Jareth sprawled elegantly on his throne, moodily contemplating what she’d just said.

So, she didn’t hate him.  Why not?  He’d been every bit as terrifying and cruel as she’d wanted him to be while solving the Labyrinth.  Even if it defeated his own purposes, he was bound by her dreams and wishes.

And what did she want of him now?  With an impatient turn of his wrist he conjured up a crystal.  Balanced on one elegant, gloved hand he peered into its depths.

“Show me her dreams,” he demanded, his gaze fixed intently on the small, shining object.  The crystal fogged but never cleared.  “Damn!” he cursed.  A fogged crystal meant only one thing – her dreams and desires were unsure.  Without her dreams to guide him, he felt helpless.  How could he be what she wanted, if she didn’t know what she wanted?  He’d have to be himself.  He slumped lower on his throne and passed his gloved hand over his pale face in frustration and fear.  What if ‘himself’ wasn’t what she eventually decided she wanted?  He’d have failed – again!  He threw the crystal at the wall and it shattered spectacularly.

What had she wanted before?  In him, she had wanted power, confidence, arrogance, danger, magic, romance and adventure.  For herself she had wanted to be a heroine in a magical world.  What had happened to change that?

He got up suddenly and began pacing, kicking goblins out of his way.  Who was he, really?  Half-human, bored, very vulnerable to her and lonely.  Pathetic!  He gave one goblin an especially vicious kick.

In her bedchamber Sarah tried to get up but couldn’t.  Her head was spinning and she was so weak that she began crying in fear and helplessness.

Jareth felt her emotions suddenly as though they were his own.  In a moment he was by her bed again.  “You’re crying,” he said accusingly.  “Stop it!” he commanded.

She looked at him through very green eyes, wet with tears.  “I’m so weak,” she explained, her fear showing clearly.

“Of course,” he said arrogantly. “Your strength has been used to re-build my kingdom.  What did you expect?”

She turned her face away and cried harder.  Jareth was in a quandary.  He wasn’t used to human emotions around him nor to being disobeyed.  He frowned down at her, wanting to do something but not knowing what exactly.

“I have something for you Sarah,” he said encouragingly.

“All I want is my strength back,” she said weakly.

“That will take time.  In the meantime, you may have this,” he said conjuring another crystal.

“What is it?” she asked, turning her head back.

“A crystal.  Nothing more.  But if you turn it this way and look into it, it will show you your dreams,” he said.

Sarah froze.  She’d heard that before!  “What would it cost me this time?” she asked bluntly, her eyes hardened as she looked into his face.

His fair eyebrows rose at this question.  “Nothing my dear.  There is no baby to exchange this time,” he said coolly.

“Thank you.  But there’s no point.  I’ve stopped dreaming,” she replied, looking away again.

Jareth knew this to be true.  “That’s a great pity.  You had such pretty dreams.  Remember the ball?” he said, his voice mocking.

She frowned.  “My drug induced haze?  Was that my dream or yours?” she replied.

“I believe the dress was your idea,” Jareth drawled.

She laughed.  “Yes, that definitely was.  Did you like it?” she asked, innocently enough.

“It was beautiful,” he replied quite seriously.

To her own surprise, she laughed again.  “I’m glad you liked it.”

“Well, if you don’t want it…” Jareth said casually and threw the crystal into the air where it disappeared.  Sarah watched it go without regret.  He frowned down at her, disturbed by her lack of interest.  If he couldn’t give her her dreams, what could he offer her?  How could he control her?  He began pacing restlessly again and when he turned back, she was asleep.  He watched her for a few moments then stalked back to his throne room.  She would spend a great deal of the next few days asleep, recovering.

About a week later, Sarah tried to sit up.  She hadn’t dared before – she felt so ill.  To her relief, she felt okay.  Okay enough to try standing.  So far so good, she thought standing next to the bed.  Next she tried walking around the bed.  Good, she could.  But she knew she couldn’t cross the vast room she was in to the door.  At that moment a white owl flew into the room through a high, round window.  She stood watching him transform.  “What?  No gale force winds and fluttering glitter this time?” she muttered sarcastically.

“I heard that,” Jareth said looking annoyed for a second.  Then recovering his poise, he said “Good morning, Sarah.  I though you should be feeling better by now.”

“No thanks to you,” Sarah remarked coolly.

“I can’t heal you while you’re healing my Labyrinth, Sarah.  It’s nearly done now though,” he told her glancing over her rumpled clothes again, his face impassive.  Sarah sat abruptly on the bed, suddenly weak.  She frowned at him and made herself not stare.  He was so spectacularly handsome and charismatic, it was hard not to.

“Why do you need my strength to heal your Labyrinth?  Surely you can rebuild with your magic?” she asked.

Jareth’s lips thinned.  He’d been waiting for this question.  “Because you destroyed my magic along with my Labyrinth.  So I needed to use your strength to get my own back,” he explained, one eyebrow raised as he regarded her weak form.

“That’s not fair!” Sarah said, then bit her lip.

“Let’s not go back there, shall we?” he said scornfully.  “We’ve already discussed ‘fair’.”

He turned his back and stared out of the window he’d flown in from.  Sarah regarded his form.  He looked perfectly fit and well again.  Far better than when she’d first woken up.  She lay down again, curled up and frowning.  When Jareth looked back, she was asleep again.  He stood watching her for a long time.

How had she defeated him, he wondered?  But he already knew the answer.  The Labyrinth was only an extension of himself.  It changed with his own moods and whimsy.  Noone has ever defeated it before – noone had ever defeated him.  But she had simply because she made him powerless.  Or rather, his love for her made him powerless over her.  It was impossible for someone he loved to fail the Labyrinth.   As an extension of himself, it would always accommodate anyone he loved and bring them safely to its centre.  It had just never happened before.

For millennia he’d watched young women try and fail it.  That was his punishment – his hell.  To wait and hope for her, knowing she’d arrive one day but never knowing when.

To know that when she did, she’d bring destruction.  And after destruction, she could choose to give or deny the key to his salvation.