"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!"

"I know, Aiden, Mommy's trying, please just calm down!" Jen shifted her 3-month-old son to the other shoulder in an effort to better shield his face from the drizzle. The line for the women's shelter was moving excruciatingly slow, bloated with those who only sought a room in bad weather, and no one was giving way for the young mother and infant. In fact, a couple of women, hardened by much more time on the street than Jen had logged in her scant month, were eyeing her and the wailing infant with disgust. It was so damn cruel, but Jen refused to cry since it wouldn't do her or Aiden any good if she appeared weak.

"Could someone please let me get under the awning at least?" she tilted her head to the side and gave her best 'I can't believe how rude you're being' look to them. A few shifted just enough to let her under the shelter. It was the minimum space required to get Aiden out of the cold rain. Jen gratefully kissed his face and cuddled him close, unzipping her hoodie to tuck him inside.

The renewal of warmth and lack of drips calmed the baby just enough to doze a little, exhausted from his crying jag. Jen tilted her head back with a mental thank-you to whatever powers were still paying attention. From the corner of her eye, she saw a large bird pass far overhead but the awning blocked her view before she could get a good look at it.

Around 40 minutes later, she had made it the last 10 feet from the awning into the door of St. Kilda's Women's Shelter. An ancient nun in an old-fashioned full habit spotted the baby tucked in Jen's hoodie and motioned her over.

"I have a very small private space you and the baby can have," the nun whispered, trying not to let the other women overhear.

"Oh gosh, thank you so much!" By this point, Jen had learned to be properly grateful and deferential as befitted the 'indigent'. So much of her dignity had fallen by the wayside these last several weeks...

The old nun just smiled knowingly and led them to a room with old, 1970's-era medical posters. Jen looked around doubtfully.

"We used to run a community clinic from this room back when we could get doctors to donate time. This little office in here has a cot," the nun explained, seeing Jen's confusion. She opened a second door to a tiny office just big enough for a small desk, rolling stool, and vinyl-covered cot with no pillows or blankets. There was just a 1-foot walkway between the desk and cot. The door only opened to a 90-degree angle before it was stopped by the foot of the cot. At the far end of the narrow room, a window to a fire escape and some yellowed posters showing children in bell-bottoms running across flowered fields with slogans like "good nutrition makes for sunny days" completed the inventory of the room.

"Let me find a couple of blankets," the nun riffled through some cupboards in the medical room and returned with a stack of 3 dusty blankets that obviously hadn't been disturbed in decades.

"It's perfect, thank you," Jen turned her eyes to the nun, trying to cover the inward despair she always felt at the end of another day trying to find work and/or a nicer shelter.

The nun whispered "God and Mother Mary bless you" over her shoulder as she softly glided from the exam room.

Jen locked the door after the nun and set her backpack on the stool beside the cot. The least-dusty blanket was spread, and Aiden laid atop it carefully so he didn't wake up. Then, she took off the wet hoodie and draped it across the desk to dry.

Next, she took stock of the exam room. Apart from a handful of expired band-aids and a box of glass slides, the room had obviously been empty for ages. What looked like a closet from the outside revealed itself to be a tiny powder room, just barely big enough for the sink and toilet within. The Americans with Disabilities Act had clearly come too late for any of these rooms. Still, it gave Jen a lift to know she had a private toilet for the first time in a month, away from the hard-eyed women in the shelter line.

Aiden was still sleeping, so she arranged the blankets on the cot and laid him down carefully so she could avail herself of the facilities. The 'hot' tap water came out just warm enough for her to use her sample bottle of shampoo+conditioner and wash her hair for the first time in 5 days. Refreshed, she left her waist-length hair unbound to dry and peeked in on Aiden, but he was out like a light, tiny hands in fists, and mouth open in a perfect little moue. Her heart simultaneously enlarged from love for him and broke for their current circumstances.

Jen carefully sat on the foot of the cot and put her feet up on the stool. The only luxury readily available to her was the library, and she had 3 paperbacks to choose from. 2 were by her favorite sci-fi/fantasy authors, but Jen set them aside for later, in case the third turned out to be a dud. The third book had the image of a maze on its front cover, the title "Labyrinth", and a gold seal declaring it the winner of an obscure fantasy award that Jen had never heard of. That seal was the only reason she'd picked it up. The book lacked a description on the back as well as an author's name to tell her if the book would be any good, but if it had won an award, then maybe it was worth the risk. Anything that kept her from reflecting on the wreckage her life had turned into would suffice, she reminded herself as she opened the small tome.

Only a few dozen pages in, just at the part where the Goblin King magically deposited the girl who'd foolishly wished away her spoiled baby step-brother at the entrance to his labyrinth, Aiden stirred. Jen hastily checked and then changed his dirty diaper, mentally thanking the food pantry that provided their supply, but he wasn't satisfied and began wailing again. She offered him first one breast and then the other, but he only nursed about 5 minutes at each before starting up again.

Jen groaned; yet another bout of colic seemed to be ramping up. As if listening to Aiden's cries, the drizzle outside also picked up to a pounding rain that drummed on the window. The clouds darkened into angry black writhing masses, blocking out the remaining twilight that had been providing her reading light. She watched the rain as she rocked side-to-side, burping and shushing Aiden, trying to think of a song to sing that might calm him.

Oh my love's like a red, red rose

That's newly sprung in June -

CRACK!

A deafening flash of lightning rended the sky outside, illuminating a white barn owl perched on the rail of the fire escape. The bird's head spun around like a top, as if feeling Jen's eyes on it, and it gazed unblinking at her for a long moment. Apparently satisfied with its assessment, the owl leaned forward and spread its wings as its feet released the rail, sailing away into the downpour. Jen realized she'd been holding her breath in awe of the proximity to a creature she'd only seen in books and a long-ago school trip to the zoo.

"Come on, love-bug," she murmured to her son, whose cries brought her back to the moment. "Give Mommy a break here."

Aiden was not about to give Mommy a break. He wailed on like a police siren.

With a groan, Jen dragged herself up and began walking circuits around the exam room, bouncing Aiden against her shoulder.

"So Mommy's reading this new book," she began talking in attempt to distract both of them since the aborted song hadn't gotten her anywhere, "and it's about this teenage girl who wishes for the Goblin King to take away her baby step-brother. And he does! And to get him back, the girl is supposed to solve the king's labyrinth in 13 hours or less. It seems like a good book. I can't wait to read what happens next."

The running monologue wasn't making a dent in the baby's cries, but Jen kept it up anyway just to have something else to listen to.

"That girl was pretty stupid. I mean, sure, she had a kinda mean step-mother and probably deserved a break from babysitting every weekend, but still, she had a home, and a family, and her own room, and books, and toys…" Jen didn't realize she was crying until her breath hitched in a sob. "I'm sorry I can't give you all that Aiden! Maybe I should have given you up, but I just can't live without you."

Jen stopped pacing and crumpled to the floor, her tears mixing with Aiden's as she cradled him to her cheek, whispering into his wisps of downy hair, "I wish the Goblin King would take us both away."

CRACK!

The nearest window swung open and the barn owl swooped in as the thunder rolled, circling the room before diving out of Jen's line of sight behind a lab table. Maniacal laugher from multiple high-pitched sources pealed out from the dark corners of the room.

Jen scrambled to her feet, eyes wide. Something brushed past her leg with a wicked giggle, and she gasped involuntarily. Aiden suddenly thrashed and she looked down into the yellow bug-eyes of a bald and blue-skinned goblin wearing Aiden's green romper.

Shrieking, she threw the thing away from her, watching as it landed at the feet of… someone… Starting with the shiny leather riding boots, Jen scanned the other person in the room from the bottom up. She noted the tight, black, shiny clothing surrounded by a flowing black cape with an out-of-control stand-up collar topped by an even more-out-of-control mane of white-blonde hair highlighted with a few streaks of bright colors. At last, she met the stranger's odd eyes set above mountain-high cheekbones and thin lips set in a smug expression.

"Where's my son?" Jen squeaked.

With a British-sounding accent, he crossed his arms and replied, "What's said is said."

"You can't be serious," she scrambled to her feet. "Are you supposed to be the Goblin King? Did you take him away?"

"You know very well where he is," he responded, tiny grin widening to show his teeth, like a cat that isn't about to let go of the live bird in its claws. His demeanor hinted that he was waiting for the conversation to run its inevitable course.

"Then why did you leave me here?" she demanded.

"You?" He raised a thin eyebrow as if genuinely perplexed by her question.

"Yes, I wished for -both- of us to be taken away," Jen had already decided that she was experiencing a mental breakdown, but she was damned if she was going to allow the hallucination to separate her from her son. Maybe if she worked with it, she'd find her way back to reality, or at least Aiden.

The Goblin King paused, "Oh, did you? Hadn't you read my book? I only take babies, not girls."

"I ain't a girl! I'm 23 and I'm his mother!" the man's smug expression changed to a frown as Jen planted her fists on her hips. "You can't keep him away from me: I'm nursing!"

The frown deepened as the Goblin King stepped toward Jen and leaned over her, "Then you'd better walk. He's there in my castle…"

Jen turned to look where he pointed and saw a castle far away at the center of a gigantic maze. The St. Kilda's exam room had dissolved and left them on a windswept hill overlooking the Labyrinth. A high stone wall surrounded a stone and hedge maze, with a forest, city, and castle close to the center. It was so overwhelmingly vast.

"Turn back before it's too late," his voice held just a hint of uncertainty, as if his recitation of the usual script had been seriously disrupted.

"No," Jen growled at him. "13 hours, I presume?"

"Indeed," the Goblin King's face was solemn, one eyebrow cocked.

"If Aiden needs to nurse, bring him to me. I don't care if it cuts into my time," she turned her back on the King and marched down the hill toward the high, brick, outer wall. She didn't look back to prevent him from seeing her lip tremble in fear, so she didn't see that he stood there for several moments, eyebrows knitted together.

For centuries, the challengers in Jareth's labyrinth had all been uncaring parents and spoiled siblings, especially step-siblings. The former seldom even bothered to set foot in the labyrinth since they were ridding themselves of unwanted offspring (most often step-offspring) and the latter almost always gave up before getting halfway; in centuries, only a handful of challengers had ever finished. For the first time ever, someone had wished not just a child but her own self away as well.

And why on Earth had she made -that- particular wish? He reviewed what little he knew of her. He had seen the pair walking from the library where she'd acquired the book, standing in an excruciatingly slow line in the rain, and then moving inside a building. Each time, she cradled her child like a loving mother, but in his not-insignificant experience it was a rule that loving mothers didn't wish their children away. Being young and pretty, her 5-foot-5 figure was lean despite motherhood, yet ample in bosom from breastfeeding. Her clothing was shabby and baggy, but no different from the others in that line. It was precious little to go on, which made him uneasy. Usually, there was more time between a challenger's acquisition of the book and making the wish. Usually, he had more opportunity to get a sense of their dreams and weaknesses, to be used as fodder for the tasks they would face.

This challenger, he concluded, would have to be watched more closely than usual. Rolling a small crystal ball around his hand, Jareth vanished.

Author's note: this is my first Labyrinth fic, so please be gentle ;) I wasn't able to find a beta, so feel free to PM me any suggestions, including ideas for making Jen's trip through the Labyrinth more eventful.