A/N - The last of my ficlets written for the labyfic exchange. Whitemunin asked for Jareth, Sarah, and Carnivale in Rio de Janeiro.
Disclaimer - I don't own the Labyrinth. No profit was made in the writing of this fic.

Carnivale

The moment she set foot on the streets she could feel the anticipation. Quick, pounding drums, wild chatter and excited speculation, the restless, roiling feel of a city that was vibrantly, primitively alive – it fired her blood, and drove her heart to beat faster.

Dance, love, and live for today, the whole city seemed to say, because tomorrow it will be too late.

“The last gasp of indulgence and carnality,” Jareth murmured in her ear, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine, “before Catholic guilt resumes. You mortals are so very wary of pleasure.”

She did not give him the satisfaction of a response. Still, she was almost hyperaware of his presence, the warmth of his body at her back, the tightly leashed, almost subliminal thrum of his magic – she wondered that no one else even suspected that he stalked along behind her.

In truth, she was a little glad of his companionship. Rio de Janeiro was almost overwhelming in all its glory and infamy, the great statue of Christ the Redeemer overlooking one of the most violent cities in the world. Beneath his outstretched arms, nearly twelve million souls sheltered – a huge percentage of them in absolute poverty, while others luxuriated in enormous wealth.

And once a year, for five glorious days, the city cast aside its troubles and cares and gave into the fierce abandon of Carnivale. It was the party to end all parties, the streets filled with dancing and singing, a city-wide explosion of extravagant colour and music celebrating life and love and excess of all kinds.

Thus Sarah’s presence here, with her own private demon in all his glory. She had woken to his touch, startled out of deep, exhausted sleep by the tickle of his flyaway hair. Before she could think to protest he had grasped her hand and pulled her into spinning nothingness, and then –

And then had come the bright, whirling arcs of colour and the pounding music, the roaring murmur of thousands upon thousands of revellers, and the glorious, vibrant energy of this wildest of cities. Everywhere Sarah looked, extravagantly costumed dancers whirled and gyrated in the streets, sequins and feathers and glittering masks uneasily reminding her of a long-vanished hallucination, though this was far wilder, far more primitive. The sheer press and throng of people, laughing and shouting and cheering, was nothing she’d ever encountered before.

Unasked, Jareth pressed closer to her, drawing her against him, so close that she could feel his swift heartbeat and his unsteady breathing.

“Sarah…” he breathed, his voice a low, hoarse undertone. His hands tightened on her waist. The atmosphere excited him, she realised, the seething crowd, the almost palpable aura of sex and abandon.

Unable to stop herself, she turned. As always, every time he appeared to her, he was an unsettling mix of fantasy and nightmare. In his silks and velvets and lace, black and grey and silver, he could have stepped straight out of 18th century Versailles, but his white teeth were sharp and predatory, and his eyes glittered wildly behind his mask, all twisted horns and feathers and sharp barbs.

“Why here?” she asked, her voice almost lost in the noise. “You know what I think of masquerades.”

His smile was feral, almost predatory. “Ten years ago,” he drawled, “you were a girl, with girlish fantasies. Now you are a woman – and your fantasies are older, darker…”

She started violently, tried to pull away, but he held her too tightly. The drums pounded out their driving, primal rhythms until the very earth seemed to shake beneath her.

“This is not one of my fantasies,” she whispered.

“No,” he acknowledged. “But it is one of mine.”

And the world skipped a beat.

As she frowned up at him, utterly bemused, he lowered his glittering, alien eyes. “You will forgive me, sweet Sarah,” he said dryly, “if I have dreams of my own.”

*********

The world went black. The lights, the colours, the music and the dancers and all the frenzied gaiety of Rio de Janeiro in full Carnivale simply winked out of existence.

And she woke alone in her bed, her apartment still and quiet, the last vivid remnants of her vanished dream echoing in the empty silence.

*********

End