The Reference

By: Ismira Daugene

I don't own it,

not making any money from it.

Labyrinth (c) Jim Hensen & Co.

Chapter 1: Twenty-Seven Days?

Sarah Williams lightly dipped her brush in the burnt umber then mixed it with a little portrait pink before gently drawing the tip of the brush down the canvas, drawing a thin curved line. She instinctively started to create the mental image in her head as she drew the interesting picture on the huge white surface. Shortly after, she sighed as she stopped and looked at the partly finished picture before her. He never came out as she wanted him to, despite how many times she tried. Countless times had she tried to at least create his silhouette, but it never came even close to how she truly wanted it. Deciding to make this a learning experience, she continued painting and went into the "This was just practice" state of mind. Several hours, brushes, and a few choice words later, Sarah looked at the finished result, she took a few steps back in a positive note, but quickly turned into a negative woman as she saw that this was definitely not how she imagined him.

There was just something about this person, whether it be the shape of the face, the tilt of the eyes or even the lean muscular body that eluded her. It could have been his hair; his hair, good Lord, his hair was nearly impossible to draw, let alone to paint! It was so wild and unruly and nearly impossible to capture.

Sarah sighed and left the portrait, it's burning eyes glaring out at the viewer, as she mentally started the patient process of waiting. She loved using oil paints, but they took forever to dry. The watercolor paintings she did of other mythical scenes and beings always turned out much better and they dried faster. However there was something about the commanding presence of the man she kept trying to paint that demanded the heavy oil paints instead.

Sarah went to the sink to clean her brushes and palette. The small studio above her apartment was perfect for her chosen career. The large windows let in copious amounts of light and opened easily enough for good ventilation. She worked in many mediums, but painting was what she sold the most of at the art gallery she worked for. However she'd never sold one of his failed portraits. She was too self-aware of how imperfect they were compared to the man in her dreams. She honestly didn't know where he'd come from, but one day in her mid-teens he'd started showing up in her dreams. He had unruly blond hair that flowed down past his shoulders, stormy blue eyes with one pupil fixed, and fair skin that was smooth as cream. He always wore out of date clothing, mostly Regency style, and leather gloves. She couldn't quite figure out his obsession with them, other than thinking that he would be germaphobic, but he always had a pair of gloves that fit like a second skin. Then there were these... knee-high boots; she blamed her current fetish for riding boots on him, not to mention those blasted dreams.

After her brushes were clean, Sarah dried the bristles and put them away. She looked back at the portrait across the room and put her hands on her hips. From this distance, it almost looked like him, but there was just that tiny feeling of it looking a little off. Throwing up her hands in defeat she wandered over to the stairs that led down to her apartment. Once down there, she made herself a cup of tea and settled down in one of the armchairs in her sitting room to continue reading a favorite book, thinking blindly of tomorrow. She would take her latest fantasy art down to the gallery and her friend, Jackie, who owned the place.

o O o O o O o

"These are great Sarah! You get better and better each and every time, I swear!" Jackie said shuffling through Sarah's newest pieces of fairies, a mystical landscape, and a portrait of a gnomish creature tending a garden.

"Thanks, Jackie," Sarah replied.

"Did I tell you someone bought the piece with that gang of fiery creatures?"

"Really?"

"Yeah, some guy thought it represented a primitive ritual or something like that."

"Well it was really just a picture of them dancing."

"Hey, let the guy think whatever he wants, just as long as he comes back to buy more, right?"

Sarah laughed, "Sure Jackie… Look, I'm gonna head out, I'll catch ya later okay?"

"Sure," Jackie said. "Oh hey! Mind if I stop by later? Rick is out for the weekend… fishing opener. I'll buy pizza and movie rentals?"

"Okay, yeah, we can have a girls night in. I've still got that bottle of Merlot that Todd gave me," Sarah said mentioning her ex-boyfriend with a little pinch of the heart.

"That guy was such a jerk! But no sense in letting good wine go to waste right?"

"Right."

"Okay, I'll be over when I close up the gallery 'round seven or so."

"See you then!"

"Bye!"

Sarah walked out onto the busy street as it was bustling with the early evening rush. She tucked her head into her high collar as she felt a sudden unusual chill for this time of year and walked the five blocks to her apartment. Once there, she pulled out the bottle of Merlot and stuck it in the fridge; Merlot was always better chilled she mused to herself.

Sarah still had another half hour or so until Jackie showed up, so she grabbed up her sketchbook and sat down at the table, with a ready pencil at hand. Whenever she had time, she liked to just sketch whatever came to mind. The good sketches would more than likely turn into paintings, but the bad… well the bad just stayed where they were. Her hand started moving across the heavy drawing paper, making light lines that she would darken later. A background of a barren hillside with a very unhealthy looking and warped tree emerged. Then the form of a person took shape. First the hair; his wild hair made even more wild by the wind as she imagined it swept over the hill. His owlish eyes peered out from beneath strands of hair, one eyebrow arched up, lost in his bangs. His hands rested on his narrow hips, his shoulders looked broader than they really were with the flowing cape and high collar that rested on them. Then for the final touches, Sarah's pencil seemed to caress the delicate but stern features of his face.

When she'd finished the initial drawing, Sarah drew back and looked at the man from her dreams. He always seemed so imposing; this image was no different. The look on his face almost seemed to beg the question, 'What do you think you're doing?' as though Sarah's pencil really had been caressing him. A sharp knock at the door made her jump as she suddenly broke from her concentration. She sprung up from the chair to open the door for Jackie who bustled in carrying a couple of rented DVD's. "Sorry I'm late hun, but there was a couple in the gallery who were interested in that painting with the large furry beast. They didn't buy, but promised they'd come back tomorrow since I wanted to close up shop."

Sarah nodded and took the DVD's from her. Jackie wandered into the small kitchen to put down her coat and purse. "Another one?" Jackie called to Sarah in the living room.

"Another what?"

"Portrait of your mystery man," Jackie said coming into the living room holding the sketchbook.

"Oh, yeah, I got inspired while I was waiting for you."

"Seriously Sarah, I don't know why you won't let me sell the paintings you have of him."

"I've told you, it's because they're not right. I know it sounds weird, but I can never get him to come out right."

"Sarah honey, you do realize that he's fictional right? Anyone who buys the portrait wouldn't know," Jackie said sitting down on the couch.

Sarah sat next to her. "Yes, I know, but I would know they weren't right and it would bug me that the portrait isn't perfect."

"You're too harsh on yourself. I think he's hot!" Jackie said smiling down at the sketch she held in her hands.

Sarah laughed, "Yeah, I suppose he is pretty good looking, even if he does look so fierce most of the time."

Jackie giggled, "I think it makes him look even hotter."

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "Really? What kind of kinky things are going on inside your head, Jackie?"

"What goes on inside my head is none of your concern," Jackie smiled.

"Hey just remember, he's my guy."

"Yeah, yeah," Jackie waved her off. "I prefer my guys to be more non-fictional anyway. So what kind of pizza are we having?"

Sarah and Jackie spent the rest of the night munching on pizza, popcorn, and drinking chilled Merlot while watching stereotypical chick-flicks.

o O o O o O o

It was another three days later when Sarah was found in her studio in the late afternoon halfway through painting the sketch she'd done of the man from her dreams. The oil paints glistened in the light and Sarah growled in frustration. She couldn't believe that after how well the sketch came out that she was botching up another painting. She nearly threw her brush as she clenched her fists and growled out, "I wish I had a reference!"

A crack of thunder drew her attention. She looked out the large window to see dark clouds swirling in ominously. The wind was bending the trees and sent leaves flying. "What the bloody hell am I doing here?" a masculine voice asked close by.

Sarah jumped and held her paintbrush as a weapon as she whirled around to see him. Her eyes widened and the brush fell from her hand to land with a clatter on the hard wood floor. It was him; there was no mistaking it. His wild hair seemed to float down just past his shoulders, which were donning the same cape that she'd drawn him in. His dark outfit matched the one she'd drawn him in as well, right down to the leather gloves and knee high riding boots. Her mouth hung open as she took him in, her eyes wandering from his furious visage to his hands on hips to his toe tapping the floor. "Why have you brought me here?" he asked breaking her ogling of him.

"What?" she asked bewildered.

"Do you know who I am?"

"You're…. you're him, The Goblin King," Sarah managed to squeak out.

His face showed slight surprise, but it quickly resumed it's angry look. "Yes, and who are you?" he demanded.

"Sarah."

The Goblin King squinted his eyes at her, examining her from head to toe, taking in her hair pulled back in a pony tail, her painting smock with hundreds of drips, drops, and smudges of paint, her old worn jeans, and finally her old loafers that had been converted into painting shoes when they'd become too worn to wear outside. "Why did you bring me here?" he demanded again.

"What, me? I brought you here?"

"Yes of course you foolish girl! You made a wish did you not?"

Sarah thought back to what she'd said… it had been a wish, a wish for a reference. "But… you're not real," she said still staring at him.

"Of course I'm real!"

Sarah moved closer to him, raising an arm. Once within reach she poked him in the abdomen. He swatted her away. "Ouch!" she said drawing back, her hand stinging from his slap.

"I told you I'm real, now why have you wished me here?" he demanded, his eyes moving about the room and finally settling on the half finished painting. "What's this?" he asked moving around her toward the portrait.

Oh shit! Sarah rushed forward to put herself between the painting and the Goblin King. "Nothing!"

He pushed her aside and studied the portrait. "How do you know of this place?" he asked.

"What? It's just something that's been in my head. Really, it's nothing…" she said quickly, glad that she'd barely begun to paint him and he was as yet still unrecognizable.

The Goblin King turned to look closely at her, his eyes squinting in what Sarah couldn't decide was anger, curiosity, or annoyance. Suddenly his eyes grew large in recognition. "You!" he bellowed out as he pointed his index finger at her. "You tore apart my kingdom, made my subjects into traitors, and waltz off as if nothing happened!" she felt as if he backed her into a corner. "And now you've called me back. What for?" his anger was tangible now.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Sarah said getting angry herself.

The Goblin King threw his hands up in the air and turned away from her. "No of course you wouldn't! All runners forget their time in the Labyrinth."

"What?" she asked with sudden realization. "What did you say?" Sarah asked, feeling a dizzy sense of familiarity.

"The Labyrinth, MY Labyrinth… you ran it, won back your brother, and left my kingdom in shambles! It's taken me years to rebuild!"

Sarah felt light headed. All the things he was saying, or rather shouting, were familiar, almost as if from a dream. Hell, he was supposed to be from a dream. Wait… does that mean all the other things she dreamed were real? Suddenly the words came to her… the words from that night. She'd made a wish that night too. She'd wished Toby away. There was a storm and then he appeared. Sarah slowly sunk down to her knees; her head was spinning too much as memories came crashing back at her. "I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"What?"

"I said I'm sorry!" She said looking up at him in anger.

He didn't seem to know what to say, his next tart retort lost on her apology. He stood above her for a moment, hands still on his hips before exhaling in a huff and turning toward the window to see the storm. Sarah stayed where she was for a moment; letting the dizziness work it's way through. When she stood, she swayed slightly, but maintained her balance. She looked towards him as he spoke, "It's been ten years by your reckoning, why have you called me?" he asked in a clam tone.

"I didn't really mean to actually. I… um… well I was painting and - and I needed a reference." she ended in a sheepish note.

He turned to glare at her. "What were your exact words?"

"I wish I had a reference."

He growled and put his hands on his hips again. "You didn't even ask for me! Why was I brought here?" he asked not really expecting her to answer.

"Because…" she paused. Oh, what the hell? " Because... I was painting you."

His hands dropped to his sides. "What?"

"I was painting you," she said again, blushing.

He walked back to view the half completed painting. His outline was visible, and there were blocks of color indicating his outfit and face, but nothing was recognizable yet, except for the background of the wind swept hill that he brought all runners to. "I take it this isn't complete yet?"

"No."

"It seems passable so far."

Sarah crossed her arms, He is unbelievable! she thought. "Well I think I've had enough of this. You can go now, your Highness," she said as she stood giving him an over-the-glasses look with a little more attitude.

He turned back to her, "How gracious of you," he muttered then made a twirling motion with his arm. He frowned when nothing happened and did it again. Still nothing happened... "I can't! Why am I being held here?" shouted as his eyes shot back at her.

"Don't look at me!"

"Wish me back," he commanded her.

Sarah sighed, "I wish the Goblin King would go back to his kingdom."

Nothing happened. They shared a worried look. "Try it again," he said trying not to seem desperate.

She sighed "I wish the Goblin King would go back to his kingdom, right now!"

This time a piece of parchment appeared in a small poof of glitter in mid-air between them. It floated gently towards the ground before the Goblin King reached out and snatched it up. He quickly read it, his eyes going from disbelief to worry to anger. In fact, anger might have been an understatement for the way his eyes were trying to scorch the piece of parchment. "What does it say?" Sarah asked hesitantly.

He thrust it at her as she willingly took it. She skimmed it, unwilling to believe what it said:

To Jareth the Goblin King,

We the High Council have decided that as punishment for crimes committed, Lord Jareth De Denaan will reside for twenty-seven days in the Aboveworld without magical powers.

Said crimes consist of:

1. Allowing a runner to complete the Labyrinth

2. Allowance of goblin mischief in kingdoms other than the Goblin Kingdom

3. Failure to keep own kingdom running to Court Standard

4. Willful destruction of public property in Avalon

5. Failure to appear in court for above offenses

Your kingdom will be provided a steward for the duration of your sentence. You have been put in the custody of Sarah Williams, the Champion of the Labyrinth, so you may learn how to better defend said Kingdom.

The High Council asks that you reflect on your offenses during your stay in the Aboveground. The High Council will review your case at the end of twenty-seven days and will determine if you are repentant enough to return to your duties as Goblin King.

Thank you,

Cerulean Reine

Grand High Council Woman

Sarah looked up at his royal Nibs when she was done reading. "Another runner made it through the Labyrinth?"

"No, that would be you."

"But it's been ten years!"

"The legal system in the Underground is almost as slow as the aging process." he retaliated.

"Letting me make it through the Labyrinth is a crime? How do they know that I just didn't outsmart you?"

"Because, no one has ever solved the Labyrinth before and it is supposed to be unsolvable. It's a line of defense that is tested with runners."

"Oh… destruction to public property in Avalon?"

"Avalon is where the High Council resides. I may have lost my temper… Wait, I don't need to explain myself to you!" he said sounding like a teenage boy.

"Right… and you're staying with me… for twenty-seven days?"

Jareth merely glared at her.

"Don't I get a say in any of this? "

"Apparently not, besides, the Fae High Council has more authority than any Human council does. Do you even have a high council?"

"What? No, we are not having a discussion on this because you are not staying! How do I get in touch with this High Council of yours?"

"You don't, they get in touch with you."

"Well that's just freakin' fantastic!" Sarah put her hands on top of her head and started to pace, kicking her paintbrush that she'd dropped earlier.

She stopped pacing after a minute and turned back to him. "Well, better get you set up down stairs then."

He quirked an eyebrow at her, surprised by her acceptance to the situation, but followed when she led the way down the stairs to her apartment. "That's the bathroom, there's the kitchen, living room, and that's my room," she said as she walked down the hallway.

"This is it?"

"Yes, do you have a problem with that?"

"It's so small. How do you live like this?"

"Excuse me, Mr. I-have-a-castle! Not all of us can afford to live in luxury." Jareth smirked at her. "Ok, so you're going to take the couch," she said pointing to the beige two-cushion couch. As he looked, his smirk turned to a confused frown. "Hey! This is a punishment for you! Besides, the couch isn't that old, you'll be fine."

He rolled his eyes. She tilted her head and looked him up and down, her arms crossed. "We're gonna need to do something about your clothes."

"What's wrong with my apparel?" he asked indignantly.

"If you plan on going outside at all over the next twenty-seven days, you're gonna need something else to wear. Because right now, you look like some kind of thespian freak." she paused for a moment. "I don't suppose your High Council will reimburse me for any expenses you cost me?"

"Probably not," he scoffed.

"Fine," she said before stalking off to her bedroom.

She came back a moment later with a pair of baggy sweat pants and a large t-shirt and thrust them at Jareth. "Here, you can wear this for tonight. Tomorrow I'll see if I can dig up some regular clothes for you."

He took the clothes with a look of distaste, but didn't vocalize his complaints. All things considered, she was taking the situation quite well. He set the clothes down on the arm of the couch. "Are you hungry?" she asked making her way toward the kitchen.

"I could use nourishment, yes."

Sarah rolled her eyes as she pulled out a few slices of bread and the peanut butter and jelly.

o O o O o O o

Sarah rolled over in bed, slamming down on the snooze button in the process. Five more minutes wouldn't hurt anything… besides, it was Saturday. Wasn't it? Crap… now she had to get up because she couldn't remember what day it was. Oh well, it can wait for another four minutes. Sarah settled back down and was about to doze off again when a sudden sound of a throat clearing made her eyes pop open. What the…? she sat up, pulling the sheets farther up to cover what her old tank top could not. She saw a pale blond man standing in her bedroom doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. He wore her baggy AC/DC shirt and a pair of her old sweats. The events from the previous day rushed back to her, she groaned and flopped back on her bed. "What do you want?" she asked.

"Oh, I see that you're finally awake." he stated raising an eyebrow.

Sarah propped herself up on her elbows, "I suppose I am." she said sarcastically, "What do you want?"

"I would like more of that gooey substance between the slices of bread."

Sarah glanced at her clock, seven twenty five, then glanced back at Jareth. "You want peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for breakfast?"

"Correct, I've discovered a certain fondness for them," he said keeping a serious face.

Sarah tried not to, but couldn't help bursting out laughing. The Goblin King had a soft spot for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches… who knew?

Fifteen minutes later, the Goblin King sat munching his peanut butter and jelly sandwich while Sarah sat across from him at the small table sipping a cup of freshly brewed coffee. The television could be seen through the doorway into the living room, broadcasting the morning news. The Goblin King chewed thoughtfully as he watched the television, no doubt the first he'd ever seen. Sarah took the opportunity to study him, his angular facial features, the way his hair seemed to disobey gravity, and the peculiar manner in which he ate his sandwich with a knife and fork as though he was afraid of getting any kind of messy substance on his delicate pale hands. Speaking of his hands, this was the first time Sarah had seen them un-gloved. The long digits were currently holding said knife and fork with a dexterity and practiced mannerism that told of the monarch's study of etiquette. She wondered if his skin felt as smooth as it looked.

Sarah ripped her eyes away and berated her brain from going down that road. This was the Goblin King she was talking about here, her former enemy, for god's sake! The guy had stolen her baby brother and put her through hell to get him back! She tried to keep this information in the forefront of her mind as her eyes went back to his face, but a small part in the back of her brain told her, hey, he may be our former enemy, but he is HOT! Sarah lowered her head and stared determinedly at her coffee. "What is that he's talking about?" Jareth interrupted her thoughts.

Sarah looked up to see that he was pointing to the TV. The anchorman was seen standing in the park with carnival rides behind him. "Oh, that's just the carnival going on right now. It's a place of fun for both adults and children," she explained.

"Can we go?" he asked, his eyes large with an emotion Sarah was uncertain was either excitement or wonder… perhaps both.

"Umm, sure. I'll run out and get some clothes for you and then we can go this afternoon," she said surprised by the boyish attitude the monarch was showing.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked.

"You just did, but you can ask me something else," he said smirking.

"How old are you?"

"Three hundred and sixty nine mortal years. However to put it in your perspective I'm around thirty or so. Can I ask you a question?"

Sarah nodded taking a sip of her coffee.

"Why were you painting me?"

She blushed and attempted to hide it by holding the coffee cup in front of the lower half of her face. "Um… I'm not answering that just now."

"Oh come, come… I answered your question."

"Yeah, but my question wasn't quite so personal."

"A person's age isn't personal? Since when? And how is deciding to paint something personal?"

"It just is!"

"Fine, I'll leave it for now, but you have to answer another question then."

"Okay, fine."

"When is your birthday?"

"May 28th…"

"You'll answer that, but not why you chose to paint me? How is a birthday less personal?"

Sarah blushed even deeper, "Fine! I'll tell you…" she said as she lightly rubbed her face to dim the red in her cheeks. "I - I have dreams," she stuttered, " Dreams about the Labyrinth… and you." she said as her attempt at calming her face failed at it's job.

She paused to see what he'd say. But when he didn't say anything, she looked up to see him staring at her as though trying to see inside her thoughts. "What?" she asked.

"Nothing, it's just that… it's highly unusual for a runner to remember anything, even in dreams, from their time in the Underground," he said continuing to stare at her.

More silence...

"So… what does that mean?" she asked breaking the awkward quietness.

"I'm not sure."

Sarah looked into his intense stare; his mismatched eyes weren't as mismatched as she remembered. One of his pupils was fixed giving the illusion of one eye being a different color from a distance. Now she could see that both his eyes were an icy shade of blue. She suddenly became aware that they were both silently staring at each other and she broke the contact, taking a deep breath. "I'll just go get some clothes for you… um… I need to measure for pant size," Sarah said, still avoiding eye contact.

Jareth stood, "I've been measured before for clothing. What do you need to know?"

"Waist and inseam."

He gave her the measurements and she grabbed up her purse and headed out the door after giving him a warning to stay out of her room.

o O o O o O o

Hey everyone! So this is the first chapter of my latest story! (thank you Captain Obvious…) I'm kinda letting the characters run loose on this one to see where it goes, and so far they haven't disappointed. I hope to keep this updated once a week or perhaps a little more time in between. (I'm starting up school soon so there's a lot of prep work and packing that needs to be done… grrr… loans!)

Please let me know what you think! I thrive off of reviews! :D

And a HUGE thanks to I'Like'Cheetos aka Figarro-Luv on Deviantart, who graciously offered to beta for me!