This is my first attempt at posting a multi-chapter story. I hope you all enjoy it.

Standard Fanfiction Disclaimer: Based on characters and situations created and dramatized by Terry Jones, Brian Froud, Jim Henson, David Bowie, et al. I do not own Labyrinth, nor am I making any money from it.

Chapter 1: The Man from Highclere

Sarah sat back in her chair and rubbed her eyes. She had spent the last few hours poring over the latest draft of the document in front of her, and she needed a break. And caffeine, lots of caffeine. It was going to be a late night.

She stretched as she gazed out her office window, watching the golden light of late afternoon gild the modernist façade of Lloyd's across Leadenhall Street. Not for the first time, she marveled at the turn her life had taken and how she had ended up in an office in London working for one of the largest insurance brokerages in the world.

After college, Sarah had been at a loose end. She had never been one of those people who always knew what they wanted to be when they grew up. Her B.A. in English had naturally flowed from her life-long love of fantasy literature, but she had no real aspirations to be an author. She had gone home the summer after graduation to work as a paralegal in her father's corporate law firm while she explored the wider job market.

At an alumni event that fall, she had been introduced to Randy Cooper, who worked in the New York office of a large insurance brokerage, but was in town visiting family. Randy had suggested that she send in her resume for an open position for a junior broker, so, on a whim, Sarah had done just that. She hadn't been sure that insurance was really her thing, but she was eager to spread her wings beyond the small town where she had grown up, and the prospect of living in New York City was enticing. With Randy's recommendation, Sarah had easily landed the job and soon found herself living in a small studio apartment on the Upper East Side and commuting downtown to the Financial District. After several years, word came though the corporate grapevine of an opening in the London office, and Sarah had jumped at the chance to live abroad.

Now, at twenty-eight, she was a full-fledged broker working under the great Bryan Nasmith and enjoying the life of an American ex-pat. Tomorrow, she would be assisting her boss in a series of meetings leading up to a big policy renewal. The document she had spent her day reviewing was the policy itself, which she was checking and rechecking for errors, something she had turned out to be surprisingly good at. Who knew that attention to detail was her thing?

Sarah turned from her window – one of the perks of her job was the stunning view from her very own office – and went in search of much-needed sustenance. The tea lady had made the last pass with her cart hours ago, and Sarah was starving. Making her way down the hallway towards the kitchen, she passed Bryan's open office door.

Glancing up, he saw her and called out, "Sarah?"

Giving an internal sigh, Sarah stepped into her boss's office.

"Yes, Mr. Nasmith?"

"How's the policy looking?" Bryan was not one to beat around the bush.

"Fine," Sarah replied. "I'm almost finished with my review. Everything looks good so far, but I want to give it one more pass before the meetings tomorrow."

Bryan smiled. "That's my girl," he chuckled, "always so thorough."

Sarah smiled back. "That's what they pay me for," she said brightly.

"And worth every penny," Bryan replied. "How are we set for the presentation?"

"Good," Sarah replied. "I've sent the PowerPoint to Marjorie so she can put together the handout packets, and Steven said he'll have the conference room ready for 9 o'clock."

"Perfect, as usual. I'm heading out soon; how late are you staying?"

"Until I'm finished," was Sarah's standard reply.

Bryan smiled again. "Don't stay too late," he cautioned. "I need you fresh for tomorrow."

"Have I ever let you down?" Sarah asked.

"Never," he replied, standing up. "Oh, by the way," he paused in the act of picking up his briefcase, "Highclere Syndicate is sending a new underwriter tomorrow. I'm hoping we can get him on this policy. Make sure he gets invited to the dinner tomorrow night."

"No worries," Sarah replied. "I'll let Marjorie know."

Bryan nodded and coughed. "Good. Well, see you in the morning."

"Good night, Mr. Nasmith."

"Good night, Sarah."

After her boss's departure, Sarah fixed herself a cup of tea and grabbed a handful of biscuits from the communal stash before returning to her desk. She would pick up something more substantial on her way home, but, first, she had work to do.

~o*0*o~

Sarah stepped out of the shower the next morning to discover a frantic voicemail from Marjorie on her phone.

"Sarah," the secretary's shrill voice quavered, "I'm so sorry to call you so early, but I've just heard from Mr. Nasmith. He can't make it to the meetings today. He says you'll have to cover for him. I'll have the handouts ready when you get here. Call me as soon as you can."

Sarah was about to do just that when her phone rang in her hands. It was Bryan.

"Sarah?" He sounded awful.

"Yes, Mr. Nasmith," she answered.

"I've come down with the flu or some damn thing. You'll have to take the lead in the meetings today and do the presentation. Think you can handle it?"

Sarah's stomach clenched. She knew the material backwards, and had assisted in these kinds of meetings many times, but she had never actually given a presentation on her own before. This would be trial by fire.

Putting on a brave voice, she said, "Of course, Mr. Nasmith. Whatever you need. I'll be fine."

"That's my girl," Bryan said, coughing. "Be sure to take good care of the man from Highclere."

"I will," Sarah assured him. "You just rest and feel better."

~o*0*o~

Forty-five minutes later, Sarah rushed into her office, a flustered Marjorie trailing in her wake.

"Have you put the handouts in the conference room?" she asked.

"Yes," the secretary replied.

"And did Steven get everything set up for the presentation? The laptop and projector are working?"

"Yes."

"Did he include an external mouse? I hate touchpads."

"Yes, I made sure of that."

"Good. Oh, Mr. Nasmith said that Highclere is sending a new underwriter today. Make sure he gets in invitation to tonight's dinner."

"Yes, Miss Williams."

Sarah paused. Marjorie must really be rattled by Bryan's absence. She had never addressed Sarah as "Miss Williams" before. She turned to the older woman and gave her a reassuring smile.

"Thank you, Marjorie," she said, "I appreciate all of your hard work."

"You're welcome, Miss Williams," Marjorie replied.

Sarah gathered what she needed from her desk and made her way to the conference room. She would be meeting with four separate sets of underwriters today, which meant that she had to give the same presentation four times. She often wondered why they didn't just give one big presentation to all of the underwriters at once, but, when she had suggested this to Bryan when she had first come to the London office, she had been met with a cold stare and told that that was the way it was done. Well, if that was the way it was done, then that was the way she must to it.

Squaring her shoulders and taking a deep breath, Sarah entered the conference room for her first presentation.

~o*0*o~

By mid-afternoon, Sarah was preparing to meet with the final group of underwriters. She felt that the first three meetings had gone remarkably well. The underwriters had, predictably, asked tough, technical questions, but Sarah found that she had been able to answer all of them with ease. There was just one more presentation to go, then she would be hosting a group dinner at a local restaurant later in the evening before she could finally go home and sleep.

The underwriters entered the room in a group. She knew all of them by name, except for the slim, blonde man who entered last. This must be the new man from Highclere that Bryan had told her about. Shaking hands and exchanging greetings as she went, Sarah made her way through the group of suited businessmen until she came to the new underwriter. Extending her hand with a welcoming smile, she looked up into his face and froze.

To say that he was handsome hardly did him justice. He had intense, light blue eyes set above high, finely chiseled cheekbones, and his pale blonde hair was cut in the latest style. She would have said he was in his late thirties, which would make him about ten years older than she was. He was impeccably dressed in a close-cut, three-piece, navy blue suit with white pinstripes that accentuated his slim frame. His light blue tie and matching pocket square were exactly the same shade as his eyes.

But it wasn't his attractive appearance that had made Sarah pause – it was his remarkable likeness to someone she had not seen for thirteen years. Aside from his hairstyle and lack of eye make-up, the man in front of her was the spitting image of the Goblin King.

He arched one delicate eyebrow and extended his hand to her, saying in a rich, deep voice, "How do you do? I'm David Jones-King with the Highclere Syndicate."

Of course, Sarah thought inanely, he would have an aristocratic, double-barreled surname to go with those looks. It was only when her hand met his that she realized he was wearing thin leather gloves – just like someone else she had met once, a long time ago. Even his voice was the same. But he couldn't be the Goblin King. Even assuming that he had been real, and not a figment of her overactive, hormonally-driven teenaged imagination, why would the Goblin King be masquerading as a London insurance underwriter thirteen years after she had defeated him? It made no sense at all.

Swallowing her growing sense of unease, Sarah firmly took his hand and said, "Very well, thank you, Mr. Jones-King. I'm Sarah Williams."

He smiled in a way that she found oddly predatory.

"A pleasure, Miss Williams, I'm sure," he replied smoothly, "but I was expecting to meet with Mr. Nasmith this afternoon. Will he be joining us?"

She had been afraid that some of the underwriters would question her ability, but whether Mr. Jones-King was doing so due to her age or her sex, she was unsure.

"Mr. Nasmith sends his apologies," Sarah replied formally, meeting his gaze and refusing to be intimidated. "He was unexpectedly taken ill and cannot be with us. I will be giving the presentation today."

"A pity," he said, releasing her hand.

"I assure you," Sarah replied before he could turn away, "that you will find me quite knowledgeable. I've been working closely with Mr. Nasmith on this project and can answer any questions you may have after the presentation."

He regarded her for a moment, then nodded.

"Then, by all means, Miss Williams," he said, "let us proceed."

~o*0*o~

Two hours later, the presentation over, Sarah was fielding questions from the underwriters. Predictably, the most incisive ones came from Mr. Jones-King. He shot out question after question, seeking finer and finer points of detail. Sarah deftly answered each query with patience and skill, not having to refer back to her notes or the policy once to recall the pertinent information.

Finally satisfied, he sat back and regarded Sarah with a raised eyebrow, seemingly impressed despite himself.

"Thank you for an excellent and informative presentation, Miss Williams. You can count on Highclere's full participation."

With murmured assents from the other men, everyone stood and began to exit the room. Sarah positioned herself by the door, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries as they left. Mr. Jones-King was once again the last in line. Taking his gloved hand firmly and meeting his eyes, Sarah said, "It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Jones-King. Will you be joining us for dinner this evening?"

He studied her face for a moment, not dropping her hand. "Will you be hosting this evening's repast?"

Sarah found his intense gaze slightly unnerving, especially as he reminded her so much of…but, no, best not to dwell on it. It simply wasn't possible for the man in front of her to be him.

"Yes," she replied, forcing a smile, "with Mr. Nasmith sick, entertaining all of you is up to me."

"Then I look forward to being entertained," he replied with a smirk. "Until this evening, then."

And with a small nod that could have passed for a bow, he was gone.

A/N

First, to give credit where credit is due, this plot bunny is not my own. My husband, who neither reads nor writes Labyrinth fanfic, but has heard a lot about it from me, came up with the idea and let me run with it. He loved the idea of Jareth being stuck in the real world and working in a very dull, boring office job.

Second, a few notes on language. I am an American, but also quite the Anglophile, and I did study abroad in the UK in college, so I am not wholly unfamiliar with British English. I have chosen to write Sarah as an American, in keeping with the movie. Most, if not all, of this story will be from Sarah's POV, although the beginning is set in London, so I will most likely use American expressions and terminology, rather than British ones. For example, I say "sidewalk," instead of "pavement." However, where it seems like Sarah would use a British term, rather than an American one, I plan on using the British term. Hence, Sarah lived in an apartment in New York, but lives in a flat in London. I hope that's not too confusing for anyone.

Third, with regard to the timeline, I have chosen to set this in modern day, rather than 1999 (which would be 13 years after the movie). It just seemed easier to write it that way than try to remember whether we had X, Y, or Z in 1999.

Finally, I'm not sure how often I will be updating. I know where I want this to go (at least, up to a point), and I have the second chapter almost complete. I plan to keep a chapter ahead of what I post to give myself a cushion.