7. The Beginning (or, The End)

Disclaimer: I own none of this, and I promise not to turn it into a dirty e-book and make money off of it.

Warning: This is rated M, for language, and lust, and love, and other indoor sports.

Sarah stood in her bathroom, staring into the mirror.

She was really going to do this.

The Goblin King was in her bed, waiting for her.

No.

Jareth was in her bed, waiting for her. That, for some reason, made a difference.

She unzipped her dress, and stepped out of it, thanking the strange premonition, the foresight, the… inevitability… that she had felt this morning, that had caused her to wear her good underwear.

She wondered what she would tell Jo tomorrow.

It would be good. She knew it would be good. Already, just his touch on her bare skin had given her more pleasure than any man who had ever touched her before him.

And they hadn't even taken off any clothes yet.

But what would happen tomorrow, when it was no longer her birthday, and he was gone? What then?

She had tried, all day, not to fall. She had failed, miserably.

She looked down at her body, in her lacy black bra and matching underwear. She looked pretty good, she knew. She could fill out a bikini easily, and wear it, in public, with minimal embarrassment. But still, she wondered how many women he had been with, and how she would compare. She wondered if she would live up to his expectations.

She shook her head. Focus, Williams! Jareth is in your bed. He's waiting for you, and you promised you wouldn't keep him waiting.

Fuck it, thought Sarah. She pushed open the door, and walked, in her underwear, back to her bedroom.

He was asleep.

She couldn't believe it.

He was asleep!

While she had been in the bathroom, his clothes had changed back to what he was wearing this morning. His long hair, his arched eyebrows. His gloves. All had returned.

It was a shock, to see him like this again.

And, she realized with another shock, he was wearing his boots. In her bed.

She shook him, roughly, by his shoulder, suddenly furious. "Wake up," she hissed at him. He didn't move.

She yanked at his boots, pulling and swearing and still wearing only her underwear as she tugged them off. They dropped to the ground.

He was wearing green and white striped socks. She smiled, and laughed, and fell for him all over again.

As soon as she laughed, he stirred. Still asleep, he murmured her name, quietly, happily. She sighed. She turned from him, and pulled her pajamas out of her dresser. She bent over in front of him, naked, as she changed. He didn't move. Definitely asleep.

She turned off her light, shut her door, and crawled into her bed, beside him. She arranged him so that he had some covers. In his sleep, he turned towards her, pulled her into his arms. She relaxed. "You can't go," she said, quietly. "You haven't told me all those long stories. I want to know how they end. You promised."

She looked at her clock. It was nearly midnight.

"Goodnight, Goblin King," she said. Then, softer, "Goodbye, Jareth."

She closed her eyes.

When Sarah opened her eyes, her clock said 3:13am. Her room was full of moonlight. In her bed, she was alone.

Her heart sank, much faster and much deeper than she thought it capable of. You knew where this was going, she reminded herself. You knew what the ending to this story would be.

"Still hurts, though," she muttered out loud, rolling over to stare at the ceiling.

"What hurts you, precious?"

"HOLYFUCK," Sarah shouted, bolting upright in her bed. Jareth was standing at her window, silhouetted in the light of the moon. His back was towards her, and he was staring down her street. She caught her breath, her heart pounding. "Ohmygod. You scared me!"

He laughed softly. She edged towards him, and sat at the foot of her bed. He turned to her. "What hurts you?" he repeated.

"Nothing. I mean… You! You fell asleep!" she accused.

"I know," he said. "I'm sorry."

"We were…" said Sarah. "I mean, I thought…"

"I was very tired," he said. "I haven't been… sleeping well, lately."

"I know," she said. "I'm sorry."

He laughed again, and took a few steps closer to her bed.

"Are you feeling better, now?" she asked.

"I've been feeling better all day," he said. "I am with you."

Me too, she thought, but when she opened her mouth, she said only, "I was wearing nice underwear. They matched."

He smiled, reached out his gloved hand, and stroked the strap of her worn tank top. "Oh?" His fingers brushed against her shoulder.

She swallowed. Nodded. "I changed, after I saw you were asleep. I couldn't wake you. I thought… when I woke up, you would be gone."

His eyes left her shoulder, and he looked at her questioningly. "Why did you think that?"

"It's just… It's a new day. It's not my birthday, anymore."

He tilted his head towards the moon, hanging low in her window. "Still dark. It's not a new day. Not yet."

She swallowed again. "No. Not yet," she agreed.

He took a step towards her, bent his face down to hers. He was so close. She could feel the warmth coming from his skin. "Do you…" His voice was soft, and Sarah wanted so badly to reach out to him, to touch his face, his pale hair. In the moonlight, he was almost glowing. "Do you wish I would leave?"

Do I wish? she thought. I used to wish. It's been so long.

(Fifteen years. It's been a long time, Goblin King.)

Tentatively, she reached out her hand. She lightly traced his eyebrows, his cheekbones, the line of his jaw, which she had so brazenly stroked just one night before. It seemed like ages ago. Like once upon a time.

It seemed like it mattered much more, now.

His eyes had closed. He was waiting for her, to answer him. To use her right words.

"No," she said. "I wish… I wish you would stay."

And then he was kissing her again, his mouth hot on hers, his hands tangling in her hair. Kissing him back, she tried to simultaneously wriggle back up her bed and pull her tank top off. It didn't work, and she broke away from his lips, and in seconds, her shirt was off and she was tugging her shorts down. She kicked them to the end of the bed, and looked at Jareth.

He stared at her.

"Well?" she said.

He stared at her in wonder, like he couldn't believe she was real.

"Sarah," he said, his voice rough. And then he was tearing at his shirt, and unbuckling his belt, and – oh God – pulling off his gloves with his teeth. She heard the heavy thud of his boots hitting her floor. He covered her with his body, and his hand hovered over her skin uncertainly, as if he didn't know where to start.

She palmed his hand with hers, locking their fingers together. She felt the pulsing heat coming from him, and it felt like a fire she wanted to drown in. "Jareth," she said. He moaned, brokenly, and then he was kissing her again, and his burning hands were everywhere, and his lips were trailing down her neck.

And then he was crooning to her, whispering against her skin. That she was beautiful. That he wanted her, needed her. That he had missed her. That she was his queen, and he was her slave.

And much, much, much too soon, she was twisting, trembling, hovering – and then the world fell down, and the stars moved, and she was lost.

She pulled his face up to hers and kissed him, trying to tell him everything she was feeling with her lips, her mouth and her body, because right at this moment, she didn't trust her words.

He hovered over her. She tangled her legs with his, brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes. He touched her face, gently.

"Sarah," he breathed, and her name on his lips was a plea, a promise, a song.

(It's only forever. Not long at all.)

"Yes," she said. "Yes, yes."

After, she lay on his chest, her face buried in his neck. His hands stroked her back, not quite as burning hot now, but still pleasantly warm. Sarah's whole body was humming with pleasure. She yawned, hugely, and she felt Jareth laugh into her hair.

"Why am I so tired?" she murmured.

"I've exhausted you," Jareth told her.

"Yes, you are exhausting," she said playfully. "No, wait." Mimicking his voice, she said, "I am exhausted from living up to your expectations of me, in bed."

He chuckled again. His hands were warm on her back, stroking and soothing her. "It's also nearly dawn. You should sleep, Sarah."

No, she wanted to say. The sooner I sleep, the sooner I'll wake up. The sooner you'll be gone. But she found herself yawning again, and her eyes were drifting shut. His arms felt so good around her. She had never felt so safe as she had when she was being held by this strange, mercurial, otherworldly, villainous, beautiful, wonderful, terrible Goblin King.

He was humming softly, and as she fell asleep, she realized that it was the song from her old music box.

She opened her eyes. Her bed was empty, again. Her room was filled with light, again. But it was sunlight, and her clock told her it was almost 10am.

There was no slim shape, standing silently by her window. There was nothing by her dresser, no one by her closet. Her door was shut.

"Still hurts, though," she said, quietly, and waited. Nothing answered her.

Sighing, she got out of bed, and went to the window, wrapping the sheet around her. She looked down the street. By the overpass, she could make out some kids playing ball in the empty lot. She sighed again. She wondered where her car was.

Sarah wasn't a crier. She hadn't cried for a very, very long time. She thought maybe she would indulge herself. She thought maybe she deserved it. She reached up, to pull the curtains shut, and then her bedroom door opened.

Jareth stood in her doorway, framed by the sunlight. His golden hair was almost glittering, and he was smiling at her. She had never seen anyone, anything, more beautiful than him.

He had his hands behind his back. He took a step towards her.

"I've brought you… a gift," he said.

"Now, where have I heard that before?" asked Sarah, her voice in that strange place between crying and laughing. "Is it a gift for an ordinary girl?"

He shook his head. "Of course it's not. It's for you." He pulled his hands from behind him. He was holding her pink cow mug. "I tried to make it how you like it," he said. "Dark, and sweet. I think I may have broken your machine, though. Should it be smoking, very much?"

Oh God, thought Sarah. He made me coffee. He made me coffee, and he was bringing it to me, in bed. "I can't hear the smoke detector, so I think we're good," she said.

He extended his hand a bit further, offering her the mug. "If you turn it this way…" he said.

"It'll show me my dreams?" asked Sarah, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that Jareth, the Goblin King, had made her coffee, was bringing it to her in bed, and was still here, with her, in the morning, after.

"No," he said, amused. "It's just coffee, Sarah. If you turn it this way, you can take it by the handle, so you don't burn yourself." She laughed, and did as he said, and took it from him. She took a sip.

It was like drinking rocket fuel. Well, she thought, she and Jo had never specified that it had to be drinkable coffee. It was a good try. That's what counts.

"Good?" he asked.

She nodded. "It's a little strong, though," she said. "But not bad, for your first try."

"Ah," he said. "Well, next time, I'll do better."

"I know," said Sarah, and thought, oh God, he made me terrible coffee. He made me terrible coffee, he makes me laugh, and next time… There would be a next time, and the thought made her deliriously happy.

Sarah walked over to her nightstand, placed the coffee down, and crawled back into her bed. Jareth followed, arranging himself so that he was holding her again. She looked down, and rolled her eyes. He was still wearing his boots.

"We have got to do something about you putting your shoes on my furniture," Sarah said.

"Next time," Jareth said happily, and wiggled his feet. He stroked her hair. "Sarah," he said.

"Mmm?"

"Come back to the Labyrinth with me."

"Mmm," she said. "Wait, what?"

"Come back with me. Stay with me."

Sarah rolled to her side, out of his arms, where she could think better. "Like, forever? For good? What are you asking me, Jareth?"

(I ask for so little.)

"Exactly what I've said. Everything I've said. My offer still stands."

"Your… offer," repeated Sarah, remembering.

(Fear me. Love me. Do as I say, and I will be your slave.)

"As far as offers go," she said, "I have to admit, it's one of the stranger ones I've gotten."

"What do you mean?" said Jareth, frowning. He sat up. "You told me you didn't understand it before, but I thought… It's been a long time. Things are different, now. Is that a no?"

"No…" said Sarah, slowly. "It's an, I don't know. I'm not sure. You told me that you ask for so little, but I don't think you ever really asked for anything in the first place. You just demanded. If we do this… Jareth, if we do this, it can't just be about what you want, or what you have to offer – it has to be about what I want, and what I have to offer, too."

"But… I have always done what you wanted."

"Have you?" she asked. "You've always done what you thought I wanted, but was it really what I did want?"

He paused, thinking, then asked, "And what is it you want, Sarah?" They had circled back to this question again. He had asked it the night before last. She thought she had a better idea now, but still…

"I don't know," she repeated. "Your offer… what you said, years ago…"

"Yes?"

"I don't want that."

Sarah could see the set of Jareth's shoulders, tightening as he drew away from her. "I see."

"No, Jareth, listen. I don't want to fear you. I don't want you to be my slave. Don't you understand?" He was still pulling away from her. "That's not what people do! That's not the way it's done!" she said, desperately. "That's not how relationships work!"

He stopped moving, and looked at her again. "Relationships?"

"Yes," she said, relieved. "Relationships."

"Ah." He paused, thinking. "And… what about the part where you do as I say?"

"Well," said Sarah, smiling mischievously at him, "If I did as you said all the time… that wouldn't be very fun, now would it?"

He laughed, and pulled her back into his arms again. "My Sarah," he said, happily. "No," he agreed, "it wouldn't. And… the last part?"

The last part.

Sarah knew she loved him. She knew now that she had loved him for a very, very long time, that no boy or man had ever stood a chance compared to him, had ever lived up to the unfair expectations she had set because of him. Jareth, the Goblin King. Her smirking, sneering, preening, maddening basis for comparison.

She loved him. She just wasn't sure she was ready to tell him that, yet.

"I need – I need more time."

"Time?" asked Jareth. "Is that all? I can give you that."

"What do you mean?"

"Stay with me. A week. Seven days, seven nights. At the end, I will return you here, to your home, to the same time that you left. Then you can decide."

Damn, she thought. I don't even have to use up any of my vacation days. To Jareth, she said, and tried not to smirk, "You're still not asking."

Jareth took her hands in his, and asked, solemnly, and a little bit exasperatedly, "Sarah Williams, will you please come back to the Labyrinth with me, Jareth, the Goblin King, for seven days and seven nights, upon which point I will return you to your home and the time when you left and then you can decide whether what I have to offer you is what you want?" He took a breath. "Please?"

"No games?" she asked. "No tricks?"

"Sarah…" he said, with a hint of warning. "I – "

"Would never lie to me. I know, I know."

She thought some more.

"Tell me one thing," she said. "The wish, that Karen made, for my birthday…" she trailed off, thinking.

"Yes? I'm afraid I didn't hear it," he said.

She looked at him. "At all? You didn't know… what she said?"

He shook his head. "No. I thought you knew that."

"I still don't understand. The wish said…" What had it said?

(I wish you a very, very happy birthday.)

(I wish you the best birthday you have ever, ever had.)

But that wasn't it, was it? She had kept talking… what had she said? Focus, Williams, Sarah told herself, willing herself to remember.

And then she did.

(I wish you an eternity of happiness.)

(I wish you everything you want in life, forever.)

Holy shit, thought Sarah. She didn't just wish me a happy birthday. She wished me a happily ever after. She wished me a forever.

"Really, Sarah," said Jareth. He was smiling at her. "I thought you would have figured it out by now. The wish may have brought me here, yes. But it wasn't the wish that kept me here. It was you."

"Holy shit," said Sarah.

"Holy shit," Jareth agreed. "And now – for my offer? My… new, offer?" he corrected himself, quickly.

She looked at him. He was so happy. She wanted him to look at her like that, forever.

"Yes," she said. "I accept your offer, Goblin King. Jareth."

He shouted, delighted, and pinned her to the bed.

"Now," he said, his eyes dark, and wicked. "I have to go back first, without you. I have been away, and… preoccupied… for a long time. There are things I must take care of. I will call for you, after sunset."

Sarah nodded.

"But first…" he said. He tugged the sheet down, exposing her skin. "First… one for the road?"

She pulled him down to her, and kissed him.

After, when one had turned into two, and then three, and she had finally, laughing, shoved him off her, and told him that if he didn't go back, and let her get dressed, and get her stuff together, she would wish that the goblins would come and take him away right –

He laughed, and was gone.

After that, she called Jo.

"Hello?" she answered.

"He made me coffee," said Sarah. "He made me coffee, and brought it to me, in bed."

Jo whooped so loud that Sarah had to hold the phone away from her ear.

The sun set.

Sarah stood in front of her door. Jareth was calling her.

She answered.

A/N: So! The end! I hope you liked reading it as much as I liked writing it. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, and favorited, and alerted, and just read along. It is much more than I expected for this little (or not-so-little) story that showed up in my head one day.

And speaking of stories, I know I – and Jareth – owe you several long ones. Rest assured that they are waiting patiently, in my brain, to come out in the next one.

Which I have already started.

See you soon!