DISCLAIMER: I don't own Labyrinth or any of the characters associated with the film. They are the property of the Jim Henson Company.

AN: Ahaha. Hi, again! Did you miss me? Well, I have been working on this story for a while now (no, I was not neglecting the wonderful world of fanfiction). I had decided only to share it when the story was completed. However, I am getting antsy so I'll share the first chapter now. This story is almost finished. I'll post a chapter a week (not to collect a million reviews, as some might suspect, but to allow myself time to finish the rest of the story).

I dedicate this story to my betas: Jen and R.H. Jones. Jen asked me to write a story where Jareth and Sarah don't fall in love right away, and better yet pass each other on the street and not recognize each other. So, without further adieu, I give you: The Trouble with Mr. Knightly. :D:D:D

I guess the best place to start in this case is not at the beginning. The beginning was a long time ago. The beginning is lost in my memories somewhere. The beginning was really the end of something old and the start of something new. So, let's start with the something new. I think I can safely say that this really started about three months ago. Yes. I was leaving a job interview, completely frazzled and lost in thought. Actually, I think that's been my constant state of mind since that day…

Oh my God, I can't believe I blew that! I thought as I left the building. I always freeze up at interviews, always, always. Then there was the age factor. I mean, who wants to hire a thirty-three year old woman just entering the workforce with only a Bachelor's degree behind her? I kept hearing the old 'Well, the graphic arts is a rapidly changing industry, Miss Williams.' As if I wouldn't be able to keep up. It's not my fault that things turned out the way they did. It's not my fault my education got held back.

Okay, I suppose I should back up a bit. When I was sixteen, in fact on my sixteenth birthday to be precise, my father had his first heart attack. Well, that was an ordeal and a half. He had his second when I turned eighteen, shockingly enough, near my birthday. At that point, I started to think that I was cursing him. As soon as he was well, I moved out. I am superstitious, after all, and I couldn't bear the thought that I might be the cause of my father's sickness. Apparently, this had been a rather bad idea as at the beginning of my first year at college, my father had his final heart attack. Maybe it wasn't me, maybe it was her. Who knows now? Because, that's when it got really complicated. Karen disappeared. Where did she go, you ask? Well, who knows? Maybe to the same place my biological mother went.

So, imagine this. I am nineteen years old, finally enjoying a social life, and then I am suddenly the proud guardian of a bouncing five year old boy. Now you see why school had to wait? I had to work and work and work. I was a waitress, I was a maid, I worked in fast food, I worked in janitorial positions - I worked anywhere I could find work. A long time ago, I was very imaginative. Extremely would be a better word for it. I believe that I dreamed up this whole entire world, with an inhumanly gorgeous king who was, of course, in love with me. I'm fairly certain, although cynicism and age are getting the better of me now, that I dreamt about this place vividly and constantly. Anyway, my point is that my imagination was stifled and hidden in the back of my mind while I had to deal with the harsh reality of 'real life'.

It was only three years ago, when Toby became self-sufficient, that I was actually able to go back to school and foster that imagination once more, bring it out of hiding. At fifteen, Toby was able to make his own food and start working himself. At least, that's what he did if he wanted to go to school…which he did. I finally went back to school, and here I am three years later begging people to hire me. Now, back to the fateful day…

As I was saying, I was lost in thought, not paying attention, when BAM! I walked right into someone. This someone was tall, dressed very well, and had a British accent. That's really what I noticed first – his voice. That deep, resonating, crisp, and almost condescending tone. But before that, let me state that I had caused this individual to spill his coffee all over his pale beige suit.

"I am so sorry!" I cried, as I tried to wipe it off him with the napkin I was holding in my hand from my complimentary muffin.

"Don't worry about it," he said.

I finally looked up at his face. What an aristocratic, bony sort of face structure. A mysteriously attractive face framed with textured, chin-length, platinum hair. He tilted his head in a manner that seemed so completely familiar to me. His eyes, and what very strange eyes they were – one of his pupils was so dilated that I almost could have sworn that eye was brown instead of blue - were amused. An easy, remarkable smile spread across his face. Yet, I could feel my face crumple as I really began to realize the type of suit he was wearing. It was definitely Designer and I was definitely not in a position to pay for a new one. I tried to scrub at his jacket further, refusing to look back up into that beautiful face. He grabbed my hand.

"I said don't worry about it!" he laughed. "I have a dozen or so at home, no worries."

My mouth formed a perfect 'O'. I looked around awkwardly, once again refusing to look at this highly attractive stranger. He might have been watching me, he might not have been – I don't know, but he was quiet for awhile. I was surprised that he was still standing there; I thought for sure that he would have rushed on like everyone else in this city. But, he simply stood there in the middle of a very busy sidewalk beside me, a very weary woman without a hope in the world. Okay, except for Toby, maybe he could get it right. The only thing I could think of was that he wanted me to pay for his suit – but he'd just said 'don't worry about it' hadn't he?

"Do you work here?" he asked, genuinely interested. I finally looked up to see him staring at the building. I snorted derisively.

"I wish."

He immediately stared at me. "Do you?"

Something told me not to answer that in the affirmative. There was something about his tone that made me second guess myself.

"Well, I only meant it would be nice to have a job. Any job, as long as it's not waitressing," I mumbled, looking away. It's so easy to be ashamed of something I had no control over.

"Ah, such a pity."

I remember narrowing my eyes, I remember almost remembering something. But, it didn't come there. I watched him suspiciously.

"Why is that a pity?"

"Well, I only meant that if you worked here I might actually get a chance to see you again. Maybe learn your name, your likes, dislikes," he trailed off, staring at me amusedly with his strange eyes. "Your wishes."

My mouth fell open. "Are you hitting on me?"

He laughed in this sort of silky chuckle. "I suppose I am."

I was forced to smile in spite of myself. Throughout all the years of taking care of Toby and working three jobs at a time to do so, my experience with men was limited. Generally, I was prone to becoming involved with sleazy older men - managers, authority figures. It was a strange rut I'd fallen into. To have an extremely attractive, apparently wealthy man flirt with me like this was certainly new, especially after I had spilled his coffee all over his designer suit.

"Isn't that akin to stalking? Following me to work?" I laughed, but it was a serious question. Honestly, did he think he could just walk into someone's place of employment and sweep her off her feet? This isn't a fairy tale land!

"Hardly," he said, smiling widely. "I have recently opened an account here."

"Oh," I said, nodding, feeling rather foolish.

He stuck his hand out, "Knightly. Jareth Knightly."

"Sarah. Sarah Williams," I replied, meeting his hand in a firm shake. He smiled at my reversal of his own introduction. I must have been nervous, but I was holding up wonderfully. "Jareth. That's an unusual name."

"Hmm, yes. I've been told that it's a combination of Jared and Gareth," he shrugged. "My parents were hippies, what can I say?"

I had to laugh at that. "And, mine were unoriginal."

"Nonsense. Sarah is a perfectly lovely name," he stopped and looked at me as though trying to remember something. "It's funny, you remind me of someone. I can't remember her name, though."

He laughed and ran a hand through his hair. "Every time I try to remember, I just keep coming up with Sarah."

I laughed, too. Oh, he was good.

"I guess you've made quite the impression on me," he said, finally, smiling. "Well, I'm afraid, Miss Williams, that I must be heading in for my meeting."

I winced, staring at the coffee stain. "Oh, you have a meeting? I am so sorry."

He started to pass me by at this point, "Don't worry about it, they're more concerned about my wallet." As he said this he winked, and I smiled automatically. I started to turn and head down the street.

"Oh, Sarah," there was something about the way he said my name. It sent chills down my spine. "If you get this job, you owe me a date."

"What?" I cried after him.

"For the suit!" he called back, before disappearing inside.