Disclaimer: Labyrinth's setting and characters don't belong to me. I'm just taking them out for a walk, helping them get some exercise, you know... the usual.

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Chapter 1: If You Should Fall

Sarah stared resignedly at her gaunt reflection in the vanity mirror. Her gaze skimmed the packed boxes by the door of her tiny, bachelor apartment. She dropped her eyes to the letter she would post to her ex-stepmother shortly and stretched out a thin, shaking hand to smooth the stamp that was lifting from the envelope's corner. Hastily blinking away tears, she refocused her gaze on her own reflection and took a deep, steadying breath. With obvious effort she settled her features into a placid expression, stiffened her spine and assumed a pose of calm confidence before speaking in a resonant voice that echoed her theatrical training.

"I wish Jareth, the Goblin King, would speak with me, right now."

Nothing happened. She stared intently at the small room reflected in the mirror behind her but no movement stirred, no thunder crackled, no whispers played along the edge of hearing. She sighed, closing her eyes and relaxing her posture slightly. "Ah well. It was worth a try."

"Was is really?" came the unexpected, clipped reply. "And what exactly are you trying for, Sarah Williams?" Her eyes flew open to see the imposing Goblin King looming behind her, his face as angry as his tone. She swallowed nervously, her poise momentarily forgotten in the face of the man who dominated the cramped space.

"You came!"

"Yes, I came. You didn't give me much choice, did you. I swear I'll boil that dwarf in the bog for telling you my name."

Concern crumpled her brow and she studied the scarred surface of the vanity. "I hope I wasn't interrupting anything. I just... I didn't know how else to contact you."

"No, of course not," he drawled. "I have nothing better to do than answer the petty whims of every little girl that calls my name." He glared impatiently at her bowed head. "What is it you want, Sarah."

She squeezed her eyes tight for a moment. She hadn't expected this to be easy, but it was still the right thing to do. Taking a deep breath she regained her composure and stood to face her old nemesis. She saw his eyes narrow in surprise as her took in her thin frame and pale complexion, her green eyes burning over-bright. She was still beautiful, but it was wrong somehow, a taut beauty that sat ill on her mortal frame. The slightest scent of acrid sweetness fuelled his unease. Before he had a chance to think through the implications of her appearance, she spoke, and what she said was no less surprising, despite its obviously rehearsed quality.

"I wanted to apologize, and to thank you for what you did and... for what you offered me. I've thought a lot about what you said, back then. You did do everything I'd asked. You gave me a chance to be the heroine, and you... well, you probably do have better things to do than 'answer the petty whims' of a little girl, but you answered mine. I was a brat, I know that now, and I'm sorry for the trouble I caused you. But you taught me a lot, like how to recognize a real friend and not to take things for granted." She hesitated, struggling with some inner pain. "I just wanted to thank you for that. And...and I wanted to ask one last favour." An expectant smirk graced the Goblin King's face and he crossed his arms derisively, waiting for the request he had no intention of granting. In the face of his haughty silence, she dropped her eyes to the floor, but she voiced her request nonetheless.

"I have to go away, somewhere where I won't be able to call on Hoggle and Ludo and Didymus and the rest. Could you tell them, please, your majesty, that I will miss them and that I will think of them for as long as I live." She couldn't help the tear that trickled down her cheek, and inwardly she cursed her weakness as she dashed the betraying moisture away.

Jareth frowned at the obviously distraught mortal standing before him. He had been prepared for some extravagant request, and even been looking forward to her disappointed expression when he refused her. Or perhaps, if her request had intrigued him, he would have bargained with her, trapping her with his twisted logic in payment for the havoc she had wreaked in his realm and his heart that last time he had seen her. But he did not know what to make of this strange request and her even stranger behaviour. What had happened to the fiery tempered maiden who had bested him in his own game?

"Why don't you tell them yourself. I am no errand boy, Sarah." He saw her wince at the harshness in his tone, but her gaze remained fixed on the floor and her voice was pained and small.

"I can't. I haven't spoken with them in... a long time, and I don't think I could say the words if I had to see them. I know--" she took a deep breath and regained some composure, fixing her eyes on a space behind him, "I know you hate me, and you have every right to, but they tell me you're a good king, so please," and suddenly her eyes locked with his, their fierce intensity nearly stealing his breath again as they had done so long ago, "please, could you tell them, so they don't wonder, so they don't think it's their fault?" He could not break free of that bright, green gaze and so he lost himself in it, searching for some clue to her thoughts.

"Please? I swear I will never trouble you again." Her words were laden with meaning that he could not decipher but something niggled in the back of his mind. He knew he was missing something, and despite himself, he was intrigued by the puzzle she presented. He had dreamed of her begging for his favour, of cruelly denying her, but now he found he could not. He let out a small snort. "Very well, Sarah. Your wish is my command, after all," he added mockingly. Her eyes closed briefly in relief, and her whispered "thank you" was full of unadulterated gratitude. When she opened them, he was gone.

Seeing the room empty, she folded to the floor, curling around her aching chest. All her strength had gone into that last performance, and she could no longer stop the tears streaming down her cheeks or the broken sobs that ripped from her throat. Gradually both slowed as she rocked herself to relative calm. Despondently she pulled herself off the floor and made her way to the bathroom to wash the tears from her face. Having already packed her towels, she wiped her face dry on her shirt and made one final sweep of the apartment. Assured that she had done everything she could, she picked up the letter and shrugged on her coat. With a last look at the sparse apartment she had called home for just under a year, she locked the door. After a moment's pause, she slid the key under the door, whispering an apology to her landlord. He wasn't a pleasant man, but she felt a pang that she would cause anyone trouble.

It didn't take long for her to get to her destination, even taking a detour to the post box where she sent the letter to Karen with all the best wishes she could muster. Now she stood in the middle of a high bridge, admiring the reflection of moonlight on the rushing river far below. It was a beautiful, early spring night, the air fresh with promise. Sarah could feel the tears starting again and knew she would have to act before she lost her nerve. As though in a dream, she carefully removed her coat, shivering slightly as she folded it and laid it gently on the cement sidewalk. Her limbs suddenly felt leaden and she had to struggle to pull herself up over the railing. "I'm so sorry," she said to no one in particular, and let go.

The instant she felt herself fall, panic kicked in. She knew it was just instinctive, but she couldn't help grasping desperately at the air, straining for anything to halt her fall. And when another hand seized hers, jolting her to a stop, she fainted.

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Apologies for the cliche; I fear there will be at least one more. I've tried to imbue these cliches with a bit of realism, though. Please let me know if I've succeeded, or if there's anything else that needs work. If you want me to get addicted to writing fan fic... review.