend the night with you."

"And what better way to get to know me than in the dark?" murmured Jareth in his most persuasive tones. He kissed her softly on the sensitive hollow just under her ear, and her lips parted involuntarily at the sensation, effectively robbing her of speech momentarily. "After all," punctuating his words with slow, lingering kisses along the underside of her jaw, "there are no boundaries… no social niceties… just you, and me, and the dark."

"Stop it," Sarah managed.

"I did warn you that I don't play fair," he reminded her, amusement lacing his velvet voice. "Though I would have thought that you learnt _that _the first time."

"If you'd pulled a trick like this the first time, it would've been illegal in most countries," she snapped.

"Then maybe you should thank your lucky stars that I'm strong when it comes to resisting temptation," whispered Jareth. "Sweet, innocent little Sarah in her pretty ball gown, wide-eyed and open-mouthed…"

She was blushing and sure that he knew it from the heat in her cheeks. "Shut up!"

"If that is your desire, precious thing. Though I confess I was under the impression that you had questions to ask of me?"

"What use would it be to ask _you_ anything?" she couldn't help saying, aggrievedly. "You never give me a straight answer. You twist anything I say to your own ends, and you'll do anything to distract me – not that that's new – " _Except the ways in which you do it. _

He stilled against her, lips to her throat. "Maybe you should try," he said quietly. The vibrations of his voice against her throat weren't unpleasant.

"What, right now?" She was hyper-aware of the fact that one of his hands was tucked under her and the other was on her lower ribs, hot even through her jumper. His every little movement sent shivers through her.

"Yes right now. Why else do you think I came?"

"To do this?" She took advantage of the fact that he'd let go of her a little to squirm round until she was facing him, and then immediately regretted doing so because now they were face to face and only an inch apart.

"Well, maybe," he admitted, his eyes on her mouth. Then he made an effort and looked up into her eyes. In the darkness she could barely make out his features but his gaze almost burned through her. "But I wanted to talk too."

"You did?" Was it ridiculous that she got a warm fuzzy feeling from that admission?

"Yes," he said tetchily. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"Honestly, Jareth? Yes, it is. Particularly when you're all over me like a rash."

A beat, and then he actually let go of her and moved back – not very far, but enough that she could think clearly.

"Is that better?" he said seriously, and in spite of herself she smiled.

"Yes," she answered frankly. She could still feel his gaze on her. He was leaning on one elbow and regarding her through the tangles of hair, just visible in the gloom. Even in the dark he managed to look ridiculously attractive.

"Then make good use of it," he muttered. "Do not underestimate how difficult it is for me to not touch you."

Realising that, in his own way, he was telling her that her wishes were just as important to him as his longing for her, Sarah decided against another feminist rant along the lines of _how dare you see me as an object that belongs to you.._. "Thank you, Jareth," she said cautiously.

A fairly long silence followed, during which Sarah wished she wasn't feeling quite so hot in her hoodie but knowing she was nowhere near brave enough to remove it.

"Go on, then," Jareth said eventually. "Ask."

"I was about to," she said irritably.

"Well?"

"All right, I'm thinking!" Exasperated, she flopped onto her back and closed her eyes. Maybe she was actually dreaming and this was all a product of a fevered, overworked brain. She couldn't decide if Jareth was too _Jareth_ to be a hallucination, or if he was exactly the stuff of her dreams. Eyes still closed, she asked the first thing that came to mind, which was also the thing she'd been worrying about the most.

"Jareth, you said… you said you like your women to be dressed a certain way."

She heard his intake of breath and automatically tensed.

"Yes, Sarah?"

"Does… does that mean…" It shouldn't be this difficult to get the words out, surely? "There have been many… women? In your life?"

She wanted to open her eyes to see how he'd received her question, but she was too afraid, so she just stayed very still and wished she was invisible. She had absolutely no idea what he'd reply, and even less idea as to what she wanted him to say.

Eventually, after a very long pause, Jareth spoke. "I won't lie to you, Sarah. You are not the only woman to have entered my life… or even my bed." Was that shame in his voice? She couldn't even work out how she was feeling. Not surprised, certainly. Upset? Perhaps less than she should be: possibly a small part of her mind had always pictured Jareth as the lover that his voice suggested him to be. "But know this, princess..." and for some reason her heart was skipping a beat… "ever since I set eyes on you, so long ago, it has been only you. Only you now and forever."

Dizziness. She hardly let herself breathe in case it was a dream and she was about to wake up. Now it was his turn to sound uncertain. "Sarah?"

She liked that, liked that he was worried about her reaction. "Mmm."

"What… I mean…"

Sarah took pity on him and interrupted him sleepily. "I'm so tired," she yawned and it was true; sleep, momentarily deferred, had returned with reinforcements. Now that the dreaded question was out of the way, she felt more relaxed than she had been in a while. Automatically, she turned over on her side and snuggled into the pillow. "Can I ask more questions later?"

His voice was amused once again and oddly tender. "Yes. Hush. Sleep, now." Gently, he folded his body to lie next to hers once more, curved round her protectively. She was too sleepy now to protest. The thought did cross her mind that he might be deliberately making her tired, but at this point she didn't care – her bed was so comfy, and he was so nice and warm, and he was stroking her hair and it felt so soothing…

Dimly, through her sleep-mazed brain, she heard him crooning a song that sounded familiar. _I'll be there for you… when the world falls down… _

Her eyes closed fully and she slept.

* * *

_Pleeeease tell me if you do/don't like how it's going... honestly, when I post an update, I'll periodically check my email inbox every few moments just in case someone nice has reviewed. _

_I mean, er, I have a fantastically busy social life and I spend all my time going out, er... _


	16. Chapter 16: Coffee

_Aww, you guys! :') You blew me away with your response to that chapter - genuinely teared up a little bit when I saw twenty-five reviews in my inbox! Thank you so much!_

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Sarah had never been particularly good at waking, but today was definitely worse than usual. She woke up slowly, in stages, and in such a way that she was aware of certain things before others. For example, she was aware that her arm was pinned under something heavy and she couldn't move it, which was upsetting because it was going uncomfortably numb. Gradually, she realised that somebody was holding her very tightly and that was why she couldn't shift position.

It took another few minutes of sleepy struggles to discover that, actually, she was feeling very very irritated. And hot. And longer still to remember who on earth it was whose arms were constricting her own to her side. When the memory finally surfaced, her eyes flew open with shock.

"Jareth?" she snapped – or tried to. Her voice came out more as a croak, which retracted somewhat from the effect she was going for.

"Good morning, beautiful," he purred in her ear.

She made a furious effort to get out of his tight embrace, and she must have kicked or elbowed something sensitive – either that or he'd got the message for once – because a few moments later she was standing by the bed with her arms crossed and glaring at the indolent figure of the king of the goblins. He lay there, reclining on one elbow (she got a momentary image of him wearing a Roman toga and winced at the incongruity), his silken shirt gaping open to the waist and revealing rather more than she needed to see right now, particularly if she wanted to keep a clear head. She was unsurprised to see that he was still wearing those bloody gloves.

"Is there a problem, dearest?" he asked innocently, raising an oh-so-blameless eyebrow.

"What happened to my hoodie?" was the first thing that made its way out of her mouth. His look of innocence, if such a thing was possible, increased.

"Why, Sarah, you were very flushed and restless in your sleep. I came to the conclusion that you were overheated and naturally, I thought you'd prefer to remove a layer than to be drenched in cold water, which was my first idea…"

"Of course you did," she said sarcastically. "Care to explain why you're in my bed in the first place?"

"You did wish for me, my darling." He made a show of examining his gloves for wear and tear as if totally unaffected by the entire conversation. "I'm sorry, was this another of those wishes you didn't mean? Because unfortunately for you I tend to believe most things you say."

Sarah sighed. It was definitely too early to win a battle of words with Jareth, king of twisted meanings. "Okay, okay. I'm just grumpy because I hate being held in my sleep. And I don't really remember allowing you to stay with me all night."

"I may have interpreted your wish a little loosely," he admitted without a single trace of repentance or regret. She shot him another glare and then sighed again, realising that she had no idea what to do now. She'd actually really have appreciated another hour or two of sleep, but she wasn't too happy about the risks of climbing back into bed with him. Then there was the thing of breakfast. What, should she offer him a glass of orange juice and a slice of toast? Okay, this was way too weird to handle right now.

"Where are all the goblins?" No, sleep would have to wait. She was dying for a coffee and the goblins always made it nicer than she could.

"They're currently… indisposed," said Jareth, choosing his words carefully. Sarah rolled her eyes and stomped her way across the room to grab her dressing gown. She really would have to start picking more modest pyjama tops at this rate.

"Okay, well, fine. I need a coffee and there's no way you're getting me back in there, your majesty, so you can either follow me to the kitchen or bugger off back to the Underground to kick some of your hapless subjects around. 'Kay?"

Jareth didn't say anything for a moment and she half-expected him to disappear in an irritated cloud of glitter (which, by the way, was going to take HOURS to get out of the bed as it was). It seemed that curiosity got the best of him, however, for he slid out of the bed and stretched with all the languid grace of a cat. She supposed, a little moodily, that it was too much to expect Jareth to wake up with bed-hair and creased clothes. He looked exactly as usual, except with rather less clothes on. Though he did have boots on over his leggings – had he magicked them on when she wasn't looking or actually slept in them?

"Very well. I'll come and sample this… coffee." He smiled at her and she caught herself thinking that in spite of everything, perhaps it wouldn't be too terrible to wake up to that knee-weakening grin every morning.

_No! Bad Sarah!_

"I have a nine am lecture, so after breakfast I'll have a quick shower and then I'm leaving," she informed him, aware of an increasing sense of unreality. The Goblin King was her _house guest_. She resisted the urge to offer him a towel and show him how the bath taps worked.

It wasn't until they were halfway down the stairs that she realised that she'd failed to factor in her housemates. Oh crap. She had a feeling that Jareth would see absolutely nothing wrong with hanging around her kitchen half-naked (well, almost) and even less so with the conclusions that the others would surely jump to. Well, it was too late now – he was right behind her, stepping delicately on the worn, damp-smelling carpet with an expression of acute distaste. "Is this really where you live, Sarah? It's not exactly fit for a Que– young lady."

"In the real world, Jareth, people have money, or rather they don't. It's all I can afford."

"I see." He refrained from making further comment, though whether that was out of politeness or simply a lack of appropriate words for his dislike, she couldn't be sure. They reached the kitchen without further mishap and she switched the light on, relieved to suddenly remember that on Tuesdays Rowan didn't have lectures until one and Beth would have left the house already so that she could walk into university with Kalum via a coffee shop. Hopefully she'd be safe from any awkward encounters, though perhaps it wasn't a good idea to think that too loudly in the vicinity of Mr Sparkly-Pants.

Aware that she was getting increasingly grumpy, she proceeded to make coffee in complete silence in case she said anything too nasty to him. He had comforted her and answered her question last night, after all, even if his method of comforting was somewhat… inappropriate. Fortunately he didn't make any snarky remarks for once, too busy engaged in watching her with open confusion. It occurred to her that he'd probably never seen anything like what she was doing in her life. Did they have instant drinks in the Underground? Even if they did, it was unlikely that he would make them himself…

"Here you go. Taste it and add as much sugar as you need." She pushed a mug of coffee at him and he took it gingerly and regarded it with suspicion.

"It smells all right," he said grudgingly.

"Hmm?" Sarah was already downing mouthfuls of the scalding hot, delicious liquid and welcoming the rush of the caffeine through her tired brain. She paused for a moment, though, to watch Jareth cautiously sip from the mug, and was infinitely glad she did so – his expression was priceless.

"Are you trying to poison me?" he spluttered when he'd recovered enough to speak. "This is unspeakably disgusting!"

"What are you talking about?" she said indignantly, privately dying to laugh.

"It's as bitter as frostbite!"

"You just need to add more sugar, Jareth." She indicated the sugar pot, patronisingly. He put five spoonfuls into his mug and probably would have carried on until there was no sugar left if she hadn't stopped him. "Try it now."

Jareth scowled at her but, somewhat to her surprise, obeyed. She watched him over the rim of her mug and chuckled internally at his reaction.

"It's still disgusting," he muttered, but he took a second sip. "And it has a nasty aftertaste…" Another. "Well, I suppose it's more palatable than Bog water, at any rate." He appraised the contents of his mug. "Though it doesn't look much different."

"Just admit that you like it, Goblin King," said Sarah teasingly, the coffee having already mellowed her out enough to smile on the outside as well.

"I don't _dis_like it," was all she could get out of him, but he continued to drink and there they were: sitting at a kitchen table, sharing a morning coffee and a conversation that was almost within the bounds of normalcy. Sarah couldn't work out if she was enjoying it or if she was too twitchy in case something went wrong.

"So, Jareth," she said eventually when it was clear that neither of them were going to go the time-honoured Awkward Conversation route and bring up the weather or the state of the government (Jareth would probably declare that they should all be Bogged and take orders from him). "How long, er… I mean… Are you going to be…? Um."

Jareth put his half-empty mug down and regarded her with dark amusement. She wondered briefly if his hair naturally grew at different lengths or if he deliberately cut it that way for effect. With Jareth it could conceivably be either. "I didn't quite catch that, princess."

Irritated, she bristled. "I _meant_, are you going to be hanging around here and annoying the crap out of me for long? I mean you must have some kind of affair to tend to back in the castle – Labyrinth hedges to trim, eggs to collect, you know…" He stared at her without replying for so long that she began to feel intimidated. "I – I mean, I have lectures to go to, and surely you… that is…" Oh God, had he decided to just move in with her until she accepted or turned down his proposal? There was no way That was happening. Except that she had very little idea how to turn him out. Damn.

Instead of answering her question directly, Jareth slid his hand over the table to where hers rested, palm down. Frozen, she watched helplessly as he covered it with his own and then looked up at her again with a world of meaning in his eyes. "You know, Sarah," he said in a voice that was part whisper and part caress, "you are looking exceptionally beautiful this morning."

She stared back at him, painfully conscious of the state of her unbrushed, tousled hair and her smudgy forgot-to-take-the-make-up-off eyes. _Oh Lord, am I blushing? I actually am. How embarrassing. _Before she could respond in any way to _the first direct compliment he's ever given me!_ – he'd leaned backwards, well pleased, and the warm pressure on her hand was lifted. "As attractive as the notion of spending my every waking moment flustering you is, precious…" Her turn to scowl. She aimed a kick at him under the table but, frustratingly, missed. "As you so thoughtfully pointed out, I do indeed have royal duties Underground. So to answer your question, no, I will not be taking up permanent residence here." Sarah let out her breath and felt her shoulders relax with relief, but tense up immediately afterwards when he added: "_However_… You should expect me to be, shall we say, _visiting_ rather frequently. After all – " he made eyes at her over the rim of his now empty mug – "we are supposed to be getting to know one another."

"Well, yes…" she hesitated. She was certain that she'd had a plan in mind, but suddenly it was plain that a series of dates, such as normal people would embark upon, just weren't in Jareth's repertoire. It seemed that she'd saddled herself with a glittery, arrogant nuisance with a tendency to pop up when she least expected it. Brilliant.

"Thanks for the, ah, 'coffee', love. I'll be back." And with a final sharp-toothed grin, Jareth disappeared and Sarah was alone.

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_Seriously, thanks so much for the reviews, I feel way more motivated to carry on writing now :) I'd shout out to everyone by name but believe it or not I do actually have cool stuff to do (okay, it's housework, are you happy?). To answer a few specific things though: _

_- I looove hearing about the times I manage to make you procrastinate. It makes my day. _

_- YESS I have managed to escape the dreaded pitfall of Too Many Labyfic Clichés! Though no doubt I will now be PUSHED into the pitfall by several goblins because Jareth doesn't like it when anyone other than him does Gloating._

_- I'll agree that Sarah copped out a bit in the asking questions department. The explanation for this is that Jareth did indeed, as she suspected, cast a wee sneaky sleepy spell on her so he got cuddlez. (He did warn her.) However, she'll set that straight in the next chapter. She was actually planning to get up this morning and attack him with the rest of her Insecurity Questions, but Grumpy Morning Mood got in the way. _

_- I promise I won't beg for reviews any more (though I expect at least twenty per chapter from now on, yes? Ha, just kidding!)... _

_Love you guys! Glitter muffins for everyone! _


	17. Chapter 17: Answers

_Welp, here come the answers. I hope they're up to your expectations..._

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_Crikey, it's been a long time since I've done something like this. There are probably a million whiny, self-obsessed, teenagey poems and diary entries hidden away somewhere in the depths of _My Documents_…_

"Thank you, Perkin," Sarah said gratefully as the goblin handed her a plate with a perfectly-done slice of grilled cheese sandwich. She took a bite, savouring the warmth and flavour, before returning her attention to her laptop screen.

_New document. Here we go. _

She flexed her fingers, spread them out over the keyboard – and stopped. She had no idea what to write. She'd tried putting her thoughts down in her diary, but she was perfectly aware that the goblins read every single word she wrote in it and reported back to Jareth; and there was the fact that her thoughts flowed more easily when she was typing rather than handwriting. All the same, she had no idea where to begin.

She took another bite of the sandwich and typed aggressively: _Things to Consider. _

_Immortality. Am I going to become a vampire or something so I live forever too? Or am I gonna be stuck growing old with an ever-perfect boyfriend? Is the process painful? Do I have to give up my soul? _

She'd definitely been reading too much _Twilight._ Ah well.

_It doesn't matter what anyone else says, education is important. I want to finish my degree. _

_What the hell am I going to use it for, though?_

_What are the duties of a Fae Queen, anyway?_

_If it involves dancing in the dew on moonlit nights, he can just rule me out._

_Shouldn't a Queen have royal blood? Fairly sure having a name that means 'Princess' doesn't count._

_What the hell does Jareth DO all day?_

_I really, really don't want to be stealing babies all my life. _

_Would I ever be able to see my family and friends again? I refuse to just disappear from the mortal world. _

_Am I mad to even consider marrying him? _

_Is Jareth a good person? But does that even matter?_

_Do I even know him?_

_Do I love him?_

Thirteen questions. How oddly appropriate. She tried to think of another to add, just to screw with fate, but couldn't.

She stared at her screen. Too many questions, really. She'd meant to ask them of him before but he'd disappeared completely the other morning before she could frame them, and since then the only sign of him had been a white feather or two scattered around her room. She knew he was watching her, as always. She also knew that he was waiting for a summons, so he could shove it in her face like he had last time. She wasn't about to give him that satisfaction.

At least it had given her the chance to get some work done. She went through all her essay documents and saved them again, just in case, and then got up with a sigh. She had ridiculous amounts of washing up to do and it just wasn't fair to leave it _all_ to the goblins. Besides, Beth and Kalum had decided to be cute and bake cookies in the kitchen so she'd banned all her little attendees from entering it for a while. No matter how hard they argued that their invisibility was fool-proof, she remained convinced that Kalum and Beth would freak out if they saw dishes being washed by invisible goblin hands.

The kitchen smelled heavenly – of cinnamon and cake mixture. The two love-birds were busy icing cookies and having little mock fights over who got to use the knife; there was icing sugar everywhere. Sarah tried to imagine Jareth baking, and failed miserably. Grinning, she answered Beth's distracted greeting and got to work on the pile of washing up she'd been too lazy to tackle over the last couple of days.

When she came back upstairs, with reddened hands but a sense of satisfaction at a job well done, the goblins were suspiciously quiet as she walked in. Usually they got excited whenever they saw her, even if she'd gone to the bathroom and come back a moment later; but now they all kept their eyes down on whatever they were doing. Sarah eyed them apprehensively, but nothing seemed to be amiss: the supply of marshmallows, when she checked, was still intact and nobody had been eating her printer paper.

Suspicions momentarily allayed, she sat down to her laptop and clicked back onto the document she'd been writing – and blinked in shock.

Instead of the paragraph of neat, Times New Roman pt. 12, there were two entire pages of writing – and it was in some flowing, italic, imitation handwriting script that she didn't recognise.

It took her about five seconds to work out what had happened, and then she wondered how she hadn't noticed the traces of glitter on the keyboard.

With a strange mixture of apprehension and relief, she read the message.

_While I find it inordinately amusing that your instinct is to confide in a machine rather than anything else – how very human, Sarah my love – I must confess that this makes it easier to explain current circumstances without you nitpicking and having emotional mortal responses all over the place. And since these questions (for reasons which are, at present, beyond me) are clearly of great importance to you, here are my answers._

_Your mortality remains in your hands. If you choose to cling to your humanity, rest assured that I will not resent your choice. Your outward appearance does not affect my feelings for you (as compelling as it currently is). And though my life spent with you were to be only a few decades, passing within a moment, I have spent centuries alone: I can do it again. _

_If, on the other hand, you chose to fully accept what I am offering you, immortality would be yours at the moment of our marriage. Regretfully, I cannot convey exactly how this would affect you physically. However, you may be certain that it is _not_ painful, nor would you become a vampire. (Really, the _Twilight _series? You can do better, Sarah.)_

_I must agree in the matter of education, though the value of your current mode of learning is debatable. However, I am perfectly willing to wait for you to obtain this 'degree' if that is your wish. Whatever impressions you may have of me, I have no desire to keep you ill-informed or subordinate. If and when you chose to accept my suit, you would naturally receive lessons from me on how to run the Underground kingdom that is my domain. Your duties as Queen would include helping me to settle disputes, divide land, keep the Labyrinth in check and regularly patrol it to ensure that everything is running smoothly, and generally support me in my Kingship. There are, of course, additional events which would involve interaction with other Fae beings; however these are of minor importance and merely involve a little dressing up and play-acting on our part. _

_If dancing on moonlit nights is really so distasteful you can always feign a mortal illness; I'm quite confident that the Fae know little enough about your kindred that they will not question us too closely. _

_You are right, princess, in that your name does not confer any royal status upon you. However, there is no law to prevent me taking a mortal wife. Granted it is a somewhat unorthodox move, but as King of one of the more important parts of the Underground there are very few who can claim any sort of jurisdiction over me. _

_I regretfully refrain from telling you exactly what 'the hell I do all day': you must leave me some mystery, love. But I can assure you that it is not stealing babies, as you so gracefully put it. You appear to be labouring under the misapprehension that when mortal children are wished away to me, I perform acts of a most barbaric and unkind nature. I do not eat children, nor do I turn them into goblins, who are a species in their own right. The children who are wished away by carers or family members who are not able or willing to run the Labyrinth are adopted into Fae families and will become immortal. Part of my job is to ensure that the transition is a smooth one and the family of the child concerned have no memory of its existence. _

_Again, Sarah, your seeing your family and friends would be at your discretion. I am able to perform memory charms without undue effort and I can, if you wish, modify the memories of those around you so as not to raise suspicion as to your disappearance. However, regular visits Aboveground could quite easily be arranged. Toby will, of course, always be welcome in my kingdom. _

_Madness is a very subjective state. Some would pronounce you insane merely for your ability to perceive me on a physical and visual level, something that not all humans will be capable of. Others would not hesitate to throw you into an oubliette if you showed signs of wanting to be independent – or has that ridiculous tendency been stamped out in the last century or so? You mortals really are small-minded sometimes. Either way, perhaps it is madness to trust me. But that is for you to decide._

_Ah – the age-old question of whether I am, in fact, a 'good' character. Sarah, love, I'm Fae. Your human concepts of 'good' and 'evil' are alien to my nature. My actions are my own and tend not to be determined by your philosophies. You ask whether that matters – well, does it matter to you? I can promise you that I will not harm you, that you will never have to fear for your life when you are with me, though I have to give my own life to ensure it. But that is all I can promise you. I am not human nor will I ever be, and your standards will never be able to judge me. _

_I believe you have already answered the question as to whether you know me yourself. As I told you, I know you better than you can ever dream of, but you have met me only a few times. Of course you don't know me. I don't see why that matters, to be perfectly honest. _

_As for that last question, well… I'm afraid that _that_ is one I cannot answer at all. _

_Do you, Sarah? _

_**J**_

She read it once, twice, three times: each time with her heart beating in her ears and her fingers cold. A mix of emotions swept through her, leaving her almost light-headed. She didn't know what to think. Some of what he'd said was so _Jareth-y_ – arrogant, self-congratulating, self-assured. And yet there was a thread of tenderness running through his message that was new to her. He'd answered her questions – that, at least, was something. She was so used to his evasions and double-meanings that it was unsettling to have the truth, plain and simple, there on the screen in front of her.

And he'd asked her a question – or rather, turned her own back on herself. She considered it, and its implications, for some time. She had an idea that he was watching her like a hawk, through his crystals or the mirror: partly because of her (admittedly limited) knowledge of his habits, and partly due to the tension in the air and the pricking on the back of her neck.

Did she love him? What a stupid question. Of course she didn't. He was a cheating, conceited, egotistical, smug, self-important, narcissistic, Fae – and she'd spent far too long arguing for the very beginnings of a friendship with him to think of anything as serious as love at this stage.

And yet…

Was the strange sinking feeling somewhere in the pit of her stomach whenever his name crossed her mind anything to do with love? Or the tingle that spread through her at his lightest touch? Slowly, hesitantly, she reached a conclusion.

Underneath his letter, she typed two words. Then she deleted them. And wrote them once more. Before she could change her mind again, she pressed _save_, got up, and ran out of the room – ostensibly to go and grab a drink of water, but in reality (though she'd never have admitted it) to allow Jareth time to read her response.

All the way down the stairs, her heartbeat thumped to the rhythm of the words she'd written.

_Not yet._

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_As always, thank you so much for reviewing. It's so so lovely to hear from you - especially when I make you laugh! _

_I'll agree with everyone who dislikes coffee - I don't actually like it either, even though I'm half Italian. Sarah has weird tastes. Tea all the way! (Wait, can you tell I'm English?)  
_

_I wasn't being serious about the 20 reviews thing, honestly. However, the more I get, the more excited and motivated I become..._

_The Hoggle-not-turning-up thing will be explained at some point, I promise :) _

_Okay now I need to actually get down to some work. Love and glitterrr! _


	18. Chapter 18: Sarah Shares

Sarah stepped out of the shower and, grabbing her towel, wrapped herself in it before the delicious warmth generated by the hot water could dissipate. Glorying in the feeling of being clean again after a horribly long day of lectures, she wrapped her heavy damp hair in another towel and picked up her scattered clothes. She was about to embark upon a time-honoured routine of drawing silly faces in the steamed-up mirror for Beth to find, when a movement just within the edge of her line of sight caught her attention and she stilled, heart beating fast.

Very cautiously, she turned her head to the left and looked again – and breathed a sigh of relief.

On the top of the toilet, crouching among an array of bottles of shampoo, mouthwash, and general cleaning products, was a very shamed-looking goblin. He had his arms round his knees and had evidently overbalanced or wobbled to make the movement she'd noticed, and now he'd put his head down on his arms as if he thought it would make him invisible. Unfortunately, since Jareth's spell had dissipated any glamour around Sarah, nothing could make the goblins invisible to her.

Sarah tried to frown, and failed. She made a point of not having favourites among the goblins, but on pain of Bogging she'd have admitted that she had a bit of a soft spot for Sprog. It was something to do with how endearingly small and ugly he was.

"What are you doing here?" she said with as much crossness as she could muster, which wasn't much. "You _know_ I banned you lot from staying in here – "

"I'M SORRY LADY SARAH!" squeaked Sprog. "I keeped my eyes shut, I promise!" He squeezed his eyes closed to demonstrate, and then opened one just enough to peer through it to see if Sarah believed him. He looked so ridiculous that she had to laugh.

"All right, just this once I won't tell Jareth that you are annoying me, but if I catch you in here one more time…"

"I just wanted to be wiv you," explained Sprog, so innocently that Sarah melted. "I like you!"

"Oh, come here, you silly goblin." She put out her free hand and Sprog crawled into it happily and curled into her palm. After some juggling trying to unlock the door when she was loaded with both goblin and clothes, she managed to get out of the bathroom and walked down the corridor, smiling at the way Sprog felt like a warm little kitten in her hand. She opened her bedroom door – and dropped the goblin (who bounced like a ball and picked himself up with an excited squeal).

"Crikey Moses!"

"How Biblical of you," drawled the present occupant of her comfy green armchair, who was lounging gracefully with a leg hooked over one arm of the chair in a pose clearly designed to dazzle and intimidate. He had his chin propped in one gloved hand, and he was taking in her state of undress with an air of pleased non-surprise that was very irritating. Sarah clutched her towel closer around her chest and wondered for one panicked moment if he could see through material – but no, that was ridiculous, right?

"What the hell are you doing here?" she said rudely, acutely aware that she was carrying her clothes under her arm but not daring to put them down in case something (to borrow Jareth's word) 'incriminating' fell out.

"I do rather like the way you persist in asking me that question when we've already established, several times, that you know perfectly well _why_ I am here, Sarah."

"Okay, to rephrase, idiot, why are you here _now?_ Do you make a point of turning up at the worst possible times?"

"I beg to differ, precious; I'd call them the best possible times," he pointed out gleefully.

Sarah made a frustrated noise and would have added a rude hand gesture, but her towel slipped dangerously and she only just grabbed it in time to rescue her dignity. "You are so – "

"Incorrigible? Attractive? Delightful?"

"Unwelcome!" she snapped. "Jareth, get out, I need to change!"

"No can do," he drawled, enunciating the colloquialism with devastating correctness. "Dreadfully sorry."

"Jareth, get out of that chair or I'll – "

"Make me," he said gleefully, flashing her a glimpse of his pointed teeth. Sarah fumed. If he'd been a boy her own age she might have had a small chance of tackling him and dragging him out, but as it was there were only dangerous consequences down _that_ road. Plus there was the insignificant fact that she was pretty much naked right now.

"FINE," she snapped. He watched her, amused, as she flounced around the room picking up clean clothes, all the while trying to hold her towel as modestly as possible. When she'd found everything she needed she slammed the door and stomped off back to the bathroom to change. By the time she came back, fully dressed and with slightly drier hair, her mood hadn't improved much, but she'd also developed clammy hands and a racing heartbeat because she'd suddenly remembered the last thing she'd said to him. What if he was here to demand clarification on the 'not yet' fiasco?

But when she cautiously poked her head round the door he was engrossed in one of her old photo albums and practically ignored her entrance. He was surrounded by goblins, perching on the back of the armchair and (the brave ones) on his shoulders, all commenting loudly on the various photos of her as a fourteen-year old with new-born Toby.

"Jareth…" she said half-heartedly, but at least it was keeping him quiet and, well, if he couldn't handle her at fourteen with the awful hair and the braces, he wouldn't be able to handle her at her worst now.

"Shh, precious, I'm enjoying this. What on earth were your parents thinking?"

"What do you mean?" she said, curious in spite of herself, and came over. Jareth pointed at a photo and she chuckled, perching on the arm of the chair and leaning over his shoulder. "Oh, that! That was at Halloween. I was dressed up as a witch."

"Witches don't look anything like that," he argued. "Why is your face green?"

"It's face paint. I had a horrible allergic reaction to it the next day…" She turned over the page and laughed at his reaction to very red-faced puffy teenage Sarah.

"That's… attractive," he said dryly, and she grinned in agreement. "What is this Halloween, anyway?"

"It's…" she began, but a sudden image of Jareth being assaulted by goblins all wanting to carve pumpkins and dress up and paint their faces flashed through her head and she changed her mind. "…Just an Aboveground thing, never mind."

"Hmm." He flipped the page and studied a photo of the Williams family smiling into the camera. Karen was holding Toby as a tiny baby, and Robert had one arm around her and the other round Sarah, who was the only one not smiling. In fact, she was positively glaring. "Why do you look like you swallowed a pint of Bog water?"

Sarah twisted her mouth. "It was hard for me," she said eventually.

"Hard how?" Jareth bent his head back to look up at her. "You had a mother and a father and a brother – a whole family. That's more than many people have."

She looked at him, taking in the sympathetic green tint in his blue eyes and the genuine desire to know what it had been like for her. He really did want to see things from her side. She was so intrigued by this that she didn't notice that the goblins had tactfully disappeared. "Yeah, I did, but I felt like I wasn't even part of the family sometimes. I was part of my dad's… baggage. Left over from his previous life. An annoying but unavoidable problem – that was me. And then Toby came along, and Karen and my dad had this perfect little family, and they never argued like he used to with my mum, and I was just a reminder of every mistake he'd ever made."

Talking about it brought a lump to her throat. She'd never told anybody that, not even her parents once her relationship with them had improved. Jareth had closed the album and was giving her his full attention now, but she barely even noticed. Words poured out of her.

"I knew that I was acting like a spoiled brat a lot of the time. I guess I thought of myself as, you know, the princess in a fairytale. That was why I loved 'The Labyrinth' so much. I got to be the heroine of the story and be special and beautiful and amazing. Instead, in real life, I was the bratty teenager who stomped around the house and answered back and was rude all the time. I knew that they were disappointed in me but I just couldn't stop. I felt like they didn't love me, they just tolerated me.

"And then I'd try and remember what it was like when my real mum was around and that made it worse because the older I got, the more I realised she didn't want me, either. She was too glamorous and busy to bother with a daughter who made her look older than she was trying to appear. She'd call, every now and then, and I'd sit and cry when she hung up because her voice was so beautiful. Isn't that ridiculous?" She sniffed, desperately trying to hold back the tears that overwhelmed her as she remembered. "It _was_ hard, Jareth! I had nobody to turn to – nobody except Merlin and my books and toys. I wanted to grow up and be responsible and generous and good, but nobody seemed to care about me unless I was throwing tantrums and screaming the house down. It felt like nobody loved me." She tried to laugh, and ended up making a ridiculous sobbing sound.

"Sarah!" Suddenly warm arms were around her, and her arms were around Jareth's neck, and he was holding her close to him and letting her cry. "Sarah, of course they loved you. They didn't always get it right, but they did love you and care about you. You were never alone."

"I know," hiccupped Sarah against his chest. She took a deep breath, and calmed down a bit. No matter how she felt about Jareth, right now his embrace was what she needed. "I know," she said again, leaning her head against him. "It was just difficult back then. But things got better. I grew up a lot when I met... when I ran the Labyrinth. And having friends accept me just for who I was – that made enough of a difference for me to want to try again with my parents. And it did work. We're close now. And I'm so lucky to have Toby."

"But…?"

"But – " she gave a deep, shuddering sigh – "sometimes I see families, or hear about my friends' brothers and sisters, and realise how much I missed out on."

"Mmm." He was playing with her hair and it felt incredibly soothing – wait a moment, was she actually standing in the middle of the room hugging the Goblin King? She extricated herself from him and stood back, embarrassed.

"Sorry about that. I – I just… maybe I'm tired. It's been a long day. Anyway, I have three chapters to read and write a review of in French, so I'd better get on with that."

"All right," said Jareth quietly, and she couldn't tell what he was thinking. "Can I stay?"

"Stay?" She paused in the act of opening her bag. "What do you mean?"

"Just sit here for a bit." Pause. "With you."

Sarah looked down and took the book out her bag with hands that were suddenly a bit shaky again. "Okay. If you want."

"Thank you." He picked up the photo album and put it carefully back on its shelf, then sat down on the armchair and proceeded to open one of her books of fairytales and become engrossed in it. Not knowing what to make of this, Sarah sat on her bed, tucked herself comfortably in the duvet and began to read as well.

Five minutes later, Jareth spoke without looking up from his book, with an air of smug certainty.

"You know, precious, when _we_ have children we'll make sure they're always loved and happy."

Sarah threw her water bottle at him.

* * *

_Whew. Poor Sarah - to be fair, she did have a lot to deal with. I'm very lucky to have a close and loving family. _

_Interesting fact: it turns out that an unexpected side-effect of having this story be so vivid in my head is that every time I walk into my room, ESPECIALLY after showering, I am very very cautious in case somebody unexpected is sitting in my armchair... _

_Anyone spot the _Ten Things I Hate About You_ reference? xD_

_Also, I know it's hard to imagine Jennifer Connelly looking anything other than drop-dead gorgeous, but for the sake of our sanity let's pretend that she was an awkward adolescent..._

_There are multiple spin-off opportunities in this chapter. Anyone who fancies a go at a one-shot Goblin Halloween (with Jareth being driven up the wall), or Jareth's point of view as Nearly Naked Sarah walks through the door, or what would happen if she did actually try and make him get out, would be most welcome. Send 'em in. _

_L&G. Oh, and one more thing: my housemate (yes, the usual one) and I have discovered that if you leave a strategic pause before the last word/phrase of any... sentence, you can make it sound quite... suggestive. Particularly if you imagine Jareth saying it. He definitely is aware of and frequently employs this tactic. All's fair in love and... war. ;)_

_P.S. (Sorry, my A/Ns are getting ridiculously long!): I love it when I drag people out of lurker mode to review, it's a most... satisfying feeling. Also, is it weird that I got very excited that I made Guest burn their lunch in excitement? My deepest... apologies. ;) _


	19. Chapter 19: Jareth 'Shares'

_Also known as: ZOMG DRAMA!1! Be prepared..._

* * *

Two days later, Sarah still got a little warm glow when she thought about that evening. It had been quiet and calm, no awkward tension or meaningful glances after that first half hour, and Jareth's companionship as she worked and he read had been oddly… uncomplicated. A bit of teasing (she may or may not have called him Mr Sparkly Pants to his face; his defence was that the glitter was unconscious – mainly), some light conversation, and then he'd bowed to her, kissed her fingers (her cheeks flushed slightly at the memory of it), and left.

She was so busy concentrating on how soft his lips had felt against the back of her hand that she very nearly walked into a lamp post, and her companion, Erica, had to haul her out of harm's way. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing," said Sarah absently, but she couldn't keep a little smile off her face. They trudged onwards down the street in silence for a little while.

"You know what I really hate about winter coming on?" remarked Erica. Sarah started and glanced at her.

"What? Sorry, I was… thinking. What did you say?"

Erica repeated her comment with a grin. Sarah shrugged. "The fact that the leaves on the pavement form a surface slippery enough to trip even normal people up, let alone those crippled by clumsiness and a lack of balance?"

"Close enough," Erica laughed. "But no, I hate how it gets dark this early. It's only five o'clock!"

"I know," commiserated Sarah. "And it's just so cold and miserable coming home from lectures at this time."

"Ah well," said her friend philosophically, pulling her woollen hat tighter over her dark curly hair. "Tomorrow is another day, and all that. See you in Conversation." She gave Sarah a bright wave and turned off down her street.

"Bye!" Sarah called after her. Usually at this point she'd be attacked by a wave of depression, knowing that nobody would be home and she'd have to work for a couple of hours, make supper and then go to bed; but since Jareth had decided to let her see the goblins, homecoming had become something to look forward to rather than dread. Today of all days she was going to appreciate being looked after, because it had been a horribly long, exhausting day and she just wanted to relax.

So when she let herself in the front door and Perkin and Jumble _weren't_ there to meet her with a cup of tea and a piece of toast, and Sprog wasn't bouncing around with excitement because she was home, and Dodi wasn't brushing off her coat, and Bumble wasn't politely enquiring after her day, it was rather a rude awakening and Sarah was Not Happy. The absence of the goblins could mean either of two things – one, that her housemates were around, or two, that Jareth had sent them away. Since it was Thursday night, so Beth was at Kalum's, and Rowan always stayed in the library until nine in the evening, she was going for the latter.

"I really hate it when you just send the goblins away," she said crossly before she'd even opened her bedroom door, knowing what she would find. Jareth didn't bother looking round, too busy smirking to himself as usual as he lounged gracefully on her bed.

"Temper, temper, Sarah," he said lazily. "You're getting spoiled."

"Spoiled?" Sarah took her coat off with unnecessary violence and threw it on the floor. A brief glimpse of her reflection, red-cheeked and messy-haired from the long walk home, did not improve her mood in the slightest. "How the hell am I spoiled, Jareth?"

"You whine whenever you don't get your way, haven't you noticed that?" He finally looked up at her and she was startled, just for a moment, to see that there wasn't a gleam of humour in his eyes as there usually was. The thought crossed her mind that maybe he was angry with her, but she dismissed it, too annoyed to bother with his complicated emotions.

"Just because I would appreciate some _company_ after a long, hard day does not mean that I always have to get my way," she said bitingly, finding her biggest, baggiest hoodie and pulling it over her head.

"There you go again. Whine, whine, whine. It's like hearing a toddler moan. Don't you get sick of the sound of your own voice?"

Sarah paused in the middle of brushing her hair out and turned to face him, mouth open. "Did you actually just say that?"

"I believe I did," was Jareth's emotionless response. His face was a blank, but there was a shadow over it that made her oddly nervous. What was wrong with him?

"You know what, Goblin King? You can just bloody well leave. I so don't have time for this."

Jareth sat up and she instinctively took a half-step back. "I will leave at a time of my own choosing, Sarah Williams, and not when you order me to."

Sarah was so angry that she actually stamped her foot. "GET OUT!" she yelled. "I do not need to deal with this shit when I've had the worst day ever and all I need is some peace and quiet!"

"I told you, precious," Jareth said coldly, and something about his eyes made a cold shiver run down her spine, "I won't leave until I choose to, so you can shut your childish mouth unless you have something more polite to say to me."

She almost argued back, but something stopped her. She finished brushing her hair in a sullen silence, then she sat on her armchair and curled up with her head on her knees, battling a mixture of fury, despair and a horrible urge to cry.

"Is something wrong, Sarah?" He sounded so sarcastic that she wanted not to reply, but somehow she was already answering.

"Of course something's wrong. I'm tired and I'm cold and my head aches and I'm sick of being so bloody lonely all the time."

"Why should you be lonely?"

Sarah raised her head and looked at him bitterly. A very small part of her noted how unfair it was that he could look at her as though she was the scum of the earth and still be the most beautiful person she had ever seen. "Really, Jareth? Does my life seem so fun-filled and sociable to you that you find that surprising?"

"You have friends here, and you still speak to your family," he pointed out.

"Oh, right, like it's any use trying to explain it to _you_," she exclaimed, throwing an arm out. "You don't even know the meaning of the word friend."

"Is that so?" His voice had gone very, very quiet, and she would have noticed the danger signal if it hadn't been for a sudden thought striking her.

"That reminds me. The other day I called Hoggle, and he didn't come. Why didn't he come?" She almost forgot her irritation with him in the desire to find out what had happened to her old friends.

Jareth got off her bed in one fluid movement and went to study the opposite wall, where she had her photos stuck up. "He didn't come because I didn't allow him to."

"What do you mean?" she said suspiciously.

"I banned your 'friends' from visiting you two years ago."

"You _what_?" Rage poured through her like a fire burning through her veins. "How dare you?"

"How dare I?" He turned round and she saw, with a shock of fear, that he looked more inhuman and more frightening than he'd ever appeared before. He was so angry that sparks of electricity snapped in his hair and at his fingertips. "How _dare_ I? Why shouldn't I? Why should they be able to see you when you so resolutely ignored my existence? Why should you have the pleasure of their company when you were forgetting about me entirely? You took and you took and you took from me. You rejected my offer, you turned down your dreams, you had the gall to call me unfair and then you walked away without a second glance. Why should I do anything for you? I got tired of letting you have your way, Sarah."

"_My_ way? They were my _friends_, Jareth, they wanted to see me too, but catch you ever doing anything your subjects _wanted_, oh no – "

"Of course," he interjected smoothly and she stopped in the middle of her rant, "you never even tried to call on them during those two years, so my actions were unnecessary."

He had her there, but she wasn't about to give up without a fight. "Still, Jareth, what if I'd needed them and they hadn't come? I told you, being lonely – "

"_You know nothing about loneliness!_" he thundered and she cowered before him in the chair, deadly afraid, more afraid than she'd ever been in his presence. The entire room had gone dark suddenly and all she could see was his face, perfect and beautiful in the midst of his fury. "You know nothing about being friendless! How could you? You, a spoilt, fortunate girl who never wanted for anything? You know _nothing_ about decades, _centuries_ of unbroken silence, of desolation so complete that the very beating of your heart drives you mad!" Dimly, through the terror, she heard thunder outside the room and her own heartbeat rang faintly in her ears. "You have never experienced the agony of eternity, the absolute suffering that is the lack of kindred spirits, the boredom and the solitude and the complete and utter isolation from all of your kind. I moved heaven and earth for you, little girl. And you turned away without a thought. You condemned me to years more of that terrible loneliness without a hope for redemption, and you have the audacity, the sheer impudence, to accuse _me_ of ruining your life? Do not ever speak of loneliness to me again, Sarah."

She couldn't say anything, could only stare at him with wide eyes and panicked breathing and a dizziness in her head as if she was about to faint. Jareth held her gaze for a moment more, his eyes so very fey and cold and venomous, and then he closed his eyes and turned away. He stood like that for a moment, his back to her, and the sound of her ragged breathing was the only noise in the room.

"Six hundred years ago on this day, my parents were murdered," he said harshly. "I have known neither love nor happiness since that moment."

In a second clap of thunder, he was gone.

* * *

_...In which we meet dark!Jareth for the first time, and Sarah learns that standing up for oneself and being selfish are not the same thing. _

_Sorry to everyone expecting more fluff xD unfortunately, Jareth doesn't really 'do' sharing the way normal people do. Sarah does know that that little speech of his was pretty much the equivalent of him sitting down with a cuppa and telling her his life story, and she'll remember that once her heart stops trying to beat its way out of her chest..._

_Thanks as always for your wonderful reviews, you continue to make my day :) please pleeease do continue to let me know what you think of the story and just general reactions! _

_P.S. What Sarah was complaining about, with the leaves and the slipperiness? Yeeah, I have bruises to attest for the fact that it is Not Fun. And they're not in places one can mention in polite company, either. Stupid autumn. _


End file.

Labyrinth, Humor, Romance