Labyrinth 1. Coming Undone

**Fragile**

By: Lara Winner

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Labyrinth or its characters.

* * *

_**There will come a time,**_

_**When I will find a way**_

_**To say what I wanted to say**_

_**To liberate night from the day**_

_**And all this will just go away**_

_**-Wendy Rule "Everywhere and Nowhere"**_

The voice recorder clicks on.

"Session 13. Monday, October 28th. 8:06 am. Patient: Sarah Williams, Age: 20," as his monotone voice pauses, Dr. Mitchell looks up from his notebook, "Would you like to begin Miss Williams?"

I fidget with the plastic identification bracelet on my wrist and look around. There is no one here in the small office but the doctor and myself. That could change at any second so I shake my head and brace myself for the usual probing questions.

"You're looking better today. Did you sleep well last night?" he asks.

I ponder what response I should give. I could give the truth, that I hadn't slept at all, that I was afraid to close my eyes because I knew when I did the nightmares would consume me.

"Yes. No dreams." I lie.

Dr. Mitchell scribbles something in his notes. "And how is your anxiety issue? Is the prescription helping?"

The prescription of Ativan that he'd upped the dosage of twice… "I'm more relaxed, if that's what you mean."

"But your not completely at ease?"

Just beyond the doctor, outside the window, a tree branch moves. I jerk my gaze back to the man across the desk. It's best to focus on the doctor and his nondescript face that is as uninteresting as his voice. Despite my effort remain composed I tense and he doesn't miss the involuntary action.

"Miss Williams what are you feeling right now?"

My line of sight shifts ever so slightly. Amidst the dappling leaves, no more and than ten feet from the window, is a barn owl, perfectly snow white with brown trim. It is still as a statue and staring directly at me.

"Anger. Resentment." I growl hoping that my response carries to the one it is directed at. The ghosting of sharp laughter dances around in my head.

"Do you know what is causing these feelings? Is there a trigger that you can pinpoint for me?"

I continue to stare holes in the harmless looking little owl willing the man concealed within to understand that I am really not in the mood for his crap today.

_Sweetling, I do believe he is waiting for an answer._

I flinch as Jareth's incorporeal voice invades my mind. Ignore him, I remind myself fiercely, don't give him the satisfaction. I don't have to play his games. Never mind that he will pester the damn daylights out of me until he gets a reaction. I can handle the Goblin King. It's me, myself and I that seem to have a problem.

Dr. Mitchell clears his throat and watches me expectantly. The seething anger inside continues to boil like molten lava.

"I can't explain…" I choke out around the frustrated scream building in my chest.

_Of course you can. Simply tell him that the King of the Goblins expects his Queen's undivided attention._

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I need calm. I need control.

"Try Miss Williams. Use anything that comes to mind."

"A poisoned peach that smells like summer." I whisper softly, "A cashmere noose, decadent to the touch but deadly just the same. Or maybe a razorblade hidden in a chocolate truffle. Seems harmless enough until your raw and bleeding…"

More scribbling. "And these metaphors all pertain to…?"

_A poisoned peach. Truly Sarah, how long are you going to hold that against me?_

"As long as I damn well please," I mutter under my breath.

_I can give you forever…_

Soft leather brushes my cheek in a possessive caress. My eyes shoot open as a tingle of fear and stab of yearning course though me with a vengeance. I can't stifle the gasp that flies from my lips.

"Jareth!"

It is a plea. It is a curse. Always a fair mix of both. I nearly topple over the chair as I spring to my feet, searching around frantically, uncertain if it is fight or flight guiding my actions. But it doesn't matter. He isn't there. Even the owl perched outside the window is gone.

However, the perfectly round crystal sitting innocently on the doctor's desk hadn't been there a moment ago.

I reach for it hesitantly, as if it might bite. From far, far away I can hear Dr. Mitchell's voice, loud and more animated than I'd ever heard it in the last seven months since I was institutionalized. Then even that bit of awareness drifts away as the crystal pulls me near. It is smooth yet warm to the touch and is far heavier then I expected as I lift it for closer inspection. Inside is a dream, a bleary swirl of shape and color that slowly sharpens into a clear moving image of bare skin and tangled limbs. Then all around me the dream comes alive.

_Luxurious heat flows like a current, cresting and ebbing. Skin against skin creates beautiful friction. Moans and sighs become a tantalizing song in the language of passion. Pleasure, sweet and sharp, intoxicates the senses. A bitten lip and the taste of copper-_

At the taste of blood I come back to myself. I touch my bottom lip tentatively and realize I have bitten it and my nerves are tingling from denied release.

The furious tension inside me explodes and I throw the crystal with all my might. Glass shatters into thousands of tiny shards. An alarm sounds but I'm too far gone in my rage to take note. The crystal is lying on the floor beneath what is left of the window, surrounded by broken glass and still the explicit dream inside plays on, tempting yet mocking.

I don't think I just grab the nearest large object, a metal trash can, and start bashing at the crystal. I have to make it go away, as if by destroying the dream I can break the hold Jareth has over me.

I scream when multiple pairs of hands begin to restrain me. I thrash and kick and claw but there is no stopping the sting of the needle or the wave of dizziness that comes over me. I don't want to sleep but the sedative I'm injected with says otherwise.

Despite my desperate struggle, the world slips away into a blessed, dreamless darkness.

* * *

My emotions are no longer my own. Some days it's uncontrollable anger. Some days it's paralyzing fear. On good days I'm near giddy with happiness. Today it's utter despair. A dark, deep murky pit that I'm drowning in.

"Forgive me," I sigh despondently, "I am not myself today."

I can see the tip of Jareth's boots in my peripheral vision but I can't summon enough energy to turn my head in his direction.

"So it would seem," he agrees.

My room is tiny and sparsely furnished with a pathetic excuse for a window near the ceiling. I feel trapped in here and the confined space makes the presence of _His Majesty _seem larger than life. But it's not enough to rouse me from my lethargy. There are things I want to tell him and complaints and curses I want to hurl at him. But today I can't bring myself to play our little game. Today I just want to… not be.

Jareth moves to my side almost silently, his footfalls a faint whisper. The lumpy mattress, where I'm sprawled on my stomach, sags a bit with his added weight as he sits with his back to the wall. Soft brown leather and a muscled thigh fills my vision and the scent of pine needles and autumn rain fills my senses. It's a pleasant scent, woodsy yet unearthly with a touch of spice that is definitely not human pheromones.

I close my eyes and breathe.

"Why must you be so damn stubborn?"

I'm pretty sure it is a rhetorical question but regardless I say nothing. I can picture the consternation on Jareth's handsome face just by his thoroughly frustrated tone. His touch, however, is gentle as he takes to stroking his long, tapered fingers though my hair. Today he's not wearing gloves. It's a nice change.

Jareth begins to hum an enchanting melody and for a time it is peaceful between us while I wallow in my personal darkness. We're not always at war, at least when I'm awake that is. Here in the physical world he has no power over me unless I grant him permission. But dreams are a different matter entirely. Jareth reads my dreams as if they were pages in a book and what he learns he uses against me.

He knows I desire him with an intensity that frightens me. He knows that every time he tries to seduce me it's only another step closer to the moment when I finally give in. Even now, tingles run down my spine as he tries to soothe me. Part of me craves him beyond all reason and needs him to consume me.

But I haven't gone completely mad, yet. In my heart I know the price for the smallest taste could be my soul. I'm not quite ready to barter that away, for now.

As if he knows the tenor of my musings, Jareth stops humming to ask, "When was the last time you slept, Sarah?"

I struggle against the listlessness and shrug.

"Let me sing you a lullaby," he entreats, "You need to rest."

I'm not sure I trust his concern, again I shrug.

"So articulate," he laughs snidely, "I do love a one-sided conversation."

Just to piss him off I shrug again.

Ignoring me, Jareth resumes humming but this time words float through my mind, wispy and echoing of a subtle magic.

_How long have you been lost down here?_

Too long, I think to myself.

_How did you come to lose your way?_

Somewhere between the Underground, reality and my self-destructive love for a Goblin King.

_When did you realize that you'd never be free?_

When I looked into the icy blue of his disarming eyes and the world fell down.

As the beautifully cryptic tune dances around my head, I surrender to his power and let sleep claim me from my own misery.

_This time our dreamscape rendezvous is a moonlit garden blooming with red and white roses. In the center is a charming little pond teeming with plump goldfish. Off to the side there is a picturesque arbor with a whitewashed wooden swing. _

_Here the melancholy can't reach me and a carefree laugh bubbles forth because my surroundings are too pretty to be denied enjoyment. _

"_Now there's my Sarah." _

_I turn to Jareth with a measure of wariness. I don't know the game tonight or the rules so I proceed with needed caution. _

"_This place is lovely," I grin impishly, "Postcard or painting?"_

"_My personal gardens," he replies with a touch of pride. His thin-lipped smile turns decidedly wicked. "I could give you an intimate tour."_

_Good heavens the implications in Jareth's tone are pure temptation. In the moonlight he seems to glow, ethereal and untamed. His shirt is open, his skin is luminescent and his black leather breeches are snug in all the right places. From his wild pale hair to the tips of his black boots he is every inch debauched elegance. _

_It takes a good deal of self control to take note of the new rose-framed archways forming in the ivy coated stone walls. He wants to lead me astray down paths that only he can navigate. A younger me might have taken the bait._

_I choose my words carefully, "And I could accept your generous gift but what favor would you ask in return?"_

"_I only require your companionship," he replies, his words velvet but his eyes shrewd._

_I've learned to listen for what is not spoken. "How long am I to keep you company? The duration of a dream? Days? Weeks? Eternity perhaps?"_

_Jareth's laughter is coldly appreciative, "Do we really need such specifics?"_

_My incredulous glare says everything. _

"_Come now," he says, moving to take my hands in his own. Without gloves his skin is warm and softer than a flower's petal. But like everything else about him, their delicacy belies physical strength I could never match. He pulls me closer, lifting my right hand to his lips, "As dearly as I would love to have you at my leisure, dreams are fickle and fleeting. You will give me forever and I will be patient until then. As it is said 'All good things to those who wait'." _

_My pride speaks for me, "How can you be so confident?" _

"_Then release me," Jareth counters, shards of ice lacing his lofty demand. Anger and glimmer of hurt twists his countenance, "Say your right words and revoke your hold on me just as you did when you rejected my feelings. You've had sufficient practice. It should be a piece of cake." _

_I flinch at his scathing remarks, "I never meant to hurt you."_

_Jareth looks away and heaves an resigned sigh, "Intent and effect are not always a linear path." _

_Intent and effect... "Is that why I'm going crazy? Because I can't let you go?"_

_This time he words his answer carefully, "I have no power to influence your emotions. What you feel is entirely you."_

"_But you suspect something?" I needle._

"_Perhaps." _

"_Tell me wha-" _

_Jareth presses a finger to my lips to silence me. I'm hardly reassured by his calculating scrutiny. "Unlike you, I will not hastily make assumptions. At this point I can not say what would help your situation or cause further harm. Despite what you may believe, I only want what is best for you."_

_I can't really argue with his logic and something tells me that I really don't want to know his suspicions or what conclusions he will draw from them. At times like this, when he seems completely sincere, it puts me off balance. It's easier to remember his little cruelties than to trust in his offered affections. _

"_What's best for me? Really?" I ask sarcastically, "You forgot to mention your own gain." _

"_I would prefer you to be sound of mind when you willingly become my queen," he replies with a predatory smile, "Though, I suppose were you to be stark raving mad that could also have merit." _

_Much better. This is the Jareth I know, love and hate._

_Glaring daggers, I try to pull my hands from his tightening grip. "Why do I feel like you would be the only one benefiting from my eternal enslavement?"_

_Jareth tugs me closer, slipping his lean arms around my waist. "Relationship, not enslavement." _

"_And the difference is…?" I mutter, feeling my resolve weaken and knowing that he feels it was well. The smug bastard. _

"_My precious girl," he breathes softly, tilting his head to kiss that spot just below my ear that makes my heart race, "I would lay the world at your feet."_

"_The price?" I gasp, trembling as I clutch my fists into his shirt and pull him closer._

"_Fear me, love me, do as I say…"_

I jerk awake, the transition from dreaming to waking too abrupt and unexpected. My heart is still racing. I can still feel the lingering warmth of his body against mine. It's too much desire, too much fear… The unbearable sadness descends on me with rabid ferocity.

Burying my face into my pillow I begin to sob, body wracking heaves that pour the torrent inside me out in a river of tears. I cry because I love him. I cry because I hate that I love him. I cry because I can't let him go.

Mainly I cry because I'm losing my fucking mind.

* * *

**A.N.-** This is my first foray into Labyrinth fan fiction so I hope it does justice to the characters. This was supposed to be a one-shot but the story kind of took on a life of its own so we'll see where it goes from here. The song that Jareth hums/sings is "A Fairytale About Slavery" by Miranda Sex Garden. Pretty yet creepy, totally worth checking out.

I should have the next chapter up sometime next week. I'm thinking a total of six chapters over all. And there will be sexy times in the future but how explicit remains to be seen. I don't think this will get as raunchy as some of my other fics but that could change.

So until the next update, I love you guys and don't forget to give me feedback. I really do want to know what y'all think.


	2. Fire and Ice

**Fragile**

By: Lara Winner

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Labyrinth or its characters.

* * *

_**I'm having a weak moment**_

_**A moment that may not end**_

_**Lonely in my own skin**_

_**Everything is changing, Everything seems changed**_

_**As if replaced by something soulless**_

_**I have seen through the eyes of the opposition**_

_**The one who defines my failure**_

_**At touching that place in the heart**_

_**Where emotions bow their heads in wonder**_

_**-Faith and the Muse "The Burning Season"**_

Dr. Mitchell is the epitome stiff professionalism as he sets up the voice recorder and begins this mornings proceedings.

"Session 21. Thursday, January 14th. 8:10 am. Patient: Sarah Williams, Age: 20," he says, then looks to me to speak.

As usual I have no idea what he wants to hear so I let him lead.

"Well then," he consults his notes for a moment, then continues, "Lets discuss an old topic we haven't touched in a while. Your family, Sarah, tell me about them."

As I recall I didn't say much the first time this subject was brought up and if memory serves right it was a bad day. I wasn't able to focus on much of anything through the frantic anxiety. Right now I'm fairly calm, not balanced exactly but not too much of any one emotion to be disruptive or flustered. Hesitantly I ask, "What would you like to know?"

"Your record says you have a younger brother. Start there."

A genuine smile curves my lips, "His name is Toby. He's seven. He's an extremely bright child, full questions and curiosity."

Dr. Mitchell's impassive mask cracks a bit and he returns my smile, "You obviously have great affection for him."

"Yes. I miss him a lot," I admit. I solved an impossible labyrinth and faced down a dangerous goblin king for that little boy. Speaking of goblin kings… I glance around but it's just the two of us. We use a different office these days, one with no windows.

"When was the last time you saw your brother?"

I try and think back. "Over a year ago, maybe. I'm not certain. I was at college when his mom and my dad split."

Dr. Mitchell writes something in his notes, "And your stepmother? What was your relationship like?"

"Strained," I answer curtly.

"Sum her up in as few words as possible."

"Gold-digging. Narcissistic. Control freak," I growl, agitation sparking to life beneath my skin.

The doctor makes more notes. I can hear the pen scratching across the paper, too loud in the tense quiet that fills the small room. The relentless pressure inside me begins to churn ever so slowly.

"What about your father? Were the two of you on better terms?"

"My dad wasn't home much." I say bitterly, "Work first, screwing his current secretary second and his family fit in when there was time to spare. My stepmother was an expensive trophy wife. My brother and I were tax deductions."

The pen scratches against paper again. I dig my nails into the chair's cushy armrests as the tension just keeps building.

"In all for our sessions you've never mentioned you birth mother," Dr. Mitchell finally says.

I rise to my feet and begin pacing. I can't sit still. The movement is a makeshift outlet, not nearly enough but it does take the sharp edge off the emotional surge going on inside of me.

"She didn't want to be a mother," I force the words out past the tightening in my chest. "She walked out when I was five."

"What else do you remember about her?" He pushes.

Old hurt and new anger coil together in a white hot knot. Squeezing my eyes shut I shake my head desperately. I can't do this right now, maybe one day, but not now.

"Please… I can't…" I grit out through clenched teeth.

"Sarah it is not healthy to keep all of this negativity buried. We've gone over this. You need to let the bad out as well as the good," he insists in his clinical way.

But he doesn't understand that if I open the flood gates I'll lose myself to this maw of madness that is trying to devour me.

"I can't I can't I can't I can't…" my soft chanting is a lifeline in the maelstrom. Pain is good. Pain is centering. I embrace the tearing, stinging pain that sears its way across the sides of my head.

"Stop Sarah!" Strong hands grasp me by the shoulders and shake me roughly, "STOP!"

I look at Dr. Mitchell and the desperation in his normally blank expression reaches a lucid part of my mind. I recognize the throbbing behind my ears, the burning. Nausea twists my gut as I look down at my hands and the fistfuls of dark hair clenched in each one.

For a moment I'm not in the now; I'm back in time to a horrible night nearly a year ago, alone in my dorm room and covered in blood with broken mirror shards imbedded in my hands.

I am once again facing the harsh reality that I'm not well. I may very well be beyond help. Acknowledging that is like admitting defeat.

But maybe… just maybe…

_Jareth! I need you!_

* * *

I don't fight the orderlies as they escort me to a new room with soft lines and a hospital bed. I behave as the nurse injects me with a mild sedative. I try not to panic as they restrain my wrists with velcro cuffs knowing that it is necessary. The raging storm inside is not dissipating and right now I'm not exactly sure what I'm capable of in the midst of its hold.

Through the corner of my eye I watch Jareth leaning against the wall, his arms folded. The orderlies don't see him of course and he pays them no mind, his cold appraisal is trained directly on me.

The pleasantly plump middle aged nurse pats me on the arm gently. Her eyes are creased with crows feet and warm with kindness as she says, "Just relax honey. Let the medicine work its magic. If you feel sleepy don't fight it. I'll be back to check on you in a little while." She leaves the room, orderlies in tow, and closes the door behind her.

For the space of five heartbeats there is silence, then Jareth sighs deeply, "What am I to do with you?"

"Get a refund, since I'm defective and all," I joke lamely but neither of us is inclined to laugh.

His winged brows draw together in a dark frown. There is an undercurrent of impatience in his tone, or maybe worry, as he says, "You summoned me and I complied. What is it you need?"

And this is serious because I never call to him. I've never trusted him enough to reach out. He always comes to me invading my space with an air of antagonism about him. He sets aside his pride because he knows that while I won't ask for his companionship I need him just the same. But desperate times call for desperate measures. I don't know if I can trust him but I do know that if he can offer me the slightest distraction then I don't have a choice.

"I pulled my hair out today," I explain quietly, the sedative making by body lax despite the tension coiled painfully tight within. "The doctor stopped me from doing worse."

"This is not the first time you've hurt yourself," Jareth replies, unmoved.

He's seen the blood in my dreams. He's touched the cuts and bruises on my skin.

"I'm scared," I admit, my cheeks awash with scarlet shame, "the medicine, the therapy, none of it is working. I need something… anything…" I fumble for the right words, "distraction, release, I don't know what I'm asking for. I just hoped you could help."

Jareth cocks his head in contemplation. A decidedly wolfish smile graces his lips as he unfolds himself from the wall. "I think you know exactly what you're asking for," he purrs, "I can think of many ways to distract you, all of which will bring you a measure of release."

My pulse jumps as Jareth stalks his way to the bed. Suddenly I'm not so sure having my wrists bound is a good idea. The vulnerability of my position is threatening to turn into a blind panic. Sluggishly, I tug at my restraints.

"Shhh Sarah," Jareth coos, as he slips into the bed beside me. He props his head on one hand and stretches his long, lithe body out along mine. My left arm is trapped between us, pinned to the too-small bed. It's awkward and slightly uncomfortable but not terribly important when his other hand comes to rest on my stomach.

This close to Jareth it's hard to breathe. He is beautiful in an eerie kind of way that tempts you closer yet warns you away. His eyes are pools of ice reflecting the winter sky with oddly mismatched pupils and framed with inky black lashes. His features are chiseled and masculine but hold an otherworldly grace that no human could mimic.

I drink him in wide eyed and oh so aware that he is the predator and I am the ensnared prey. My tumultuous emotions change tenor from an angry storm to a blistering inferno.

Jareth's breath is warm against my cheek as he asks, "Will you permit me certain liberties, sweetling?"

Do I trust him?

Hell no.

Do I dare?

Between the drugs and the butterflies…

"Ok," I agree.

Its only too easy to lose myself in Jareth's attentions. In the far reaches of my mind I know I should have set the limits for this indulgence but even that doesn't hold up against the scorching heat that fills me as his clever fingers begin to dance and tease leaving tingling paths in their wake. He strategically uses his lips like a weapon placing tiny kisses along my neck and shoulder. By the time he finally gives me a proper kiss I clink our teeth together in my clumsy enthusiasm.

It all feels so good its nearly unbearable. I gasp against his lips, shudder under his touch and with every moan and every caress I begin to unravel little by little. The inferno is now blazing within me, consuming me in the most pleasurable way. And then suddenly I'm there, clawing at the sheets as I teeter on the edge of infinite bliss.

"Let go Sarah," he growls against my throat.

And I do.

* * *

_Dreams take you places you sometimes don't expect. _

_We are in my bedroom, or rather what was my bedroom five years ago. Everything is in prefect detail just as memory serves. I shake my head at the out of style wallpaper. There's an ache of nostalgia for my pretty canopied bed fit for a princess. And my vanity littered with makeup and costume jewelry, just the same as it was even down to the mirror lined with news clippings tracking my mother's acting success._

_Seeing my mother's picture brings back the events of earlier. _

"_Why here of all places?" I ask, turning to face Jareth._

_He's draped across my small bed as if it were his throne. He quirks a brow, "Why not?"_

"_I can't handle the memories." I confess. _

"_Can't or won't?" he counters. _

_Lightening quick, Jareth reaches out and grasps my arm pulling me down on the bed beside him. I shoot him a nasty look but still curl into him, his warmth sending tingles all through out my body._

"_Does it make a difference?" I sigh, glancing around. "I suppose I was happy here once."_

_Jareth rests his chin on my shoulder, his breath tickling when he responds, "I used to watch you. Through my crystals or in my owl form, whichever was means to the end. Something vital was awoken in you when your mother left. That was when you began to dream." _

_I stiffen, remembering, "Sometimes to forget her, sometimes to whish her back."_

"_And to forget you lost yourself in stories." _

_I nod, recalling how I spent too much time day-dreaming._

"_You believed those stories could be true, you wanted them to be, and that need created its own magic within you," the honey of his voice turns to iron, "As I hope you've learned, words and magic are not to be taken lightly."_

_I lean away slightly and give him a pointed look, "What are you getting at?"_

"_I've been doing some research, if you will, and I have a theory as to why your behavior is so erratic," he states with a nonchalance that is betrayed by the tense set of his jaw, "Suffice to say, you won't be pleased."_

_Even though I expected as much, my stomach still drops a bit, "I'm not sure I want to know."_

"_This could be the remedy you've been searching for," yet there's no denying the depths of Jareth's deviousness when he says, "but the information I would divulge comes with a price." _

"_Sneaky, underhanded bastard!" I hiss indignantly and attempt to extricate myself from his hold, which quickly proves futile. _

"_Not nearly as underhanded as I could have been. Your virginity still remains," he laughs darkly._

_I blush recalling how I came undone in his arms. It wouldn't take much to rekindle that wonderful burning and boldly I ask, "Is that your price?" _

"_Truly Sarah, do you think me a simpleton? Why would I settle for a mere moment in time when I could demand forever?" he grins triumphantly._

_And I see the lie in denying his words because the small taste he gave me earlier was cruel. One night would be even more cruel. Were I to honestly measure this compulsion between us then forever may not be enough. _

_But even for the sake of my sanity I can not submit._

"_I need to think. I need time…" It's a poor excuse and Jareth's rueful grimace tells me that my evasion is not unexpected. _

"_It's a pity you've such a strong will," he sighs, but there is something left unsaid that sparkles like onyx in his eyes, "I shall content myself with waiting and keep my theory to myself."_

_Though I know to be wary, his scheming rankles under my skin. The spark of enticement turns to one of anger. "How can you claim to love me yet you allow me to suffer because I won't bend to your will?" _

"_Easily," Jareth replies, "Think of it as justification. I give you everything you demand and you give so little of yourself in return. My lack of power over you is your leverage. And now its seems your unraveling sanity is mine." _

_I hate that his twisted logic makes a ruthless kind of sense._

* * *

A.N.- So here is the second installment in all its limey glory. Just to clear up any issues that may concern cannon enthusiasts, I've never read the novel or the recent manga. I'm strictly going by the movie on this and since we only see Sarah's family for all of five minutes I've decided stray into the dysfunctional direction for this story. Call it artistic license.

Going to aim for posting chapter 3 next week. Until then, thank you for taking the time to read this story. Feedback is greatly appreciated.


	3. Taste of Poison

**Fragile**

By: Lara Winner

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Labyrinth or its characters.

* * *

_**I could fight this until the end**_

_**But maybe I don't want to win**_

_**I breathe you in again**_

_**Just to feel you **_

_**Underneath my skin, holding onto**_

_**The sweet escape is always laced with**_

_**A familiar taste of poison**_

_**-Halestorm "Familiar Taste of Poison" **_

I feel like I'm dying.

My heart is racing, the palpitations vibrating my chest in a furious rhythm that makes it hard to focus. I keep taking steady breaths but no matter how much air I take in it still feels like I'm suffocating. It's been minutes or maybe hours, I'm not sure how long I've been curled up on my bed hugging my knees. It's not going away, I need help.

Getting help is an altogether different challenge. I'm not sure I can actually coordinate my body properly. I try to stand but my legs are unsteady and my vision is hazy around the edges. I hold onto the wall with a trembling grip and slowly make my way into the hall. The corridor is tilted at an awkward angle and spots are swimming before my eyes. I will myself not lose consciousness.

A nurse notices me and I reach aimlessly for her as my legs give out. I slump down the wall into an ungainly heap on the floor. If I could breathe I would laugh at my own lack of dexterity.

Between my gasping and shaking I manage to say, "Panic… Attack…"

It doesn't take long for the nurse walk me back to bed and give me medications to calm my nerves and help me sleep. But I should have known that dreams would not offer comfort when fear was eating me alive.

_I am falling._

_Terror clutches me in its merciless grip as I frantically flail my arms about to somehow stop my plummet into the pitch black abyss below. But there's nothing but fetid air rushing up to sting my eyes and take my breath away. _

_Suddenly there are hands… everywhere._

_They pull and grip and painfully halt my descent. Looking up I see light, very far away now. Something about this is familiar and yet not, like a memory gone wrong. _

"_Help!" I scream toward the light in the vain hope that someone or something will hear me._

"_We are helping," multiple raspy voices croon at once. To my horror faces begin taking shape, grotesque formations of hands that look back at me hungrily._

"_You're hurting!" I cry and sinister laughter erupts all around me. I scream in pain as fingernails morph into claws that begin to dig into my flesh._

_One hideous face, larger than the rest, commands my attention._

"_Up or down?" it asks._

_Down is the way of forgotten things. I need to be in the light._

"_Up. I want to go up," I plead. _

_The face twists into a sneer, "That's not what we want." _

_Wild, screeching laughter drowns out my scream as once more I begin falling but this time claws are ripping my skin to shreds as I tumble down into the forgotten depths._

I wake to my own muffled scream and oppressive darkness.

It takes a long moment before I start to register important details such as the hard floor beneath my back, the odd weight against my abdomen, the fact that I can't move my arms and the gloved hand pressed against my mouth. Squinting into the darkness I realize Jareth is perched on top of me, holding me down, bloody streaks staining his white linen shirt.

"Snap out of it Sarah!" he demands harshly, his voice a tense whisper.

I nod my head against his hand. Carefully he uncovers my mouth. Disoriented, I murmur, "You're bleeding."

"No," he rectifies sharply, "you are bleeding."

As if Jareth summons forth the pain with his words, I can feel thousands of needle pricks winding trails of fire all along my arms. Wincing, I ask, "Is it bad?"

"You've caused more harm to yourself in the past," he answers placidly, yet there's a touch of mockery in his tone that reflects in is hard glare as he says, "I'm going to let you go now. No hysterics."

He releases my wrists and the rush of feeling flows back into my hands and fingers as me moves off of me. I sit up gingerly, taking stock of what I've done. There are scratch marks up and down my forearms, some just red lines while other have broken the skin and ooze blood. It's not pretty but its also not fatal.

Jareth is right, I've done worse. But that offers little comfort at the moment.

I absolutely hate to cry in front of Jareth but there's no stopping the tears of frustration that well up and spill down my cheeks. "It was a dream," I cry desperately, "A fucking dream! I'm not even safe from myself when I'm asleep." Staring at my violently shaking hands all I can see is the blood caked under my nails. "What if I can't make it stop? What if I go too far?'"

"Then don't allow it to come to that," Jareth replies coolly.

Of course he's removed and rational. I don't expect compassion from the creature sitting beside me and the fact that he doesn't coddle me is enough to force me to try and get a grip. I envy his aloof demeanor and respect the unspoken challenge he's issued. I take a few deep breaths then rub away the evidence of tears and try to follow his lead.

"What do you suggest, Your Majesty?' I ask with caustic politeness.

"Must you ask?" he says with a twisted smirk. "Simply give in. End this silly battle of wills and I promise you will be yourself again."

Preferring anger to anxiety, I focus on my piqued ire and defiantly growl, "What the hell kind of choice is that?"

"A fair one," he replies tolerantly. "Unlike other poor wretches in this place you have a viable option."

"That's right, become your slave to reclaim my sanity," I retort sarcastically.

For a moment Jareth watches me in silent contemplation, his winged brows furrowed in thought. He sounds honestly puzzled and a little sad as he asks, "You would rather destroy yourself than let me love you?"

I ignore his earnestness and the way it tugs at my heart. "Coercion is not love Jareth and it's wrong. It's not fair to have that kind of control over someone!"

"And you assume that control is only in my grasp?" he snarls softly and a terrible shadow settles about his expression. "You break me with a look. You summon me to your side with a single thought. You deny all that I could give you out of pride. You have immense power Sarah, and you take it for granted," he sneers cruelly, "Tell me, is that fair?"

"It's not like that," I protest weakly, flinching at the vitriol in Jareth's accusations. I know that, in a sense, he's right. He's never tried to renounce my claim on him though he must resent it to a degree. And I do take for granted that he's always there, whether I can see him or not. I can't imagine the emptiness I'd feel if he were suddenly gone from my life. But I have very good reasons for not taking his crafty affections at face value.

"My precious girl," he says with dangerous gentleness, "It pains me in ways you can not fathom to watch you become nothing more than a shadow of yourself. And I warn you now Sarah, your fragile constitution will not hold out indefinitely so if you do not make a choice then I will make one for you."

"Damn it Jareth! You can't excuse forcing me to do what you want by saying it's for my own good," I snap.

"I will do what is necessary," he reaffirms, unmoved by my vexation.

As I look down at my hands and the rust smeared on my skin, panic bubbles up inside of me. How can I hold my own against Jareth when I have no control over myself? Am I willing to give up my identity, the last piece of myself that I can call mine?

Meeting his unrelenting gaze I summon everything I've got. "You have no power over me."

Instead of the anger or resignation I expected, Jareth's features alight with grim satisfaction. Suddenly I have the feeling that I've just done exactly what he predicted I would and it's undoubtedly to his advantage. A shiver of apprehensive anticipation runs down my spine.

"Are you so certain?" he asks archly, his mercurial nature shifting his mood from somber to flirty in the span of a heartbeat.

The grin Jareth's sporting can only be described as wicked as he moves toward me and out of reflex I scuttle back. There's only so far I can go before I'm backed up against the wall, literally. My panic blooms into a million butterflies because I'm well acquainted with this side of my capricious Goblin King and I know the devilish gleam in his eyes does not bode well for my nerves or my resolve.

Jareth takes my hand and his skin is warm against mine- I blink. "You… you were wearing gloves a second ago," I blurt out inanely.

"Yes I was," he laughs darkly, "and now I'm not. Much better for touching, wouldn't you agree?"

I make a small hum of agreement before I catch myself. Jareth may be adept at slinking past the cracks in my defenses and getting under my skin but that doesn't mean I'm going to make it easy for him. I flash him an acerbic grin, "Disappearing gloves? Is that all you've got?"

"Hardly, little girl," he sneers before leaning in and capturing my lips in a bruising kiss.

Jareth's not gentle as he nips at my bottom lip eliciting a gasp at the curious sting and I shiver as his tongue sweeps against mine staking a claim that feeds the chaos within me into a violent fusion of uneasy desire. I reach up and push at his shoulders in an attempt for space but he gives no quarter. His kiss is intoxicating and I feel punch-drunk from the spike of raw need drawing down deep into my core. I'm barely aware that my fists are wrinkling his linen shirt and that I should be fighting him, not pulling him closer.

Always fighting. Always resisting.

Jareth pulls back slightly and I drag in a ragged breath. His mismatched eyes are aglow with hunger and I can feel the same ravenous fever coursing through my veins with each thundering beat of my heart.

This is the precipice we've been dancing toward for years. But tonight is different. I've never seen Jareth quite so affected by his own antics. His composure is tenuous at best and with a female's intuition I know that I could push him over the edge so very easily.

It's a decadent temptation and a dangerous game to initiate. I should be far more wary of the consequences. I should stop this before I give him yet even more leverage.

Leverage. Power. Control.

I've been just as afraid to take them as I have been to give them. But not anymore. I'm tired of doing what I should do. I refuse to succumb to my own madness. Jareth proclaims I have power. He vows I can break him. We'll see about that.

"Be careful what you want," I whisper against his lips, "you might get it."

I pull him to me, pressing myself against him and the game is begun. My kisses and caresses are a bit clumsy and his are rough with crumbling restraint but it only fuels the fire we've started. I can feel the flames seeping like poison into my soul spiraling and pulsing like a living thing needing to be released.

Clothing disappears, whether by magic or frantic pulling I'm not sure, probably both. We walk the fragile line between pleasure and pain. My nails score his skin as his teeth mark territory on my collarbone. I allow his fingers to wander and tease and I take in each euphoric sensation greedily. But when Jareth tries to move on top of me I embrace my reckless abandon and push him down onto his back growling, "Mine!"

Because it is. The pleasure, the moment, his body and even his obsession are mine for the taking, to exploit and use as I will. And Jareth understands my voracity. I can see the depraved gratification in his lidded gaze as he drinks in the sight of me; naked, sweaty and without inhibitions. I take him inside of me and even the pain is delicious as he grips my waist and clenches his teeth. I watch a king become my slave with the just a movement of my hips.

A small voice far in the back of my mind warns that Jareth would not be so complacent if there wasn't something valuable I was giving him in return, but I can't hold onto the reasoning amidst this wild rush of feeling. I rock my body and claw his ribs for purchase as the heady promise of fulfillment begins to dance just out of reach. Staring into his fever-glazed eyes unbidden words roll off my tongue.

"Fear me."

_Only your potential, sweetling._

"Love me."

_I do, so very much._

"Do as I say."

_Perhaps, on occasion._

"And I will be your slave."

_As you wish._

I cry out as ecstasy, undiluted and mind-rendering, erupts under my skin spreading like a wildfire scorching everything in its wake. I can barely draw a breath as tremors ripple though my body, each wave leaving me tingling and a little less coherent than the last.

I'm too dizzy to really comprehend Jareth's crystalline laughter or the implications of what could make him so happy.

The last thing I see before allowing my eyes to slide shut is the disjointed image of the world falling down.

* * *

**A.N.-** Alas here is my next humble offering with a twist of lemon. I debated on how graphic to get with this chappy because trying to balance the right mix of fear, lust and resented affections can get a bit difficult without adding a sex scene that would make a porn star blush. But there is at least one more scene with citrus, if not two, coming up in the story so if y'all want it a little more "tart" let me know.

I also tried not to go overboard with the romance. While I adore fluff in the right context, between Sarah and Jareth it just seems out of place. I can't imagine Jareth being gentle and sweeping Sarah off her feet. He may have moments where he is affectionate but he's just not our beloved goblin king if he's not a bit psychotic at the same time. It's that little bit of dangerous instability that makes him such a naughty temptation, am I right ladies?

I'm not sure if I like how this came out but after a bunch of deleting, cutting, pasting, rewriting and a small pile of scrap paragraphs I think this is about as good as it will get. I will try o have ch. 4 ready to post next week. As always, thank you for reading and reviews are much loved.


	4. Caged Little Soul Bird

**Fragile**

By: Lara Winner

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Labyrinth or its characters.

* * *

_**Only on a true return can you find**_

_**That you've never left **_

_**(What's missing?)**_

_**Counting on an unpredictable tide **_

_**For deliverance **_

_**(It's right in front of you)**_

_**Scouring the countryside just to find**_

_**That the enemy is within yourself**_

_**-Splashdown "Asia At Odd hours"**_

It's a nice change to sleep without dreams or nightmares. As wakefulness slowly encroaches on my consciousness I feel oddly peaceful and well rested. There is sunlight coming in, bright and warm against my closed eyes and I turn away tucking my face into the fluffy pillow. I'm so comfortable it would be unforgivable to move just yet.

I stretch my stiff muscles, wincing at a few sore spots, and then snuggle deeper under the incredibly soft sheets that feel like a cloud against my skin with a content little sigh.

"As much as I loathe to disturb you, sweetling, it is time for you to be up and about."

It isn't so much Jareth's presence that startles me fully awake but more like everything else he brings to the forefront of my mind. Important things such as I'm not in my dingy, lumpy little bed in my closet of a room at the psychiatric hospital nor am I wearing clothing and sleeping nude is definitely not part of my nightly routine.

Neither is hot, mind-blowing sex.

My eyes fly open and I jerk upright, clutching the sheet to my chest and barely stifling a gasp. I take in my surroundings quickly. A large room with stone walls decorated with hand-woven tapestries and a few priceless paintings. There are two enormous windows allowing sunlight to flood the room with cheerful brightness. Then there is the unexpected hodge-podge of items, some clearly made in the Underground while others were definitely acquired from Aboveground, ranging from priceless antiques to more modern inventions.

We're in Jareth's private chambers, a place I've visited on a few occasions in dreams. But I'm not dreaming now. Alarm causes my voice tremble slightly as I turn to him and demand, "What the hell?"

Jareth, causally clothed and sitting in a large winged back chair near the bed, regards me indolently while absently twirling one of his crystals. "I will explain the necessity in bringing you here, but first I need you to tell me how you feel."

How I feel?

"Confused," I scowl, "and if you don't start talking I'll feel really, really annoyed."

"Not now Sarah," he warns, his mismatched eyes flashing, "Please."

It's the almost desperate undertone in the way he says 'please' that tells me something isn't right. I take a better look at Jareth and realize that, while he is putting up an excellent front of nonchalance, there is a subtle tension in the set of his jaw and a lurking weariness in his posture. Frankly, he seems exhausted.

Taking his request a bit more seriously I take stock of my body. "I feel fine," I reply earnestly, "In fact I've never felt better. I feel like-" I pause mid sentence as hope fills me as bright as the sunlight spilling into the room, "I feel like my old self again."

When Jareth visibly relaxes, his thin lips curling into a truly self-satisfied grin, I know I'm not imagining this. I feel sane because I am sane. The ugly, churning pressure that was always trying to claw its way out is finally gone. I'm filled with a serenity that I haven't felt in ages.

But at what cost?

"Will you please explain what's going on now?" I ask willing myself to maintain my inner calm until I know all of the details. I almost lose my grip on the sheet and my face flushes as I add, "And I'm going to need clothes."

"Surely you don't _need_ clothing," Jareth teases, cocking his head a bit in a very avian manner. "I find you to be quite fetching just as you are."

"Yes, I do in fact _need_ clothing!" I exclaim as I point an accusing finger at him, "And you Sir, are stalling. I want answers and I want them now."

Jareth's expression smoothes to reveal nothing as the crystal in his palm begins to spin a little faster. I notice the almost imperceptible way he tenses as if bracing himself for something. My wrath more like, I realize with a sinking feeling.

"That bad, huh?" I ask quietly.

"Let me start by stating that this an unprecedented situation," he says in a tone bearing stiff formality, "While you are not the only person to have successfully defeated the labyrinth, you are the only one that had the audacity to proclaim yourself my equal." His icy blue eyes narrow. "Apparently that particular declaration had an unforeseen consequence."

"Wait!" I interrupt, "I'm not the only one to beat the labyrinth?"

"Think highly of ourselves, do we?'" he laughs mockingly.

"Well… I just assumed-"

"And we both know what is said about assuming don't we, sweetling?" he jeers with a roll of his mismatched eyes. "But to answer your question, there were others. Not many, less than a handful really. You were the youngest and by far the most imaginative. And you did have an unfair advantage."

"What advantage?" I huff indignantly.

"The favor of the Goblin King," he grins cheekily.

"If you're saying you took it easy on me then I'd hate to see what you did to those poor people." I snap.

"Yes, I'm sure it would displease you but such is the nature of this place," Jareth shrugs gracefully. "Come now, you don't really think that all my oubliettes have convenient hands to help you ascend or descend at will? And when you narrowly avoided the cleaners, did you truly believe that an iron gate that had withstood for over a millennia would collapse right at the exact moment you needed it to?" he arches a brow condescendingly, "I assure you, my love, you're not that lucky."

Well when he puts it in that perspective it takes a bit of the wind out of my sails. But I'm too proud to give him any credit. "You poisoned me. I'm still holding that against you." I warn with a slight smile.

"And you and your accomplices made a grand mess of the Goblin City. I say that puts us even," he counters with sardonic amusement, but then sobers a bit as he says, "It was foolish of me to expect that the magic of this place would not alter you in some way."

I don't like the way he says that last part so I try to be optimistic. "But I'm okay now. You fixed it, right?"

"If by 'fix' you mean I've found a solution for the problem that you will undoubtedly find a way to condemn me for… then yes," he replies dryly.

I swallow hard. "Um, what exactly will I be condemning you for?"

Jareth releases a pained sigh the crystal he's using as the Underground equivalent of a stress ball is now circling in the air a full inch above his palm. "Magic at its foundation is a volatile and ambiguous thing. Harnessing such power takes practice, discipline and great deal of inherent aptitude. But even for the most skilled wielder it can still prove problematic. You have a natural source of magic within you created by your strong will and boundless imagination and Aboveground it needed no outlet because it was a part of you. Your journey into the labyrinth, however, changed the nature of the magic that existed within you making it part of the Underground. And that is the crux of the problem. Underground magic has no place Aboveground. The longer it amassed to unstable levels contained inside of you the worse the psychological effects."

"So all you had to do was bring me back here and I was normal again?" I ask hopefully.

"Yes, that was how it should have worked in theory," he glowers darkly, "I failed to consider the possibility of an adverse reaction to releasing that much stored magic all at once. I should have formulated a more gradual process." To my utter surprise he looks abashed. "You've been unconscious for two days. I was beginning to fear the damage was irreparable."

Suddenly Jareth's leashed agitation makes sense. I wonder if he's slept at all since returning here. I know better than to ask so instead I offer, "It's nice to know you were worried."

"Worried? Worried! Tra la la!" he rants scornfully, catching the levitating crystal with an angry swipe. Practically flinging himself from the chair, he begins to pace furiously working himself into a fine tantrum. "Since this whole ordeal began it's been one fright after another, never knowing what condition I would find you in next. You kept me emasculated by the force of your will and so there was nothing I could do but watch you deteriorate right before my eyes. To be powerless is incredibly vexing, I dare say, but this was by far the worst yet. I couldn't even get through to you in dreams. I tried repeatedly but you were unreachable. To have come this far-" He abruptly stops his pacing and turns on me with an infuriated glare, "The fault lies to you, stupid girl. None of this would have happened if you hadn't been so obstinate!"

It's pretty amazing how I can go from wanting to comfort Jareth to wanting to throttle him in mere seconds. My tone is heavy with irate skepticism as I fume, "So you're blaming me for all of this?"

"You were the catalyst to this entire debacle," he accuses, "Surely you remember being careless with your wishes and such."

"I was a child. I didn't think it would really happen." I counter defensively.

"Of course you didn't," Jareth replies scathingly, "The repercussions of your words never cross your mind, do they? Nor do you think of how your actions effect others. In that sense you are still very much a child."

Getting a scolding from Jareth about being selfish is the proverbial straw that breaks this pissed off camel's back. Trying to salvage a little pride while ignoring the fact that I'm very naked and can't exactly make a grand exit is tricky but I adopt the best disdainful tone I can manage, "If that's how you feel then conjure me some fucking clothes I will be more than happy to go home!"

Jareth waves his hand dismissively, "That is not possible."

"Yes it is," I hiss, "You can make things out of thin air, I've seen you do it."

"I'm referring to returning Aboveground," he says tersely, "It's not possible."

I stare at Jareth speechless as a wave of cold horror washes over me. Suddenly the memory of powerful words whispered in the heat of passion assails me and the sting of betrayal is sharp and deep. "You tricked me," I choke out around the horrible crushing feeling in my chest.

"I saved you," he insists with an air of righteousness, "and here is the condemnation I was expecting."

Maybe I'm not seeing the whole picture but I can't view this situation from Jareth's perspective. I only feel hurt and I only know deception. And maybe it is childish of me but blind instinct is to run away.

"I want to go home," I demand desperately.

"Be reasonable Sarah," he entreats briskly, "Were you to go back the madness will only return again and I'm not sure you would survive the purging process a second time."

I don't want to hear Jareth's logic so I lift my chin defiantly in a show of bravado. "I'll risk it. You can't keep me here like a prisoner."

He arches a brow in cool amusement. "Oh? I think I can," he smirks dangerously, "Fight me and I will confine you until you see reason. Submit and you will be a queen. You will want for nothing. I will give you anything and everything that you desire."

Nothing about Jareth is ever what it seems. His promises may sound as sweet as candy but they will leave a bitter aftertaste. I don't trust myself for the stakes of this game have changed to something more precious than bruised pride.

"What about freedom?" I ask, "Respect? A gilded cage is still a cage. I won't be your prize put on display. Nothing you could give me would make up for that."

Jareth stares off into space for a long moment, adjusting his strategy. "And if I could figure out a way to arrange temporary visits to Aboveground that wouldn't endanger you, why should I expend the time and energy to do so? What remains above that can not be provided for you here?"

"My family," I say, blurting the first thing that comes to mind. My obligation to my family was my saving grace the first time I faced him down. The irony isn't lost on me or the Goblin King.

A hard expression sets Jareth's face and his eyes are cruel as he replies, "Oh yes, your family. A father that couldn't be bothered to spare you a single visit while you were sequestered in that dismal little hospital? A mother that carelessly abandoned you once she outgrew the novelty of having a child? Or perhaps your wicked stepmother that was your constant rival for your father's distracted affections? And let us not forget your dear little brother who is of such a tender age that he will barely remember you given another year or so. Surely they are worthy of such altruistic devotion."

Jareth's well aimed barbs it their mark with lethal accuracy. Hot tears flood my eyes as years of insecurity and heartache are callously throw in my face to prove that he can employ pain to subdue me just as easily as pleasure. I feel like the silly child he compares me too, properly rebuked and miserable.

Glaring balefully, I infuse every ounce of maliciousness I can muster into my wavering voice as I cry, "I hate you!"

Jareth, to his credit, stiffens and turns away quickly but not before I catch a slight crack in his glacial mask. He stalks angrily across the spacious room to the thick wooden door but pauses, throwing me an equally nasty glare in return. "Unfortunately you made sure that I can not return the sentiment," he growls before storming out the chamber and slamming the massive door behind him.

* * *

Jareth threatened to confine me and confine me he did.

Shortly after his enraged exit a cheerful little goblin, who was as round as she was tall, introduced herself as Gibbly and gave me a simple white dress then escorted me to a large room she referred to as my chambers. She flittered around making sure I approved of my accommodations and then offered to bring me something to eat. I may have been inclined to thank her if she hadn't locked the door from the outside upon leaving.

I didn't take being locked away very well. I pounded on the wooden door until my hands were bruised and I pleaded, screeched and cursed until my voice gave out. Then I slumped to the floor and cried in frustration and self-directed anger. But crying and being all around pathetic is not the sane version of me so when the tears were all gone I thickened my skin, steeled my spine and began to think.

What is done is done. I can't change the past so the only option is to deal with the present and plan for the future. It's imperative that I look at this situation from all possible angles and work within the parameters given. There must be a way I can work this to my advantage, I just need to find the right perspective.

However, as the hours turn the sky outside the window from day to dusk, finding that perspective proves difficult. My mind works against me constantly reminding me of the life I've left behind. I will concede that I didn't have the best relationship with my family, nor did I have ambitious plans for my future. But it was still _my_ life. It was _mine_! And I lost it like sand slipping through my fingers. I can't let go of the anger directed at myself for allowing it to happen.

How could I be so weak, so desperate for attention and affection that I would recklessly hand Jareth the dominion over my person that I had fought so hard to keep out of his reach? Yet I know the how and the why and the answers disgust me. As tempting as it would be to lay this beast of burden on his shoulders that would be a lie. I said those awful words because despite what I would lose it was still better than being alone.

I cast a glance about the elegantly furnished but soulless room and grimace. A lot of good it did me. I'm still alone and trapped in an ostentatious cell fit for a fairytale princess.

Or perhaps more fittingly, a reluctant Goblin Queen.

Royal and non-royal aspirations aside, I wonder how long Jareth might keep me here and I feel a little queasy as I realize that he could wait me out forever. I try to imagine being confined in this room with nothing but a single window that overlooks a tiny courtyard and faces another castle wall. I can see a small sliver of the sky, just enough to tease me that the world is right there beyond my sight. No I wouldn't hold out forever. I'd die of boredom first.

A no-nonsense rapping on the door startles me from my dire musings. Gibbly's chirpy voice calls out, slightly muffled, "I've gots yer dinner. I'll be comin' in now."

The door gives a thunderous groan and I wince as Gibbly waddles in holding a tray of covered dishes that is almost as wide as she is. I give the open door a quick glance but any chance at running for it is squashed by the two stocky goblin guards, both equipped with heavy armor, only one is holding a particularly pointy spear and the other has a wicked looking axe that I'd really rather not get acquainted with.

Gibbly sits the tray down on the end of the large bed with its plush pillows and pale blue satin coverlet. I almost grin at the comical way her carrot colored hair seems to defy gravity as it pokes out all over. She places her pudgy hands on her plump hips and gives me a fond look. "I bring you food again. This time you needs to eat deary."

"I'm not hungry," I say stubbornly but my stomach makes a liar out of me when it growls quite loudly at the enticing scent of food now wafting about the room. Gibbly cackles madly and I fold my arms across my chest giving her my best glare.

"Good food will win ya over," she insists with a big gap-toothed grin, "I'll be back for 'em later. Best be empty."

I watch her waddle out the door knowing that I'm going to give in and eat. The food certainly smells wonderful but I was sort of hoping I could pull a hunger strike or something. Obviously I don't have willpower when it comes to starving myself.

Pacing the chamber like a caged animal all day while suffering through the same recycled self-recriminations has taken its toll and my brain is beginning to feel numb. Maybe a full tummy will offer me a fresh point of view. It certainly couldn't hurt.

I crawl onto the bed without bothering to pull back the coverlet. On the try there is a glass pitcher filled with water and two covered dishes. I lift the lid on the first and make a face. I suspect the small grilled carcass is some form of rodent- with head and paws still attached- and I'm not even going to attempt to guess at the green goop beside it. I cover the pate back with a shudder. Hesitantly I pick up the other. This one is recognizable as some form of dessert. I pick up the bowl and spoon, the only utensil on the tray, and take a bite. It's sweet and tasty and I gulp down three spoonfuls before I drop the bowl in horror.

Peach cobbler.

Peaches…

"Aw shit," I mutter as the room begins to swim at the edges of my vision. Lightheaded, I fall over and the inane thought 'at least I'm on the bed' is the last thing to cross my mind before the world goes black.

_It's the thick, oppressive weight to the darkness that causes a shiver of fear to ripple through my body. I try to move but my mobility is limited. Even trying to breathe is a laborious affair and a feeling akin to dread begins to take hold of me as I frantically strain my eyes to see something in the inky black of my surroundings. _

_One by one things begin to come into focus. It's hard to breathe because my arms are bound above my head. The weight I feel is the pull of my own body suspended with my bare toes barely scraping the rough, damp ground. The air is stale and carries a foreboding chill that seeps right through my dress. And out of the black comes a light but it's only the dim glow of a single candle flickering as if it will go out at any second. _

"_Fear is a very powerful emotion."_

_I gasp as Jareth bleeds out from the darkness as if he were forming from the very shadows themselves. The wavering light plays upon his pale skin and sharply angled features in a very unnerving way. His smile is razor sharp. _

"_Fear originates in the mind and the mind is very fragile. Easily manipulated. A slave driven by all five sense," he says softly, "Take away one and it is weakened. Take away all sensation and the mind will destroy itself."_

_Jareth stops before me, his eyes gleaming with frigid rage. It's been a long time since I've seen this side of Jareth. Beneath his amiable façade he is livid, murderously so. _

"_We know the limits of your mind," he taunts as he circles me with exaggerated slowness, "And I've been very generous with my assistance in restoring it. One might say I deserve your eternal gratitude, at the very least. But not my Sarah. Oh no," he laughs derisively, "You continue to fight me at every turn." He reaches out a gloved finger to trace my trembling lips and I hold my breath afraid to breathe. "But I wonder, how much resistance you would offer should I use your own fear against you. Manipulate your senses and turn your mind against itself. How long would you hold out then, do you think?"_

"_You don't have to do this," I plead wincing from the pain radiating from my bound wrists. I know I can't really stop whatever torture he has planned, not bound as I am. _

"_But I haven't done anything… yet." _

_The unspoken threat laced in his teasing words makes my skin crawl. _

"_That is the wonderful thing about dreams," he continues conversationally as he trails his fingertip down along my jaw, "It's all in your pretty little head. Anything I decide to put you through will have no lasting physical effects. I could flay the skin from your bones just to revel in the music of your screams. Or maybe it's more fitting to tether you to post and pyre and burn you to cinders for bewitching me. Then again, I could allow the monsters in my Labyrinth rip you apart bit by bloody bit," With viper-like agility his fingers suddenly wrap around my throat exerting just enough pressure to be uncomfortable. "Just like poor Prometheus. Can you imagine a thousand years of torment, dying only to heal and die again and again." _

_Panic causes my stomach to clench painfully as I try not to imagine the terrible things he speaks of. There's an edge of vicious tension radiating from Jareth and while he is unpredictable at the best of times, right now he may be angry enough to make good on his threats. I'm sure he would find a perverse pleasure in my pain. _

_But one thing he said gives me a shot of courage. This is only a dream and anything that occurs is not real. It's only an illusion and maybe, just maybe I can break the illusion if I try. _

_Swallowing hard against his tightened grip, my voice is surprisingly steady as I admit, "You're terrifying me, there is no point in lying, but I won't give in. You know I won't." _

"_I could crush you and still you stand defiant. The more frightening I am the more you dig your heels in and remain unmovable," he smirks knowingly, "But I see now that fear was never the way to sway you, was it?"_

_There's a ripple in the air and I can feel threads of power weaving in a precise pattern as the darkness dissolves around us. I can see the magic, glimmering delicate little strands moving of their own accord, reshaping the dreamscape into a different scene entirely. _

_It's still dark but I'm no longer bound. Now I'm trapped pressed with my back against Jareth's chest as his arms encircle me like steel bands. A jolt of shock races down my spine as I make sense of where we are. It's my room at the hospital and writhing on the floor in a sweaty, tangled heap is… _

"_We make a splendid vision, don't we?" he whispers against my ear._

_I can't tear my eyes away. I remember this; the feel of his body moving beneath me, the bruising urgency of his hands as they roamed possessively over my skin, even the sultry moans and sighs that I couldn't contain. My breathing hitches as the sensations come back to me; the rush that I reveled in, the empowerment I felt as he lost his composure because of me._

_As always Jareth is right. To force me through pain and torture would only make me fight back that much harder. But this, the power and the pleasure, is enough to get under my skin and undermine my reason._

_To watch myself from outside my body is odd yet curiously stimulating. I would have thought I'd be more self-conscious but I'm not embarrassed at all. On the contrary, there is a certain thrill in seeing myself as he did, confident and secure in my position as his lover. _

_I have to wonder if this is as much Jareth's dream as it is mine._

"_I do prefer this to torture," I admit breathlessly, a slow burn catching fire in my veins. _

"_Pain can be made to feel good just as pleasure can be so intense it hurts. Sex is in its own way just another form of torture," Jareth warns, his words imbued with a treacherous edge, "Fortunately, precious thing, I have a preference for this method as well." _

_I know there's truth in what he says because I can feel his heart racing as fast as mine and there is no mistaking his arousal pressing against me. The seduction is complete. If he'd given me a taste of such passion when I was fifteen then things may have turned out very differently. I'm sure Jareth could have done better than a chaste waltz in a poisoned dream._

_Through the haze of desire a prickle of fear begins to surface._

_A poisoned dream?_

_I try to focus past the salacious memory playing out before me._

_A poisoned apple? No not an apple. A peach. _

_I stiffen in Jareth's arms as my bearings come back and I recall the poisoned peach cobbler and falling into a drugged sleep. My temper is sparked in a flash._

"_You sick son-of-a-bitch!"_

_Jareth begins to laugh, a horribly unrepentant sound that drips with irate mockery. "Careful Sarah. You don't want me to turn your dream into a nightmare."_

"_Go to hell!" I hiss, struggling against his unyielding hold with everything I've got._

"_Now is not the time to trifle with me," he snarls and the air begins to ripple with magic._

_Frantically I try and think of a way out. I broke free from this kind of dream once before, I know I can do so again. As the iridescent threads of magic start reweaving the fabric of time and space, I manage to wrestle an arm free and reach out just enough to grab hold of one. With a fierce yank I channel the force of my will into a single thought._

_Wake Up!_

_I hold my breath as the dream itself rips apart._

Nausea churns my stomach as the world spins like a merry-go-round and it's a good five minutes before my disoriented brain can process that I'm awake. I breathe slowly and take in every detail of my reality just to make sure it is exactly that, reality.

I can still feel the lingering magic ghosting across my palm. I look at my hand and wonder. I could see the magic this time. I could feel the exact moment when Jareth began to manipulate my perception like the strings of marionette. It was beautiful, complex and just within my reach. A slow smile curves my lips as an idea begins to form.

But first things first.

I've got a deal to make with the devil.

* * *

**A.N.- **This chapter is the longest yet. I hope the explanations are satisfactory. And now we finally see Sarah coming back into her own. This story wouldn't be any fun if she didn't give Jareth hell before all is said and done.

I'm having a bit of writers block on the next chapter. Somewhere between my brain and the page something is going horribly wrong and nothing seems to be coming out the way I want it to. Hopefully this fixes itself so I will be able to post next week.

As always, thank you for reading my humble offerings. Remember reviews feed my inspiration.


	5. Game of Words

**Fragile**

By: Lara Winner

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Labyrinth or its characters.

* * *

_**I've been burned so bad **_

_**But I still play with fire**_

_**Sometimes naked truth **_

_**Is what I can't believe in **_

_**Don't ever tell me I'm falling apart**_

_**Don't ever tell me I will not survive**_

_**Don't ever tell me this love is a lie**_

'_**Cause I am the lie**_

_**I am the lair**_

_**-Lacuna Coil "I Won't Tell You"**_

The preparation is as much a necessity as the actual implementation.

Using my time wisely as I wait for Gibbly to return, I work the logistics out in my mind, trying to think of every possible reaction Jareth can give and every verbal assault he can possibly launch to ready myself for the charade I'm going to begin. I'm not a dishonest person by nature but I have learned a few tricks from the Goblin King over the years; as for this particular instance, how to lie by withholding the whole truth yet technically not telling a lie at all. Not as easy as it sounds and nearly impossible when playing a game of wits against an ageless fey that could put Machiavelli to shame.

Nearly impossible… but not entirely.

If I'm going to initiate negotiations then I have to bring my best offer to the table. To win unrestricted freedom in the Goblin Kingdom I will have to offer something that will lure Jareth into absolute confidence in his control over me. After my drugged dream I have a very good notion on where to start.

Jareth is not immune to temptation, I can see that now. While he can disengage any qualms concerning his lack of morality and exert an insanely frustrating level of patience when the game is in motion, he's still a creature driven by wants and cravings and I suspect that his desire for me is a maddening weakness. My resistance can fuel his amusement or fury depending on the situation but when we act on the physical attraction between us there are subtle cracks in his composure and it's far more thrilling and effective than when we play at being civil.

Since there is no point in lying to myself I may as well admit that having Jareth satisfy my sexual needs would hardly be a sacrifice. But if _he_ were to think it was, well I'd wager he would advocate his services by demonstration just to torment me. And what a delightful torment indeed.

But here is where my plan gets tricky and it becomes essential that I tread carefully. Giving into my baser urges could backfire if I get too caught up the moment. Gaining my acquiescence must appear to Jareth as a victory in order for it to be the distraction I need. I only hope I'm half as good of an actress as my mother because if I don't convince him that he has me exactly where he wants me then I really will be screwed. If Jareth suspects for even a second that I have ulterior motives-

No, I don't dare consider the möbius strip of nightmares he could trap me within.

Although, if my plan works accordingly then I'll be strong enough to break through anything Jareth can throw my way. I tapped into his magic when I broke his dream and while I'm not sure how I did it, I think I know how to go about finding out. He casually mentioned doing research to discover what could cause my mental-breakdown which tells me there are books on magic here in the castle, probably in a study or library. If I could get a hold of them I might be able to learn how to defend myself against him.

Jareth may be many unsavory things but a fool is certainly not one of them. So I'll have to be very careful and extremely patient. If he knows just how desperately I want freedom then the next logical step would be for him to question why and I have to make him believe it has everything to do with loneliness and nothing to do with access to crucial knowledge.

It's not like it will be hard to play up my loneliness. I'm pretty sure my fixation with fantasy as a way to counter feelings of isolation is part of what attracted Jareth's attention to me in the first place. And now I'm in his domain, cut off from everything I've ever known and completely at his mercy.

At Jareth's mercy… not a position I want to remain in even if it means bartering away any chance of ever leaving the Underground.

Outside faint footsteps, the slightly off rhythm patter giving away Gibbly, alerts me to her approach that is followed by her brisk knock which shatters the oppressive silence. I take a deep breath and try for a pitiful expression as she enters the room with her usual ungainly flare, "Hello deary. Eat your dinner?"

"I tried but it didn't sit right. I don't feel so well."

The stout goblin eyes my tray and then me with a slight frown. "The king don't want ya getting' sick. Anythin' I can do?"

"It's nothing a nice hot bath can't fix." I pin her pleadingly hopeful smile, "Is there a bathroom near by?"

Gibbly gives me a flabbergasted look as if I'd just sprouted a second head. "Why in spells and bells would ya wanna take a bath?"

Judging from her grubby appearance and rotting teeth- what few remain, that is- I shouldn't be surprised that hygiene is not high on her priority list. Trying not to chuckle, I insist, "It's a human thing. I would very much like one please."

"Okey dokey. Follow me," she relents, though her tone still suggests that she thinks I'm off my rocker.

Waddling over to the massive wardrobe, Gibbly opens the ornate double doors and grunts approvingly at the mess of dresses and accessories before closing the doors again. I peer curiously over her head as she twists the sliver knob and it makes a clicking noise. Then Gibbly pulls open the wardrobe doors again and my jaw nearly drops.

The wardrobe is now a doorway into a tidy little bathroom. I can't help but grin as I take in the antique commode with a pull chain flusher, the porcelain claw foot tub and tiny wash basin. It may be over a half-century outdated compared to Aboveground standards but it's efficient and right now the enormous tub looks like heaven.

I only somewhat listen as Gibbly points to a large leather-bound trunk and prattles on and on about soaps and towels and how it's all rubbish in her opinion as I begin running hot water for a bath. Curiously, I appraise the contents of the trunk with wry amusement. There is definitely a variety of soaps from bars that look handmade to bottles of body wash that are popular Aboveground. There's shampoo, conditioner and even a razor to shave my legs. How… interesting.

I shoo Gibbly away and wait until I hear the chamber door close and lock before I start to undress. I sink into the steaming water and the sensation is exquisite. I can't remember the last time I was able to indulge in a nice long soak. At the hospital showers were quick and usually supervised by a nurse. They also didn't always occur on a daily basis. This simple luxury is something I hadn't realized I missed. My eyes slide closed and my body completely relaxes as I let the warmth of the water work its magic.

I can't say what alerts me that I'm no longer alone but there is no mistaking the prickle of unease that raises the hairs on my neck or the sudden certainty that I'm being watched. From beneath my lashes I cast a surreptitious glance about the room and my heart lurches with resigned apprehension for there is Jareth lounging upon the lid of the trunk, his arms folded and his legs stretched out before him and crossed at the ankle. His feet are bare and his shirt is unlaced and completely open leaving me to wonder if he was preparing for bed. Due to the informality of his state of dress he appears blasé with a touch languid grace, but his glacial eyes tell the tale. His frigid blues are fixed on me with the scrutiny of a bird of prey targeting its next meal.

Jareth's unwavering focus sends a thrilling shiver across my skin, the only indication I give to his presence. His expression is unreadable and I can't tell if he is still furious with me or not. It's a small eternity before I realize that he's not going say anything. I sort of expect him to launch into a diva-esque tirade or to verbally assault me with his mocking wit or- hell, I don't know… anything would be better than this impersonal observance. I find silence from Jareth far more frightening than his worst tantrums.

Well, I muse with ironic humor, I did want to negotiate and I needed to appear vulnerable so I would be a fool not to use Jareth's blatant disregard for privacy to my advantage. "If you're just going to sit there and watch I'd rather you join me," I entreat softly, not daring to meet his eyes as my bold words hang between us.

I fervently hope he accepts my peace offering.

"Am I to jump and do your bidding?" His question is as biting as his tone.

"Like you have any right to be pissy after you've poisoned me _again_-" I stop myself before I get truly angry and drag in a deep, calming breath, "I'm tired of fighting. Please."

Annoyed with the slight flush that suffuses my cheeks, I force myself to meet Jareth's unyielding stare with a vulnerable one of my own. For a brief moment a tableau of emotions play across his sharp features as he contemplates his next move, but then finally his lips curve in a semblance of his usual cocky grin.

"Trying to remain a step ahead of you is thoroughly exhausting," he chuckles mirthlessly.

In an effort to accommodate my irritating sense of modesty I fold my arms on the rim of the tub and rest my chin upon them. "Truce?"

A touch of mischief dances merrily in his eyes, "Granted."

Ever a king, Jareth alludes to my forgiveness as something he allows. It's infuriatingly pretentious but I don't suppose I can expect anything less from the creature that has stolen my affections and commandeered my dreams. Humility would not suit him well.

I watch with baited curiosity as he moves to join me. There's a glimmer in the air, almost too fleeting for me to see, but I feel the tingle of magic for a scarce heartbeat and just that easily Jareth's clothing is removed and he saunters forward in nothing more than his flawless skin. I force myself not to look away despite the blush that warms my face. I have to remind myself it's okay for me to enjoy the view of his lithe lines and angles.

He's testing me, calling my bluff to see if I will follow through. I'm not a child any longer and if I can't woman up and handle seeing him unclothed without turning into an awkward mess then I don't deserve to be his lover.

I'll have forfeit this game before we even begin.

Forcing away my insecurities, I give the Goblin King a thorough once over and try for a sultry grin. His own wicked smile widens a fraction and I shift forward to make room for him in the large tub. Jareth slips into the water behind me, his long legs sliding tauntingly against mine as his hands settle just beneath my breasts to pull my back against his chest. Vaguely I wonder if he can feel the thunderous racing of my heart.

Silence encompasses us once more but it's not exactly uncomfortable with the reassurance of his touch. I lean my head back against his shoulder and allow Jareth his fun as he idly trails his fingers along my stomach and over my breasts in seemingly random patterns. While his touch is gentle, it's anything but relaxing.

My blood is heating, aches are blooming to life in secret places and my breath stutters. How easily he can play my body like an instrument. The only balm to my pride is that I can feel he is affected as well.

Jareth's lips graze the shell of my ear, then his sharp teeth nip and tug on the lobe sending a tingle straight through me. His breath tickles as he whispers, "Now, sweetling, perhaps you will tell me what it is you want?"

The question can be taken in more than one context and I'm uncertain of where Jareth's reasoning is leading, so I play it safe. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Tsk, tsk Sarah," he chides and nips the skin below my ear sharply, "You are being nice and I must point out that you are rarely nice, to me at least." I gasp as he sooths the sting of his teeth with a slow sweep of his tongue, before continuing, "So I ask again, what is it you want?"

"I… it's not…" Shifting away from his distracting mouth, I struggle to compose my thoughts and put my needs into words. "I am… really, really tired of fighting. But we don't even know how to get along. We've never tried." I look back over my shoulder trying to appear earnest, "You… you want… me to be your queen, right?"

There's a subtle softening to Jareth's countenance as he says, "You know that is my fondest wish."

"And I'm willing to give it serious consideration…" I hesitate for a second when his eyes begin to narrow shrewdly, "in… in return for unrestricted freedom."

Jareth's expression closes, his lips thinning in displeasure, "Returning Aboveground is not possible, how many times must we-"

"That's not what I meant," I hurry to placate him, "I understand I can't go back. I've had time to think and… as you said before… I don't have anything to return to." I let the hurt show, trying not to lay it on too thick as I admit softly, "You're all I've got now."

Jareth's eyes widen slightly, "Sarah-"

I press a finger to his lips. "Just hear me out before you say anything."

In silent response Jareth grasps my hand and presses a kiss to my palm. My heart begins to race all over again as I realize that, not only do his little kiss do funny things to my insides, but I may actually pull this off.

Smiling slightly, I explain, "I don't know the first thing about being a queen. Honestly, I don't know all that much about your kingdom or the labyrinth for that matter. So if I decide that I want to be the goblin queen then I'm not going to do it half-ass. I'd want you to be proud of me. But I can't make that kind of decision without knowing what I'm getting into. And I can't do that confined in my chamber."

"And you want unrestricted freedom to roam the Goblin Kingdom?"

I nod.

Jareth considers me for a long moment. "And if you decide not to be my queen?"

"I'll still be by your side."

"As a king's courtesan?" he smirks, but without his usual mockery, "You are meant for more than that, sweetling."

"It's still my choice," I say firmly.

"That it is," he sighs dramatically, "And it is my choice whether I allow you to run amuck in my kingdom."

"I wouldn't put it quite like that!" I huff indignantly.

"Hush now," Jareth commands distractedly, "I need a moment to think." He stares off into space, his expression intently thoughtful.

I try to keep quiet, really I do, but I'm so close to getting what I want that I can't let him think too much and risk undoing all of my progress. "Please," I plead, "I can't stay cooped up in that room. I'll go crazy for real this time."

"It would make you happy?" Jareth asks, still strategizing.

"Yes, very much." I reply fervently.

"Fine," he sighs with a grimace. "I'll allow you to come and go as you please but you must agree to two conditions."

My heart nearly stops. "Which are…?"

"First, I will prepare a map for you that you must adhere to. Traversing the labyrinth without guidance is only asking for trouble and you seem to land yourself in such situations without much effort." I tense but before I can even open my mouth to properly object he continues, "No Sarah, it is for your own good. There are many unsavory inhabitants lurking with the labyrinth, not to mention oubliettes, pitfalls and potentially fatal plant life. I'd rather not have the constant distraction of worrying for your safety."

I really hate when he plays the concern card. How the hell do I argue with that? I tug his hand away and reluctantly I concede, "Okay, I can accept that. What's the other one?"

This time he smirks. "My second stipulation is that you have one month to come to a decision."

"A month?" I grit my teeth. "Why?"

"You've caused quite a stir among my fellow fey as they do adore their rumors and speculations. I am already beginning to grow wary of their veiled questions." I give him a look that clearly says 'get to the point' and he chuckles. "In a month there will be an annual summit of the fey courts. As king of the Goblin Kingdom I am to attend and I would have you accompany me as my queen."

"And if I refuse to be queen?"

"Then you'll be labeled my consort and denied your due respect while I will remain subjected to the drudgery of spurning the advances of many eligible ladies," he sighs exaggeratedly, wicked humor heavy in his tone.

I know I shouldn't ask but annoyance prompts me to question, "How many ladies?"

"Scores and scores," he laughs, "I am quite the catch."

"Are you trying to make me jealous?" I ask, almost positive that he's just trying to provoke me. But a part of me knows that Jareth is probably telling the truth. He is a king. There are many women who would want that kind of prestige. Unearthly beautiful women. Magic wielding fey women. Women that I could never compete with.

Sensing my insecurity, he mocks, "Is it working?"

"Ugh!" I growl, blushing angrily. "How did I end up with a narcissistic, manipulative, incorrigible, control freak with a deity complex?"

I should have known Jareth could answer my rhetorical question without missing a beat.

"Well, sweetling, if you wanted a gullible, idealistic, unimaginative, martyr with a hero complex then you should have obsessed over a different fairytale." Magic tingles along my skin and in the blink of an eye we're no longer in the tub but in Jareth's bed and the feel of his body stretched out along mine with no barriers is a distractingly well played move. Placing a nibbling kiss on my lips, he quips, "Besides, you would not be nearly as captivating if you were just another helpless heroine in need of rescue."

"And don't you forget it," I laugh because I'm certainly not going to argue that point. Secretly I relish my small accomplishment and since I'm riding high on the feeling of victory I allow Jareth begin to demonstrate just how captivated he is.

* * *

**A.N-** My poor brain hurts… I don't care for how this chapter turned out. While it is what I envisioned as a whole, it seemed so much better in my head. I was going to add the next scene to this chapter but I decided not to for two reasons. The first being that I made you guys wait long enough or an update. Secondly, the next scene is what's giving me a headache. But on a positive note we're down to two more chapters and an epilogue. Yay!

As always, thank you for reading and keep the reviews coming.


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Labyrinth, Drama, Romance