"Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again." – C.S. Lewis

Chapter One: No Return Address

Sarah flipped through the pages of the manuscript, frowning. She said, "Chester!"

Chester, a rather rotund and short man with a balding head and fatherly eyes, swiveled around so he faced forward. The desks in the office were placed at similar lengths apart, the left-hand side against the wall. All of them faced the large, bay window at the far wall; the view of the skyscrapers was sometimes the only thing that kept them sane.

"What is it?" Chester asked.

"Did you get the information for this query? There's no return address," Sarah said, licking her fingertips so she could flip the pages faster. "Can you believe this?"

"In this business, I've become a firm believer of anything," Chester answered, sardonically, as he shifted the papers around on his messy desk. He knocked over a photograph—Sarah had seen it enough times to know it was one of his three children and wife—then righted it and said, "Sorry Sar. That one went only to you."

"Well, I'll tell you where it's going now without a SASE," Sarah answered, grimly, and pitched the entire thing into the large, green recycle bin against her desk.

Chester grinned. "One down, a hundred to go."

"Story of my life," Sarah muttered, twirling back around in her seat so she was facing the window. On her desk, she had personalized her space. A photo of Toby, proudly flanked by her father and step-mother, was positioned at the corner. Next to it was a solar powered panda statue whose head bobbed rhythmically. Some days, the statue was comforting; some days it annoyed her. She stared at the panda, then with a flick of her wrist turned it around so the head bobbed away from her. She stared at her black "in" basket, where a stack of envelopes waited to be opened. Inside were manuscripts—people's words carefully typed out in twelve-point font with 1 inch margins and page numbers on the upper right-hand side—waited for her to flick through them, pick out the gems, and send them to the editors. The rest she'd toss into the trash. Most of them she tossed into the trash.

She fiddled on her computer; answered a few emails, surfed the web a little, sharpened her pencils, tidied the papers on her desk, and finally reached over and grabbed the envelope on the top stack. She took her sterling silver paper opener—a gift from her father—and ripped open the envelope. It was another dud submission. Boring, mundane, a fantasy story with the usual tropes; Sarah tossed it after reading only the first three chapters. By then, the end of the day had finally come. Chester had already gone home an hour before and the others had filtered out of the office—probably to deliver the manuscripts that had made the grade. Since her "out" box was pathetically empty, she only grabbed her book bag and headed out of the office.

She pressed the elevator button and stood back, waiting for the doors to open.

Tap-tap-tap.

Sarah frowned, looking down the hallway. The lights were dimmed, as they did to save electricity in the end of the day, causing long shadows to fall down the narrow hallway. Doors lined on either side, each with careful black lettering that claimed where the door led. No one was there, yet she could have sworn she heard the sound of footsteps. There were some potted plants, mostly green ferns, but they were too short for anyone to duck behind.

Sarah turned back to the elevator and pressed the button again. Why did elevators always take so damn long when she was impatient?

Hehehehe.

Sarah whirled around, her gaze darting around the little entrance area. It was shaped in a half-circle with padded benches, nice wallpaper, and the same type of potted plants.

"Who's there?" Sarah said, nervously. She clutched her book bag closer to her chest. There was a hard cover book in there, maybe that was enough to make her book bag a weapon if need be.

Silence was her only answer. Okay, this was starting to get creepy—and a lot like a bad horror movie. Sarah pressed the button a few more times before she reminded herself that no matter how many times she pressed the button, the elevator would be as slow as it wanted. Plus, mashing buttons on an elevator was definitely a stupid-character-in-a-horror-movie thing to do.

Just calm down Williams, she told herself, forcing her hand away from the panel. You're just jumpy because the building is creepy at night.

The door opened and she ducked inside, pressing the one with "P1." Just as the doors shut, she thought she saw a shadow dart from behind one of the plants. Sarah's heart picked up speed and she leaned against the railing that followed along the elevator walls. Her breath came ragged at first, but then slowly she began to relax.

Right, definitely in her head, she'd just freaked herself out for no reason. She needed a vacation.

The elevator dinged as it opened onto the parking lot. Of course the elevator ride had been short, even though it had taken forever to get to her. She fiddled through her bag as she walked toward her car, looking for the keys.

Hehehehe, tap-tap-tap. Sarah shuddered and quickened her footsteps. She got to her car, pressing the unlock button, and slid inside. The car started easily. With a shaky hand, made unsteady by her pounding heart, she jammed the key into the engine and the car roared to life. She drove out of her spot and it wasn't until she left the parking structure that she began to breathe easily again.

What had that been about? She wondered, glancing in the rear-view window, where the skyscraper receded slowly. She turned, heading home.

# # # #

Sarah jerked awake. The television was on, but when she'd last checked, she had been watching a cooking show. Now, she was watching the evening news. Sarah sighed and stood, stretching. She winced when her neck cracked. Rubbing it, she glanced at the clock on the stove. 9:32.

She lived in a modest one-bedroom with a balcony. The living area connected with the dining and kitchen area. The balcony window provided the only major source of outdoor light.

Sarah scratched her head and looked around, then went to grab the leftovers out of her fridge and heat them in the microwave. She hated when she fell asleep on the couch after a long work day, it threw her sleep schedule off. She sighed and poured herself a glass of red wine. She took a sip and then turned back toward the living room. She froze when she saw a shadow move across her balcony.

Putting down the wine, Sarah slowly moved toward the balcony. What was that shadow? It couldn't be a pigeon; it was too big. Sarah grabbed a baseball bat she kept next to the bookcase and took another cautious step. There was something leaning against the edge of the balcony…something square…

An envelope, Sarah thought, sagging in relief. It couldn't be anything worth a baseball bat; she lived on the second floor, after all. What was wrong with her? She was so jumpy today. Sarah quickly walked across the apartment and opened the balcony. The envelope rustled a little in the wind. It was the white kind, the same that people sent to the publishing company with their manuscripts in them. But, this envelope looked strangely empty.

Sarah knelt down and picked it up. In a flowery script, in thick black ink across the front, the words Sarah Williams, the Aboveground were clearly written. Sarah paused, a sharp intake of breath the only sound. She looked around the balcony, but of course it was empty, however the footfalls and the giggling she'd heard today suddenly made sense.

Goblins…but where is their king?

Had he sent this to her and if so, why? She glanced at the left-hand corner of the envelope, but, of course, there was no return address. Sarah couldn't help it, her curiosity peaked and worried at her edges until she ran a finger under the edge of the flap and ripped it open. There was something in the envelope…

She flipped the envelope, shaking it under her open hand, although she wondered if that was a wise thing to do. Before she could rethink her strategy, something fell out of the envelope and landed in her palm. The balcony light caused the thing in her hand to glitter. It was a necklace with a gold chain. The pendant was stylized horns flipped downward—or a triangle or something—with a strange symbol in the center. The pendant was gold, but the center symbol—it looked like a backwards and sideways "S"—was silver.

Sarah gasped again as she recognized it. The shock made her shudder and her hand tremble.

She was holding his pendant. She remembered it from the time she ran the Labyrinth, especially when she had been in the peach dream. She had been the perfect height to stare at that necklace, except then, it had been mostly silver.

Sarah looked around, but she still didn't see anyone. Well, what did she expect? A giggling goblin? Or maybe a white barn owl?

Sarah headed back inside, the necklace still clutched in her hand. With every step she took, her curiosity piqued again, snapping at her heels and making her breath come fast. She stopped near the front door, where a large mirror with an ornate frame hung. Her hair was disheveled from sleeping on the sofa and her green eyes were large with a mixture of emotions: unease, distrust, surprise, but under all that did she see…eagerness? Oh yes, there was a part of her eager for this first contact with the Underground after a decade of…reality.

With a shaky breath, Sarah slowly slipped the necklace around her neck. She felt the cool, gold chain slide across her face. The pendant settled between her breasts, stark against her dark work shirt. Sarah rubbed her thumb over the symbol—and her vision went black.

She gasped, shuddering as her vision righted itself, except now the mirror she stared at was full-length with an even more ornate frame, made of brass. And staring back at her wasn't her reflection, but the Goblin King's.

He was wearing the trademark poet's shirt and tight pants, his hair flying around his hair in that strangely attractive puff. With black gloved hands, he slowly slid the pendant off his neck and said, "Quickly, quickly." He waved at someone just out of the vision of the mirror. Someone handed an envelope to him and he easily slipped the necklace into it.

Sarah's vision turned back to normal. She blinked, looking at her own green eyes in the mirror again.

"What the hell was that?" Sarah muttered, leaning forward until it seemed she was breathing her own words into her reflection's mouth. "What are you playing at, Goblin King? And, more importantly, do I want to indulge you?"

Sarah traced the edge of the pendant. She moved to take it off, then hesitated. After a moment, she left it. She ate her leftovers, took a shower, and curled up in bed with a book. Somewhere between page 113 and 114 of Gulliver's Travels, Sarah began to drift off. The book slid to the ground, causing a muffled thump sound that caused Sarah to shift, but otherwise didn't wake her.

"How much time has passed, exactly?" a familiar voice said and Sarah jerked awake, eyes popping open, heart already pounding.

"You're him…you're the Goblin King." She heard the words of memory as her gaze focused. Sitting on the edge of her bed, by her blanketed feet, was Jareth. He looked like she remembered, like he had in the mirror vision, with the poet's shirt and the tight gray pants. His knee-high leather boots filled her bedroom with the scent of oiled leather and his gloved hand was carelessly picking at the blanket.

"J—Jareth?" Sarah blinked. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Don't worry, you're asleep, Precious," Jareth said, quite cheerfully. "Did you get my letter, then?"

"Letter?" Sarah rolled onto her back and rubbed her sleepy eyes.

"That—signed, sealed, and delivered." She didn't hear him move, but suddenly he was next to her. He leaned forward and tapped the pendant as he talked. Sarah stiffened and jerked upright, surprising the Goblin King back a step.

He was too close. If she was dreaming, it was a very real dream. Sarah rolled over to the far end of the bed and sat up, the blanket twisting around her legs and nearly making her fall to the floor. When she focused back on Jareth, he was smirking at her.

His gaze slowly and appreciatively rolled down her body and Sarah remembered that she slept in a tank top and underwear—sometimes, other times she slept naked. This was one of the days she'd worn the tanktop and underwear, thank God. Regardless, her clothes left a lot of skin showing. She jerked the blanket up and flushed. "Excuse me!" she yelped, her voice raising a few octaves.

Jareth's smirk widened into a grin and he said, "My question still stands. How much time has passed since you wished away your brother?"

"How—how many—what?" She had to be dreaming, that was the only explanation why she was talking to the Goblin King when he dared to show up in her bedroom while she was sleeping like some creepy stalker.

"Years, Sarah," Jareth said, leaning forward so his hands rested on the bed across from her. "Because I'm noticing some changes—"

"Stop being a lech, Goblin King. I'm way too tired for this. If I answer your question, will you please answer mine?"

Jareth inclined his head.

"It's been ten years," Sarah said.

"Ten years?" Jareth's eyes widened and he looked away, frowning, deep in thought. He murmured, more to himself, "Has it really been ten years? What has happened, I wonder?" He turned back to her and said, "And what are you currently up to these days, Sarah Williams, one-time Labyrinth runner?"

"Oh no, Jareth, you have to answer my question. Why are you here?" Sarah emphasized each word of her question.

"I have a request for you."

"What request?"

"Ah, that's another question." Jareth grinned again. "Answer mine first."

Sarah grunted in frustration, throwing her hands up in the air and then quickly grabbing the blanket when she remembered that it wasn't wise to forget things around the Goblin King. The blanket only slipped a few inches, but Jareth stared nonetheless. She wondered why she was even playing this stupid game. What she should do was roll over and go back to sleep, ignoring the Goblin King.

Sarah said, "Which question? I'm guessing not the ones you just said?"

"What have you been doing since you left the Labyrinth?"

"Why do you want to know?" Sarah asked, but when Jareth didn't answer, she gritted her teeth and said, quickly, "Not much. I went to university, got a degree in English, and used to work as an editor on the east coast but recently I moved back home and…and I've been working as an assistant editor." Sarah prayed Jareth wouldn't notice that she went from being an editor to an assistant editor, and she was in luck, because Jareth just inclined his head. She said, "What request do you have for me?"

The Goblin King hesitated, then he stood straight and said in a regal voice, "I need you to go back to the Underground."

Author's Notes: Yes, I know...a new story. This story is one my muse forced me to begin in spurts and paragraphs here and there, whenever my life allowed me the time. I'd been re-reading The Grimms' Fairytales and many of my mythology books, which is where the idea for this story came from. I also have had a craving to write a "Sarah goes on an epic quest" fic, which also is to blame for Fairy Tale. I hope you enjoy this first chapter; the second one should be up shortly...it's already nearly done. :)

Oh, and those of you noticing the innocuous rating, I'll warn that it probably will jump up to T pretty quickly in the coming chapters.

Please review! What do you think of this beginning? Interesting? Boring? Wondering what that pesky Goblin King is up to? Let me know what you think! All comments/suggestions/reviews are savored.

Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing regarding The Labyrinth. I only own my original characters. This fanfiction is made for non-profit, purely enjoyment purposes. Please do not copy or alter it; please do not repost it without my permission beforehand. Thank you.