Hey guys! Just letting you know that I do not own the Labyrinth. The plot idea is heavily inspired by 'The Family Man' with Nicolas Cage. Yup...

I've been waiting to post a new story for awhile. Please enjoy! -FreakinGodzilla

"Your majesty," the phantom of the labyrinth called out.

The Goblin King paused at the foreboding tone. He had never heard it as tired and resentful than now. Jareth raised an eyebrow flippantly, masking the slight trickle of fear that crept down his spine.

The phantom's lips stretched wide and thin. "You need a reawakening."

A snap pierced the silence between the tall stone walls. Nothing visible had made the noise, yet Jareth felt it - quick and relentless like a whip - tearing at the back of his mind. His vision dotted, sound falling mute, and his brain surged in pain.

Then, nothingness.

Bleeep. Bleeep. Bleeep.

Jareth rolled over, frowning whilst still on the verge of the dreamworld. Something about the spirit of the labyrinth? He let sleep overtake him once again, settling into the silky blankets of his king size bed.

Bleeep. Bleeep. Bleeep.

The blaring noise tore him from sleep once again. Normally, he would have jumped into defense at any sudden alarm, but oddly enough he did not care. He felt more tired than he had in centuries. Whatever enemy had come to take him in his slumber had better do it fast. He had lived a well-enough life, he supposed. As long as his death was quick and painless. Jareth was only the king of the goblins, after all - there was nothing more he could contribute.

Bleeep. Bleeep. Bleeep.

Just what is that blasted noise? And what imbecilic fool would think to assassinate him whilst making such racket?

Bloody goblins must have gotten into the castle's kitchen pottery again.

Bleeep. Bleeep. Bleeep.

"Bloody-" And just as Jareth was about to curse out, and possibly toss into the Bog, the unlucky goblin that had decided to unfortunately grace his presence with such clamor, he felt a stirring beside him. Jareth froze. He knew for sure he hadn't taken a woman to bed last night. Right? He couldn't remember...

Bleeep. Bleeep. Bleeep.

"Goodness gracious, Jareth." An irritated voice growled from beside him. It was muffled - most likely from a pillow - but he refused to open his eyes. Why was that voice so familiar?

"You're closer to the blasted thing." The female's voice was no longer muffled and he felt a warm body crawl over him towards the blaring noise.

Bleeep. Blee-

"There." The woman sighed and retracted to her side of the bed.

Jareth was frozen in place. The bed sheets were definitely not silk and the maid must have neglected her duty of fluffing the pillows. Though he was sure this was not the reason why the bed seemed different - the reason was because it is different.

He opened his eyes and discovered an atrocious bumpy white ceiling. Jareth frowned at it. His eyes followed the sound of sheets rustling to discover a body slipping out of the bed.

It was a woman - it wouldn't have been the first time he had seen a woman in his bedroom, but this one was not fully nude, nor was she in the same romantic setting of his pleasant quarters.

No, this woman was practically fully clothed in… Aboveground fashion. How he hated the Aboveground fashion. Baggy and unflattering in the least. He grimaced, then remembered his situation at hand.

Just what had happened last night?

"Are you getting up?" The woman turned to him and his breath caught in his throat. Those eyes, those piercing green eyes that had a tendency to be cruel and sweet all within minutes. The same chocolate colored locks spilled down her shoulders and framed her pale face.

"Sarah?" He frowned.

She had aged. Still beautiful now more than ever, but she was older. Her eyebrows had been tamed into a curve, her eyes more piercing and wide, lips that had matured into a nice shape. Sarah had matured, and she was beautiful, but what was he doing in her bed?

"What?" Sarah gave him teasing frown at his prolonged stare. She turned to the dresser beside her and pulled out some clothes.

He tensed and waited for her to undress, but instead she slipped into what he assumed was the bathing chamber, leaving the door slightly open - which, in Jareth's experience, meant she was practically begging him to follow her. His heartbeat sped up in anticipation. Jareth waited a good minute to calm his nerves before throwing the blankets off of him and quietly standing up.

He was surprised to see his favorite pair of silk pajamas upon him. One familiar thing. His hands smoothed down the comforting red fabric. He had always liked the way they fit so loosely on him, yet still framed and grazed his skin in all the right places - or so he had been told by the few women that had seen him in it.

The sound of running water disturbed his thoughts. Sarah was taking a shower with him in the other room. She was tempting him, he was sure of it.

Just what in the Underground had they done last night? Then he wondered if they had spent the night together, but surely he would remember that, right? No, it wasn't possible anyways. He could never make that woman see reason. She hated him anyways… And he didn't care for her much, either. There must be something more going on here.

Perhaps it was a game she was playing. Maybe she had finally allowed herself to admit her inner desires, but that still didn't explain how he had gotten here.

Fine, if he couldn't remember last night, he would make himself remember. Nothing a little magic couldn't fix, he decided and with a quick gesture of his hand a cryst-

-Nothing happened.

His eyes widened in shock. Never in all his life had he not been able to do magic, let alone do the simplest of spells such as conjuring a crystal. He tried summoning a crystal again. Then again and again. Nothing.

Jareth looked around the sunlit room in panic. Hoping to find some object that would rekindle his memories with his mind, but the room was tidy. Nothing occupied any space except the bedroom furniture, which consisted only of a queen size bed, nightstand and dresser. The furniture was simple enough, too. No match for his elegant cherry wooded quarters in his castle, but pleasant enough, in a simple way, he supposed.

His eyes flickered back to the bathing chambers door and he made to enter, but stopped when he heard a soft humming. Her melodic voice was husky and sweet. He debated whether he would be allowed to enter her bathing chambers. They had spent the night together, hadn't they? If they had then her simply 'forgetting' to close the bathroom door could possibly be a welcoming. Her blase actions were causing him to second guess everything. Still, was she even able to pull off some great scheme like this? There has never been a case of a mortal stealing away a fae's powers before. Perhaps this was some trick or meddling from the higher council, but he was sure he was on good terms with them, unless he did something last night that he couldn't remember.

Or maybe this was much more simple than he was thinking. Maybe he had gotten unbelievably drunk the night before and had stormed into Sarah's house and seduced her...

He debated back and forth these ideas in his mind before letting out an irritated sigh. Just ask the bloody girl already, his thoughts growled. Your magic's gone and so is your memory, just ask her.

"Sarah?" He called.

Her humming silenced. "Yes?"

"Did we-" He cut himself off and started again, "What happened last night?" Normally, he didn't like to ask such vulnerable sounding questions, but he was at a loss as what to do.

"Well, after we came home from my parent's, you lost yourself in that show - Peaky Blenders, right, or is it Blinders? - Anyways, you passed out on the couch. I had to help you get up and drag you to bed." She paused and he heard the water shut off, "You don't remember that?"

"No." Jareth said, frowning. Sarah must be behind all of this. It was the only explanation. She was terrible at lying, too. He would have remembered that if it had actually happened. Blasted girl probably enchanted him somehow. Once he got his magic back he'd-

She appeared in the doorway, hair dripping and wrapped tightly in a towel, and successfully knocked his train of thought right out. Jareth sucked in a breath as he watched a droplet make its way over her collarbone and disappear beneath the towel.

"Aren't you going to get ready?" She asked, tilting her head, pretending to be oblivious to what his eyes were so focused on.

"Ready?" He said, tearing his eyes from the towel and giving her a haughty look. Jareth crossed his arms.

"Toby's birthday party is in a few hours. C'mon, I took the fastest shower ever so that you'll have time to do your hair." Sarah strolled past him through the doorway and picked up a brush from the dresser in her bedroom.

He stayed where he was and frowned. Why was she acting like his presence was the most natural thing?

She had even mentioned Toby to him without even a tinge of fear in her voice. He wondered at the odd situation. Jareth felt soft hands push him forward into the hot and foggy bathing chambers and he refrained from reacting in an unpleasant way towards her, deciding that he must make her think that he is complacent until he can sort out a plan of action.

"I put your clothes on the counter. We've got to hurry." Sarah said and closed the door behind him.

Jareth scowled and couldn't keep himself from retorting, "I don't have to do anything. I am a king." He stated firmly then felt a spark of irritation ignite at the soft chuckle she gave in the other room.

Fine, he decided, he would humor the girl until she grew tired of the game. Perhaps he could get something out of playing pretend, too. His eyes narrowed on the blurred image of himself in the fogged up mirror. Wiping away the condensation, Jareth froze in shock at his visage. His graceful hands slowly reached up to grab at his hair - or the lack of - and gasped in horror.

His hair, his precious hair, was all gone. It was cut neatly and hardly covered his ears. A few strands fell over his forehead, but the length was nothing compared to how it was supposed to be.

Jareth snarled in fury, his hand reaching for the doorknob so he could give that woman a piece of his mind. First, she took his magic, then his memories and now his hair?

Part him him considered that this may not be Sarah's fault, at all, but the other half was filled with indignation that if it was her fault then she had dared to touch his hair. Him. A king who had spent centuries perfecting it.

"Sarah," he growled.

"Are you dressed," she exasperatedly questioned from the other side of the door. "You're going to make us late again."

Jareth's eyes flickered to the clothes neatly folded on the counter and did a double take. Not only was his hair gone, but she expected him to wear Aboveground clothes? His lips curled in distaste. Where was the glitter or the skintight pants?

This was, as they say, the straw that broke the camel's back.

Jareth pulled open the door and ignored how forcefully it hit the wall beside him. He no longer wanted to play this game.

"This is getting out of hand," he spat.

"You're not-" Sarah began, but was cut off.

"I am not wearing that." Jareth began, "Just what are you playing at, little girl? Do you think you can meddle with a fae king and not suffer the consequences?"

Sarah gave him an odd look, as if she was debating whether to laugh or be hurt.

"Jareth, what are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Sarah." He said, his voice cold.

She studied his face and noted the anger and confusion in his eyes. Her shoulders slumped. "Oh," She said and shook her head. Jareth watched as the bewilder in her expression ebbed away and was replaced with a bleak nervousness.

"I get it. I asked a lot from you, but I thought you were happy to make those sacrifices." Sarah said.

"You didn't ask," Jareth finally felt somewhat in control of the situation. "And now," He straightened himself, towering over her, "The game is over. I would like to return to my kingdom. "

This statement seemed to hurt her more than he had intended to and he was not sure why. "You know you can't simply do that…" She said.

"And why ever not?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Because it's not yours anymore. Jareth, if I had known that you were going to regret it, I wouldn't have let you give it up to your brother." Sarah raised her voice and he kept himself from cringing back.

"Give up my kingdom -for bloody sake- What are you blabbering on about?"

Sarah sighed. "Can we just… Can we talk about this later?" She twisted a golden ring on her left hand, fidgeting anxiously.

Jareth rolled his eyes, knowing that if he had his magic she would've been on a one way trip to the bog already. No one dared to raise their voice at him. He opened his mouth to tell her so.

"I think not," he hissed. His eyes widened when he felt a significant amount of energy stir and rush through them.

Sarah froze in place, her fingers paused mid-tracing the diamond ring on her finger. The room's air stood still, the clock that hung over the bed stopped ticking, and for once Jareth felt relief from the confusion that had fogged his mind. He raised and eyebrow, could it be his magic had returned? He smirked. She was no match for him, not now, not ever.

"Your majesty." A raspy voice said from within the room.

Jareth froze, he knew that voice well. His eyes could not find the culprit, however, but he was sure that they must of been the cause of all this.

"What is the meaning of this, Spirit?" He asked, stepping around Sarah and into the center of her bedroom.

"This is a test." It called from all directions. A loud voice but an invisible body.

"A test?"

"Yes," it hissed, "You have let the centuries jade you, my king. The labyrinth calls for a fair and just ruler."

Jareth kept himself from snapping back.

"Hmmm," he crossed his arms and looked up in thought, "Why have you sent me here without memory or magic?" He questioned.

"It is a glimpse of what life could have been if you hadn't let your defeat to the Champion alter you."

"I want nothing to do with it," Jareth said, "I am your king, I initiate the challenges." He snarled.

"No longer." The voice grew in volume, he could tell he had angered it. "Once you have glimpsed truth you can return. Until then I shall leave you in this realm... Farewell your majesty." It faded out and time continued as if it had never stopped.

Sarah stomped past him, oblivious to the fact that he was now standing in the center of the room, unlike when they were arguing. She had changed into clothes, as well. Magic, he thought. The labyrinth sped up time. He gazed down at himself to see he was now wearing black jeans and a pale billowy long-sleeved shirt.

Jareth blinked as Sarah suddenly shoved a leather jacket into his hands. He smiled at the familiar material. His smile faded when he glanced at her bleak face. He had thought she was behind all of this, had thought it was her fault, instead he had hurt an innocent girl. Jareth was just so surprised she had wanted anything to do with him in the first place. When she had defeated the labyrinth it seemed she could have cared less, and he had to admit he didn't particularly care for her at that moment, either, but his eyes still softened at the image of her bleak face.

She was now wearing makeup, her hair was pulled into a flattering up-do, and she wore a colorful summer dress. "We gotta go," she said softly and led him through the bedroom door and down the hallway.

The walls were lined with pictures. Most of them people he couldn't recognize, some of them featured himself, some with Sarah, and some with both of them. He paused when the last picture was in sight. His heart fluttered as his eyes traced the white dress Sarah wore in it, her hands clutching a bouquet of flowers, an arm around her waist that belonged to a man with angular features and pale skin. The couple smiled with genuine happiness as they stood before a church altar.

Hoped you liked it. Was a bit nervous about posting this chapter, but don't be afraid to leave a review. Thanks you for reading! :)