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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
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"You didn't have to kill him!" Sam snarled. "That wasn't part of the deal!"

"You weren't supposed to have extra company, eh, Sam," a tall man with sunken cheeks responded, then pointed his machete at the unconscious Sarah currently being gathered up by his men. "You were only supposed to bring her. Lucky I let your other friend live, eh."

Sam scowled and ground the ball of his foot in the cave's gravel floor. "That's for your benefit, remember? I don't understand it, but they're connected somehow."

"Magic, eh?" He spat. The gob landed suspiciously near Sam's boot, soaking into the dusty scree. "Crazy talk."

"Not from me, already told you what I think, Pierre." Sam gestured with his arched thumb over his shoulder. He aimed toward Fixer, who was being carried out to the wagon to join Jareth. "They call it magic."

"No matter as long as she works, eh?" The Vulture grinned, exposing several black squares of missing or rotten teeth.

Sam stepped closer, shifting his weapon's muzzle vaguely under Pierre's chin. "And what 'bout your end of the deal? I didn't see any deliveries in your wagon."

Pierre laughed, his casually dark chuckle filling the small cave until Sam found breathing difficult. "I thought you'd like to join us for a bit. See the accommodations, eh?"

"Go back with you?" He practically squeaked, then gulped. He'd planned on being far away after the exchange. The thought of seeing Sarah's look when she figured out …

"Squeamish, are you?" Pierre easily redirected the muzzle with the back of his hand. "You ride with us; you'll get what I promised, eh."

Sam narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Why the invite?"

"Maybe I just want to be sure, eh?"

Sam dropped his weapon back to his side. "Fine, but don't call me by name and they both stay blindfolded."

Pierre shrugged and his lips downturned. "Fair enough."

A long haired man wearing a long coat shuffled into the entrance. "They're secured, sir."

"Good, let's go before the sun's up," Pierre said. "We've got a bit of ground to cover, eh?" He clapped Sam on the back and laughed.

Sam jerked away, stomping out of the cave. "You just finish your end of the deal."

Pierre kept laughing, saying to his man as they followed Sam, "I told you, eh. No sense of humor that one."

"Yes, sir."

.

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After witnessing Chet's death, Jareth lie waiting in tense silence for something to happen. Muffled voices at a distance, then footfalls crunching closer snagged his attention. He held his breath as the wagon rocked accompanied by the sounds of another person being tied near him.

Sarah's soap— its smell washed over him like a wave of fresh air. Relief gushed through him, and he held back a very unmanly sob. He'd hoped they kidnapped her rather than killing her like poor Chet. Indeed, what is the point of abducting us at all? he wondered. Not that he preferred death. And what of Sam?

He'd heard nothing but unfamiliar voices. If Sam were dead as well then their fates were in their own hands. No one knew of their whereabouts or destination. The wagon lurched into motion, rattling his head against the floorboards and causing the bonds to chaff.

If only my power wasn't diminished. I could erase these Vultures from the world with one curl of a finger! As it was, he'd settle for assuring himself of Sarah's health at the moment and count himself fortunate. He gnawed at the gag in frustration.

In addition, he could feel his strength deserting him by the new, intermittent jolts of pain traveling throughout his limbs and torso. The desperate trek to the cave drained him further than he expected, and only the rough bumps of the wagon and his worry kept him from drifting off into exhaustion. The toll of magic deprivation stole from him quicker than he had anticipated.

"Hang on, boy. Worse is coming."

What do you see, Da?

"I cannot tell you, but know that I'll be with you."

Somehow that doesn't seem as supportive, Jareth deadpanned, and tried to relax to gain rest while he could.

.

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A headache jackhammered Sarah's skull, one side distinctly more tender than the other. The bouncing from whatever she was lying on didn't help either. It was hard with rough edges pricking through her clothes, and her hand and legs were bound, making it that much more uncomfortable. All in all, the experience was quite miserable ... then she regained enough of her wits to understand she was also gagged and blindfolded.

Vultures! Her world dropped away, spiraling into vertigo, and she fought a wave of panic panting in her throat. Memories of being attacked in the cave swamped her; she hated how quickly they made her feel young and helpless again. Strange, unfamiliar voices floated around her—one with an unusual accent.

Get a hold of yourself. You can fight this, them! You're not a dumb kid anymore!

Focus, she needed to focus on her power—what if it doesn't work? What if it backfires again? I don't understand what's changed—then she could free herself and … and whoever else was still alive. Was anyone else? Was … Jareth? For a split second, she recognized the sick irony of her worry flashing to Jareth before Sam, her near foster father who'd kept her sane and healthy for years. Why would she worry about the Goblin King, the man who'd helped created this entire mess?

Then she, with a stab of burning guilt in her chest, remembered Chet. Where was he? Was she the last alive? Sarah moaned as a new dose of panic hit her, not noticing her transport stagger to a harsh stop. So immersed in her misery, she didn't hear the clamors of boots on wood wagon slats, or the echoing mutters of Jareth only feet from her, unable to move. She lost track of time, drifting …

"Hey!" A slap to her face stung her exposed skin, brought her to reality. "Wake up, Sleeping Beauty!" She jerked her head back, reeling, and pulled at her restraints with a muffled cry. "Easy… I'll let you lose, but you behave."

Blind, mute, frightened to the edge of her wits, Sarah froze. Firm hands held her shoulders down, and she suppressed a whimper. Where was her angry power now? It tickled her breastbone, but she feared reaching for it. Seconds stretched and she finally managed a faltering nod.

"Good girl," he said, patting her shoulder, and she felt the ties at her wrists and ankles loosen until her arms and legs flopped down. Unfortunately, even if she had planned to fight then, they quickly retightened the cords at her wrists while leaving her ankles free. Needled tingles and heated pain rushed to her feet as her circulation, so long cut off, resumed.

"I need you to walk," he told her, grasping her forearms and tugging. "You scoot to the edge and stand."

"Muhmm?" she mumbled, rolling her head and shrugging her shoulders towards her face.

"You walk first; I take the blindfold off soon." He tugged harder at her arms.

Resigned, Sarah followed his lead until the end of the wagon slid under her legs, then she allowed her knees to bend ninety degrees. Her feet, still singing with fresh blood, stung when the soles of her boots hit a hard, uneven surface. As the Vulture pulled her forward, stumbling, she heard another slap and groaning behind her. Sounds of a rough struggle followed.

Was someone in the wagon with me? Emotions conflicted—elation, fear, happiness, concern—as she wondered (and hoped) who might've lain next to her.

"Stop." He jerked her to a halt, and they waited. The Vulture's calloused fingers dug hard into her arm muscles, and her skin grew clammy at the building indeterminate situation. Over the pounding of her heart, she tried to listen, tried to calm herself enough to exert her power. But too many unknown haunted her: What if it doesn't work? What if Jareth or Sam or Chet is alive and I harm them? What if I injury myself again?

She was distracted by gravel crunching next to her and two voices arguing nearby, one a hissing, angry whisper sprinkled with familiarity.

"You're fucking kidding me, Pierre!"

A bark of harsh laughter—"I never kid in deals, eh."

"What did you animals do to her?"

"She was useful during her visit here. You should've agreed sooner, eh? Maybe she fare better."

The hands at Sarah's arms shifted, and her blindfold and gag were stripped away. She worked her jaw and blinked at the sudden change from black to gray gloom due to the oversized cavern. But that's not what made her eyes water and tear, though she wished with all her heart it was.

"Sam?" she asked, her voice coming out smaller than she'd hoped. God, I'm such a stupid kid, she thought with pure despair. Someone gasped, then growled next to her. Some part of her registered it as Jareth (her body refused to turn and look) but any (supposed) relief was overshadowed by her vision narrowing on the view several feet in front of her.

Sam's expression surpassed shock. In that fragment of hell, Sarah watched a tremor of pained, disorienting incredulity ripple from his face (which whirled up and around at his name) through his entire body. It was him, his voice, arguing with the Vulture. What deal?

"What deal?" she asked aloud in a bizarre, slow-motion parody of her internal voice (her thoughts circled it in frenzy).

Ashen, Sam's mouth worked without sound as his head swiveled back and forth between Sarah and a bedraggled, rag covered person huddled at the Vulture's feet. "Fixer…"

"What deal?" she repeated, louder, feeling her power focusing. It was like a blade honing itself beneath her breast, its stark edges cutting her even as she relished the surge. It would be so easy to obliterate everyone and everything.

The Vultures laughed, and it came to Sarah how many were standing around them. Dozens… They were enjoying the scene. They wanted her to see, to know. Betrayal in its purest form delighted them. Bastards…

"You don't understand," Sam said, brows furrowing as he crouched and reached for the mass of leftover humanity hiding its face against the Vulture's legs. It flinched from Sam's touch and whimpered. "I had to do it. For her, for my Sally."

"Oh God … Sam." Nausea danced next to her power, twisting her guts, confusing her further. The punch was harsh and all consuming. That … that person was his daughter? That … pile of rags, bruises and dirt clinging to the legs of the Vulture he called Pierre. So many ramifications hit her at once, so couldn't move. Vaguely she heard laugher all around, even from dark shadows in the caverns which she couldn't see. Oh, but she could hear them.

Jareth, a silent witness until now, finally commented, derision thick in his tone, "So you betrayed Sarah, and your entire complex of trusting people, by agreeing to … trade?"

"You knew," Sarah said. "You knew they were going to attack."

"All those deaths, Sam, are on your soul," Jareth added.

"They weren't supposed to take so long! It was supposed to be a quick grab and run!"

"For Toby," Sarah said under her breath, then stronger, "you knew I'd do anything to get him back, you bastard."

"I'm sorry, Sarah," Sam said in obvious misery, his face grimacing to a deep flush and his fists clenching. He stood, gazing down at Sally with something like regret carving in face. "What you feel for Toby, imagine feeling a hundred times that." He met Sarah's eyes again, then flicked over to Jareth's. "You'll do anything for a child … anything."

"Even risk another?" she asked.

"Len was never at risk," he said, matter-of-factly.

Shaking her head, Sarah said, "I meant me."

Sam blinked, opened his mouth, then blinked again. "I …"

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

And the Vultures had kept laughing, cruelly, in the background, enjoying their spectacle of wretchedness. Obviously they've moved up in the world from merely physical torture. Fury burned Sarah's soul at every grating guffaw.

The one who had removed her blindfold and gag, and Jareth's as well, stood behind her. He rested a hand on her shoulder, squeezing, restraining. "You're ours now, Fixer," he said in her ear. "Can't wait to use all your talents." A wet, slithery thing licked below her ear, trailing upwards. "We've heard so much 'bout you."

Sarah choked back a bitter sob and turned her head to Jareth. His eyes held a mixture of emotions she couldn't begin to categorize at the present time, but she easily recognized a similar fury shining over them all. Why would the Goblin King feel such a thing for her? His eyes flashed as he stared at her, his pale lips a thin line pressed together. She felt as if he were trying to tell her something, sending her a message by telepathy (if such a thing were possible).

A blossoming heat spread from behind her breastbone as she matched his gaze. The Vultures' laughs trailed off, and Sam shouted. Sarah ignored them, feeling her power flush through her. It burned. It seared. It hurt. She cringed, her eyes squinting at the pain. It's backfiring again!

Then Jareth lunged towards her, throwing his bound wrists over her head, his arms tightened around her torso as he pulled her close. She looked up at him, pressed to his chest. Her power surged at his touch, spiraling up and out. It flowed from her, into him and back. Jareth's eyes widened, his pupils dilating.

He pressed his lips to hers.

Sarah gasped.

Hands grappled them, tried to pry them apart.

Jareth growled.

The world shattered.
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Falling --COMPLETED