Author's Note:

This takes place in a modern, 2007 setting. Sarah is not eternally young or stunningly beautiful or ethereal in any sense, though of course Jareth is as timeless as any Fae.

I admit I was inspired for the beginning of this story by the wonderful Anne Rice and her Queen of the Damned (a thoroughly enjoyable book, if you are fond of vampires and philosophy). It seemed the rest is highly influenced by more music, books, and movies. If you care to hear of all of them, please feel free to ask.

Obviously, though many authors find the need to point it out constantly, I own nothing of Jim Henson or The Labyrinth, and I shall not disclaim my story further. If I did own any smidgen of his company, I would probably not be writing this at all. Rather, I'd be milking it for all it was worth in the hopes of pursuing my dreams of writing screenplays and progressing through the film industry.

Of course, all reviews are appreciated, both the good and the bad. I would appreciate some discerning critiques, and really ask that even if you chose not to finish the story, please drop me a line and tell me why so I might progress my technique and better my stories for the benefit of all.

And now, I leave you to the bloody story. I shall not interrupt you again unless it is quite important.

Believe me,

Yours Truly,

R.Cabe

"Somewhere,

Along imagination,

There lies a labyrinth.

It twists and turns you,

With wicked machinations.

Out there,

Amidst the conflagration,

There lies my labyrinth.

My heart, your hands,

My kingdom, your nation."

Sarah flipped through the album booklet and read the lyrics along with the song. Her hand slithered toward the phone, eyes never leaving the pages. She flipped it open and speed-dialed her mother.

"Miranda Williams, Audiolabs," came her voice after the second ring.

"Hey Mom, it's me," Sarah said as her eyes slid out of focus.

"Sarah, how are you?"

"Fine, I'm great. I was just listening to that new album you guys put out last week."

"Labyrinth? Ohmigod it's been a complete hit! You wouldn't believe how fast it's going for the top. This guy's got some voice, he's brilliantly talented."

"Is it true that he's going to start his tour in San Francisco?"

"Yeah, why? Do you want tickets? We're releasing them tomorrow but I can grab a couple of good ones for you."

"Just one would be great, thanks Mom."

Her mother sighed into the receiver. "How about two? You could ask that nice boy from the pharmacy to go with you. What's his name?"

"Mom, I am not getting my dates from the pharmacist's. We just went out to lunch once and we didn't really get along. He's nice but," she was searching blindly for the right reasons, "but no."

"Right, one then. Let me know if you want another, though. I'll still have a couple."

"And, Mom," she said slowly, closing the album booklet and staring into the unusual eyes that had been haunting her dreams for too long, "What about backstage passes? Do you have those?"

"Hmm, I don't think so. The concert manager is in charge of those and I haven't met him. I'll let you know though."

"'Kay, thanks. I'll let you go now. Love you."

"Love you too, darling." Sarah closed her cell phone and continued staring at his face, completely lost in thought.

A month and a half later, Sarah slipped into her favorite ratty jeans and pulled on a grey tank top. Though the irritating streaks of grey hair had been dyed back to Espresso: Dark Brunette for the past two years, she still looked young and fresh with her hair swinging loose in back.Hey eyes were done up with heavy black eyeliner in the spirit of the rock concert and she even wore lipstick. She hardly ever wore lipstick anymore.

Jareth was blaring from the stereo in her living room, his lyrics and voice penetrating her every thought. Her stomach was clenched, as though a cold hand had run down her back; and her legs were weak, as though she'd just finished a triathlon. After slipping several of her customary rings onto her fingers, she walked from the bathroom and into the living room of her modest condo in Sacramento. She ejected the CD from the system and snatched up her purse on the way down to the car.

She slipped it into the player as she turned the engine, and soon enough Jareth's lyrics seeped into the interior. With a satisfying whir, she sped out into main traffic on her way to the freeway.

Something about Jareth had her completely mystified. She felt certain she'd met him before, or heard him or seen him somewhere, but she could never pinpoint where. No one knew his full name, not even at Audiolabs. Apparently he made all transactions through his agent.

Even his lyrics, the words themselves, seemed to float through the very subconscious of her mind. It was as though he was seducing her through his music. But that was silly, he was seducing everyone. That was why his videos were on every television, his album on every chart, his songs flooding the lists. Everyone wanted to be seduced by him. And yet no one really knew anything about him. He was a glam rocker. A persona. A mask. And the public loved it.

Two hours later she was rolling into the amphitheater, parking, and getting out of her car. Hundreds of people were lined up outside the building. Teens in crop tops sat on the roof of their cars and blared Jareth's music through their car stereos. Many people were dressed in replicas of Jareth's costumes. Many more wore spiked blonde wigs done in fairly bad representations of his own pouf of hair.

Deep in the pit of overwhelmed fans, Sarah squirmed to the front of the stage. Big guys and their twittering girlfriends glared her as she pressed between them and pushed her way up to the very rim where she grabbed onto the wood, knuckles white.

Nearly as soon as she reached the stage, the lights began to dim and a wave of screams took over the arena. Sarah cringed as the people around her pierced her mind with the tumult. She closed her eyes for a moment and steeled herself for whatever would come next.

Dark figures were moving across the blackened stage. Sarah could see them stooping to pick up instruments and one, with a silhouette of puffed hair, loosing the microphone from its stand. Her blood raced through her veins, her hands grew weak.

The footlights came on abruptly, illuminating the band, and there in the center was the one called Jareth. Screams pulsed afresh, higher pitched and with more startling resonance. He stood basking in it for a while, a smirk dancing across his lips. The giant screen behind him was focused on his rebellious face, his eyes seeming to glow in the strange light. Yes, he looked so familiar. So ethereal. But that was because he was in the pages of every magazine, on the screens of every television. He wore tight black jeans and a blue silk poet's shirt, sleeves swirling as he moved. A wide white silk belt bound his waist. He looked like a pirate.

"San Francisco," he said into the microphone, the screams renewing their efforts. And then he purred. It was an odd noise, but it drove the girls wild. Some of them were crying as they reached for him, like a deity on the dais.

"What's said is said

What's done is done,"

His lyrics began slowly, like a chant. More screaming. The musicians behind him steadied themselves.

"Let me show you your dreams."

The band suddenly broke into a frenzy of movement and sound. Guitars exploded into life, the keyboard trilled surreal notes through the cavernous amphitheatre. His voice was like a dream, something so wonderful that she could hardly focus on it. She stood stock still amidst the pushing and dancing people around her, slightly buffeted by their motion.

Finally, he finished the song and whirled about. It happened so fast that at first it didn't register. He now wore a red shirt with a black silk belt. Sarah blinked. The lights hadn't changed at all. How astounding.

The concert went on with more fast costume changes growing ever more elaborate. His music was like a trance. Halfway through the concert he spoke to the audience again.

"I'd like to borrow a song from the illustrious David Bowie if I may," he said softly. Appreciative clapping broke out. He began to sing Diamond Dogs, but it was twisted and dark in sound, something from a fantasy. As he sang, he somehow transformed into a Halloween Jack costume, finally slipping a patch over his eye as he reached the appropriate refrain. Bowie fans cheered throughout the arena. After this he transitioned into Let's Dance and then Heroes.

After, he moved back to his own songs: the passionate As the World Falls Down. Sarah felt herself becoming mesmerized as he moved slowly about the stage in the sparkling sapphire-blue coat. Backup dancers in ball gowns waltzed with him as the keyboard tinkled lightly like a music box.

He came close to the audience for the first time, singing to them as he walked along the edge of the stage, allowing them to reach up and touch his boots, his hand. He was working his way ever closer to Sarah, who despite her grounded affection for Jareth's music, couldn't help but stretch her hand out to his. He stopped walking and the music drifted through instrumental, a diving and soaring guitar riff. He took her hand in his, looking at her fingers. His smile had faded. Then he looked up, into her eyes. Something odd passed between them as they looked at one another, a creeping, prickling feeling. He blinked as they eyed each other.

He pulled the microphone away from his lips and leaned closer. "Sarah?"

Her world froze. "How do you…?" she began, but he grasped her hand tighter and lifted her to the stage. Jealous fans whistled and screamed with delight as he took her into a waltz.

"It's you," he said softly. How she managed to hear him she could not know.

Suddenly, she was grabbed bodily from behind and dragged offstage. Jareth was too startled to do or say anything, and then the music cued him to continue singing.

"Don't try that again or we'll have to ask you to leave."

Sarah brushed past the security men who had grabbed her and slipped out the back doors. She felt their eyes on her, but they let her leave. Cool October air brushed across her sweating arms and chilled her to the core. She trembled as she made her way steadily out to her car, hair grudgingly lifting from her sticky shoulders.

After the long walk, she reached her car. She climbed in and leaned back. Sheltered from the wind, she began to feel warm again, but she couldn't move. Still she shook, though why she could not be sure. Of course she was amazed that she had been pulled onstage, furious that she'd been pulled off again, but she was more perplexed that he had known her name. It deepened her confusion and reinforced the belief that they had met before. High school, perhaps? A secret college admirer? Yet, she was sure she'd never met a Jareth in her life, nor even anyone with such a presence as he.

It wasn't until she started to hear the crowd exiting the arena that she actually started the car and drove away. Her legs were limp and heavy, her mind eager to rest in the dark recesses of sleep.

The traffic was far less taxing in the middle of the night and she was home in only a little over an hour. She turned the key to her condo and stepped into the moonlit entry. The eerie red light of the answering machine blinked. She lay her keys down and pressed the button, moving into her bedroom to pull off her sandals and slip into pajamas. A shower could wait.

The long high beep trailed through the rooms. "Sarah, this is your mother, just checking in to see how the concert went. I would have gone, but not quite my crowd. Call me in the morning when you wake up. Kisses, dear." The machine beeped again. "Sarah." Beep. "End of final message," the robotic voice spurted.

Sarah cocked her head to one side as she belted her robe. She poked her head into the entry and rewound to the last message. "Sarah." Beep. "End of-"

She rewound it again, this time coming around the corner and bending low to the speaker. "Sarah."

It was him.