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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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His first conscious sensation was thirst, followed closely by the realization of his prone position on the some flat surface. A very dry surface infested with dust infiltrating his nostrils and caking his mouth with every inhalation, thus triggering a coughing fit and rapid roll to his back. Head lolling and arms flopping to his sides, Jareth lay flaccid in what was evidently a supremely bright environment prompting him to immediately slam his eyes shut at the invasion of concentrated daylight and the heat...
"Good gods," he mumbled, feeling his chapped lips split open with a vicious sting. He licked them, instantly regretting it when the stinging increased. He flung one arm over his eyes to block the intense UV assault since his eyelids were too thin, and the red glow through his skin burned his retinas.
Where the name of Danu am I? Feels like the bloody Sahara.
He'd collected children from the Great Desert on occasion, and he preferred avoiding the desolate location. With a deep groan and prayer to the gods to protect his eyes, Jareth used his hands as sunshades and cautiously cracked his lids. Sitting up, what he saw shocked him. It wasn't the Sahara. It appeared to be an average sized American town, if the street signs were accurate. And he sat in the middle of one of those streets, the asphalt's heat seeping through his leathers the longer he stayed immobile.
"Ah ... hot, hot!" Jumping to his feet, he shook off the burn by stomping his thick soled boots and slapping his thighs and buttocks while cursing. Little by little his skin cooled, or at least felt less hot. "Bloody hell!"
Squinting, he saw dirt and dust blowing over everything, coating the streets, buildings and cars. And why were so many cars, owed by automobile-obsessed Americans, sitting at odd angles with their doors and trucks ajar? For that matter, being midday, where were all the people? He took a few hesitate steps, spun then walked back. The blanket of smothering silence over the town, instead of the mortal daytime hustle, unnerved him. But most dire, why did the air, the very breath in front of his face, sear too brightly like overexposed human photography-which he studied years ago when he fancied it for a time.
Everything, everywhere he looked, scorched his eyes. Color leached from objects, made focusing difficult as if reality shifted or was out of phase with itself. And the sky, Great Danu, an unnatural yellow tinge bled overhead, melting from the too vivid sun and spreading to all horizons. No clouds blockaded the foreign, sickly thing previously a blue sky.
A headache tweaked behind his eyes, translating rapidly into nausea the longer he stared at the altered world. It felt the pain ricochet back and forth from his head to his stomach, escalating with each cycle, and he'd barely done more than stand. That realization brought him no joy as merely existing in this ravaged landscape made him ill. How in the name of Danu would he be able to survive? Without magic?
First, I must get out of this horrible light and heat then find water or anything drinkable.
Considering his priorities, he forced his legs to move, knees buckling slightly as he strode in a random direction causing dust to fly haphazardly, further coating his black leathers. A small business to one side of the road caught his attention, its grimy glass and metal door banging open randomly with the strong wind gusts. A haggard sign atop a fifteen foot pole read, 'Cum and Go', and Jareth, in the midst of his shock and misery, found this darkly humorous. A wry smile and snort escaped him.
Humans, at least they are endlessly amusing.
Straining through half closed lids, he stumbled through the door, and waited for his eyes to adjust to the extreme light difference before scanning the gloomy interior for possible threats. Though the odd double exposure effect happened inside as well, the sun and sky's dual intensity didn't penetrate indoors. It was empty save for scavenged convenience store shelves; opened packaging, snack wrappers, and other debris littered the institutional-ish, tile floor.
Of course, dust encrusted every surface, and no electricity hummed pleasantly in the background. Another facet worrying him; modern humans rarely tolerated a lack of electricity. And he found the darkness an inconvenience. By habit, he twisted his wrist to produce a crystal for light, and was shocked when his hand remained empty until he recalled a bit of what the Triumvirate explained before they cast him off.
"You will be without your greater magics."
"Bloody hell!" Empty fist clenched, he ground his teeth. What else had the bastards said? Something about suffering and death, finding the new Nexus, reestablishing the connection and wonky time, he recalled.
"But first I would greatly desire a drink!" he said aloud, his gaze combing the mostly bare shelves for anything functional or useful left behind. Stalking the aisles, Jareth caught sight of his dim reflection in the dingy glass refrigerator doors, obviously long deactivated and stripped by their decrepit, unpowered condition. He froze and scowled at himself. How incongruous he looked dressed in raggedy, filthy leathers, his once black finery now ruined while he hunted for remaining sundries in an abandoned Aboveground mom and pop store. Ridiculous.
Using his forearm, he swept the top shelf clear with a growl, knocking broken, rotten bits and pieces to the floor. Large chunks of broken brick lie near one booted toe; incensed, he grasped and heaved one into the offensive ghostly mirror image, howling in animalistic frustration and rage. The glass shattered in long shards, breaking like a crystal waterfall to pile upon the bland floor.
"No magic! No water! How am I to find this Nexus if I cannot survive on day in this hell?" Arms outstretched, he shouted to the heartless ceiling, its rectangle tiles long since displaced from their metal frames. An answering pulse flared at his left hip and he started at the feel of magic, its zapping ripple coursing through him like a tsunami in comparison to the cursed desert surrounding him. And he'd only been stripped of it for a short time.
Fingers fumbling at his belt, he located the source inside a pouch he didn't remember owning. Another Triumvirate trick? Or perhaps help? Being forever trapped-alone-in a devastated, magic–less Aboveground didn't appeal, therefore he was willing to risk a trap. Within the simple leather pouch, he found a softly serrated, red rock about the size of his palm. It pulsed with a slow, steady internal glow, once every ten seconds by his count. Cool to the touch, it reminded him of the Aboveground volcanic rock, obsidian.
It must be from the Triumvirate. I feel the hum of their magic on it.
And that's when he figured out he could still sense magic regardless of his own being currently lost. He perched the crystal on his fingertips, and brought it eye level, studying it. If he could sense magic then he was still fae, and only cut off from his own magic due to the damaged Bridge until he completed his involuntary quest. However, if magic was cut off from the Aboveground, how did the magic of this crystal work? He frowned, the rock stubbornly resisting his best glower, keeping its secrets. Another mystery of the beasts whose magic differed so greatly from fae magic, he guessed. The Ancient Triumvirate claimed many secrets and differences.
"But you," he spoke to the flashing fist-sized nugget on his fingers, "little rock, I believe you'll be leading me to the Nexus somehow, hmm?" He pursed his lips, but the crystal didn't answer other then continue it persistent blinking.
"Very well, keep your secrets. I'll crack you later." Jareth tossed it up, caught it, rolled it over his hand then slipped it back into the pouch in one smooth motion, smirking. "But first, little rock, I must find supplies before I consult you again."
.

JSJSJ

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Further searching of the store, and eventually the surrounding area, revealed the town to be truly abandoned and heavily foraged. In the fourth store, he was fortunate to discover one large bottle of water which had rolled beneath a display mimicking the leaning tower of Pisa. He also found various, pre-packaged bars of a granola type substance which he decided to put off eating until he was far more desperate. Whatever flavor they were, one sniff convinced him the humans deliberately left these behind.
Appropriate clothing was next on his list. Whatever the state of humans currently, he doubted any would take well to his casual Goblin King appearance. So when he located a long sleeved, flannel shirt with minor damage from someone's ransacked bedroom, he half-heartedly changed into it. He might look more acceptable but he felt odd. Then he packed his leather tunic and black under silk shirt into an old duffel bag found discarded in the corner of the vacant bedroom.
Checking his appearance in a vanity mirror, he decided he might pass for human, if one ignored his fine bone structure, vaguely pointed ears and unusual, long platinum hair. Running his fingers through it, Jareth worked out the worse snarls. Checking his eyes, he noticed they remained their usual mismatched color, but his natural, iridescent sheen was dulled to nearly human tones. Was it due to his lack of magic, the extreme climate conditions, or the odd color leaching of this damaged world? He didn't know which, but as long he passed for human he figured it worked-assuming he met any humans. That was another thought ... with the extensive changes had any human survived?
I suppose I'll soon find out.
"At least I get to wear my boots and pants." He groused, looking down at the black leather caked from the blowing grime outside. I wish I had my gloves, he thought as he examined his hands. The blisters from the raw magic were healing well, as if days elapsed. Strange ... then he shrugged, having more important matters on his mind. Perhaps he might find human gloves to protect his sensitive hands while they finished healing. He often saw humans doing that, and in this harsh, foreign environment, he'd need all the protection he could get.
Picking up his duffel bag filled with his few, but varied, supplies collected as he explored, Jareth slung it over his shoulder. He palmed the crystal in his left hand, hoping for a clue. Sitting in the center of his hand, it blinked its lazy red rhythm. Uncertain what else to do, he walked from the house to the open road and headed in a random direction when he noticed the crystal's blink slowing.
"Curious, you don't you like this way?" Panning around in place, he watched it keenly for any sign of-there-a flicker, a faint speeding up. A few steps in the new bearing and he saw it pulse a bit faster; he counted the time between to be sure. Definitely, nine and a half seconds now instead of ten.
"Well, it seems you have a few tricks after all," he said with a grin.
"Lead on, little rock," he said, shifting the bag higher on his shoulder as he set off into the bleak landscape, the road a gray ribbon of concrete running into the desolate distance.
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- 6
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Falling --COMPLETED