A/N: Another repost of an old fic. I originally posted this one under the username Tenebrious. (When I first started writing for the Labyrinth fandom, I stuck to more light-hearted stories, or angsty drama. When the Dark!Jareth bug bit, I was afraid that my followers would mutiny if I posted something dark and a bit twisted like this.)

RECKONING

It wasn't that he had stolen her brother—she'd asked him to take the boy, after all. It wasn't that he made her run his Labyrinth—he didn't have to give her the chance to win the baby back. It wasn't that he stole her time, sent the Cleaners after her, attempted to erase her memories, dumped her in the junkyard, or unleashed his idiot army on her and her friends.

All these things, she would forgive him for eventually—even the snake-throwing. They had been life-changing experiences. When she matured, she would understand.

What she wouldn't forgive, however, was the lie.

He had led her to believe she'd vanquished him. She hadn't. No adolescent girl was truly clever enough to beat a powerful immortal at his own game, not even the formidable Sarah Williams. She came close, though. Perilously close. But in the end, she could not resist reaching for her dreams while the clock chimed thirteen, while he fell away tangled in his white feathered cloak.

He had won. She didn't know it yet. She wouldn't know it until he chose to claim his prize.

Perhaps he was cruel, toying with her, letting her think she had triumphed. Perhaps in the moment she had been defeated he should have stood over her with a taunting smirk and explained how she had lost—what she had lost. Perhaps he shouldn't have given her these years of blithe ignorance. When the illusion was finally shattered, her devastation would be all the more poignant.

And she would never forgive him.

Not that he needed her forgiveness. Not that he wanted it.

A crisp breeze wound through the trees, rattling golden leaves overhead as Toby cut through the park on the way home from school. He pulled his scarf tighter around his neck, burrowed his chin in the folds of his thick woolen coat. His mother had warned him it would be cold, told him to take his knit cap when he left that morning. In adolescent defiance, he had left it sitting on the counter. He wished he had it now as the frosty air kissed his ears, ruffled his hair.

Toby thought about running home to get out of the weather, but Anna Skabelund was strolling ahead with her friends, their giggles wafting back toward him. He wasn't going to be the dork they laughed at next. In the fourth grade he might have trotted past them, stuck his tongue out at them for being girls with cooties. But he was a seventh grader now, too cool to run and too aware of how attractive cooties had become. Shrugging deeper into his coat, he kept pace with the girls, far enough away to avoid breaching the creepy stalker barrier, but close enough to hear the tinkling bells of Anna's voice. Her long auburn hair bounced in shiny waves with each step. Toby was mesmerized.

"Beautiful, isn't she?"

Toby stumbled over his feet at the deep voice, catching himself before he performed an ungraceful face-plant. He glanced up with reddening cheeks and blew a sigh of relief when Anna and her friends walked on, oblivious to his clumsiness. Straightening, he searched for the source of his near miss.

A lean man lounged on the park bench, his arm draped over the back, a booted leg propped up over the wrought-iron armrest. Tilting his head, short blond hair fanning in the breeze, he smiled at Toby.

"Be careful of pretty things, my fine young friend," the man said, raising a pale brow. "They can be cruel."

Toby knew he should walk away, everything about the man whispered stranger-danger, but those eyes, those unusual eyes captivated Toby, froze him where he stood. There was something disturbingly familiar about the man, a shadow of a memory hidden in the deepest part of Toby's mind.

Predator.

The single word surfaced in his thoughts, doused him with icy intuition. The man before him was not the kind of predator they wrote after school specials about. He was something more, something different, dangerous in other ways. Toby's breath became shaky, blowing out in misty puffs. His heart drummed against his ribcage as he tried to recall the few karate lessons he had taken as a young boy.

Run. Run away.

His legs failed him, remaining rooted to the frost-bitten grass. The man's grin widened, but he remained silent, an aura of patience wrapped about him like a warm winter coat—as though he had already read ahead and waited for Toby to become aware of the forgone conclusion of this story. Distantly, the tower clock at the old Baptist church chimed.

Dong.

"Do I know you?" The question came unbidden from Toby, hushed and quaking.

The man's teeth were bared as his smile broadened further. They were sharp, inhuman.

Dong.

"That would depend on how you define 'knowing,'" he said, bringing up his gloved hand. A clear glass ball—no, crystal—slid over the top, glided over his other hand and back again. "You may or may not remember me, but I doubt you know me. I doubt you ever will."

Dong.

He sat up, the crystal swirling faster between his hands as he leaned toward Toby. "But I know you, Tobias. I know you very well." The crystal came to an abrupt stop, resting on his fingertips. "I know your hopes and dreams. Would you like to see them?"

Dong.

The last chime of the clock punctuated his words with a finality that sent a wave of foreboding through Toby. He shook his head, took a step back and was surprised his feet obeyed this time. A wisp of hope rose in his chest that he might escape this unsettling encounter.

"I have to go," he said, retreating another step.

"Yes, you mustn't worry your mother." The man smirked. With a flick of his wrist, the crystal disappeared.

Relief swept over Toby, and he turned, walked away, anxious to put some distance between himself and the stranger. He would talk his mom into picking him up from school from now on—anything to avoid crossing paths with that guy again.

"Unfortunately, I'm not quite finished with you, yet."

In a heartbeat, Toby went from several feet from the park bench to right before it again. The sudden shift was disorienting, churning his stomach. He rubbed his eyes, trying to make sense of what had happened. It was impossible. It must have been his imagination gone wild.

But it hadn't been. Cold fingers of terror seized his heart as he looked at the stranger who met his gaze with a lifted brow.

"I'm afraid you're going to be late," the man said, adjusting his gloves. "Very late."

Toby gave into the adrenaline saturating his blood and ran.

The undulating ring of the phone pierced through the small, quiet apartment, startling Sarah from the hypnosis of research. She shuffled through the books and papers on her desk to find the offending piece of technology, wishing she had turned the ringer off before getting lost in eastern mythology. She was close to discovering the inspiration for her next novel. Sometimes she couldn't believe how easily they came to her—her books—or how well they sold. She had accrued a small fortune already in her mid-twenties.

The shrill tone seemed to grow louder, more insistent as she searched for the phone. She found it beneath one of her scattered notebooks.

"Hello," she answered, not bothering to hide her exasperation at the interruption.

"Is Toby at your place?" Karen asked without any preamble. Worry was evident in her voice.

Sarah's irritation drained from her, replaced by cold trepidation. "No, he's not here," she said. "Did you check with the school? His friends?"

There was a pause on the other end, the silence broken by a thick swallow. "He isn't anywhere." Karen's tone was tight, strangled.

Sarah clutched the phone as anxiety pooled in her middle. "I'm coming over."

She was vaguely aware of good-byes, of rummaging through her purse for keys, of yanking her jacket from the coatrack. Her car protested when she gunned the engine without warming it up first. She was an automaton, handling the gearshift with programmed movements, her conscious mind already projected ahead to the small town her parents made their home.

The forty minute drive lasted a mere twenty, and Sarah turned onto the familiar streets of her childhood, grateful she hadn't been pulled over for speeding. There were two police cars in front of the house, dark and silent—belying Toby's alarming situation. Sarah's father would have used his position as district attorney to have law enforcement involved already. Without that clout, she could imagine the run-around the cops might have given her parents.

"He's only been missing for three hours. It's fairly typical for twelve-year-olds to lose track of time."

"Did your son have an argument with either of you recently? Is it possible he could have run away?"

Patronizing words that would have been of little comfort to Karen or Robert. Or Sarah. She had spent the last eleven years being the ardent protector of her younger brother, out of both guilt and love. That he had gone to school this morning and never come home filled her with helplessness. She should have bought a house closer to home, been more involved in spite of Toby's protests she was trying to smother him.

As Sarah stepped onto the porch, Karen burst through the front door and drew her in for a crushing embrace. Though Karen had only ever been a mother to Sarah in name only, the two had bonded over their mutual devotion to Toby. Karen clung to her as they went inside, as though Sarah were an anchor in this turmoil. Sarah wished she had someone to cling to, as well.

Robert stood in the living room among a group of neighbors bedecked in winter-wear, his expression grim as he listened to the officer addressing the group. Another policeman handed maps, flashlights, and walkie-talkies to the volunteers. Sarah grabbed his arm and held out a hand expectantly. He started to argue, but stopped when his eyes met hers. Without a word, he passed her the items.

"We don't have a local K-9 unit," the officer leading the search said, "but the sheriff has made a few calls, and a couple will be coming from the city. They should be here in a half-hour or so." He nodded toward Karen. "Mrs. Williams will stay here to provide them with some clothes for the dogs—and if Toby should show up. We've put the word out, and I expect we'll get more volunteers. We'll start with locations Toby's familiar with, then expand our search if needed."

After a few words about keeping the lines clear, the group broke up and headed toward the door. Karen seemed reluctant to release Sarah, but there was no way Sarah wasn't going with the search party. Sitting in the house, waiting for word on her brother's whereabouts would be succumbing to impotence. She had to do something, anything to help Toby.

She volunteered to join the group searching the park—the place which had been her refuge as an adolescent. She knew each corner, each hillock as though they were an extension of herself. It was also the place where Toby had been last seen by his friends, and therefore, the most likely to provide clues as to what happened to him.

She took the east side, waving her flashlight back and forth as she shouted her brother's name with the others. An endless procession of dark what-ifs filled her thoughts. What if he had been lured away by older kids with the promise of a good time only to discover more blackened intentions? What if he had been snatched by someone who had a taste for pubescent boys with blond hair and shining eyes? What if he was dead already?

Each question, each possible scenario turned her lungs to ice, clenched her heart so each beat sent a piercing ache through her chest. She stifled her cresting panic, denied it the chance to incapacitate her. She had overcome her fears once to save her brother. She would do it again.

With renewed determination, she crossed the small bridge toward the obelisks, taking care to dart her light on either side, in case Toby was injured in the river. More beams swung toward her as others searched the larger bridge farther to the west. Her brother's name rang out from every direction like a discordant chorus.

There was no answer.

The earlier breeze picked up, transformed into a biting wind, wrapping Sarah's long hair around her face and neck. She brushed the errant locks from her eyes, and pressed forward, flashing the light in every shadow, hoping to find some hint of Toby. Fleecy snowflakes began drifting before her beam as if Mother Nature were aware of something malevolent and intended to blanket it with purity. Sarah shivered, drawing her hood over her head.

A flutter of movement captured her attention, and she swung her flashlight toward the copse of trees in the middle of the park. They grew together in a nearly perfect circle. She didn't know if the original landscapers had planned that symmetry or if it had been happenstance, but as a child she had believed the small lea at the center to be a fairy ring. Under the clouded moonlight, the trees seemed to glitter like a faint beacon.

She ran toward them, the frozen grass crunching under her boots in cadence with her pounding heart. Hoping and dreading to find him there, she shrieked for her brother. Her calls were met with silence as she navigated the crowd of trees, low branches whipping her face. She finally broke through the stand. What she found stole the air from her chest.

The clouds had broken above the lea, and the moon shone down on a small mound where Toby lay as if on an altar for sacrifice. Horror constricted her throat as she dashed toward him. His features were calm, at peace—as if he were in a deep slumber. He was still—utterly, devoid of even breath.

"No," Sarah rasped as she dropped to her knees, tears welling in her eyes. "No, no, no, no, Toby." She shook him, but his body remained lifeless. Frantic, she dug in her pockets for the radio. "I found him!" she yelled into it. It made no noise, not even a burst of static. She tapped it several times and tried again. "I found him! He needs an ambulance! We're in the trees in the middle of the park!"

Nothing.

With a cry of frustration, she dropped the walkie-talkie. She tried to recall her CPR training from her high school days.

Check for a pulse on the coratid artery. There was none.

Tip the head back to open airway, open the mouth and then check for breathing. He wasn't breathing.

Check for an obstruction in the airway. She couldn't find any.

She plugged his nose, pressed her lips over his mouth. His skin was icy. She blew, but the air wouldn't enter his lungs and make his chest rise. She tried again, but her breath was met with some barrier. Tears trailing down her cheeks, she checked his mouth and throat for whatever was preventing resuscitation. There was nothing. She blew a choking, sobbing breath into him, but it was fruitless.

"No!" she screamed. "Help! Someone help me!"

"Well, isn't this a tragic scene."

Sarah's heart stopped as she recognized the deep mocking voice. She looked up at her childhood nemesis. He stood over her wearing his tattered black armor, cloak whipping behind him in the wind that should have been muted by the trees. The moonlight made his pale hair a halo around his beautiful face.

He crouched across from her, clasping his chest in feigned sympathy. "Poor Sarah. What have you done?"

"I haven't done anything," she whispered, scrubbing the wetness from her cheeks with the back of her hand. "Please, help him."

The Goblin King's lips twisted into a smirk. "And what would you offer me in return?"

She glanced down at her brother, at his sallow face. "Anything."

"Oh, but I already have everything I want." Jareth vanished, his laughter slicing through her. She jumped when he murmured against her ear, "He's not dead."

His words, the certainty in his tone, brought chilling understanding. "What did you do?" she asked, anger and revulsion coloring her voice.

He pointed at Toby, trailing the air above his body. "I suspended him in time," he answered, pressing his cheek against hers. "Quite simple, really."

Sarah jerked away from him and stood, folding her arms across her chest. "Why?"

He canted a brow, drew himself up to his full height. He seemed to tower over her, despite being only a few inches taller. "Why? Because I can." He took a step closer to Sarah, forcing her to retreat.

"No." She shook her head. "No, I won him back. You have no power over him—over us."

Jareth grinned. "Don't I?" He grabbed the front of her coat and yanked her to him. "Tell me," he said, tracing the curve of her jaw with a finger, "have you enjoyed your dreams?"

She struggled against him, but his grip was too firm. "What are you talking about?"

"Think hard, Sarah." He leaned forward, tilting his head. "How has your life been since you played my little game?" Her skin pebbled with gooseflesh when his mouth brushed against her throat. "Has it been difficult?" he asked between soft kisses. "Or have you wanted for nothing?"

"Stop," she whispered, trying in vain to push against him. A tinder of desire ignited in her belly, stoked closer to flame with each touch of his lips. Her thoughts became hazy, indistinct. Give in, her body whispered. Give in to him. She couldn't recall why she shouldn't.

Forget about the baby.

"Stop it!" She shoved him with all of her weight, and this time, he relented, giving her some space while keeping a hold on her.

"Answer me," he said, his gaze piercing. "Tell me what you've made of the gift you took."

She frowned, shaking her head. "I didn't take anything. I beat your labyrinth. I won my brother back."

The corner of his mouth twisted upward in a smile that sent a tide of ice through her veins. He held up his hand and a crystal appeared a foot above it, spinning languidly. "Do you remember this?" The orb floated down toward his fingertips. When it touched the soft leather of his glove, it burst like a bubble. Sarah gasped.

He pinned her with his unusual eyes. "You took your dreams, and for that, there is a price."

"I didn't know." She glanced at her prone brother, feeling as if the bottom collapsed from her world. Her mind raced as she thought of ways to prevent the Goblin King from stealing Toby again. "I'll run the labyrinth."

"You've failed that already," Jareth said, pulling her close.

"Turn back time. Take away my dreams." She pleaded with her eyes. "I don't want them. Just give my brother back."

He furrowed his brow, clucked his tongue. "What's done is done." He wiped a tear from her cheek.

She stared at him, registering the lust written on his features as he returned her gaze. It made her quiver from the juxtaposition between the bracing weather and the burning embers of attraction in her middle. "Will you take me in his place?" She ached at the thought of leaving behind her life, of being subject to the whims of the Goblin King, but at least Toby would be safe.

Jareth cocked his head, his hungry eyes searching her face. "Would you come willingly?"

She hesitated only a heartbeat before answering, "Yes."

He cupped her face with his hands, his touch like fire. "Show me."

A fresh wave of tears welled in her eyes as she brought shaking hands up to wrap around his neck. She was a tumult of fury and desire as she drew his head closer. His mouth hovered over hers, his warm breath tingling her skin. She closed her eyes, fat tears falling down her cheeks. When their lips met, flames engulfed her, searing her to the bone—throughthe bone. He devoured her, crushed her to him as though he could make their bodies one if he held her tightly enough. She thought she might die, and yet, she couldn't stop—didn't want to stop. Her physical need became acute in his, unquenchable, unrelenting. A small voice in her mind railed against her attraction to such a despicable being, but was silenced when he parted her lips with his tongue and explored her mouth.

Forget about the baby.

What baby?

She gasped when he broke off the kiss, cold air rolling over her skin like a douse of icy water. His grin was triumphant. "Say that you're mine of your own volition," he said, spinning a lock of her dark hair around his finger.

Sarah dipped her head and nodded.

He lifted her chin. "No, say the words."

A tendril of anger rose at his command, and she glared at him. "I'm yours by my own choice," she hissed through gritted teeth. "Now, let Toby go."

"Done." Jareth stepped aside. The mound was empty, the grass lacking a depression of his body, as if Toby had never been there. Only her discarded radio lay nearby. Behind her, Jareth rested his chin on her shoulder, wound his arms around her waist. "The boy didn't belong to me in the first place."

Her stomach lurched at his confession. "What do you mean?"

"The first time I offered you your dreams, it was in exchange for your baby brother," Jareth said, his chest vibrating against her back with each word. "The second time I offered, you mistook the terms to be the same. You weren't listening closely." He nuzzled her ear. "You were the prize then."

I ask for so little. Just let me rule you, and you can have everything that you want.

Understanding blossomed like a creeping vine, strangling her, binding her to her new prison. "If you already own me, then why this huge charade?" She breathed the question, mist puffing from her lips. Pillowy snowflakes descended in lazy swirls. The rest of the world continued on even though hers was ending.

He laughed. "I've owned you, yes, for many years. But until now, you've never belonged to me willingly." She grew rigid in his arms, and he laughed again in response. "Come, come, now, Sarah. I kept my bargain and gave you your dreams—the ones which could only be fulfilled Aboveground. You shall have the rest in my kingdom. I ask only for your payment for such a generous offering."

He spun her around to face him. "Love me." He kissed the corner of her mouth. "Fear me." He kissed the other corner. "Do as I say." He twined his fingers in her hair. "And I will be your slave." His words ghosted on her lips before he pressed his mouth over hers.

She wept even as she returned his kiss with hungry fervor. She'd lost everything and would spend the rest of her life with the very man who had taken it all from her.

The door to the spare bedroom creaked as Toby opened it. He turned on the light, studying the dusty boxes and old furniture, wondering what had drawn him here. In his hand was a radio he'd found at the park that afternoon. Something seemed significant about the black device, but he wasn't sure what. Just as he wasn't sure why the spare bedroom seemed to call to him.

For a heartbeat, the room transformed from a place to store forgotten things to the room of an adolescent girl. Stuffed animals lined a shelf next to the canopied bed. There was a vanity with several pictures fixed to the mirror. Posters and books filled the room—all with some element of fantasy to it. Toby blinked and the room was back the way it was, the way it had always been.

He shook away the image, denied the possibility that a girl had once lived here. He was an only child; his parents had bought the house when it had been built.

And yet, for that moment, it had seemed so real, as if he could reach out and touch the statue of a wild-haired king on the desk.

He backed toward the door, calling himself nine kinds of stupid for being so superstitious. As he reached for the light switch, he noticed a little red book sitting on a faded gingham chair. That hadn't been there before, had it? He crossed the room and picked it up, turning it over in his hands.

Labyrinth.

~FIN~

A/N: Thank you for reading! If you'd like to share your thoughts in a review, I'd love to hear them!