Play the Game

Disclaimer: I do not own Labyrinth, and I don’t make money off it.
Chapter 7 – Throw Me Tomorrow

Sarah woke with a start when she hit her bedroom floor on her stomach. The floor bucked and rolled, and the panes of glass in her windows were rattling fiercely. Crashing, banging and the sound of shattering ceramics emanated from the kitchen, but she didn’t know if it was more the fault of the earthquake or the Goblins’ reactions to it.

“Sarah! SARAH!” She heard her bedroom door slam open just before a heavy weight fell on top of her, still shouting her name.

‘Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!’ her running mental dialog chanted silently, but the first thing that Sarah said that Saturday morning was, “Oof!”

The Goblin King repeated the sentiment when three of his loyal subjects landed on his back, yowling and slathering in fear. He followed it with, “Get off my back, you mangy buggers!” Sarah would have like to concur, but she was quite out of breath.

By the time the Goblins had squeezed under her bed, the earth had stopped trembling and Sarah was starting to see spots before her eyes. “Jareth… off,” she wheezed, attempting to wriggle out from under his stiff form.

“How do you live in this place? Does that happen often?” he snapped in a strained and brittle tone. Sarah imagined that his muscles creaked as he rolled off her, his arms still locked around and dragging her with him.

Lying limply on Jareth’s chest, she took several deep breaths and let the adrenaline ebb from her system until she could think clearly again. She had experienced her fair share of earthquakes, though none of them had been strong enough to bounce her out of bed. ‘What was that, five something? Even six?’ Sarah wondered absently as she stared at the bedroom ceiling, her eyes following a new crack in the plaster. ‘What broke?’ She was fairly certain that she had heard something smash in her bedroom, but she had no idea what.

“Sarah?” Jareth asked quietly, jostling her with his arms.

“You don’t have earthquakes Underground?” Her tone was flippant, though the squeak at the end of the last word betrayed her anxiety.

He was silent for a moment, and she was relieved when she felt his grip begin to slacken. “I did hear about one; it happened… oh, ages ago, before my time. An island Above sunk into the ocean and resurfaced off the coast of what was known as the Endless Beach. Needless to say, the Beach was destroyed and the sea now washes up against the Fire Swamp.”

“Fire Swamp?” Sarah asked dubiously, craning her neck to look him in the eye. “Are you pulling my leg?”

“No,” Jareth said as he tugged on a lock of her hair, “but it does make the most spectacular bank of fog in which one would ever have the misfortune to lose oneself.”

Realizing once again that she had lingered in the Goblin King’s arms, Sarah pulled free and sat up. Jareth, however, tucked his hands behind his head and raised a wing-tipped eyebrow. She tried not to notice that he was still free balling in her Hello Kitty bathrobe by scanning her room for damage.

“The Castle Beyond the Goblin City is actually the second Castle,” he continued. “The first was reduced to a pile of rubble.”

Speaking of rubble… “Oh no!” Sarah cried as she spotted a scattering of white porcelain by the side of her vanity. “My music box dancer!” Climbing to her feet, she tiptoed over, placing her steps carefully so that she didn’t cut her feet. Forlorn bits of netting were mixed with the jagged white shards, and around the key of the music box hung a ring of gold-leafed porcelain.

“Oh,” she moaned quietly as she knelt next to the mess, pulling the key from the collection of broken pieces and dusting off the music box. Bracing the box in one hand, she turned the key with the other. As the sweet melody tinkled in the air, Sarah’s eyes began to prickle with moisture. It was silly to get teary about a gaudy old piece of chachki when she had no idea what else had been damaged in the ‘quake, but she had had it since she was six, and it played the song that Jareth had sung to her in the crystal ballroom. Gathering the largest pieces into her hand, she opened the drawer of her vanity with the hidden compartment and pried up the false bottom, tipping them into the tiny space. The music box she laid reverently on top of the pile, then she replaced the bottom and shut the drawer. It was better than just tossing it, she supposed; who knew what the magic of the vanity would do with it.

“I’m sorry, Sarah,” Jareth whispered close to her ear just before resting his chin on her shoulder.

She brushed him away, not yet willing to accept the affectionate closeness that he had suddenly seemed intent on maintaining. She didn’t want to get used to it. Standing up, she dusted her hands against her sleeping pants. “It’s not a big deal. Let’s go see what else has been destroyed.” Melancholy and still slightly teary, she stomped out of her bedroom grumbling silently, ‘There had better be unmolested coffee.’

As it turned out, there was a bag of coffee that had escaped Goblin slobber; it had been hiding behind a collection of travel mugs. However, the power had gone out and her burners were electric, so she had no way to brew a pot. Besides her music box dancer, several wine glasses and an ornamental plate (a gift from Irene that she detested, but hung anyway on the off chance that her family would visit) had broken, and the houseplant that had been defoliated by the Goblins had fallen off its stand and now lay in a tangle of bare stalks, roots, and clods of dirt. Her cell phone had gone missing, though she figured that all cell lines would be busy, anyway. The landline was dead, so she could not call her dad or Toby to let them know that she was fine. She had little doubt that by the time she found her phone and got through to them, her dad would have pulled out his remaining hair and Toby would have about a million questions that he would spout rapid-fire at her until Irene shouted at him to stop.

About halfway through her inspection of the apartment, Jareth had joined her, now wearing a pair of fitted black leather pants and a blue shirt with foiled silver designs. The trademark gloves once again concealed his hands, and Sarah halfheartedly cursed that she hadn’t taken a moment to inspect them when they were still bare.

“When are we leaving?” he asked as she vacuumed up the dirt and debris that was all that was left of her poor plant.

“Leaving?” She glanced at him, frowning in confusion. Now that the excitement of the earthquake had worn off, she found herself worrying over the request he had made of her last night and her indecision. He was going to ask about it, she was certain, and it was only fair to have an answer for him.

Raising an eyebrow, he propped his fists on his lean hips. “For the studio?”

“It’s Saturday, Jareth. We have today and tomorrow off.”

“I see,” he said as his face fell.

Sarah just shook her head. Though she was one of the lucky few that didn’t loathe her job, she still looked forward to the weekends and not going to work. Of course, it wasn’t work for Jareth. He was on holiday and seemed to have an itinerary chock full of finagling kisses out of her. Narrowing her eyes, she turned off the vacuum. “Which reminds me… Just how many scenes did you alter?”

“Come now, Sarah,” he said cajolingly with a mocking smile, “that script was a shoddily written piece of rubbish. My changes could only improve it.”

She couldn’t really argue with that, but she tried anyway. “It wasn’t all that bad. You better not have added anything too risqué; it’s being marketed for children.” A thoughtful expression settled on his face, and Sarah groaned inwardly. She hadn’t meant to give him ideas. A headache was creeping behind her temples, and she could ignore it no longer. “I need some coffee,” she moaned, partly to distract him from whatever his devious brain was concocting and partly because it was very true. She let the vacuum handle fall and hit the carpet with a dull thud. “But there’s no hot water. I suppose we’ll have to see if Starbucks is open… doubtful, though.”

“My dear Sarah,” Jareth said as he glided across the carpet, hardly seeming to bend the fibers beneath his booted feet. “You flaunt your magic by transporting me from your bedroom, and yet you won’t use it to heat water or fix a music box?”

Staring blankly at him, Sarah was momentarily speechless. “I, uh… well, no, I hadn’t thought of that.” Suddenly inspired, she tore out of the living room and into her bedroom, yanking open the drawer of the vanity. Prying open the secret compartment, she frowned at the empty space she found. Just to be sure, she ran her fingertips over the fine grain of the wood. Not even a shard of broken porcelain remained.

Her mood plummeted to even lower than when she had first found the broken toy, and she shut the drawer with more force than was necessary. Stomping straight into the kitchen, she dug an old unused copper kettle (another gift from Irene) out of the depths of her cupboards and filled it with water from the Brita carafe from the fridge. With a sigh for all of the food that might spoil while waiting for the power to be restored, she slammed it onto a burner and then glared at it until the burner glowed red with heat. In several minutes, the kettle was whistling shrilly, but Sarah was left drained and exhausted. With shaky hands, she poured the hot water over the grounds and retired to her dinette table to rest. Jareth had already taken the other chair.

“Sarah,” he said as he stared at her intently, his eyes unblinking. She wanted to hit her forehead against the table; he would choose now of all times to ask her about his request. “Why do you always insist on doing things the hard way?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, too relieved to bother taking offense.

“You could have simply coaxed the water to heat itself, and yet you expended considerable energy to heat the burner instead.” When she didn’t respond, he leaned forward on his elbows, lacing his fingers together to form a cradle for his pointed chin.

“Tell me, have you ever attempted to shape shift?”

---

“Jareth, I think this is a really bad idea,” Sarah said as she eyed the slope of the hill with clear misgivings.

They were high up in the canyons where the hills rolled gently, then steeply down, cut periodically by a two-lane road or a palatial estate. Sarah’s car was parked at a lookout point, and they had trekked off the road, following a narrow path that appeared to have been trampled by deer. They were invisible from the road and curious eyes, though the only people around roared by the lookout point in expensive sports cars or motorcycles.

It hadn’t rained for well over four months, so the grasses and low scrub that covered the hill were dry, brittle, and a cigarette butt away from bursting into flame. To the west, the Pacific Ocean glittered through the dips between rounded peaks, tiny boats dotting the horizon like scattered glass beads. Instead of dull brown, the hills were painted brilliant magenta as the sun sunk below the ocean and set it ablaze. In the far distance, purple dusk had already fallen over the city, the pinpricks of lights and ghostly shapes of buildings barely discernable through the smog layer that always blanketed it.

“Nonsense. It’s a brilliant idea,” Jareth assured her confidently. It was brilliant, though not for the reasons that she might be thinking. He had no idea whether or not she could actually shape shift and didn’t care beyond simple curiosity. Using it to distract her from finding a way to contact her soon-to-be-ex-beau was sheer genius.

She was very put out about her missing cell phone. The Goblins had kept their word and hadn’t mentioned its ignoble end, so she still hadn’t a clue what had happened to it. Lucky for him, she had tossed the little scrap of paper on which the man had written his number after she had saved it to her phone. He had gotten very tired of listening to her bemoan the fact for the past two days.

Saturday had been an odd day, even by Jareth’s standards. For much of the day, Sarah’s neighbors had seemed to spring out of the very woodwork, dropping by to breathlessly recount their whereabouts during the few seconds of shaking. Several of them were still scatterbrained with shock, and one swore that he was moving back to Chicago and civilization. All of them peered around Sarah’s living room and kitchen, eager to see signs of destruction and mayhem. Jareth watched it all with a disdainful eye, choosing not to remember his panicked flight into her room, though he was proud of how gallantly he had protected her fallen form with his body. Several women were duly impressed by his story, and Sarah was the recipient of many jealous glances.

As soon as the electricity had been restored, Sarah had turned on the television and set it to a channel that discussed current events. Jareth was disgusted yet fascinated; there had been close-ups of structural damage of buildings and interviews with humans sobbing in fear and grief. Many people had been injured, and even they had not been afforded their privacy. “Human Interest” stories, Sarah called them. Despite the hours that the television had been on, Jareth had learned very little about the actual event. Strangely enough, the hours had flown by, though that might have had more to do with Sarah’s warm presence nestled against his side on the couch.

Amidst the horror stories about the earthquake broadcast on the television and the neighbors incessantly knocking on the door, the telephone began to ring off the hook. Sarah had spent a good hour placating her father and brother, and the emotional connection between them had made Jareth a bit nostalgic for a family of his own. He couldn’t quite remember his parents beyond a flash of pale blond hair and the scent of peppermint. To whom these memories could be attributed, Jareth had no idea. For as long as he could remember, which only went back to his teenage years, he had lived in Labyrinth with the Goblins. Fae had come and gone, some staying for years and some just passing through, but none had ever shown an interest in being a parental figure. Sometimes, Jareth wondered if he had once been a wished-away human child who had been collected and been raised by Goblins, the magic of the Underground altering him until he was no longer human. At others, he thought that his parents must have been the prior monarchs of the Goblin Kingdom, but had met a foul, fatal and mysterious end. Whatever the case may have been, Jareth was certain that when he got around to having children of his own (preferably with Sarah), he was going to make sure they remembered him until the day they died.

He hadn’t brought up his request, though he sensed that Sarah expected him to at any moment. He didn’t want her answer until he’d had a chance to pursue her properly. A few days and some old-fashioned, romantic courting would make all the difference. He already had his foot in the door of her affections, so to speak; now he had to wedge it fully open and camp there.

Draconus, the bastard, had somehow managed to find Sarah’s apartment and had taken to perching in the trees near the apartment building and peering through her windows. Jareth was fairly certain that the King Under the Mountain had something up his sleeve; after all, he had bribed that horrible old dwarf into helping Sarah through the Labyrinth. Hoggle probably would have helped her regardless, for people just liked doing things for Sarah, but Draconus’ methods were underhanded, nonetheless. It hadn’t helped that Hoggle had once lived in the Mountain.

Sunday had passed in much the same way, though he had finally managed to coax Sarah out of the house by suggesting to the Goblins that a rousing game of Goblin bowling would be a splendid way to pass the time. The game involved sneaking up on one’s fellow Goblin and shoving him in the back, sending him careening into a piece of furniture. Points were awarded if something was knocked over. Jareth had told Sarah that the Goblins were going stir-crazy and needed some space to run, and no, he wouldn’t just send them Underground, and why didn’t he just try to teach her to shape shift in the meantime?

She had brought them to the most isolated open area that she could recall that also had easy access to her vehicle. It was very beautiful and wild for being surrounded by human cities. The Goblins had quickly disappeared; they were off hunting or something. Jareth didn’t really care. It wasn’t as if he could lose them.

“What if I suck at flying?” Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, Sarah nibbled on it.

Jareth watched, entranced for a moment, before he remembered to answer. “That’s why I specifically asked that you take us to an open area. There is nothing for you to hit here.”

“Except the ground,” Sarah pointed out.

With an exasperated sigh, he reminded her, “You might not even take a bird shape. You might be a mule, and then all this arguing about flying will be a moot point!”

“I’d rather not learn to shape shift if I just turn into a mule!” Sarah turned to face him and crossed her arms over her chest, frowning.

“That’s just your vanity talking. I’m sure you’d make a lovely mule,” Jareth couldn’t help but say. He knew that he was baiting her again, but he’d been good for the past two days, and she was being too obstinate to resist!

“Vanity!” Sarah squeaked. “I wonder what your basis for comparison is?”

“You seem to like to quote my words back to me,” he said, smiling and tilting his head to the side so that fine wisps of baby-soft hair brushed the blue collar of his shirt. “I will choose to take that as the highest form of flattery.”

Sarah glowered at him, and he had the distinct impression that she was restraining herself from stomping her foot in frustration. Deciding that he’d teased her enough, he glided behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, settling his chin on her shoulder. She jerked in surprise, since he’d moved more quickly than she could see, and craned her neck, staring at him with wide eyes. “Don’t worry Sarah,” he whispered into her ear. He was so close that he could have nibbled the lobe. It was very tempting. “Rest assured that the sentiment is mutual. I wouldn’t bring an ordinary girl out for shape shifting lessons.”

Her cheeks were flushed and her breathing was quick and shallow. “I don’t want to be a mule,” she said quietly, though he could tell that something else entirely was on her mind.

He laughed softly, stealing the opportunity to hold her close before she remembered to put distance between them. Oh, but she felt good in his arms. “You’re not going to become a mule, Sarah,” he reassured her. “Your magic came from me, and I have never turned into a four-legged creature.”

“Then why—”

He shushed her and then nipped her earlobe to punctuate it. Her body shuddered against him, and he couldn’t help but tighten his grip and press his nose against her neck, inhaling the scent of her skin. She relaxed against him for one glorious moment, then pulled out of his embrace.

Chafing her upper arms despite the warmth of the evening, her eyes darted over the landscape to avoid looking at him, but the rosy glow of her cheeks was telling. “Jareth—” she started, but he was quick to interrupt her.

“Come, Sarah, let us begin.”

---

The moon had risen high over the hills, a pallid crescent against the dark sky that glowed faintly orange with haze and light pollution, and still Sarah had not manage to grow even a feather – or a hoof.

“You are trying too hard, Sarah. You can’t force it,” Jareth repeated for the umpteenth time in what he considered a patient tone. “Get up and try again.”

Lying on her back in the dry grass, Sarah stomped her feet against the ground and growled in frustration. “Have you considered the fact that maybe I can’t transform? That maybe I am doomed to stay human for the rest of my life?”

He wasn’t even sure that she was human, but didn’t think that now was the time to mention it. Taking a seat beside her, he drew his legs up so that he could prop his arms against his knees. “Where is the girl who called my Labyrinth a ‘piece of cake’ and stopped at nothing to accomplish her goal?”

“She grew up and entered the real world where things usually are as they seem and some things are impossible.”

He regarded her in silence for a long moment, his eyes lingering on her high pale cheekbones that seemed to glow in the light of the moon. Her eyes were cast in shadow, but her dilated pupils shimmered faintly green like a cat’s.

“And how are you finding it?” he asked finally, stretching out on his side to lay beside her, his head resting on a gloved hand.

Clasping her hands loosely over her stomach, she tilted her head so that they were face to face. A twig had become entangled in her long dark hair, and he gently removed it, taking more time than necessary to finger the silky strands. Her forehead crinkling slightly, she asked, “What do you mean?”

“Don’t you want more? The dreams, the impossibilities?”

“Of course I want more!” She batted at his hand, which had decided to take up permanent residence in her hair. “And I still pursue my dreams! I just don’t use them as a mirror for reality. I’m not disappointed nearly as often.”

Frowning, Jareth brushed his knuckles across her cheek. He didn’t like the dry, jaded tone of her voice or the implied compromises she must have made.

“What about you?” she asked suddenly, covering his hand with her own and curling her fingers around it. He thought that she would simply remove it from her person, but she gently guided it down to her other hand where it rested against her stomach. “How has life been treating you?”

“Oh, you know,” he said airily. Normally, he would have accompanied the words with a dismissive wave, but both hands were occupied, and there was no way he was going to move the hand sandwiched between both of Sarah’s. “The Goblins drink, the Bog stinks, and once in a while, some fool decides that he or she is tired of something and wishes it away. The usual.”

“It doesn’t sound like you’re living your dreams,” she pointed out snidely, but smiled to soften the comment.

He raised an eyebrow. “My dreams are not that much fun without someone with whom to share them.”

Sarah stared at him inscrutably for several silent minutes, too many emotions flickering across her face for Jareth to interpret. Sighing, she rolled her head until she was gazing into the night. “Jareth…” she said, and he waited tensely for what was to follow. “Is that a crow? Or a raven?”

He released his breath in a rush, only then realizing that he had been holding it. Following her line of sight, he saw Draconus wheeling high above, his black wings almost blending with the tainted sky. “Why that little—” he growled and leapt to his feet, conjuring a crystal orb to his palm. He let it fly with a great sweep of his arm, and the orb rocketed toward the bird, following him when he changed course to avoid it.

“Jareth!” Sarah gasped in horror, shrieking when the orb made contact with a burst of glitter. Draconus squawked in indignation and ducked into a dive, heading straight toward them. Materializing another crystal, Jareth pulled his arm back to hurl it, only to have Sarah latch onto hi forearm, restraining him. Draconus pulled up just before he made contact with either of them and flew off into the distance, cackling until he was out of sight. Cursing, Jareth banished the crystal and turned on the woman who had denied him his victory. He opened his mouth to chastise her, but she beat him to it.

“How could you?” she asked him, disappointment and anger clearly written in the lines of her mouth and forehead.

“Very easily, precious, and if you do something like that again, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” she snapped. “Dip me in the Bog? It was just a bird, Jareth!”

He loomed over her, his anger feeding his magic, which crackled around him like static electricity. “Just a bird, you say? I thought you were smarter than that, Sarah! At the very least, smart enough to recognize a magical creature when you saw one!”

“I am too smart—!” she shouted, the stopped suddenly, her eyes widening and one hand rising to cover her mouth. “You’re right…” she breathed almost to herself. “I did get that feeling when it got closer, but it happened so fast and you…” She glared at him. “Still, that was no reason to go lobbing magic balls at it.”

His anger began to ebb, but he wanted to make it clear to her that she should trust him to take care of her. “Just as you admit that you didn’t immediately recognize him for what he was, you must also admit that you don’t know his motivation. He was watching us.”

“Watching us? Why?”

“He is a voyeur,” he said, and it was true enough.

“Uh huh, and you would never do something like that,” she drawled sarcastically. “You sound like you know him.” Her tone was both playful and slightly accusatory. Folding her arms over her chest, she looked at him expectantly.

“I do know him, and you do not want to,” he replied shortly, grasping her upper arms and giving her a gentle shake. “You will defer to my knowledge and experience in these matters, Sarah.”

“Well…” She narrowed her eyes and cocked her head, regarding him contemplatively through thick eyelashes. “Maybe this time, since you so courageously rescued us from his spying eyes.” She smiled coyly up at him, and that was the collapse of the last vestiges of his anger. “But don’t get used to it.”

“Courageously,” he repeated huskily, pulling her closer. How she had changed in the time that had elapsed! The girl that she had been would have refused to acknowledge his deed and would have railed against his claim of greater knowledge. The woman that she had become was thoughtful and flirtatious. And she had called him courageous! What wouldn’t he do to hear her compliment him again?

“Mm-hm,” she hummed. “Like a knight in shining armor.”

He felt as if his stomach were suddenly full of his own dream-inducing drugged bubbles, bouncing off each other and popping and causing all sorts of havoc to his insides. Positive that his trademark smirk more resembled a sappy grin, he replied, “A king outranks a mere knight. But I do have armor.”

She uncrossed her arms and rubbed her palms against his chest. The caress of silk against his skin and the warmth and pressure of her hands were nearly his undoing. “I know you do. Not very shiny, though. Do you have a sword as well?”

By Labyrinth, did he ever have a sword! But he couldn’t decide whether she meant the sword that he was currently packing or the actual steel-forged blade that he used to run off the dragons that occasionally dropped by for Roasted Goblin in Ale Sauce. Refusing to ask and risk looking like a fool, he chose to continue the game of innuendos with a sharp smile. “The king has the mightiest of swords, long and wickedly sharp.”

Her eyes glinted up at him, reflecting the faint starlight, and her lips were full and slightly parted. “So,” she said, rounding the ‘o’ so deliciously, “will the courageous king accept a reward for saving the damsel?”

“And how would my lady reward her king?” He leaned down a bit so that she wouldn’t have far to reach when she kissed him. It was very much to his confusion when she didn’t kiss him at all and instead reached for the kerchief she had used to tie back her hair. With a gentle tug, she had pulled it free, and then tied it around his bicep. Jareth watched in bemused silence. Did she have any idea what she was doing?

“There. Now you are wearing my favor, oh courageous king.” She grinned up at him, her eyes dancing with laughter and mischief. Jareth knew that he had been misled, but he wasn’t going to complain this time. A Lady’s Favor was a powerful thing. Besides, who needed to win kisses when they could be stolen?

“I shall treasure it always,” he said in mock solemnity. She thought they were just playing a game, and while they were in some ways, he thought it best to let her believe that it was all in jest. Without wasting another moment, he reached for her again, intending to claim another “reward.” Just as his hands began to close around her arms, she slipped away, laughing lightly. Spinning in place, she took off running, heading toward the car. “Sarah!” he shouted after her, then couldn’t help but laugh as he picked up the chase.

Oh yes, she had owl in her.

---

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day!

Betaed by leannansidhe, thank you very much! And thanks to you, my readers and reviewers! Especially you guys on AFF. Really, you knock my socks off. Cookies for recognizing the source of the Fire Swamp. The title of this chapter comes from the lyrics of “Thursday’s Child” by David Bowie, a song that I didn’t like the first time I heard it because of the odd chord progressions, but has now become one of my favorites.

Yes, I know I didn’t post last week. I like to have a few chapters written ahead, and we are coming up to a spot where I’ll need more chapters than usual completed. I almost didn’t post this week, but this chapter is so damn fluffy that I thought it appropriate. I’m also trying to regain momentum on a Harry Potter HG/SS fic that I want to complete by July. Actually, that was supposed to be my main project, this fic was supposed to be a side project, but it hijacked my attention. I blame you, dear sister. And Jareth’s pants. So…. don’t be surprised if you don’t get a chapter next week.