Disclaimer: Labyrinth and all characters from said film belong to Jim Henson and George Lucas, those geniuses. The little excerpt from William Butler Yeats' poem belongs to him. I own nothing (nothing, nothing, tra la la) but Ilie and the plot.
A/N: Here it is, the one you've all been waiting for. Okay, well, not really. But still – Wishes In The Night is nice and clean and all fixed up. Those stupid spelling mistakes, chronological errors, and just idiotic things I completely overlooked have been removed. If you don't feel like reading all this again – the content is very similar to before – you can skip ahead to the next chapter.
Wishes In The Night
By: Moonlit Seductress
"I'm sorry, Sarah, but it's just not working out." The kind faced man smiled sadly at Sarah Williams, who could do no more than stare back.
"You're firing me?" she asked softly, green eyes radiating shock. Her boss – or former boss, as the case seemed to be – shook his head.
"Don't think of it as being fired. It's a new direction – "
'The gutter,' Sarah thought dully.
" – a change of occupation – "
" – a fresh start."
Sarah buried her face in her hands. "For a whole new bad ending," she breathed quietly, before looking up hopefully. "Look, Mr. Johnson, I – "
"I'm sorry, Sarah, but it's non negotiable. You know that if I had any other choice, I would take it, but this store is all I have. It feeds my family. It's my first priority. And with the number of employees I have now, I can't afford to pay everyone and still have enough left over to put food on the table. I know you've had a rough time lately, but when it comes down to it…" The middle aged man trailed off.
Sarah sighed. "I know," she replied. "And I'm sorry."
Mr. Johnson reached over the desk, extending his hand. Sarah grasped it, and he gave her a warm handshake. "I wish you luck in all your future endeavors."
"Thank you," Sarah said, and she meant it. She just wasn't sure how much good it would do.
"I'm sorry, Sarah, but it's just not working out." The voice of her stepmother cut through the phone line. "Your father and I can't keep supporting you. You're a grown woman now, and we're already paying your car payments for you – we can't keep sending you money."
"But Karen, I just need it until I find another job! Then I'll pay you back, every red cent. I just need time." Sarah forced her head through the simple t-shirt she wore to bed, struggling to keep the phone next to her ear.
"You say that every time, Sarah. How much have your father and I given to you?"
Sarah threw herself onto her bed. "A lot," she muttered sullenly.
"Exactly. We never even asked for any of it back, and – "
"And I told you I didn't want to talk about that anymore!" Sarah shouted into the phone.
"There's no need to scream, Sarah." The note of patronization in Karen's voice was the final straw, and Sarah slammed the receiver down. Making a face at the phone, she climbed off the bed, and walked towards her bookshelves, firmly intending to loose herself in a fairytale until all the petty problems of this real life had faded away.
Her fingers skimmed over the spines of many books, stopping on a red, leather bound volume. Pulling it out, she frowned as her eyes caught the gold embossed words on the cover.
With an angry growl, she hurled the book towards the wall. Turning her attention back to the books, she pulled out a collection of poems by William Butler Yeats. She had just curled up in her big wicker chair when a knock on the door forced her to her feet, muttering under her breath.
She peeked through the peephole, smiling at the sight of her boyfriend. Opening the door, she quickly stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, burrowing her face in his broad chest.
"Hi, Michael." She murmured.
"Uh, hi, Sarah," he said. It was then she noticed that he was not holding her. She pulled back, glancing up at his face. "What's wrong?"
Michael shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, Sarah, but it's just not working out."
She let go of him, stepping back. "What isn't?"
"Us. You and me. I just…I get the feeling that you think we're…married or something. And well…I'm just not ready for such a serious relationship yet. It was fun, but…I think we're gonna have to call it off."
"Yeah." The tall blonde bent to kiss her cheek, but she turned away. "Look, Sarah, for what it's worth, you're a great girl. I'm just not sure that we're meant for each other."
Her reply was the slamming of the door.
"I don't believe this!" Sarah burst out, not caring that she was talking to herself again. "It's not fair!"
As those words left her lips, she could have sworn she heard a dark chuckle. Looking around, she saw no one. "Get a grip, Sarah, you're cracking up again." Angrily turning all the lights off, she curled up in her bed.
"This stinks," she said dully. "I'm sick of all this crap. I wish…"
She trailed off, unsure of what she wanted. Suddenly, it came to her – with such force that she was certain someone had whispered it into her ear.
"I wish…I wish the goblins would come and take me away…right now." She closed her eyes, letting sleep claim her.
She did not hear the crash of thunder that rolled through the sky. She did not see the pages of Yeats' book flip in the breeze, coming to rest on a certain open page.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you
She did not see the moon faced barn owl that swooped through her window – an owl with mismatched eyes.
Sarah snuggled deeper into the covers. For some reason, they seemed softer than normal. Almost like velvet…
She opened her eyes – and sat straight up, confusion, shock, and fear setting off alarms in her head. She was not in her bland, white painted bedroom, but a large, stone walled chamber. The bed she sat in was not her rickety old twin size with the mattress springs poking through, but a huge featherbed, with rich, blue velvet covers. And the person sitting in a chair, directly across from her – well, he certainly hadn't been in her apartment.
He sat sideways in the chair, one long, slim leg thrown over the arm. He was dressed in a silky shirt of deep red, and tight black pants, tucked into leather boots, one of which bounced slightly, matching the rhythm that gloved fingers tapped on a muscled thigh. Wild blonde hair brushed broad shoulders. Mismatched eyes – one blue, one green – bored into Sarah as she blinked at him.
"You," she whispered softly.
Jareth watched the young woman wake, sit bolt upright, and gaze around in shock. Her green eyes were wide as they surveyed her surroundings, and they went even wider as they landed on him, carelessly draped over the chair.
"You," she whispered softly.
He smirked slightly, observing her. She didn't look very different, only more mature. Her face had lost its baby roundness, revealing high cheekbones, her skin smooth and flawless. Her lips were alluringly full, her hair just as long, but with soft, delicate layers. She truly was a woman now.
Letting his eyes travel downwards, Jareth suppressed a smirk as he took in the V – neck of her black top. Yes, Sarah was certainly not a little girl anymore.
Sarah followed his gaze and gasped, jerking the blankets up to cover her chest. Jareth chuckled.
"Well, Sarah…it seems as though you've grown up," he said, voicing his thoughts aloud.
"Where am I?" Sarah asked, a frown marring her smooth brow. Jareth merely smiled. "Take a guess," he invited, motioning to the obvious splendor of the room.
"I'm not…back in the Underground?" she guessed hesitantly.
"But of course. Where else would I take you?"
Sarah rubbed her temples – a murderous headache was forming just behind her eyes. "That's the next question," she said, looking up at the grinning Goblin King. "Why did you take me?"
"You asked me to."
The woman slapped her hands on the bedcovers in frustration. "I did not – why would I do something so foolish?"
Jareth shrugged. "I do not know," he replied, calm and collected – a far cry from the fiery, angry creature he had been when she had last spoken to him.
"Exactly. Now tell me the truth – why did you take me?"
"I told you – you wished it." He held up a fine boned hand as she tried to speak. "Think, Sarah. What happened before you fell asleep?"
Sarah frowned. "I…Michael came over…and told me it was over," she recalled. "Then…I was talking to myself. I said…I said it wasn't fair…and someone laughed." Her eyes flashed at him. "That was you. You were there!"
"You were so fond of that silly phrase as a child, Sarah. I'd hoped you would have grown out of it by now."
Pointedly ignoring him, Sarah continued to review her evening. "Then I went to sleep." She scowled.
"And just before you fell asleep," Jareth prompted.
"I wish…I wish the goblins would take me away…right now."
The Goblin King spread his hands triumphantly. "And here I am. And here you are."
Sarah motioned furiously. "But I didn't mean it – again! Why do you keep taking me seriously? Don't you know what 'in the heat of the moment' means? I was distraught! I wasn't thinking clearly!"
"It does not matter!" Jareth rose to his feet in one smooth movement, mismatched eyes boring into her. "Do you not understand? I am bound by duty! When someone wishes themselves or someone else to the goblins, I have no choice in whether to respond or not – whether they truly meant it or not!"
Sarah shrank into the covers. She had never seen him this angry before – not even when she had stood before him and uttered the words that defeated him.
He passed a hand over his face. "Do you not think that I would refuse to take innocent children if I could? Do you really think me that heartless?"
Sarah nodded, somewhat sheepishly. "Uh…yeah, actually, I did."
In a flash, the weariness had disappeared, and the smirking Goblin King was back. "Good," he answered. "You were meant to think so. I play roles, my dear. When you were here last, I was the powerful, debonair opponent, geared to frighten, yet captivate and enchant you."
Sarah smiled wickedly. She would show him.
"And I still managed to beat you," she commented lightly.
Jareth opened his mouth, then snapped it shut, sweeping from the room. The woman in his bed breathed a sigh of relief, pulling the blankets over her head.
Slamming out of his own bedchamber, Jareth gritted his teeth. He had already lost his temper twice with the young vixen – two time too many. She was infuriating, annoying, fascinating. He was even more intrigued by her now.
She had been too young, the last time – barely out of childhood. She hadn't understood the implications of his offer. She had seen him as the enemy, and she had treated him as such, and had indeed defeated him – in more ways than one.
He had been angry, of course – angry at the loss of his power, angry at the loss of her. However, there had been relief in his mind as well. She really had been too young. If she had accepted his offer, protocol demanded that he wait until she was twenty-one. He would have had that lovely, tempting creature living in his castle, but not be able to touch her for six agonizing years.
Now, she was twenty-five – a woman. Now she would understand if he offered to be her slave. Now she was ready to be the Queen the Goblin King needed…and the lover that Jareth needed.
He smiled to himself as he walked down the lavish hallway, anger melting away into plans of seduction and the subsequent rewards. He would win her over.
Sarah remained huddled in the bed until it struck her just whose bed it was – and God knew what he'd been doing there. She leapt off the plush mattress, just as a knock sounded on the door.
She quickly crossed the thick blue carpet – which was deliciously soft on her bare feet – and opened the heavy door, intending to give Jareth a piece of her mind. She was surprised to find a tiny goblin female, who swept a deep curtsy.
"Good evening, ma'am," the goblin greeted, in a light, piping voice. "Master has sent me to you. My name is Ilie. Master says I am to lead you to your room and make sure you have need of nothing." She remained bent in the curtsy throughout the little speech.
"Uh, ok," Sarah said, unsure of how to respond to such a fancy speech from such a simple looking creature. But the goblin simply rose, pattering down the hall on tiny feet.
Sarah followed, gazing at the rich tapestries and expensive looking decorations that brightened the otherwise dark stone walls. Ilie led her a short distance from Jareth's room and into a large, lush chamber with decidedly feminine décor.
The room was dressed in pastels, a pale pink carpet on the floor. The light green drapes were pulled back, revealing a moonlit balcony. The bed was done up in shades of soft pinks. There was a huge wardrobe in one corner, and an ornate vanity in another.
"Did Jareth prepare this room just for me?" Sarah asked, running her fingers across the highly polished wood of the four-poster bed.
"No," Ilie replied, turning down the covers. "Master entertains many Ladies of his court. This room was originally prepared for their use, but it will now be yours."
Ilie's greenish brown skin flushed, taking on a clearly reddish hue.
"Great," Sarah muttered. "A jerk and a playboy. Why am I not surprised?" She scowled at herself in the mirror, disgusted with the faint tinge of jealousy that shot through her.
"Master has instructed me to fit you with a suitable wardrobe. In the meantime, there are many fine garments in this cupboard that you might wear." Ilie removed an airy nightgown, which seemed to be made of silk.
Sarah very nearly reached out to take it, but the thought of some other woman wearing it – and perhaps even visiting Jareth in it – made her drop her hand. "It's alright," she said. "I'll just wear my own stuff for now."
Ilie nodded, blowing out all but one candle on the bedside table and bobbing another curtsy. "Will Mistress be requiring anything else?" she asked.
The title of mistress made Sarah cringe. "No, but please – call me Sarah."
The goblin woman merely nodded, turning and closing the door behind her. Sarah climbed into the bed, hoping it was all just a bad dream and she would soon wake in her own apartment.
A/N: Please review!