The thunder rolled upon itself as the sounds echoed throughout the Underground, and for once it wasn’t the Goblin King’s emotions swaying the weather. Jareth walked in circles around the thrown room, his jet black boots clicking harshly, his hair swishing behind him with his movements. The Labyrinth was reacting to something unseen. He felt some strange magic stirring in the Kingdom, yet it was allusive; lurking beneath the dark shadows. A flash of lightning made him turn around and glance into the night sky. The once bright moon was extinguished as an eerie blackness spread over the sky like ink poured from a well. The king watched and a sense of fear over took him. Staying in the castle became suddenly dangerous. Jareth raced away from the blackening sky and the impending doom he felt. He had only one place to go and shuddered when he thought of the response he would receive. Instead, he concentrated on trans-locating from his castle to Above.

There is a passageway between the two worlds. The passage was a long hall, but with only a floor and two doors standing isolated on either end. It was black all around, yet there used to be light. Behind him was the door leading to the Underground, while in front was the door leading to Earth. It seemed so far. The door could only be seen as an outline. It was standing here that Jareth knew something was wrong.

His intuition took over and he began running through the corridor. He felt something there in the blackness around him. As despair filled his mind, Jareth realized it was a spell. A spell to stop him, or kill him, he didn’t know which. But he wouldn’t be stopped. He ran full force, and as he began to think he made it, a horrible pain flared at his side. Jareth fell to his knees and looked to see what had attacked him. Upon seeing nothing but blackness and the far away door to the Labyrinth, he lowered his gaze to his side. There was a gash in it, and the crimson blood flowed rapidly down his leg. As the blood dripped, so did his energy. He lifted his eyes and saw the door up ahead. He could see the handle and the light shining through the crevices.

In agony he pushed himself up from the floor and winced as a spasm contracted his side muscles and a few drops of blood hit the floor, echoing loudly before continuing the journey down his leg. His right leg was numb, but he continued to walk towards the light of the door. There was a presence behind him, but he didn’t want to look back. He forced his body to hurry, for he had to get to the door. The feeling of hot breath and sharp claws racked his back and Jareth screamed in pain as his left shoulder was sliced open, close to his heart. As the claws withdrew, he felt as if a large piece of his soul had been removed. Jareth spun in shock to see whoever had robbed him, but his eyes never met anything but a large clawed hand swiftly cutting across his chest and enflaming immense pain. His knees buckled and Jareth collapsed to the floor, staring blinding out into the blackness that surrounded him in complete silence. With great effort, he lifted his head to see the door. In awe he watched as it burst open and encompassed the hall with light. Light that pushed the terrifying beast away from Jareth and pulled Jareth towards the door. He closed his eyes as he was sucked into the door. The light was so intense heat radiated form it, but the feeling subsided quickly and left Jareth in the dark, a shallow man.

He opened his eyes and saw Sarah standing by a window. He looked around once and saw furniture, bookshelves, and other objects he didn’t quite understand. He must be in her apartment, and there was a man on the couch, Jareth noted carelessly. Black spots began to dance around his eyes. He didn’t know what to do, and his thoughts weren’t all that coherent, so he just stood there watching Sarah observe a storm that exploded outside.

Dreams were nothing new to her. She had been having them for fifteen years. They were never of the same thing, just the same place: Jareth’s Labyrinth. Over the years she saw the Labyrinth itself change its curves and twits. The morning sun held one path and the evening moon another. She always enjoyed seeing the sun set and the moonrise on the large maze. Even if it was in a dream, the peaceful arcadia was a comforting place.

Yet tonight’s dream held a man. He was running from something she couldn’t see. She did know who the man was. He had never been in her dreams before, and his appearance tonight scared her. She had had fifteen years to dwell on his existence, his true meanings. She had not regretted rescuing Toby, except for once: when His face paled when she said the words. Occasionally hatred towards him appeared, but normally she rationalized that he had taken Toby because of her stupid wish. Jareth became clearer and an unseen ghost haunted his eyes. She wished she could ask what was wrong, just out of curiosity.

Sarah awoke from her dream and cried out as a loud thunderclap crashed outside her apartment. She felt a slight tug at her waist and glanced behind her at the sleeping man on the couch. His brown hair was tasseled and she smiled at the sight of him. The TV had turned off, and she remembered it being on when she had fallen asleep. The realization that everything was off gave her a chill. Another roar of thunder made her jump and she gingerly placed Robert’s hand off her before slowly rising from the couch.

She sighed and walked curiously towards the window. The sky looked evil. A bright flash of lightning appeared and Sarah thought she saw a face in the clouds. She almost screamed out, but a strong hand placed itself over her mouth. She stiffened. The figure had a familiar smell and she struggled to turn to see the face. And then a voice spoke.

“Wait. Be quite Sarah.” It was Jareth! Her heart pounded in her chest and her ears began to ring. Her dream rushed back to her, but she had no time to concentrate on it. His hand was prohibiting her to breathe.

She brought her hand up to his covering her mouth and pulled it down. “I can’t breath,” she whispered. She instantly felt him release her. She spun around to see him, and choked back a scream from shock. He was gorgeous, but something was misplaced. He stood tall, but he was not hovering over her. One hand was placed across his stomach and clasped at his right side. Then she noticed a stream of liquid running down his leg, his gray tights sucking and absorbing it, yet it still dripped. Sporadic spots on his white shirt were also splotched with the strange substance. As she looked closer she noticed his shirt was ripped and so was his flesh. Jareth waited patiently in pain for her to examine him and was morbidly amused when she came to the harsh realization that the liquid was blood. Sarah’s eyes widened and she ran to him and wrapped her arms under his shoulders and around his waist for support. “You’re hurt,” she said leading him into the kitchen.

He winced as he tried to walk. “Thank you for pointing that--out!” He gasped as she sat him in a chair.

“Shh,” she said gesturing to the man in the living room and watched as Jareth nodded. He had seen the man sleeping as well. Sarah paced around him, and shook her head in slight confusion. “What are you doing here, Jareth?” She whispered as she estimated his condition. “Why are you hurt?”

His eyes became dark and he lowered his head. “I don’t know.” He admitted painfully.

“You had better do something about the blood loss.” She said pointing to his ripped shirt.

He lifted his head and smirked, “Concerned?”

“Curious. I mean, why don’t you just heal yourself?” She winced as his eyes met hers with their haunted expression, the same as the dream.

“Sarah,” he said quietly, “I haven’t healed myself for the magic that once served me has been stripped away from me.”

She allowed her mouth to drop in surprise and searched Jareth’s face for falsity. After finding none she quickly ran to the bathroom and gathered the first aid kit under the sink. When she came back into the kitchen, the Goblin King looked paler than she had ever seen him. Approaching him wearily she could feel his eyes on her. She came to his side and sighed. “Take your shirt off.”

He shook his head. “ I can’t.” He lowered his eyes from her and looked at his left shoulder. “I can’t move it.”

Sarah came closer and helped him lift his arm up. He gasped and she quickly pulled one sleeve off, causing him more pain. “I’m sorry.” She pulled the shirt over his head and down the other arm. She winced and pressed her lips together as she glanced over him. There were more wounds on him then she could count.

Jareth carefully took his gloves off and placed them next to his tattered shirt. Sarah walked around to the first aid kit and took a bottle of rubbing alcohol out and smiled as the Goblin King eyed it suspiciously. She dapped some on a cloth and was about to place it on his skin when he grabbed her wrist, stopping the motion. She looked up curiously and was surprised to see a glint of fear in his eyes.

“What is it?” He asked harshly.

“It’s a cleaning solution called alcohol.” She removed his hand and bent down to see the wound on his side oozing blood. She grimaced; whatever he was running from had attacked him hard. “This is going to hurt.” She pushed the wet rag to his side and heard him gasp out. She grabbed his bare hand without second thought. He placed his head on the table and pounded it while squeezing her hand as she poured more alcohol in the ripped flesh. Sarah stood and switched the gauze and began working on the abrasions on his back. Again the king pounded his head, soft moans were escaping his mouth, and Sarah felt a small compassion for him. She approached the left shoulder that had hurt and almost screamed. The gash was so deep she could see bone. Hesitant to touch it, a silence tilled the room. The Goblin King was calming down and he asked quietly.

“How bad is it?” When she didn’t answer he groaned and began pounding his head on the table again.

Sarah placed her hand upon his head. “Stop that. I’ll have to stitch it.”

He quit hitting his head and looked up at her, disbelief on his face. “When did you become such an expert?”

Sarah smiled as she took out a sterile needle with thread. “A lot has happened. I’m not a little girl, you know.” While he pondered her response she poured the alcohol over the wound. This time he cried out in agony and arched his back. Sarah held the top of his shoulders and whispered urgently. “Please, you must stay quiet and still.”

Her voice rang true and he clasped his hands to the sides of the table, causing his knuckles to turn white. She started the stitching process; guiding the needle in and out of his skin, pulling it together like she had countless times at the hospital. His breathing relaxed, and Sarah knew he had passed out from the pain. She hadn’t given him any anesthesia, she didn’t have any. But it didn’t matter now, the gash was closed. She sat back and remembered the cuts on his chest. It was cut just as badly. She moved to the side of the sleeping king and bent down.

“Jareth, wake up. I’m done.” Sarah was relieved when he responded to her voice. Slowly his eyes opened, drowning her in their pain. She touched his arm reassuringly. “I need you to sit up. I haven’t cleaned the front.”

He straightened, but with obvious pain, yet she dared not help him. She was still somewhat afraid of him. Terrified even when he was bleeding and possibly dying. Somehow his death frightened her more than anything else did.

Jareth could see the different emotions flash across her face. She still hated him, but he told himself he didn’t care. Her approval was not what he came for. Any yet, she had helped him. He motioned for her to continue administering to his wounds. She nodded and grabbed the bottle of alcohol. He flinched away involuntarily, closing his eyes as she came near and swabbed the cuts clean. When the pain ceased from the rubbing, he sighed, only to be crushed by her words.

“I’m not done. I still have to bandage them.”

Yet that was relatively painless. She had a good touch, a healers hand that worked efficiently.

When she was finished she backed up and smiled. “All done.”

The fact that he was no longer bleeding and falling apart consoled him, but he still felt terrible.

Sarah could see it in his eyes. He wasn’t going to keep consciences much longer. She had to think about what to do and quickly. She couldn’t wake Robert up, it was four in the morning. She couldn’t make Jareth leave, he would die. And she did not want that. She weighed her few options and resolved to let him sleep in her bedroom.

She walked over to him and placed a hand and arm under his good shoulder. His eyes were already beginning to glaze over. “Come on, Jareth.” He silently forced himself to stand, wondering what she was doing. Sarah saw his face pale and his eyes begin to wobble around. She continued to talk to him, trying to keep him awake. “Come on, Jareth. You can sleep when you reach the bed. Its only down the hall, not that far.”

She continued coaxing him on until they reached her bed. She placed him face down and pushed his feet onto the bed. Without thinking she pulled the boots and socks off and placed them on the floor. She covered him up with a loose sheet and then sat on the floor, keeping a watchful eye on her patient while he slept away the pain, and soon sleep found her as well.

Jareth felt as if he were running through a maze that always changed. ‘This is what the people in my labyrinth must feel,’ he noted ironically. He kept running, always feeling dread at his back, and never wanting to face it. He turned a stone corner to avoid the feeling, but became engulfed in flames. The dancing fires scorched his body and he began crying out in pain. He was helpless, yet something cold was touching him. He could still feel the fire encircling him and he cried out loudly, forcing his eyes to open. An unfamiliar room met his stare and a cool washcloth was pressed against his forehead and he winced with the cold.

He tried to sit up, but the pain was too much and nausea swept over him, so he clasped his eyes shut quickly. A firm hand touched his chest and a soft voice spoke out, “Lie still Jareth.”

He dared to open his eyes again and was met with shining brown ones lined with concern. He sighed in relief as he remembered where he was. She smiled at him and took the cloth from his head. She re-dipped it into a bowl with ice and water and commented to him.

“You’re burning up Jareth; I have to get your fever down.” She replaced the cloth, and no sooner had the chilled cloth touched his skin did he begin to shiver. His lips began to rattle. He brought his hands up to his chest in an attempt to warm himself, but it was in vain.

Sarah cursed at herself as Jareth began to convulse with cold. She watched as he wanted to curl up in a ball, but the wounds prevented him from doing so. She grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around him, feeling his skin crawl. He had managed to turn himself onto his side, and was still shaking. She sat on her bed behind him and softly began to rub his frigid arms. The friction caused heat, yet she knew he was still running a fever. “I’ve truly got to get your fever down.” She whispered.

He gasped unbelievingly, “What are you talking about? I’m freezing!”

She stroked his hair before she could stop herself, “That’s because your body is so much hotter than the air around you.”

He was silent, trying to keep the shivers under control. “How do we remedy this?” He asked finally.

Sarah climbed off the bed and started filling the large tub in the bathroom with cold water, sporadically adding pan-full after pan-full of ice from the freezer. When the bath was full she came back to her room where Jareth was shaking from fear and cold.

“You’re crazy if you think I’m going to willfully let you place me in that!” He spoke forcefully, but Sarah knew it was bravado.

She grabbed his good arm and pulled him up from the bed. “And how are you going to stop me?” He walked, or rather limped, into the bathroom with her assistance, but when he saw the ice and the water he pressed his body against Sarah’s and moaned in protest. She ignored him and lowered him gently into the water. He slipped into the liquid. Sucking his air in through gasps, he glared at her as his teeth continued to chatter. She knew his temperature was lowered finally when his eyes closed in exhaustion. A clock chimed eight times from the living room and the morning sun crept into the room. Sarah almost cried. How was she going to explain a half-naked, dying man in her tub to Robert? Jareth stirred and Sarah looked down to see him trying to get out. She threw her hands above her head and grabbed his arms as he fell out of the freezing water. “You just don’t give up, do you?”

He glared at her, but did not refuse her help. “Lets see how you like being put in that!” He hissed at her.

Sarah shrugged. He had a point, and she felt sympathetic towards him. She helped him limp into the bedroom just as the door opened and Robert’s boyish grin lit up the room, but his face quickly turned to a frown as he saw the strange guy draped on Sarah’s shoulder with her arms around him. Sarah moaned and continued to walk Jareth to her bed. It was a hell of a way to start her day, and she was not looking forward to the talk with Robert.

Jareth dropped his head on Sarah’s shoulder as the muscular man entered the room, and he didn’t care how bad or inappropriate it looked. All he wanted to do was drop into the bed and cover up. True, he had forgotten the man’s presence, but it wasn’t every day he was over come with physical pain. He heard Sarah groan and half expected her to drop him where he stood. Instead, and to his great surprise/relief, he felt the side of the bed under his body and he slumped gratifyingly under the covers. Sleep was coming, but he forced his eyes open to look for Sarah. He saw her very close to his face and he smiled at her appreciatively.

She touched his cheek with the back of her hand and smiled. “Get some sleep and I’ll check on you in a little while.”

He allowed his eyes to close; warm with the feeling that she would come back and touched that she hadn’t let him die.

Sarah watched as Jareth’s eyes closed and his chest moved up and down with long, smooth motions. She sighed and climbed off the bed facing the door where Robert stood, his face red with anger. She walked towards him and gently pushed him out of the room, closing the door behind her. Before he could speak she commanded coldly, “Wait until we’re in the kitchen.” Her mind was racing with enough thoughts, and Robert was at the bottom of them. She passed him and could feel him walking behind her. As soon as he entered the kitchen he exploded.

“Who the HELL is that, and why is he here?”

Sarah started coffee and smiled inwardly. She should tell him the truth and see how whacked out he goes, but she thought better about it and decided not to. Sighing, she leaned against the counter and closed her eyes slightly. “His name is Jareth. I met him a long time ago.” She reached for a coffee-cup, pleased with her tale of twisted truth. “And he’s here because he’s hurt.”

Robert crossed his arms over his chest. “If he’s hurt so badly, why don’t you take him to the hospital?”

Sarah knew it was a reasonable question, yet who to entrust a Goblin King to? And she wasn’t quite sure if she did trust anyone else with his care. Shaking her head she answered Robert wearily, “What do you want from me? Can’t I help a friend?” Did she just admit the Goblin King was a friend? She shook the thought away. “Besides, I’m a doctor. I can do everything here that they would do at the hospital to help him.”

“It didn’t look like you were just helping him,” Robert said lowly.

She glared at him and clinched her fists. “Are you trying to say something?”

He walked over to her and cupped her face in his hands, “How about: I know that look he gave you, and I know the look you gave him.”

She pulled her head away from his grasp and shook her head. What was he talking about? What look?

Robert saw her confusion and laughed. “You can’t be this ignorant.”

She sat herself down at the table where four hours ago she had stitched Jareth together. She sighed and lowered her head, placing it over her arms on the table. “Look Robert, I’m exhausted. Jareth came very early this morning. I couldn’t ask you to leave, and I wouldn’t turn him out.”

Robert walked behind her and started massaging her shoulders. “Okay, so maybe I over-reacted, but I still want him gone.”

Anger boiled in her and her jaw fell slack. How dare he tell her who she could and couldn’t have over. She stood and shrugged away from him in disbelief. “Didn’t you see how badly he was hurt?”

“Take him to the hospital.”

“I can’t.” She stressed.

“You won’t.”

She ran into the living room and threw Robert’s jacket at him. “OUT!” She yelled. “Don’t say anything, just get out.”

He strolled to the door and smiled. “I thought you got all the acting out of you.” His only response was the slamming of the door in his face.

Sarah bit her bottom lip in frustration while she poured the coffee. She sighed and while sipping on it, began to straighten her apartment, her obsessive-compulsive behavior still intact. She’d give Jareth a couple more hours until she’d check on him.