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Falling --COMPLETED	By : jinx1764 Category: G through L > Labyrinth Views: 10231 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own Labyrinth, don't make any money, this is a work of fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 15
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- 17
Darkness … gray … obscure shapes and sounds tugged at him, Jareth swam up through the fog into a sharp throbbing pain at the base of his skull. Nausea overcame him and he rolled to his side, retching, eyes pinched shut. The rough feel of old, filthy carpet scraped his palms as he supported his upper body until he finished dry-heaving, then rested his forehead to the same harsh surface. His hair curtained either side of his face, filtering out some of the awful sunlight. A hand brushed between his shoulder blades; he jumped slightly but otherwise kept his position.
"You okay?" a soft voice asked. Sarah.
"Hardly."
"You do look like shit, but at it's an improvement from earlier."
Groaning, Jareth pivoted his body and laid on his side in order to scowl up at her sarcasm. "And how did I look earlier?"
"You," she dropped her eyes and blushed, "don't remember?"
"Would I be asking if I—" Blood … coppery salt on his tongue … tearing, biting, BLISS… "—remembered …" The sensory memories struck him, intensifying his headache, making him flinch and stutter.
"Oh, then Sam was right. You are a berserker."
"What?" Jareth forced himself to a sitting position, ignoring his pain and the accompanying queasiness. Why did she sound oddly … satisfied? And why did it have to be so bloody bright? "I'm a what? Where is Sam?" He looked around the ramshackle home they squatted in, he partially sitting up while Sarah knelt in front of him. "And Chet?"
Sarah made a nonchalant shooing motion with her hand while shrugging. "They're double checking the area for Empties and supplies while you recover. You've been out for about an hour."
"And?" He glared, unwilling to allow her to sidestep the bigger issue he suspected lurked between them. It swelled like overcooked pasta the longer she delayed.
"And …" She fidgeted in her hunched position, studying her scuffed boots. "Sam explained why you acted so crazy; why you … um … started to … get … sort of … physical with me."
"I what?" Violence … passion … lust … slippery viscera coating his hands … his blade incising, cutting … hot, sticky … hard … straining … throbbing… want … must take … must conquer... Jareth squeezed his head in his hands, trying to shove away the images and sensations while Sarah continued speaking, her voice droning at the edge of his hearing. Abrupt disconnection smashed, his headache pulsing his eardrums so hard he feared they would burst. Too bright … too hard … he hands became a vise around his head and tears formed in his eyes, and still Sarah spoke as if she didn't notice his plight.
"He said you were a berserker, said that when the battle takes you over, you can't control your actions."
"No…" He forcibly wrenched his concentration back. Ran from the expanding pressure inside his skull.
"Yes, Jareth, you bit an Empty."
"Oh, Danu …" He moaned, rocking in place, legs curled into his torso.
"And you were going to …"
He froze; their eyes met and he read everything she couldn't say in her conflicted expression—hurt, anguish, but above all, confusion. "Not possible, it's not possible," he said. Need … uncontrollable need exploding from his veins … lust, hunger burning him … mate's scent near … NEED … OTHER HALF! "Not possible…" he continued to mumble as memories flashed and stabbed.
Sarah laid a hand on his knee. "What's not possible?"
Bloody and frazzled from his earlier exploits, his head snapped up with bloodshot, dilated eyes; Sarah flinched. He spoke in a low, trembling voice, "I'm not a berserker."
"W—"
"While the fey are subject to extreme bloodlust during battle, it's inherent to our nature; this is …" his eyes darted left then right, "I've never lost control to such an extent." He bored into her again, begging her to understand. "I've never blacked out before."
"Well, Sam did knock you out," Sarah said with a forced laugh. Lunging, he grabbed her wrist, pinching until she cringed. "Jareth …" She tugged but his grip was steadfast.
"Before that, I've never … it's never," he swallowed, "I don't understand what's happening to me."
Sarah pried his fingers from her wrist, the skin blanched in the pattern of his hand. But instead of flinging it away or simply letting go, she held on and settling his hand in her lap as she sat cross-legged. After a few seconds of lightly stroking his skin, she spoke, keeping her face down. "You were right."
Involuntarily, his hand twitched. His skin felt tight beneath the dried blood, as if too much of him were smashed into too little, but her touch soothed him, somehow gave him odd comfort. He watched her caress his lax hand, his heart calming, waiting for her to explain her statement.
"When you said I had secrets."
"Ah." He nodded.
"After The Shove, when Toby and I were on our own," she frowned, "after everyone died." A pang spasmed in his chest; was there truly no one left for them, then? How long did his subjects linger at her side?
The traitors were likely loyal to the end for her, he thought bitterly.
And what of her parents? So much tragedy for one so young …
"Perhaps she has been punished enough."
Hmm … perhaps, Da, Jareth answered, his vitriol severed so quickly he hardly remembered why it ever existed. For now, there was only him and her and their hands touching.
"There was …" She took a deep breath, seemed to shake herself. "Vultures attacked us one night," she said in a stronger voice, finally looking at him, daring him to understand. All too well did he read between the thin information she gave. Few things were so consistently done to girls during anarchy other than violation; it was not a difficult assumption.
"How old were you?" he asked softly, his fingers moving gently against hers.
"Sixteen."
"So very young."
"Yes."
"They … did things?" Kill … MAIM … DESTROY! He struggled to shed himself of the bloodlust, tried putting all his energy into listening. Time enough for vengeance; if indeed, he truly wanted it. Why would he?
"Y-yes." Moisture collected, made the green of her irises shimmer; he resisted a tug to wipe them away.
His hand stilled. "How you must hate me," he said, head slipping down, then adding snidely as he dragged his hand away, "And now with just cause."
"No." She reached for him. "It's not like that."
"Oh? How is it like? Please enlighten me, for I am curious how you could feel any sympathy for me!"
"Jareth." She scooted closer once he tried moving away. "You didn't know what you were doing. It wasn't your fault."
His severe laugh exposed his pain; he sneered. "Really? And what makes Fixer suddenly so forgiving of her villainous Goblin King?"
"When you did that, I saw the look in your eyes. I heard what you said and," her hands trembled as she touched his face, "it felt …"
Jareth grabbed her hand and pressed it to his cheek, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry I frightened you. I swear I'll do my best to control it from now on."
"I wasn't frightened." His eyes opened and he arched a brow until she relented with a tremulous curl to her lips. "Okay, a little, but there was … something … I can't explain it." She shrugged. "I've never felt anything like it."
"Nor I." He returned a hesitant smile. "What I can remember, at least."
She gently pulled her hand free and sat back. "You swear you won't attack me?"
Moving his hand to his heart, he bowed his head, his hair swished forward. "On my life." As short as it will likely be, he added privately.
She extended her right hand and Jareth quickly met it with his. "Maybe we can be friends after all," she said.
"You no longer believe I caused The Shove?"
"I don't know what to think, but I believe that whatever happened, it took more than one person to destroy the world."
"Hmm … then perhaps it will take more than one person to repair it?" he asked as they tentatively shook hands.
"Yeah, maybe something like an "other half"?" Sarah's smile shone brighter than the ruptured sun. Every centimeter of her palm scorched his; time slowed, their hands moving up and down sluggishly.
Need … NEED … NEED… pounded in his head; a wave of heat and pressure flowed up from his groin. Jareth's mouth dried as his cock stirred and hardened so taut he grew dizzy. He yanked his hand back, body shaking as he shuffled away on his hunches and muttered:
"Something like."
"Jareth?"
Keeping his back to her, he held his tongue, fighting down the lust boiling his blood and hormones. "Need quiet," he said. "Head hurts." Hunching further in on himself, he made his body a tight ball, hoping Sarah would leave before his urges got the better of him.
"Um … okay. I'll just find Sam and see if we're ready to go."
"Fine."
.

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.
The sun baked overhead in the position of high noon: furious, harsh and blistering. Sarah walked directly behind Sam as they trudged from the row of dilapidated homes; Chet followed her while Jareth brought up the rear. Since their private chat, he refused to speak to her or even look very long. She supposed she should feel happy he was ignoring her. She did hate him.
I used to hate him. She snuck a peek over her shoulder; he walked with his head down, torso slumped. Now I feel … well I know I don't hate him. But I should at least be mad at him for delaying us, right? Good, it's settled. I'm officially mad at him.
So why didn't she feel mad? In fact, whenever she saw him or thought about him or what happened or especially what he said, she felt … a weird fluttering in her gut, like what her step-mom used to call butterflies when she was nervous. But what did she have to be nervous about? It was just Jareth, the excruciatingly annoying Goblin King ruining her life as usual.
Except … he hadn't ruined her life, had he?
And now he was trekking cross-country with them through the No-Where, risking his hide (and apparently his sanity) to save Toby. And he had yet to learn about Toby's … condition. Would it matter? Would Jareth be angry with her once he discovered what Toby really was?
She refused to call Toby an Empty. He wasn't like all the others roaming the No-Where. He was different; he had to be, and maybe someday she'd be able to fix him like she fixed everything else.
Like you Un-Fixed him?
Don't say that! It wasn't my fault! I didn't mean to hurt him!
But you did it all the same.
On accident! I was protecting us!
Yourself, you mean.
NO! Who knows what they would've done to him.
Stop lying to yourself, Sarah.
Don't call me that! My name is Fixer.
"Fixer?"
"Huh?" She jerked, Sam gripped her shoulder. When had they stopped walking? The sun had sunk halfway to the horizon and nothing surrounded them but dust and hazy hints of the distant mountains. Chet and Jareth stood several feet away, their gazes averted.
"You were wandering off."
"Uh … sorry, must've, you know." She gave him a sheepish shrug and ducked her gaze.
"Yeah." He dropped his hand. "Anyway, Chet says he knows of a good well near here, but it'll take us off the Vultures' tracks."
"But what if we lose'em?" Panic laced her voice; her heart sped up. They couldn't risk it.
Chet jogged up, pack juggling side-to-side. Jareth kept his distance, observing. "It's only a few hours away and there's shelter in the foothills."
"And you're sure it's safe?" she asked.
"Last I checked, yeah. The last group that lived there died off a year back."
"What about the Vultures?" she asked. "What if the tracks are gone by the time we get back?"
Sam rubbed his chin. "I got a theory 'bout that. They've been heading in the same direction the last day and half, towards the Appalachians.
Her brows rose. "And?"
"I figure we can stock up on fresh water, circle back 'round to the southwest side of the foothills and pick up the trail again there."
"You agree with this, Chet?"
"Well …" Chet stared off towards the distant foothills in question. "It makes sense that they'd hideout there."
"Why?"
"First off, they're riddled with caves."
Sarah squinted; the low bumps were hazy in the glare. She knew they weren't as far away as they seemed. The sun and atmosphere had a way of altering perspective worse than a normal desert, at least that's what Sam told her years ago. She'd never seen a normal desert before The Shove. Though she knew how to track nearly as well as Sam, his skills still surpassed hers no matter what she'd claimed. If Sam said he could pick up the trail again, he could. And they needed water. But could Toby survive another delay?
"It's up to you, Fixer," Sam said. "It's your brother, so I'll do it however you want."
"Up to me, huh?" So when we die of thirst, that's up to me too? The foothills must be at least another day or two away. She huffed. Damned if we do; damned if we don't. One thing still niggled …
"Sam, I just don't get why they came all this way if they're hiding out in the hills now."
"What'da mean?"
"Just that, there's fresh water up there and caves like Chet said. Why risk the long hike to hit us, then end up taking Toby?"
Adjusting his pack, Chet hurumphed. "Maybe he was their real target all along."
Sam's mouth tightened. "Chet …"
Sarah looked back and forth between them. "What? Sam? You guys been talking?"
"It's not like that."
"Just tell her, man," Chet said.
"Tell me what?"
Sam shook his head and waved his hands. "Don't listen to him; he's talkin' out his ass."
"Chet?" she asked.
"Look, Fixer," Chet said, shuffling his feet, avoiding Sam's glare. "You know word's gotten 'round 'bout what you can do."
"Yeah."
"And the Vultures, they've tried to take us over in the past, our stuff, our place."
"Lots of death and trouble each time," she said, frowning.
"Yeah, well, maybe … word got out 'bout your kid brother too during one of those fights. They've gotten in before, maybe they found out 'bout him and, I don't know, decided to use him."
"Chet." Sarah sank to her hunches, cradling her head. "You're saying they deliberately killed so many just to kidnap Toby?"
Sam crouched next to her, laying an arm over her shoulders. "See why I didn't want him saying anything. I didn't want you upset. It's crazy!"
"Maybe not," she said. Sam's arm tensed on her back. "Maybe they've figured something out about Toby no else has," she said. "I never actually killed those Vultures years ago. Maybe they weren't as damaged as I thought. Maybe he isn't either," she added in a whisper.
"What Vultures?" Chet asked. "What'da talkin' 'bout?"
"Or perhaps," Jareth said, the addition of his voice shocked them, automatically changing Sarah's focus from Chet's uncomfortable question. "They plot to get you in the open." Sarah stood up, brushing Sam's arm off and approached Jareth.
"Why?" she asked. His countenance remained stoic but sparks flickered in his eyes for a moment as she drew close.
"I have no idea." He spread his arms wide, his voice rising to echo throughout the landscape. "But here we are, unprotected and virtually alone in this desolate place—three of the strongest members of your quaint little society and me."
"You think they planned this?" she asked, suddenly desperate to know his opinion.
A hollow laugh spewed forth from Jareth as he dropped his arms, head cocking, then he spoke in a low voice, almost tender as he stepped into her personal space and cupped her cheek with one hand. "It's exactly what I would do, if I were your enemy."
- 15
- 16
- 17
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Falling --COMPLETED